Trigger

For reasons best known to himself, Anthony (Glynatsis) has decided to put himself forward to audition for the popular youth television show, ‘Dream Island’. Immediately after entering the room and standing in front of the camera it becomes obvious that Anthony is not going to be a good fit for the show, being as he is stiff, downbeat and somewhat inhibited. The casting director, Jessica (Griffin) is, however, intent on getting Anthony to open up about himself to the camera and begins her interview with a couple of generic, standard, introductory questions.

Soon enough though, the questions start to become more personal, asking Anthony to reveal more about his relationships and sexual preferences, before turning decidedly pointed, stereotyped and downright offensive. The assumptions made by the succession of questions, taken from an extensive previously prepared list, visibly affects Anthony and triggers a painful memory within him which then becomes the focus of the film.

Anthony’s triggered memory opens at a London house party, where he meets friends, pours himself a drink and initially seems to be enjoying himself. The objectionable line of questioning still hangs in the air though, providing the viewer with a definite sense of unease as the flashback progresses, with this feeling being compounded as the scene continually intermingles Anthony’s memory with the ever increasing barrage of outrageous inquisition.

Once Anthony accepts an invitation from a tall, dark and handsome stranger (something he has already been forced to admit a preference for) to go upstairs, it then becomes increasingly apparent that this interaction will not end the way he expects, or wants, it to. This then reveals to the viewer the devastating theme of sexual assault which becomes explicit throughout the course of the film.

Yorgo Glynatsis, who plays Anthony, is also one half of the writing and directing team on Trigger, along with Chloe Potamiti. He has based the story on his own experience, which affords it a definite sense of integrity and realism, but which also makes Trigger a very personal film for him. All throughout Trigger, Glynatsis is at pains to point out the lack of awareness and discussion around the subjects of sexual consent and sexual assault, especially within the LGBTQI+ community, and towards the end of the film he explodes this onto the screen when he shows the aftermath of the traumatic event and then shares some horrifying statistics through his end-title cards. It is no exaggeration to say that watching Trigger is an educational experience.

Where, perhaps, Trigger does not shine so brightly though, is in the filmmaking itself. Despite a half-decent, true-to-life script in the flashback scenes, and a very important theme, the acting and delivery of these is not so accomplished. Similarly, the direction and photography show themselves to be serviceable to the narrative but both fail to create the appropriate tension and drama which are integral to delivering a shocking blow to the audience when the crime is discovered. At under eleven minutes of runtime, Glynatsis hasn’t given himself, nor the gravitas of his subject and theme, enough space to truly draw the viewer in or to explore the realities and complications of navigating relationships, particularly within LGBTQI+ communities. Nevertheless, Trigger is an important, personal look at an important, universal issue, and as an educational tool for improving awareness, should be seen by as many people as it can be got out to.