Moonfish

A grieving astronaut who loses his only companion on a deep-space mining mission must fulfil a strict corporate quota to return home. As his year of solitude passes, his grip on reality unravels the line between the living and non-living.

A decade ago, I was misdiagnosed with a heart condition by a Medicaid doctor who casually told me I might die soon. I recall sliding down the wall, hands and feet tingling in shock, as he recited symptoms from a Google search with his back turned to me. He scheduled a heart scan for two months later. I made it two weeks before the crushing weight drove me to the emergency room, where I learned the diagnosis was wrong. My arrhythmia was benign. The constant palpitations were triggered by a nerve misfiring from chronic acid reflux that still plagues me daily. But during those fourteen days sitting in my apartment believing my life was ending, time’s flow was disrupted. My consciousness tried to absorb every remaining second like a sponge in an ocean, simultaneously living in the past and a stolen future. Experiencing that liminal space where time, mortality and hyper-awareness collide permanently altered how I view existence.
Moonfish is the translation of that waiting room. I set the story on an isolated asteroid as an allegory for our modern condition: stranded in our own solitude, crushed by corporate techno-oligarchies and living through screen-mediated lives. Our protagonist, a working-class contractor processing the loss of a partner and a shared dream, must navigate his declining health while completely cut off from humanity. Capturing the film in a 4:3 aspect ratio with black and white mirrors the claustrophobia of his physical and emotional isolation.
To bring this world to life, I relied on a language of atmosphere, spatial tension, and sensory weight. The film explores the thin, porous boundary where the living and the non-living collide, asking how we mourn what was while clinging to a future, no matter how dire. Moonfish is not just about surviving in the cosmos. It is an investigation into how we hold onto our humanity, our grief, and our capacity for wonder when the universe feels vast, indifferent and impossibly quiet.

PRODUCTION 1:
Lucky Accident Productions - Mireia Vilanova
Tel: +1 8183707244
E-mail: mireiavilanova95@gmail.com
Social Media: @mireia.vilanova - Instagram

PRODUCTION 2:
Present Company - Rebecca Wyzan
Tel: +1 2034997908
E-mail: rebecca@presentcompany.productions
Social Media: @rebeccawyzan - Instagram

PRODUCTION 3:
Cartuna - James Belfer
Tel: +1 5164554761
E-mail: james@cartuna.com
Web: http://www.cartuna.com
Social Media: @cartuna - Instagram, @jamesbelfer – Instagram

WORLD SALES:
New Europe Film Sales - Natalia Dabrowska
Tel: +48 787909918
E-mail: info@neweuropefilmsales.com
Web: www.neweuropefilmsales.com

PRESS OFFICE:
La Biennale di Venezia
Ca' Giustinian, San Marco, 1364/a
30124 Venezia, Italia
Tel: +39 041 2726 644
E-mail: presscinema@labiennale.org / college-cinema@labiennale.org

Steven Raphael - Required Viewing
E-mail: denise@requiredviewing.net

Additional press officers:
Denise Sinelov denise@requiredviewing.net