After several days of watching dark thrillers, grim horror films, and cynical dramas at Fantastic Fest, Silver Screamers felt like a breath of fresh air — a warm hug in cinematic form. As someone who’s 66 myself, I wasn’t just watching this documentary; I was deeply feeling it. It’s rare to see people my age represented on screen in ways that don’t involve frailty or final chapters. Director Sean Cisterna’s film reminds us that aging isn’t an ending — it’s another act, and sometimes it’s the most joyful one of all.
The premise is deceptively simple: after hitting repeated walls trying to get traditional film projects funded, Cisterna stumbles upon a government program encouraging seniors to stay active. Instead of shelving his filmmaking dreams, he pivots — assembling a cast and crew made up significantly of older adults to make a horror short called The Rug. The documentary even opens with that finished short film. If I could have made one change, it would have been to place The Rug at the end rather than the beginning — a small structural shift that might have heightened the emotional payoff — but this decision in no way detracts from the experience.
Interestingly, only one older actress appears on screen in The Rug itself, but Silver Screamers is very much a story about the entire group. The seniors speak candidly about the experience of filmmaking — their fears, their excitement, their pride — and they’re teamed with younger mentors who guide them through the technical side of production. What’s most heartwarming, though, is how their individual skills are celebrated and integrated: from puppeteering to painting, every talent finds its place behind the scenes, making this project feel deeply collaborative and personal.
For me, this wasn’t just a film — it was a gentle reminder that curiosity and ambition don’t expire. I saw pieces of myself in every senior who nervously stepped in front of the camera or confidently called “Action!” behind it. I found myself grinning as they overcame obstacles and surprising myself by tearing up more than once.
In a festival lineup dominated by heavy, unsettling narratives, Silver Screamers was a necessary palate cleanser — not because it’s lightweight, but because it’s profoundly hopeful. It champions the idea that it’s never too late to learn, to create, to collaborate, and to dream — and it does so with sincerity and charm rather than sentimentality.