Psychological thrillers often thrive on what remains unsaid, and Animals. is no exception. Writer-director Maya Gray’s unsettling short, which makes its international premiere at the 2026 Raindance Film Festival, blends psychological horror with sharp social commentary to examine grief, coercive control, colonisation and the bystander effect. Centred on a young woman whose mourning is exploited by an unwelcome houseguest, the film asks difficult questions about power, dehumanisation and society’s willingness to look away. I spoke with Gray about the film’s layered symbolism, the striking performances at its core, and why she hopes audiences leave reflecting on their own role in confronting injustice.
Animals tackles grief, coercive control, colonisation and abuse within the framework of a psychological thriller. What drew you to bringing these themes together in one story?
I don’t think it took much of a bridge to connect those themes because they’re so deeply intertwined. The film initially started as being about colonisation, but as I developed the plot, I realised it also naturally explored abuse. In many ways, I see colonisation and abuse as one and the same, so bringing those ideas together felt like a very organic process.
The title Animals is incredibly striking. What does it represent, and how does it connect to the film’s central ideas?
I like that the title is very definitive, especially with the full stop at the end. It’s also important that it’s Animals, not Animal. It reflects the two-way nature of the story.
Throughout the film, Zoya is dehumanised and gradually turned into an “animal” by Amelia. But in reality, the true animals are Amelia and her dinner guests. In Amelia’s version of events, Zoya is the animal; in reality, Amelia is. The title captures both perspectives.
You’ve said the film is intended to encourage reflection rather than point fingers directly. What conversations are you hoping audiences have after watching it?
I don’t necessarily want people to see themselves in Amelia– that would be concerning. The people I hope audiences reflect on are the dinner guests.
They’re the people who enable abuse, support colonialism or ideas like white pride without fully understanding the consequences, or simply choose not to get involved in social injustice. The ending is really aimed at those who try to remain neutral or wipe their hands clean of these issues. I wanted audiences to ask themselves what the consequences of that kind of inaction really are.
Race feels like an important element of the film. Was that intentional?
Absolutely. I can’t say too much, but if you’ve drawn that conclusion, then you’ve understood what I hoped audiences would take away.
Although Serine Sianosian is Ukrainian rather than the ethnicity originally envisioned, the message remains exactly the same. Whether she’s Ukrainian, Armenian or from another background, many different marginalised communities can see aspects of their own history reflected in the story. That universality was very important to me.
Were there any directors or films that influenced your approach?
I try not to consciously imitate other directors because I want my work to have its own voice. That said, nobody creates in a vacuum, and Sam Esmail has definitely had a huge influence on me.
I really admire the clean, minimalistic cinematography in Mr. Robot. Sometimes I catch myself wanting to emulate that style because he’s such a huge inspiration, but I always try to make sure my own voice remains at the centre of what I’m creating.
Psychological thrillers rely heavily on atmosphere and tension. What creative decisions helped establish the film’s unsettling tone?
I rely primarily on performance and lighting to create tension. The score certainly contributes, but the atmosphere really comes from the performances Serine and Rachel gave.
There was also one significant last-minute decision. Originally, I wanted one of the film’s key scenes to be shot entirely with static reverse shots, but after speaking with my cinematographer we realised that approach wasn’t working. We instead filmed it using a low-angle moving shot, and I think it ultimately created a much stronger sense of unease.
“The ending is really aimed at those who try to remain neutral or wipe their hands clean of these issues. I wanted audiences to ask themselves what the consequences of that kind of inaction really are.“
Serine Sianosian and Rachel Alig have incredible chemistry. How did you develop that dynamic?
A lot of the credit belongs to them. I gave them space to develop their relationship themselves. I’d often look over and see them discussing the characters together, and I trusted their process.
I gave each actor a clear understanding of their individual character, but I let them build the shared chemistry on their own. I think that really comes across in the final film.
How did you go about casting the film?
We held an open casting through Backstage. We received around 700 submissions for Zoya and close to 1,000 for Amelia.
I personally watched every audition tape because I was handling the casting myself. I wasn’t looking for who had the most impressive training or résumé—I was looking for who was Amelia and who was Zoya.
With Serine, I knew almost immediately. There was something in her eyes during the emotional scene that made me think, “That’s Zoya.” After seeing her audition, I stopped looking because I knew we’d found the character.
Animals is making its international premiere at Raindance. What does that mean to you?
It’s incredibly exciting. This is actually my fourth film, but it’s the first one to screen internationally.
I’m really happy that it’s being so well received overseas, particularly in the UK, and I’m excited to introduce it to a new audience.
After Animals, what kinds of stories are you interested in exploring next?
The next project I’m developing is a feature-length political thriller. Grief is still a central theme-as it often is in my work-but this time it’s explored through the idea of good people becoming villains.
It’s about a group of activists who gradually become terrorists in pursuit of what they believe is a better society. They ultimately succeed, but the story asks whether the cost was worth it. They’ve lost people, lost parts of themselves and sacrificed their humanity along the way.
There’s also another recurring animal metaphor. Everyone in the story is controlled by something, and in that sense they’re all like dogs on a lead. I actually walk dogs for a living, and my protagonist is a dog walker too, so that imagery felt very natural. It’s really about examining what people become when they’re bound to an ideology and where that ultimately leads them.
As Animals. prepares to make its international premiere at Raindance, Maya Gray is already looking ahead to her next project, but the questions driving her work remain remarkably consistent. Whether exploring colonisation, coercive control or the moral compromises people make in pursuit of their ideals, her films challenge audiences to confront uncomfortable truths rather than offering easy answers. If Animals. is any indication, Gray is a filmmaker unafraid to provoke reflection, making her one to watch as her career continues to evolve.
