
DEPERSON 2026
"Cry."
DEPERSON (2026), a razor-sharp three-minute comedy-drama from writer-director Colin Wheeler, plunges deep into the absurdity of emotional manipulation.
Director: Colin Wheeler
Cast


Frequently Asked Questions
What is DEPERSON (2026) about?
DEPERSON (2026) explores the painful absurdity of having one's emotions scripted and staged by an unseen force. A man tries to share his feelings with his partner, only to realize his tears and sighs are being directed in real time.
Who directed DEPERSON?
DEPERSON is directed by Colin Wheeler, a filmmaker known for blending sharp comedic timing with dramatic tension in his works.
Who stars in DEPERSON?
The film features Colin Wheeler in the lead role, alongside Jon Warner and Alexa Ruivivar in pivotal supporting performances.
Is DEPERSON (2026) worth watching?
Though still unrated on IMDb, DEPERSON's bold premise and tight execution make it a standout micro-drama. Its genre-blending approach and strong performances—particularly from Wheeler himself—offer a compelling, if discomforting, viewing experience.
How long is DEPERSON?
DEPERSON runs for approximately 3 minutes.
DEPERSON (2026): A Man's Tears Directed by an Invisible Hand — Full Info
DEPERSON (2026), a razor-sharp three-minute comedy-drama from writer-director Colin Wheeler, plunges deep into the absurdity of emotional manipulation. The film follows a man as he attempts to share his feelings with his partner—only to find an unseen cameraman silently choreographing every sigh and tear, pushing each expression to fit an invisible script. The cramped, intimate setting amplifies the discomfort, turning a private moment into a public farce where vulnerability is dictated by an unseen force. Wheeler blends biting satire with poignant observation, crafting a micro-drama that questions the authenticity of our emotional displays in an increasingly performative world.
With its compact runtime and unflinching premise, DEPERSON feels like a cinematic experiment in emotional puppetry. The dialogue crackles with awkward sincerity, while Alexa Ruivivar and Jon Warner deliver performances that oscillate between hilarious and heartbreaking, locked in a dance of resistance and submission. It's a film that lingers long after the credits roll—less about the story and more about the quiet horror of being asked to cry on command.