“LOOM” — Grief, Memory, and the Near Future That Already Feels Here
“LOOM” opens with a single, immaculate image: the LOOM.io helm — a tactile, retro-futurist device that looks engineered rather than rendered. That first shot quietly declares the film’s intent: this is science fiction grounded in touch, weight, and memory. From there, writer-director Jesse Cook III guides us into Norah’s private world, where a data vault of a departed loved one allows her to replay stored memories through that paired device. We won’t reveal plot turns — the film deserves to be felt first-hand — but its lens is sharply focused on how we remember, not just what we remember.
What makes “LOOM” special is the way its design philosophy becomes storytelling. Cook and his team pursued a balance between maximalism and minimalism: the helm itself is deliberately maximal — fabricated, lit from within, magnetized on the exterior — while the surrounding world is stripped of present-day clutter. There are no phones, no laptops, no TV sets, no “clouds” or Bluetooths; instead, usability is embedded into daily life. This subtraction gives the near-future a startling plausibility — nothing flashy, just a few decisive evolutions that change everything about human contact.
Visually, the film is a pleasure. Director of Photography Douglas Gordon composes frames with clean, architectural lines and lets the image breathe. The bokeh is gorgeous — razor-sharp subject isolation that turns Norah’s interior spaces into softly glowing memory chambers. Camera moves are confident and purposeful, never fussy. Lighting (with practical tube fixtures integrated into set pieces) is controlled and expressive, lending a cool sci-fi sheen without losing warmth. Simply put: the cinematography is top-notch and proudly so.
The production design by Jennifer Driscoll deepens the interiority of this world: greenery, wicker textures, and partitioned spaces bring the outside in and subtly divide work from life, routine from remembrance. Costume Designer Nicole Cook threads past, present, and near-future together — nostalgic silhouettes meeting sterile futurity — so that characters carry time on their bodies. The result is a coherent universe where every department is narrating the same idea: connection is ubiquitous, yet touch is scarce.
Sound is where “LOOM” becomes intimate. The mix is crisp and surgical; dialogue sits cleanly, atmospheres are present but never crowded, and Stephen C. Schmidt’s score leans into a sleek, slightly 80s-tinged sci-fi mood — melodic, precise, and emotionally aligned. The OS assistant “Louie” (voiced by John Alan Segalla) is processed to feel inner-ear close, collapsing the space between Norah and the audience so we hear the world as she does — a smart, character-level choice that pushes us deeper into her headspace. There are a few intentional glitches in the auditory/visual fabric; they don’t distract — if anything, they reinforce the theme that memory is stitched, not seamless.
At the center, Danielle Kellermann (Norah) and John Thomas Potvin (Jude) give this elegant machinery a heartbeat. Their chemistry is quiet and truthful; small looks and micro-pauses tell you as much as the lines do. Kellermann, especially, calibrates grief with restraint, letting the tech become a mirror rather than a crutch. While Louie becomes a presence we feel rather than just hear — part caregiver, part archivist, part ghost.
Editor Jesse Dampolo keeps the rhythm patient but never slack. Cuts land where emotion turns, not where plot demands — perfect for a film built around recall. And when the movie leans into its sci-fi reveals, the VFX and practical builds arrive clean and confident — top-notch execution that always serves the characters.
Underneath the polish is a question that lingers: When our loved ones leave us, do they ever really? “LOOM” understands that the medium of remembrance is changing — from photo albums to high-resolution video, from cloud backups to implanted memory chips — and it dares to ask what that evolution does to grief, healing, and closure. Cook’s direction is assured; you can feel a clear vision on the screen and a team moving in lockstep to realize it.
We left “LOOM” thinking this is the kind of short that belongs in a cinema — its textures, its sound field, its carefully modulated lighting deserve a big screen and a focused room. It’s also the kind of calling card that suggests Jesse Cook III is headed for major showcases. The craft is there. The restraint is there. Most importantly, the human core is there.
“LOOM” screens at the Los Angeles Fantasia Film Festival, November 20–21. Put it on your list.
Disclaimer
All images, clips, and materials referenced belong solely to the respective filmmakers, producers, and rights holders of “LOOM.” This review reflects only the personal and professional opinions of the author, Darwin Reina and is published for critical and journalistic purposes.
Review made by Darwin Reina (Filmmaker)
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