Kendra Monet on ATTACHED: Turning the Invisible Pressures of Ambition into Psychological Horror

Few genres externalize our private fears as effectively as psychological horror. In Kendra Monet's debut narrative short, ATTACHED, the monsters are not supernatural—they are the anxieties of surviving your twenties while chasing impossible dreams.

Set in Harlem, ATTACHED follows Draya, a struggling actress whose unresolved past and increasingly precarious present force her to confront her need for control. Rejection, financial instability, fractured relationships, and the quiet pressure of pretending everything is fine slowly merge into a haunting psychological landscape where internal fears become impossible to ignore.

Still from ATTACHED

For Monet, the film is deeply personal. Inspired by her own experiences navigating the film industry as a young Black filmmaker, ATTACHED examines the invisible masks many people wear while pursuing success. It asks what happens when ambition collides with insecurity, and whether healing begins only after we stop performing strength for everyone else.

The film has enjoyed an impressive festival run, screening at festivals including the Brooklyn Film Festival, Virginia Black Film Festival, Maryland International Film Festival, Manhattan Film Festival, Hip Hop Film Festival, Bronx Film Week, and numerous others, while winning the Outstanding Achievement Award for Best Thriller Shortat Indie Shorts Fest.

For Final Cut Magazine, Kendra Monet discusses bringing Harlem to the screen, financing an independent production through community support, why Black women deserve to see themselves reflected in psychological thrillers, and why filmmakers should never allow festivals to determine the value of their work.

Kendra, ATTACHED uses psychological horror to explore something many people experience but rarely talk about: pretending everything is okay. Where did the film begin for you?

I created ATTACHED from the idea of pretending that you are okay while carrying fears, insecurities, and pressures that other people cannot see.

Set in Harlem, the film explores the emotional weight of navigating your twenties while trying to pursue your dreams, maintain a sense of control, and present a version of yourself that feels stronger than what you are experiencing internally.

Through Draya’s journey, I wanted to examine the masks we wear to hide our struggles and the moments when we are finally forced to confront what we have been avoiding.

As she deals with the aftermath of her relationship with Davon, rejection from acting auditions, and the possibility of eviction, her external challenges mirror the internal battles many people experience while trying to find their place in the world.

With the support of her best friend, Nya, Draya begins to understand that healing requires vulnerability and the courage to let go.

Through the lens of psychological horror, ATTACHED transforms everyday anxieties into a haunting exploration of ambition, identity, friendship, and discovering who we are beneath the masks we create.

Kendra Monet

Your director's statement mentions feeling caught between aspiration and uncertainty while building your own career. How much of yourself lives inside Draya?

Quite a lot.

ATTACHED was born from my own fears and the pressures of navigating my twenties while pursuing my dreams.

I work in film, where I often feel adjacent to my goals, yet still far removed from an industry that does not always provide the resources or opportunities for Black independent first-time filmmakers.

That feeling of limbo is difficult to put into words. It is a constant tension between aspiration and uncertainty, where progress can feel both tangible and out of reach.

What made me want to tell this story is that I realized so many of my friends and colleagues were experiencing that same feeling. We are all trying to build careers while pretending we have everything figured out, even when we don't.

Financing an independent film is often a story in itself. What were the biggest obstacles you had to overcome while making ATTACHED?

One of the biggest challenges was simply securing the resources needed to bring the film to life.

As an independent filmmaker, I applied for grants but didn't receive the funding I needed, which meant I had to find alternative ways to finance the project.

I raised half of the budget through crowdfunding and community support while investing my own resources to finance the remaining half of the production.

Raising money for a film is an incredibly challenging process, especially once you understand how expensive every aspect of filmmaking can be.

I had to be vulnerable and intentional in sharing my vision, reaching out to my community, and building support around a story I deeply believed in.

The experience reinforced how inaccessible filmmaking can be, especially for Black independent filmmakers who often have to self-finance and take significant financial risks simply to bring our stories to life.

The barriers are not a lack of talent or ideas. They're a lack of resources and opportunities.

Despite those challenges, you've often spoken about the importance of community. Is that ultimately what you're most proud of?

Absolutely.

The thing I'm most proud of is the community that came together to make ATTACHED possible.

Despite the challenges of independent filmmaking, people saw themselves in this story and understood why it needed to be told.

They believed in my vision and wanted to support the film because the themes of ambition, identity, and uncertainty reflected their own experiences.

That same connection extended to the crew, who brought their creativity to a script they genuinely connected with.

The cast embraced the process with the same dedication, committing to rehearsals and doing the work necessary to deliver powerful performances.

I'm proud that ATTACHED became more than my vision. It became a collective effort shaped by people who saw themselves within the story and wanted to help bring it into the world.

Before narrative filmmaking, your first experience behind a camera came through documentaries in Harlem. How did that shape the filmmaker you've become?

I got involved in filmmaking during my junior year of high school after seeing a flyer for a six-week documentary programme at the Maysles Documentary Center in Harlem.

I signed up simply because I wanted to try something new.

At the time, I had no filmmaking experience.

During the programme I directed my first documentary, which explored the history of mixtapes and their impact on hip-hop culture.

That experience sparked my passion for storytelling and showed me how film could preserve culture, amplify overlooked voices, and foster connection.

I later joined Maysles' year-long fellowship, where I made another documentary following three students from my high school as they navigated the pressures of applying to college.

Through that project I realized I was most drawn to telling stories about my own community in Harlem—stories that reflected its beauty, complexity, and lived experiences that are often overlooked.

That eventually led me to study film at NYU, where I further developed my voice and became committed to telling stories about Black women navigating identity, belonging, and self-discovery.

Psychological thrillers are often dominated by familiar perspectives. What draws you to telling these kinds of stories through the experiences of Black women?

I'm always writing and developing new ideas centred around identity, community, and the complexities of finding yourself.

I'm particularly interested in telling stories that highlight the experiences of Black women and the emotional landscapes that shape our relationships, ambitions, and sense of self.

Psychological thrillers and dramas allow me to explore those internal struggles, fears, and complexities in ways that are intimate while also emotionally heightened.

My goal is to continue growing as a filmmaker while creating opportunities for other emerging creatives to collaborate, contribute their talents, and see themselves represented on screen.

ATTACHED has connected with audiences across a remarkable number of festivals. Beyond awards, what have those screenings meant to you?

Film festivals create opportunities for independent filmmakers to connect directly with audiences and share stories that might not otherwise have a platform.

One of the most rewarding parts of this journey has been hearing people tell me they've never seen a story like ATTACHED before and that they believe it has the potential to become a feature.

Those responses reaffirm why creating work that genuinely connects with people matters.

At the same time, festivals can reflect some of the same barriers that exist within the larger industry.

Although many festivals genuinely support emerging voices, there can still be hierarchies where certain films receive greater visibility because of existing industry relationships, marketing power, or institutional backing.

That can make it difficult for truly independent filmmakers to receive the same level of recognition.

What advice would you give filmmakers who are placing enormous emotional weight on the festival circuit?

Don't let festivals define the value of your work.

Selections, awards, and recognition are meaningful, but they are not measures of your film's impact or quality.

The most important thing is finding your audience and connecting with real people who see themselves in your work.

Building relationships matters more than simply getting into festivals.

The connections you make—with audiences, fellow filmmakers, collaborators, and supporters—can have a lasting impact on your career.

I also believe filmmakers need to take ownership of sharing their stories.

Social media, digital platforms, and marketing have become essential tools for reaching audiences beyond the traditional festival space.

Even if your film isn't programmed by a festival, there are still opportunities to build community, find supporters, and connect with people who believe in what you've created.

Continue making films. Continue sharing them. Don't allow one institution's decision to determine your film's value.

When you look ahead, what kind of future do you hope cinema creates?

I hope the future of film is one where Black independent filmmakers have greater access to the funding, mentorship, and resources needed to tell our stories on our own terms.

Too often, talented filmmakers are limited not by creativity or vision, but by a lack of financial support.

I believe the future depends on creating sustainable pathways for Black independent voices to thrive, where our stories receive the same opportunities, visibility, and promotion as studio-backed productions.

Our stories create opportunities not only for filmmakers, but also for everyday people who want to contribute to the industry.

Through our work we are building spaces where people can recognize themselves on screen while bringing our communities together.

That, to me, represents the future.

Which filmmaker continues to inspire the way you approach storytelling?

Charles Burnett.

I admire his commitment to creating authentic films rooted in his community and personal experiences.

As one of the filmmakers of the LA Rebellion, he helped redefine what Black cinema could be by centring everyday Black life outside traditional Hollywood narratives.

What inspires me most is his ability to find beauty and emotional depth in ordinary experiences.

His films are patient, observational, and deeply compassionate.

Watching Killer of Sheep reminds me of the importance of protecting our voices, documenting our communities, and creating films that preserve our lived experiences.

Is there a recent film that has stayed with you?

I recently watched La Ciénaga by Lucrecia Martel.

What impacted me most was how deeply unsettling it is without relying on a traditional plot structure or large dramatic moments.

Martel creates tension through the smallest interactions, allowing the audience to feel the emotional weight beneath the surface of the family's relationships.

I admire how personal the film feels while still allowing audiences to discover their own experiences within it.

It reminds me of the power of observing human behaviour and trusting the audience to engage with complexity.

Final Cut: Why ATTACHED Matters

Watching ATTACHED, I was reminded that psychological horror is often at its most effective when it refuses to invent monsters. Instead, it reveals the ones we already carry.

Kendra Monet has made a film that understands a distinctly contemporary anxiety: the exhaustion of performing confidence while quietly questioning whether you're falling behind. Draya's fears are heightened through horror, but they never stop feeling recognizable. Rejection, financial instability, self-doubt, and the pressure to appear successful are experiences shared by an entire generation trying to build lives inside increasingly uncertain systems.

What makes ATTACHED particularly significant within independent cinema is that it places a young Black woman at the centre of a genre that has not always afforded her interiority. Rather than reducing her to trauma or symbolism, Monet allows Draya to exist as a fully realized person whose psychological life deserves the same cinematic complexity as any protagonist in contemporary horror.

The film also represents something equally important behind the camera. Built through crowdfunding, community belief, and collective determination, ATTACHED embodies the resilience that continues to define independent filmmaking. It reminds me that great cinema is not created because every resource is available. It is created because artists refuse to wait until permission arrives.

In that sense, ATTACHED is more than a psychological thriller. It is a portrait of perseverance—and proof that some of the most urgent stories emerge precisely because their creators refuse to let invisible barriers become the final word.