COMMON
UNHAPPINESS

A Feature Film
Written & Directed by Brent Steen
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“Much will be gained if we succeed in transforming our hysterical misery into common unhappiness.” — Sigmund Freud

When her home, work, and relationship collapse into one space, a one-star review forces a Brooklyn piano teacher to face her own unhappiness.

Drama  ·  Micro-Budget  ·  Brooklyn, Present Day
The Film

Lyla, late twenties, lives, works, and conducts her relationship inside the same small Brooklyn apartment. Her partner Paul recently moved in — his dresser displaces the bed, his blender interrupts her lessons, his charger crowds the outlet. The apartment used to be hers. Now it holds everything.

At a dinner party, she and Paul try a psychedelic with their closest friends. For everyone else, it's clarifying. For Lyla, it strips away her ability to perform okayness without giving her anything to replace it.

In the weeks that follow she cuts down her neighbor's wind chimes in the dark, nearly chokes to death on a grape in a library while no one looks up, and stalks the stranger who left her a one-star review — only to find her crying on the phone, more lost than Lyla is.

Threaded throughout: four confessions to a figure at the edge of the frame. By the last one, what she's confessing to isn't what she thinks — and there's nowhere left to hide.

INT. LIBRARY — DAY
43.
The grape lodges in her throat. Her hand goes to her neck. She tries to cough — nothing comes out. Just a thin, desperate WHEEZE. Barely audible. The silence of the library swallows it. She looks around. No one notices. The WOMAN across the table continues typing. Steady keystrokes. The MAN two seats down turns a page. Behind him, a "NO FOOD IN THE LIBRARY" sign. Lyla's eyes widen. Panic sets in.
The Character
Lyla

A piano teacher whose apartment is also her workspace, whose workspace is also her bedroom, whose bedroom is now also Paul's. Her students arrive at the door she eats breakfast behind. The metronome on the counter belongs to the same room as everything else.

She doesn't think of herself as unhappy. She thinks of herself as someone doing her best.

She's wrong about one of those things.

Character & Tone Reference
Tone reference
Tone reference

Stills of Cailee Spaeny in BEEF (Season 2, 2026), shown as a casting and tone reference. Not affiliated with this production. Source: ShotDeck.

The People Around Her

Who's in the apartment.

Paul

Partner · Early 30s

Warm, well-meaning, recently moved in. Does the crossword in pen. Not a villain — a person having a different experience of the same life, with no idea how wide the gap has become.

Claire & Theo

Closest Friends · Early 30s

Married. A unit. Guests at the dinner party that sets everything in motion. Their lightness is real, and Lyla cannot quite reach it.

Noah

Piano Student · 14

A teenager memorizing every lesson because he can't read music and won't tell his father. Lyla lets it slide — she recognizes the performance.

Linda

Neighbor · 60s

Owns the wind chimes — tuned, she says, to 432 hertz, the frequency of universal love. Reassembles what Lyla breaks with a care Lyla lacks for herself.

Jessica Palmer

Stranger · 40s

A name attached to a one-star review. A woman whose private life Lyla discovers — and who, when found, is more lost than Lyla is.

— and the apartment.

Setting · Pressure Chamber

Where work, home, relationship, and students all overlap. A space the camera treats as a character — one that has slowly stopped being hers.

Direction

The things we live with.

The film treats the home as a psychological space — not a backdrop, but a portrait. Locked-off shots. Slow pushes into ordinary objects until they become strange. A metronome. A dying plant beside fresh wildflowers. A single wall outlet shared by two people.

Comps & Influences

In Conversation With

Three films that stayed with us while making this film.

Reference still
Jordan Peele · Nope · 2022
01
Jordan Peele
Nope · 2022

Peele finds beauty and unease in the same frame. His worlds are bright, saturated, and lush, while the dread sits quietly beneath ordinary life. We're drawn to that tension — where something familiar feels just slightly wrong.

Reference still
Chantal Akerman · Jeanne Dielman · 1975
02
Chantal Akerman
Jeanne Dielman · 1975

Akerman finds meaning in ordinary things. A room, a routine, a coffee cup. We love the idea that behavior and environment can reveal what characters can’t say out loud.

Reference still
Joachim Trier · The Worst Person in the World · 2021
03
Joachim Trier
The Worst Person in the World · 2021

His characters rarely feel settled. They're searching, drifting, and trying to make sense of their lives. We were drawn to that emotional space.

The Look

Four states of light.

The film is built around four kinds of light: warm practicals, deep-blue night, color that feels slightly wrong, and sunset.

Domestic warmth
01Domestic warmthLamp · apartmentWarm practical light, pushed slightly past cozy. Everyday rooms lit like they matter.
Deep-blue night
02Deep-blue nightNight · backyardNight goes deep and saturated — rich, calm, and a little unreal.
The wrong note
03The wrong noteSaturated · eerieWhen something is off, the color says it first. The image gets louder and slightly out of tune.
Sunset
04SunsetSunset · bike rideLow Brooklyn gold, lens flare, and light finally let all the way in.
Director's Statement

It came to me as images.

This script arrived as a collection of images — like slides in a Viewmaster. Fully formed, out of order, before I had a story. A man crying in a pool where no one can tell. A kid throwing his sheet music out a car window. A woman cutting down her neighbor's wind chimes in the middle of the night.

They arrived like muscles. I needed tendons to connect them. The confessional structure became the connective tissue — the thing that held the images together.

There's a feeling I keep coming back to that I don't have a clean word for. Not depression, not dissatisfaction. More like: everything looks fine, maybe even good, but something underneath is slightly off. Not broken. Just off. That's the space this film moves in.

What I want the audience to feel isn't sadness. It's recognition — the relief of not being the only one in the grey. The radical act of saying this is what's actually happening, and letting the room hold it. That's what this film is trying to do.

— Brent Steen
Who's Making It

Brent Steen

Writer & Director

A visual artist and filmmaker. An Artadia grant recipient and Glassell School Artist in Residence, with short films shown at the Dallas Museum of Art and the Contemporary Art Museum Houston, and work in the permanent collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. For two decades the Creative Director of Article&, shooting campaigns and directing video. Writer-director of three shorts: Hidden Steps, Sabrina's Dream, and Self-Storage. Common Unhappiness is his first feature.

Lara Fieldbinder

Producer

A producer whose career spans museum publishing, retail, and independent film. Trained as a studio artist, she began at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, then joined the Guggenheim in New York, producing art books and managing the museum's website. In 2005 she co-founded Article&, which she has run for two decades. Producer and First AD on all three shorts.

Where We Are

Small scale. Big feelings.

A completed feature screenplay. A trusted producing team. Contained locations and a clear creative vision shaped over several short films.

We're currently assembling cast and collaborators for Common Unhappiness.

Production begins Fall 2026

If the work speaks to you, we'd love to connect.