Embracing new technology is never as simple as flipping a switch. Especially when that innovation threatens to erase your entire livelihood. Imagine waking up every day to the slow death of the only world you’ve ever known, replaced by machines you don’t understand and a future that doesn’t have space for you in it. This kind of change can be suffocating and challenging, and even affect your sense of worth, your relationships or your will to keep trying.

‘Machine Dreams’, written and directed by Dan Egan, is a fascinating short film that explores this subject with a simple but emotional narrative about the fear of losing the familiar and the silent battles we fight when change becomes inevitable.

At the centre of the story is Marco, an ageing auto-shop mechanic whose life’s work is being made obsolete by the mainstream takeover of flying cars. What was once a stable profession feels like it’s become obsolete, and this is pushing him into a depressive spiral. His wife, Isabela, is forced to share in that burden with him, not by choice. She still believes in the dream that they built together, but it is clear that hope, too, has its limits. The relationship appears to be slowly deteriorating. You feel the emotional distance, not through grand confrontations, but in the weariness behind her eyes and the unspoken words between them. You soon see that it is not just Marco’s job that is crumbling, but also their marriage.

Things take a darker turn after a tense encounter with a customer pushes Marco past his breaking point. What follows is a drunken downward spiral, the kind that doesn’t just bruise the ego but also bruises the bond between two people. Isabela starts to consider leaving the idea of him.

Then, almost like a challenge thrown straight from the universe, a flying car malfunctions and plummets from the sky, landing right in front of Marco. In that moment, he is faced with a choice that is both literal and metaphorical in a sense. Does he walk away and retreat deeper into the ruins of the world he understands, or does he accept the challenge and try to fix the very symbol of the future that’s been destroying him?

It’s here that Dan Egan’s storytelling shines most and reveals its layers. The film isn’t just about a broken machine. It’s about a broken man, a broken marriage, and the fear of irrelevance. The scene where Marco tells Isabela, “I don’t know if I can fix it,” feels achingly layered. It isn’t just about the flying car, it’s about them. And when she replies, “You have to try,” it’s not a request. It is more like a plea for them to try to fix their marriage.

Javier Ronceros delivers an incredibly grounded performance. Even with minimal dialogue, he conveys despair, pride, and reluctant vulnerability with nuance. You can almost feel the heaviness in his chest as he confronts his obsolescence. Rosa Delgada is equally compelling, embodying the quiet resilience of a long-suffering partner who hasn’t forgotten softness but is running out of patience to carry someone else’s heartbreak.

Another thing worth mentioning about this short is the visual effects. Although it might not be over the top in terms of execution, it is intentional and works well to complete the narrative. The sight of flying cars feels believable and purposeful, not gimmicky. The film’s colour palette helps bind everything into a cohesive emotional tone. Even the telenovela that Isabela watches is staged with intent and contributes to the world-building in a surprisingly meaningful way.

The sound design and scoring choices stand out as well. There’s a gentle, deliberate touch in how the film uses sound to shift between drama and undertones of humour. There are a few moments that almost feel like soft satire, but the film never compromises its emotional weight. The balance is delicate and well-maintained.

What’s most impressive is how much ‘Dream Machine’ achieves within its 18-minute runtime with limited dialogue. It speaks to themes of sacrifice, relevance, marriage, and the power of simply trying. And honestly, that’s the heart of it….trying. Not winning, not saving the world, not reinventing yourself overnight, but taking one step toward something unfamiliar because the alternative is giving and accepting defeat.

There is so much room for expansion in Marco and Isabela’s story. One can’t help but wonder what happens next with their marriage, with the shop, with Marco’s identity. The film leaves just enough open space for your imagination to wander, without feeling incomplete.

Dream Machine is not really about technology; it is about us, fragile humans, trying to survive in its shadow. Something many people can feel beautifully relate to.

Rating: 4/5