A ten-minute film about smoking that never feels like a PSA. Morimoto's direction strips away everything except the question: what are you actually attracted to when you reach for that cigarette. The interactivity isn't gimmick, it forces you to sit with your own answer instead of watching someone else's story play out. This is what happens when an artist who knows how to use silence and negative space gets handed a message he actually believes in. Nothing moves except what has to.
A woman sits across from you in a dimly lit room, cigarette smoke curling between you. She's beautiful, magnetic, dangerous. Her words pull at something inside you, and you realize with creeping dread that you're not just watching her story unfold,you're making the choices that determine how this encounter ends. Attraction is an interactive experience that puts you in the role of an unnamed character caught in a psychological game with a mysterious woman whose allure masks darker intentions. Each decision you make branches the narrative in unexpected directions, forcing you to confront uncomfortable truths about desire, manipulation, and the choices you make under pressure. The film's deliberate pacing and heavy atmosphere create an almost suffocating tension as layers of her character are revealed through fragmented dialogue and visual clues. This is cinema designed as intervention. By making you complicit in the story rather than a passive observer, Attraction challenges your assumptions about temptation and consequence. It's disorienting, intimate, and deliberately unsettling in ways that linger long after the final scene.