As three strangers make eye contact, we are enveloped into their worlds.

Eye Contact, directed by Eva Hoffman, is a quietly mesmerizing experimental short that distills one of the most fleeting human experiences—the instant when two strangers lock eyes—into something profound and cinematic. Rather than relying on dialogue or plot, the film draws its emotional power from the subtle shifts that happen within us when we are suddenly seen, acknowledged, or confronted by another person’s presence. With striking visual intimacy, it captures the delicate tension between curiosity and discomfort, openness and guardedness, that defines these brief but revealing encounters.

As we move through the internal worlds of its three subjects, the film becomes a study of recognition—what we project, what we fear others might perceive, and what arises when our masks slip for just a moment. Eye Contact transforms a universal everyday gesture into an exploration of vulnerability and connection, inviting viewers to reflect on the unspoken stories and emotional landscapes hidden within every glance.

What first drew you to the idea of exploring something as subtle and universal as eye contact?

The idea for the film came to me while I was walking near my apartment in downtown San Francisco. I was crossing the street and had this moment of eye contact with someone in a car that was held just a fraction of a second longer than usual. It struck me. Moments like that always make me imagine the other person’s life: what they’re going through, where they’re coming from, where they’re headed.

I was immediately enamored with the idea of exploring this concept through film, a medium that would actually allow me to dive into different people’s stories for just a moment, just long enough to get a taste before being pulled into the next one. What if that brief glance became a kind of portal, offering a small glimpse into someone’s life?
Intimacy, in all of its forms, is the recurring thread that runs through most of my work. Eye Contact is about distilling intimacy into its most elemental form: a visceral wordless exchange with a stranger. While my other films explore intimacy over time, Eye Contact captures it in an instant — a lightning-bolt moment.

The film captures the electricity and vulnerability in a single glance. How do you translate such an internal, emotional exchange into cinematic language?

I actually initially imagined that the footage during the eye contact moments would gradually slow until it became a still image. I wanted to capture that feeling of time slowing and stretching—of a moment becoming its own little world—and thought the interplay between moving images and still photos might achieve that. Pairing film and photo is a technique I’ve used frequently in my work as I find that pairing the two creates an intriguing tension: film asks a viewer to keep up, while photography asks a viewer to slow down.

In practice, I didn’t love the freeze frame as much as I thought I would, and my DP, Nicholas Dorsey, was able to lower the frame rate to 600 fps through a combination of in-camera techniques and post work. It created the same effect I wanted from a still image: the sensation of time slowing as you’re pulled into a vulnerable moment.

The film weaves memory into the present moment in a way that feels both fluid and intrusive. How did you approach representing memory visually within Eye Contact?

I’ve always been fascinated by the way memories can intrude on the present. As someone with a photographic memory, it’s both jarring and delightful how often I find myself “snapping back” into reality after realizing I’ve been watching memories play like movies in my head.

One of the film’s themes is that you never truly know what someone might be going through, which is an idea that always hits me in those fleeting moments of eye contact with strangers. That’s why the flashback sequences felt essential: they offer a glimpse into what each character might be experiencing beneath the surface.

I wanted to create vivid, immersive worlds you could grasp in a minute or two—moments that didn’t require extensive backstory. The flashbacks made that possible, letting us step briefly but powerfully into someone else’s reality.

Sound design plays a powerful role in Eye Contact, almost taking on a life of its own. How did you and your team approach crafting that sonic presence?

As a very visually inclined director, I almost always think in images before I can think in sound, but the flashback scenes in Eye Contact were a rare exception. From the beginning, before I even knew what the flashbacks would be or how they would look, I knew how they were going to sound. As I mentioned above, a big part of this film was about exploring how memories can intrude on the present, and sound was going to play a big part in those transitions. The soundscapes had to jolt the character out of reality, which meant leaning into a dissonant and unexpected sound. They needed to take on a life of their own.

I was crafting soundscapes with random clips from freesound.org before we even started shooting, and continued workshopping it throughout the process. Integrating music and sound design early is important to me, whether it’s adding song links in my scripts or creating playlists that I share with cast and crew. Once I had the foundation in place, I brought in Harsh Yeole, who helped polish and elevate the soundscapes.

There’s a very specific video that inspired me a lot: ‘Tecate Alta’ by Roger Guardia, which I stumbled upon while scrolling Vimeo one day. I was so moved by the specific combination of the song choice and the visuals, and it has stayed with me for years. That piece was a major influence, especially on the first flashback moment.

Do you see Eye Contact as a standalone exploration or part of a larger thematic thread in your work?

Kind of both. As I mentioned above, intimacy is a recurring thread in my work, and the way I explore eye contact in this short definitely fits within that framework. But Eye Contact also feels more standalone, because I’m usually exploring intimacy within more complex interpersonal dynamics—from long-term relationships to queer female friendship to relationships with family—situations that unfold over longer periods of time. With Eye Contact, the challenge was to distill the greatest amount of intimacy into the smallest possible moment.

Were there any discoveries — visual, emotional, or technical — that surprised you during production?

So many! As with any production, there were so many unexpected incidents and learnings: from battling bay area weather patterns, to continuity difficulties while editing the car scenes, to having my gaffer Max Schmitz run on the beach with a spotlight and generator strapped to him.

But I think the thing that stood out to me the most during this production was how special the Bay Area filmmaking community is. It started with my cinematographer: when I asked Nicholas Dorsey to join the project, he not only immediately and ecstatically accepted this offer, but he also became my right-hand-man for the entire process, and I truly couldn’t have done it without him. The same spirit carried through the rest of the crew. Being a self funded project meant the budget was tight, but every gaffer, sound recordist, and post-production collaborator joined with enthusiasm, often simply because they believed in the project. I was blown away by how people rallied to support this project, even when it was our first time working together.

In every setting in which I’ve crossed paths with the bay area film community, I’ve witnessed a community of artists and technicians who are so clearly doing what they do for the love of the craft and the love of bringing a story to life, that it’s almost hard to believe.

The film invites viewers to reflect inwardly. What kind of emotional or sensory response do you hope people leave with after watching?

The film is small and quiet on the surface, I don’t expect anyone to have dramatic reactions, but I hope this film sticks with viewers in subtle ways – something they might not even be able to articulate right away, but can feel sitting somewhere in their chest. I want people to be briefly reminded of their own humanity, or of the strangers whose inner worlds you may never fully know. Ideally, viewers leave with a small shift: a little more attuned to their own emotional undercurrents, and more aware of the invisible stories unfolding around them.

My goal was that the emotional frequency of this piece would live close to that of one of my all time favorite films, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: a balance of melancholy, tenderness, and surreal introspection. I explored a lot of similar themes in Eye Contact: blurring memory and present-moment reality, and the idea that we may be connected in more ways than we realize.

The flashbacks, the sound design, the suspended moments are all meant to evoke that same feeling of slipping into someone else’s emotional landscape, even if only for a heartbeat. If Eye Contact leaves people with a sense of softness, curiosity, or a sudden awareness of the interior lives surrounding them, then I feel like it has succeeded.

What are the books, podcasts or even YouTube Channel that you recommend young filmmakers to get their hands on?

I’m going to take a slightly different angle on this question. I’m a film director, but I also work as a digital and graphic designer. A huge part of my job in both instances, and probably my favorite part of my job, is the collection of inspiration and references. I live for a good moodboard. Podcasts and books are amazing resources, but developing your own taste is just as valuable, if not more, especially today. The best way I know how to do that is to just immerse yourself in inspiration: Pinterest, museums, film, photography, anything! Ingest as much as you can, and take note of what you’re intuitively drawn to.

I have a list on my phone titled “Art that’s given me shivers,” and tracking those moments has been incredibly helpful in understanding why certain things resonate with me, or why I feel compelled to make something that doesn’t necessarily feel logical. I always knew Eye Contact was somewhere between narrative and experimental, and might not be a big festival hit, but it was something that I just felt a deep psychic need to make.

Can you share with us some of your favorite short films you’ve seen lately?

Some incredible bay area shout outs:

Dolphin Club by Gaby Scott
After what happened at the library by Syra McCarthy
Budget Paradise by LaTajh Simmons-Weaver
Mondegreen by Linda Mai Green

And then some random pieces that speak to me and have been inspiration for years:

Night Cab
Civic
Olga Basha – New Jeans
Love, dad