What happens when someone desperate to be seen begins to disappear? That paradox sits at the heart of Lady, the inventive mockumentary from director and co-writer Samuel Abrahams. Blending absurdist comedy, psychological exploration, and a high-concept supernatural premise, the film follows Lady Isabella (Sian Clifford,) an eccentric woman who invites a documentary crew into her stately home, only to find herself gradually turning invisible.
Developed alongside his partner and co-writer Miranda Campbell Bowling, Abrahams envisioned a character whose extravagant personality concealed something considerably more complicated beneath the surface.
"The character kind of arrived to us in Technicolor," Abrahams explains. "She was so obsessed with wanting the world to see her, but she was incapable of seeing herself."
What initially resembles a flamboyant exercise in self-promotion gradually becomes an examination of trauma, vulnerability, and the lengths people will go to avoid confronting themselves. Lady Isabella is a character who demands attention. She’s seemingly incapable of filtering her thoughts as she welcomes the documentary crew into her world with the enthusiasm of someone finally receiving the audience she believes she deserves. Yet Abrams knew from the beginning that her theatrical personality needed to conceal a deeper emotional truth.
"Right from the get-go, we knew that there was this depth to this character that seemingly appears superficial."
The film's intimate construction takes place in a predominantly single location story built around two central characters which provided the opportunity to gradually dismantle Isabella's carefully maintained persona. Interestingly, her supernatural predicament wasn't part of the original concept.
Abrams had already developed the character and the documentary framework when he began searching for something that would elevate the project into a distinctive theatrical experience. Drawing inspiration from the high-concept comedies of the 1990s, including Groundhog Day, Liar Liar, and Being John Malkovich, he wanted a fantastical premise that would emerge organically from the character's psychology.
"What's the worst thing that could happen to her?" he recalls asking himself.
For someone whose entire identity revolves around being noticed, the answer was obvious: becoming invisible. The resulting transformation happens progressively, limb by limb, with Isabella hurtling toward the possibility of complete disappearance. Crucially, however, Abrams wanted her physical presence to remain tangible. Rather than vanishing entirely, her body becomes translucent, almost like looking through glass. That distinction also created opportunities for practical filmmaking ingenuity. Since Isabella remains physically present, covering an invisible hand with a glove becomes both a logical character decision and a convenient way to reduce expensive visual effects.
"The cheapest VFX you can have is a glove," Abrams jokes.
Beyond its production benefits, the decision reinforces the film's emotional themes. Just as Isabella has spent years concealing unresolved trauma, her instinct when confronted with her disappearing body is to cover it up rather than acknowledge what is happening.
While Isabella's predicament provides the film's fantastical hook, Abrams was equally interested in experimenting with the mockumentary format itself. Rather than treating the documentary crew as passive observers, Lady gradually transforms the camera into an active participant in the unfolding narrative. The fictional director, Sam, initially attempts to establish his authority over the production, only for Isabella to begin commandeering proceedings, issuing her own instructions and calling out commands. As his control deteriorates, the filmmaking itself becomes increasingly chaotic.
"I just thought it would be a really fun way to keep raising the stakes," Abrams explains. "As he's losing control, the film is kind of unraveling."
Drawing on his background shooting observational documentaries, Abrams approached the camera operator as another character with individual motivations, curiosities, and shifting allegiances. When Sam reveals a moment of vulnerability, the camera might abandon Isabella and seek him out instead. Its movements become instinctive, responding to the emotional dynamics unfolding in front of it. Achieving that spontaneity required close collaboration between the performers and cinematographer, often through exceptionally long takes.
"We would shoot some insanely long takes. I mean, like 10-minute takes."
The process became an ongoing exchange between camera and cast, with unexpected moments incorporated into subsequent takes.
"You could allow for a mistake and then you could kind of run with it," he says.
The result is a film whose visual language evolves alongside its characters, allowing the audience to experience the documentary crew's growing fascination with a story that increasingly escapes their control.
