Laurent is a wind turbine mechanic with a special affinity for fans. When he’s sent to fix a sabotaged turbine in the Swiss Jura, he stays at Anais’ hotel for a night. She is fiercely opposed to the wind turbines. Sparks fly and the elements begin to collide.

Lonely Fans, directed by David Oesch, is a charming blend of comedy, fantasy, and romance that spins an unconventional love story out of the most unlikely obsession. Laurent, a wind turbine mechanic with a peculiar fascination for fans, finds himself in the Swiss Jura on a repair job — only to cross paths with Anais, a hotel owner who stands firmly against the very machines he admires. What begins as a clash of ideals quickly turns into something far more electric. Set against the striking backdrop of the region, where debates around wind power and its impact continue to shape real communities, the film subtly grounds its whimsical premise in reality.

Balancing whimsy with grounded emotion, Lonely Fans leans into its offbeat concept to explore attraction, contradiction, and the strange ways people connect. As the elements — both literal and emotional — begin to collide, the film embraces a playful yet sincere tone, proving that even opposing forces can find common ground when the chemistry is right. David Oesch’s film fits naturally within the kind of storytelling found in Film Shortage’s romance short films, where unexpected connections and unconventional relationships take center stage.

Lonely Fans begins with a wonderfully unusual premise — a man with a deep affection for fans. What was the moment where this idea clicked into a full story?

It was a school semester project at Zurich University of the Arts, and the whole process was intensely collaborative from the start. Our cinematographer Gaétan Nicolas and our lead actor Kacey Mottet Klein came up with the idea of a fan fanatic. Our screenwriter Sandra Moser — who’s also a director, now working on her first feature, a children’s film — ran with it. Sandra’s script is oddly sexual — objectophilia, but played very innocently. I loved how weird that mix was, and since I’d already made a very weird short myself (Dead Animals, on Vimeo), we matched fast. Our producer Levin Vieth and I scouted locations, our editor Riccarda Schwarz was involved from day one. It was never one person’s vision — it was a true patchwork.

The leap from a personal obsession to wind turbines as the “ultimate fan” is both funny and poetic. How did that evolution shape the tone of the film?

The question was simple: what’s the biggest fan in the world? A wind turbine. And once you’re standing next to one, you realize how unique they are in the landscape — somehow modern, somehow abstract, still a mystery to most people. An affront? An obsession? Either way, they trigger intense feelings. That emotional charge is what shaped the tone — we knew the film had to be as strange and polarizing as the turbines themselves.

The setting in the Swiss Jura plays a major role, especially with the real-life tension surrounding wind turbines. How did discovering that local resistance influence the narrative?

Over ten years ago, I ended up in a bar in the Jura and befriended two anarchists. We drank a lot, and at some point they told me they were planning to blow these things up. I was never quite sure if it was the alcohol talking or if they actually had a plan — but it never left me, the idea that people genuinely organize resistance against these machines. When Sandra started writing, that tension became the backbone of the story.

There’s a constant push and pull between Laurent’s fascination and Anais’ opposition. How did you approach building that dynamic so it feels both romantic and conflicted?

Anais is a character I would have loved to explore even more in a feature. The Jura is the birthplace of Swiss anarchism, and there are people there who pursue their convictions with incredible passion — that fascinates me. At the same time, opposites attract: Laurent, with his oddball, possibly-on-the-spectrum tenderness, is so different from her. We leave it open — I don’t think they should necessarily be together, but they should definitely learn from each other. That felt more honest than a neat resolution.

The film walks a fine line between dark comedy, sensuality, and something almost surreal. How did you calibrate that tone without tipping too far in any one direction?

Oh, did I? Thank you. It was genuinely hard — I didn’t write the screenplay, so navigating that tone was a real challenge. But my advice to anyone would be: just do whatever you feel like and follow through. You can’t be too radical — only too boring. There were moments where I thought, this is so silly. But I love watching silly movies that shoot for the stars and try to give you something new. When we prepped the film we were still in quarantine, and I remember being overwhelmed by politics and the state of the world and just wanting to make something odd and romantic. Funny enough, my next project is still very weird and romantic — but very political.

Laurent’s character could easily be played for pure absurdity, yet there’s a real tenderness to him. How did you work with your lead to ground the performance emotionally?

Kacey is an incredibly intense actor who can throw himself into things with total commitment. I didn’t need to do much except give him space. Honestly, there were moments on set where his choices baffled me — but in the editing room, I realized they were brilliant. You can tell he’s made a lot of films. He brings instincts you can’t teach. We actually fought a lot on set, and in retrospect a lot of his choices were really good. Maybe my takeaway is: trust actors more. Sometimes they have better intuition than the director. Be radical in your vision, but be tender and trusting when you work with actors.

Visually, the turbines and landscapes create a striking contrast between intimacy and scale. How did you approach capturing that balance through cinematography?

Gaétan Nicolas, who was also one of the original creators of the concept, shot the film. Our production designer Seline Imhasly built these wonderfully eccentric, almost Wes Anderson-like spaces — including a roughly seven-meter miniature wind turbine we could actually set on fire. Visually, we wanted everything to feel handmade and slightly larger than life, which mirrors the characters’ inner worlds. I’ve made shorts in every genre — horror, comedy, sci-fi — but never drama. I just can’t deal with regular life, it seems.

Shooting in such a remote location during a snowstorm must have brought its own challenges. How did those conditions influence the mood and texture of the film?

I have a tendency to think megalomaniacally and attempt way too large projects on way too small budgets. That this film got made at all on under $10,000 is a small miracle. We shot in the most remote town in Franches-Montagnes during a snowstorm. I still feel guilty about making Kacey and Maria roll around in the snow at sub-zero temperatures. But every single person on this incredibly passionate crew worked for free and gave the project everything they had. Riccarda, our editor, turned the chaos into what she called a “musical fantasy film” — and without the beautiful music of our composer Mirjam Skal and the sound design by Jakob Eisenbach, it would have fallen apart. The sound design took longer than the edit on this film. Jakob is the real superstar behind all my movies. The conditions didn’t just influence the texture — they became the texture.

The film has sparked strong reactions and discussions from audiences. What do you think it is about Lonely Fans that invites such divided or passionate responses?

People feel simultaneously attracted and repelled — a bit like the characters feel toward each other. Some found it very romantic, which made us incredibly happy, because that was always the goal: to make a strange but romantic comedy. I think the film asks you to take something absurd seriously, and that’s uncomfortable for some people and liberating for others.

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

I don’t want to sound like an edgelord, and there are definitely channels like Every Frame a Painting that can inspire you immensely. But as a film nerd myself, I’ll also say: at some point you just have to make something and stop being influenced by too many other things. I go through phases where I watch a lot of movies and I’m more of a fan — and when I’m shooting, I watch less and try to get into my own zone. I crave new voices, and sometimes the best ones come from people who don’t know every rule yet and just break them fearlessly. I mean, that talented Backrooms YouTube guy who’s 20 and just got his first feature He just did it!

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

My favorite short film is probably La Jetée by Chris Marker — about 30 minutes long, one of the very first sci-fi films, insanely low-budget and endlessly inspiring. A more recent one I love is Lux Carne by Gabriel Grosclaude, a fellow student from my school It’s a great sci-fi short about eating meat. I think sci-fi concepts work amazingly well in the short format because it’s more about ideas than characters.