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We are crowdfunding to fund the production of Good Object, Bad Object, a short film written by K.P. Wilson.
Set against the desolate shingle landscapes of the English coast, this atmospheric drama explores themes of isolation, identity, psychological tension, and the charged objects we carry - both literal and emotional.
It follows Cleo and Marin (also known as Fisher), a couple living in uneasy silence on the edge of the world. As Marin moves through shadowy dealings and Cleo confronts buried secrets, empty beds, and a gun that should not be there, the film traces the quiet erosion of a relationship and the strange power of the things we hide, find, and become.
Our aim is to bring this haunting, dreamlike story to the screen with the care and precision it deserves. Your support will go directly toward production costs - locations, cast, crew, camera, sound, and post-production - helping us realise a high-quality short film that stays true to the script’s stark poetry and emotional undercurrents.
Thank you for considering supporting Good Object, Bad Object. Even a small contribution or sharing this project with your network would make a real difference in helping us reach our £9,000 target.

In a desolate coastal town, a restless woman and her increasingly fractured partner become entangled in the transfer of a mysterious object whose weight begins to alter identity, intimacy and reality itself.

On a desolate stretch of the English coast, a relationship is quietly unravelling under the weight of unspoken secrets.
Marin leads a double life under the alias “Fisher”-smuggling, or something like it, hiding a mysterious object in his home and vanishing for long stretches into a shadowy world of associates and cryptic dealings. Cleo, left alone, drifts through the house in a haze of premonition, superstition, and mounting unease, sensing more than she's been told. When she discovers the hidden object, a pistol- it becomes a quiet fixation, something she circles and avoids confronting. Marin's day spirals through tense meetings and drunken despair, while a garbled phone call between the two only deepens the distance between them.
That night, he returns to find her collapsed and shaken; a fragile, wordless intimacy passes between them. Cleo rises alone the next morning and dresses herself in Marin's coat, hat, and gloves, assuming his identity- before walking out to the shore with the gun. She raises it toward the sea. It does not fire.

Good Object, Bad Object began with a single image: a woman walking alone through a deserted graveyard of old ships, carrying a gun in her hand. At first, I didn't know who she was or what had brought her there. I was more interested in what might have happened before that moment, when everything felt exposed, yet somehow secretive.
Beneath the weather-beaten cottages, fishing boats, and abandoned industrial buildings, there is a small network of people connected by unspoken agreements and obscure transactions. It is a place where things can disappear, and where people can disappear with them.
The story follows Cleo over the course of a single day. Marin leaves early in the morning for a job he never fully explains, while she remains behind in their strange, temporary home. As the day passes, small things begin to feel wrong. A sound in another room. A memory that may not be a memory. Something buried. Something hidden.
The relationship between Cleo and Marin sits at the centre of the film. They know one another intimately, yet there is a distance between them that neither seems willing to confront. Their conversations are brief, but underneath them is the suspicion that they are both carrying something they cannot share.
I'm interested in the strange intimacy that can exist inside concealment: the things we hide, the things we choose not to ask, and the silent agreements that form between people. As a filmmaker, I'm drawn to stories where landscape and character become inseparable, and where reality slowly begins to take on the logic of a dream.
Visually, the camera should observe rather than chase the characters, using predominantly classical cinema language, subtle shifting compositions, and very controlled movement. I want the landscape to become active in its own right, allowing small gestures, glances, and changes in expression to carry as much weight as the sparse dialogue.
This is a film you experience rather than follow.
Throughout the film, ordinary objects begin to transform. A buried box, an unopened letter, a hidden gun. They become containers for suspicion and memory, fear and desire.
In the end, I want to leave the audience with a question: when does an object become dangerous? Is it when we hide it, when we discover it, or when we finally decide what to do with it? Perhaps there is no such thing as a good object or a bad object. Maybe there are only the meanings we bury inside them, waiting for someone to dig them up.

The preliminary budget totals £15,664 against an allocated £14,000. The largest shares go to equipment, locations, cast and post-production. Remaining costs cover transport, accommodation, production design, catering and contingency items. The shoot is scheduled for 28 September – 5 October 2026 in Dungeness.

Timeline Development runs from March to July 2026 with successive script drafts and early location work. Pre-production and crowdfunding follow through August and September, covering the fundraiser, auditions, casting and rehearsals. Principal photography takes place in Dungeness from 28 September to 4 October. Post-production — picture cuts, sound design, mixes and grade — continues until December, with final delivery of the finished film on 21 December 2026.

Funding method
Keep what you raise – this project will receive all pledges made by 6th October 2026 at 8:47pm