Review by: Leticia Sim

The thicket of paraphernalia in a family home is a hint of constant in a sea of variables⁠—for some, the memories tied to them could provide a semblance of comfort in an ever-changing landscape, for others it could be a stark reminder of their obligations and sacrifices.

In Distance, Grace Swee uses these elements to lovingly render a familiar portrait: an observational short film on the more gloomy, unspoken rhythms of grief, familial duty, and intricate family ties.

Following the passing of her elderly mother, Eileen struggles to come to terms with her loss and grief. During this transitional period, she and her siblings are packing up the family home and selling it off to start a new chapter in their lives. One night, her mother’s spirit comes back to revisit the home and to ensure everything remains the same.

“I explored the responsibilities we, as Asian women, place on ourselves. We take on caregiver roles and struggle with self-actualisation in the midst of societal and familial expectations…as much as love was involved, there was a sense of ‘carrying the burden’, which they obligingly submit themselves to,” says Swee in her director’s statement. This feeling of personal wreckage spreads throughout the short while Eileen, through sparse dialogue, navigates her relationship with her mother, one that is haunted by burden and love.

As Eileen, a middle-aged woman and the eldest of her siblings, revisits all her duties as a caretaker, a thin stream of resentment punctuates their interactions. Much of the film focuses on capturing Eileen’s reactions to her family⁠—her dependant mother, her younger siblings. The subtleties in her demeanor, the piercing silences, or the crinkles on her face as she’s carrying out her responsibilities are fraught with years of conflicting, unspoken emotions.