On Guard is one of those short films that doesn’t announce its intentions with a shout, but instead steadily tightens its grip on your heart with every passing minute. Written and directed by Will Calkins, the film steps into the world of fencing not as a sport defined by mere elegance, but as a psychological battleground where identity, pressure, and obsession collide.
The premise feels deceptively simple, almost like a secret shared between rivals. Jaime, an emotionally fragile sabre fencer, challenges her biggest competition, Taylor, to an after-hours duel. But what unfolds in that dim, quiet gym is so much more layered than a simple sparring match. Taylor arrives with a casual, almost breezy ease, treating the night like a nostalgic bit of fun. Jaime, however, walks in carrying a weight you can practically feel through the screen. There is an invisible burden that lives in her silence and in the way she grips her blade.
The Heart of the Duel
The film truly thrives in this emotional imbalance. Will Calkins, drawing from his own history as a fencer, gives the story an authenticity that feels lived-in and raw. You can feel the loneliness of the solo athlete in every frame. That crushing reality is that in a field of hundreds, only one girl gets to walk away with the win, leaving a quiet devastation for everyone else.
That residue of “not being enough” is etched into Jaime’s character, played with such haunting restraint by Makenzie Pridgen. She is withdrawn and quiet during practice, but once the masks go on, that stillness fractures into a desperate intensity. For Jaime, this isn’t just a game; it’s a reckoning, though the film is smart enough to let the exact nature of her pain hover just out of our reach.
Opposite her, Sean Mikesh’s Taylor provides the perfect, necessary counterbalance. His relaxed energy initially diffuses the tension, but as the bouts progress, you see the moment he realises he has stepped into something far more personal and volatile than he ever anticipated. The shift in the room is palpable, and it’s remarkable how much emotional gravity these two sustain within a single location.
A Visual and Sonic Mix
The fencing gym itself becomes a character, one that feels increasingly cut of from any world out as the duel and conversation goes on. Cinematographer Christian Kelly captures the clashing blades and intricate footwork with an intimacy that feels almost methodical. The camera places us uncomfortably close to the action, making us feel like voyeurs to Jaime’s escalating breakdown.
And I have to mention the sound design as well. It’s the unsung hero here. Every metallic clack of the sabres and every hurried shuffle against the floor reverberates with a sharpness that keeps you on edge. The score is perfect and in those gaps between movements, you can almost hear Jaime’s mind spiralling.
What makes ‘On Guard’ so compelling is how it speaks to anyone who has ever attached their entire self-worth to a performance. Jaime embodies that relentless, feminine pressure to be “perfect,” only to realise the finish line just keeps moving. It’s a cautionary tale about what happens when the thing you love becomes the very thing that breaks you.
At just 14 minutes, the film’s containment is its greatest strength. It forces us to look at the characters without any distractions. If I have any complaint, it’s only because I wanted to stay in this world longer. Jaime’s psychological landscape is so rich that it could easily sustain a feature-length deep dive. And that is very obvious from how the film ends.
On Guard is a triumph because it isn’t just about a match between two fencers; it’s about the internal battles that don’t end when the lights go out. It lingers long after the credits roll, persistent and sharp like the echo of steel against steel in a silent room.
4/5
