Sydney Clara Brafman is an award winning writer and filmmaker living in Brooklyn, NY. Her focus drives her to study the human condition, the irony of circumstance, the tragedy of humor and the environments they inhabit with a wicked sense of humor and style. When she's not making movies, she's passionately hating cocoa, removing stage blood stains from her clothing, and enjoying cats on the street.
In short, humor and tragedy are two sides of the same coin to me, so I’d never consider one without the other. That’s what’s most frightening, how things so terrifying can also be full of humor. Often, you don’t see how difficult it can actually be to kill someone. It can take up to 4 minutes to fully strangle someone, and that’s IF it’s done correctly. Don’t tell me that’s not in the slight bit humorous. That’s an ordeal. What’s going through someones head in that amount of time? Well, the victim is probably terrified and begging for their life. But the killer? They could be wondering if they left the oven on. Which not only means they were using the oven to cook something, but that something potentially distracted them from turning it off. There’s a whole plot right there.
In other ways, we often find ourselves coping with comedy, by remembering the things that made us laugh when plagued with tragedy. It’s a dry sense of humor that keeps many of us going. I want to push those boundaries and step over the line to find how far I can go, how horrible can something be and still make someone laugh. When you’re writing with wit, sometimes you wonder if it’s a little too sick, and in that moment I keep writing. An antagonist has their own story, far more interesting than they’re given credit for. Everyone can be a psychopath, it just takes the right situation. It’s called the “eggshell moment” (I’ve coined the term myself), where someone who’s lived a seemingly normal life experiences a singular event that triggers psychopathic characteristics. Someone can live their whole life unaware of their true nature, until that one moment breaks the eggshell. Hence my alias, Squib Films (and of course, SQUIB, the film), a moment of impact that blurs reality and fiction. This stylistic attitude can only be visualized with an equally bold atmosphere; strong bright colors, stylistic set design. But with more blood, of course. At least, that’s how I see horror.
"She just oozes that kind of horrific charm that guarantees a chilling slice of the macabre [and] the makings of the next big name in horror" (Ramblings Magazine).