Shards of Time: A Quiet Collapse in Plain Sight

In Shards of Time, director Alexandros Kouros crafts a melancholic exploration of memory, masculinity, and the desperation of aging. A father, slipping into the early stages of dementia, tries to conceal his condition from his son during a meal.

The emotional landscape here is mined with care. This is no melodrama, no hand-wringing spectacle. Instead, Kouros offers us something quieter — a slice of life that bleeds slowly, deliberately. The denial is in the small talk. It’s a study of the everyday moments that echo with the unspoken.

Visually, rich in mood and minimalism. The cinematography frames its characters with reverence and restraint, often giving us just enough space to read between the silences. However, the overuse of vignette becomes a distraction; what begins as a stylistic choice ends up calling too much attention to itself.

The sound design, on the other hand, is quietly well done. It doesn’t shout. It hums. It listens.

The performances start on shaky ground. There's a stiffness in the early dialogue — a slight theatricality that doesn't quite match the slice-of-life ambition. But as the film progresses, the actors settle in, and what unfolds feels beautifully lived-in. The father, especially, delivers a performance that blooms in silence. His fear, his pride, his love.

The script, while emotionally resonant, could benefit from a more natural rhythm in its dialogue. At times, it leans into exposition or slightly artificial beats that tug us out of the otherwise immersive realism. The “show, don’t tell” rule isn’t always followed — and in a story that thrives on the unspoken, this occasionally dulls the emotional precision.

And then there’s the music. It’s sweeping, dramatic — and perhaps too much so. The acting, particularly in the film’s final stretch, does a fine job carrying the emotional weight. The score, though lovely on its own, sometimes feels like an unnecessary underlining of what’s already clear in the performances.

It’s a short film that knows what it’s doing: simple, balanced, and deeply human. While not flawless, a reminder that even in the smallest stories, entire worlds can fracture.