Belay On

Ever met a couple so wrapped up in their own drama that the rest of the world might as well not exist? Like, someone could be literally clinging to life right next to them – and they’d be too busy bickering or bonding to even notice? If that sounds unbelievable, get ready – because that’s exactly what you’ll find in Johnny Frohman’s dark comedy Belay On.

Frohman wastes no time introducing us to his cringe-couple, Travis and Allie, locking them in a painfully long public display of affection – right in the middle of a camping and fishing store. When a poor store clerk awkwardly tries to break up their PDA bubble, they finally peel apart just long enough to mention they’re looking for a new climbing harness… but they’re “kinda in a rush.”

As they tentatively split up – after tossing out a few “miss yous” and “love yous” – the cracks in their relationship start to show. Enter: jealousy. When a female employee helps Travis at the sunglass station, Allie casts envious looks, before asking her own (male) attendant to help her try on her harness. It’s petty, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s very intentional – because these jealous little jabs come back in a big way as the story unfolds.

A jealous look from Allie starts to show the cracks in her relationship.

The real impact of their self-absorption comes once they’re out climbing – and while Frohman puts them in a pretty extreme situation, the themes he’s exploring feel very real. Normally, when we talk about a short film being immersive, it’s because the characters feel relatable, the world feels real, and the emotions hit. Frohman nails that sense of authenticity, but these aren’t characters you want to relate to – they’re the kind of people you hope aren’t real. The kind you see from across the room and instantly want to avoid.

But that’s exactly what makes Belay On work. It’s sharp, it’s exaggerated, and it holds up a mirror to the kind of self-involvement that’s more common than most of us would like to admit. That success if partly down to Frohman’s razor-sharp script, but can also be attributed to the perfect performances of Al Warren and Molly Wurwand, alongside the well-executed production from the crew.

Al Warren (L) and Molly Wurwand star as a self-absorbed couple in Belay On.

In particular, that climbing scene is a standout. Robby Piantanida’s photography puts you right there on the rocks with Travis and Allie. Every shot is carefully chosen, and the pacing in the edit – courtesy of Caroline Knight, Jeremy Levick and Frohman, himself – keeps things tight and engaging. Add in Leo Hardman-Hill’s score, which adds some much-needed tension, and by the time the “twist” hits, you’re perfectly on edge.

But what really takes the scene to another level are the performances from Warren and Wurwand. Their reactions to the unfolding chaos shouldn’t feel believable – they’re absurd, even ridiculous — and yet, somehow, they do. The scene plays out with a mix of dark comedy and genuine discomfort, landing squarely in that uncanny space where you laugh, but also kind of wince. It’s a perfect blend of sharp direction, clever editing, and dead-on performances – turning what could’ve been just a silly moment into something hilariously unhinged and disturbingly real.

An oddly satisfying watch, Belay On also serves as an eye-catching calling card for its writer/director. We’ve talked a lot in recent years about filmmakers making the leap from short film to television, and with this one, Frohman shows he’s more than ready. From sharp writing and tight direction to a clear sense of tone and character, the pieces are all there. So, if any TV execs happen to be reading this – consider this your heads-up. Frohman’s got the goods.