Following the death of his best friend Ashleigh (Shannon Ryan), Dusty (Travis Jeffrey) is left by his lonesome to deal with a crippling loss. Such is his pain that he turns to alcohol, raiding the fridge in hopes of downing more beers. One drink turns into the next, and before long, Dusty has switched to some “stronger stuff,” the white powdered kind that he begins snorting without much hesitation. Temporary bliss quickly turns into horror when the young man realizes he’s blended his snow with the ashes of his deceased friend—and that Ashleigh is now standing right in front of him.
No doubt ranking as one of the nuttier premises committed to the indie filmmaking scene in a long while, director Jeremy Lindsay Taylor’s award-winning Dusty is an absurdist piece of entertainment that works on multiple levels. Following an intensely fast-paced and musically very catchy opening (Luke Altmann), the film hits the ground running and maintains course for its entire duration. Jumping from wild escapades to slower, more contemplative moments, the short is filled with dramatic tonal shifts, ranging from humorous and wild to claustrophobic sickening snippets of Dusty meandering within dimly lit rooms. Between its kinetic stylistic choices and Travis Jeffrey’s clever writing, there’s a little something for everyone tucked away within the short. Because for all its outlandish creative choices, it has a very real and very human core.
Nothing and nobody reflects that better than Jeffrey himself, who slips into the role of Dusty with the kind of reckless energy necessary to bring the character to life. Sure, it looks amusing as he prances around the house doing as he pleases with beer cans and illicit substances, but he’s gradually ground down by the jaws of grief. He himself is brought to a crossroads in his life, whether he recognizes that or not. Ashleigh’s appearance only stokes this fire, and the two actors share an easy, earnest chemistry, just like good friends would catching up after some time away. There is one scene around the ten-to eleven-minute mark that might just make you physically react. It’s as beautiful as it is devastating, and though it would be tough to call it the best scene ever committed to a short film in its genre, it might just have to wear that crown until something as emotionally resonant unseats it.
Losing someone you love can bring out the best and worst parts of us, a journey so potently illustrated throughout. This film is about those peaks and valleys, told without compromise. If life was a party, Dusty is a tribute to those who left it too early, and it’s a fabulous one at that.
