A Month. A Day. A Year.

A Month A Day A Year is one of those short films that stays with you. It does not rely on big plot twists or heavy dialogue. Instead, it focuses on quiet moments, emotional stillness, and the kind of time that feels both fleeting and endless. It feels like watching someone remember something they are not sure they want to remember.

The pacing is slow but intentional. Scenes breathe. There is room for the audience to sit with what is happening and to bring their own experiences into it. The film does not tell you what to feel. It just creates a space where feeling is unavoidable.

Visually, it is soft and minimal. Nothing feels overproduced or overly planned. It is grounded and honest. The performances are understated but meaningful. Everyone feels like someone you might know, or someone you used to know.

What makes this film work is its restraint. It never tries too hard. It does not push for emotion. It lets the emotion rise naturally. That is something a lot of filmmakers try and few actually pull off.

This is the kind of piece that might not hit you right away, but it lingers. You think about it the next day without realizing it. If you are someone who connects to stories about time, memory, and quiet personal grief, this one is worth watching.

Hunter Brockmann clearly has a voice and a point of view. I am looking forward to seeing what he does next.