Eric Bernhagen’s My Greedy Friend

**Eric Bernhagen’s My Greedy Friend: Childlike Surrealism and Stop Motion as Emotional Texture**

In the vast and often noisy landscape of internet filmmaking, certain shorts manage to cut through by doing very little — and doing it with complete conviction. My Greedy Friend, a short by independent filmmaker Eric Bernhagen, is one of those rare pieces. It’s disturbing, weird, disarmingly childish, and oddly charming all at once. While the film is primarily live action, its use of stop motion and animated effects plays a crucial role in shaping its unsettling emotional tone.

Bernhagen, who publishes his work on YouTube under the name nokeric, has quietly built a catalog of minimalist, surreal shorts that lean into discomfort without ever explaining themselves. My Greedy Friend is among his most striking works to date.

A Short That Refuses to Explain Itself

At first glance, My Greedy Friend feels deceptively simple. The setup is minimal, the presentation unpolished, and the runtime brief. But beneath that simplicity lies a carefully constructed sense of unease. The film introduces a strange “friend” — grotesque, absurd, and vaguely threatening — without offering narrative context or emotional guidance.

This lack of explanation is not an omission; it’s the point. The film operates on a logic that feels closer to childhood imagination than traditional storytelling. Events simply happen. Things are accepted as they are. The result is a tone that feels neutral on the surface but deeply uncomfortable underneath.

Stop Motion as Disruption, Not Spectacle

Although My Greedy Friend is largely live action, the inclusion of stop motion and animated effects is essential to the film’s identity. These moments don’t function as visual flair or technical showcases. Instead, they act as disruptions — brief ruptures in physical reality that signal to the viewer that this world does not follow conventional rules.

The animation is intentionally rough and tactile. Movements are imperfect, timing feels slightly off, and the handmade quality is left fully intact. This aesthetic choice connects the film to the long tradition of stop motion being used not just as a technique, but as an emotional language. The animation evokes childhood play while simultaneously amplifying the film’s sense of unease.

Childlike Tone, Adult Discomfort

One of the most effective aspects of Bernhagen’s work is its emotional flatness. There are no dramatic cues telling the audience how to feel. The camera observes without judgment. The performances are matter-of-fact. This neutrality allows the grotesque elements to land harder, forcing the viewer to supply their own emotional interpretation.

This approach places My Greedy Friend in conversation with a lineage of surreal and experimental work — from early stop motion pioneers like Jan Švankmajer to more contemporary internet-era outsider animation. However, Bernhagen’s voice feels distinctly personal. The film doesn’t feel like commentary or satire; it feels like documentation of something strange that simply exists.

A Broader Body of Work

My Greedy Friend is part of a larger series of short films on Bernhagen’s channel, many of which follow the simple naming pattern “My ___”. Titles such as My Face, My Chair, and My Salad continue the same aesthetic exploration: short runtimes, minimal setups, and an embrace of the uncanny.

Viewed together, these films reveal an artist interested in repetition, understatement, and the uncomfortable space between humor and unease. Bernhagen’s work doesn’t chase polish or narrative clarity. Instead, it leans into personal weirdness, embracing imperfection as a defining feature rather than a flaw.

Why It Resonates

In an era dominated by algorithm-friendly content and hyper-refined visuals, My Greedy Friend stands out precisely because it resists those trends. Its stop motion elements are sparse but purposeful, reinforcing the film’s emotional texture rather than competing for attention. The result is a short that lingers — not because it explains itself, but because it doesn’t.

For those interested in how stop motion aesthetics continue to evolve beyond traditional formats, Eric Bernhagen’s work offers a compelling example of how the medium’s sensibility can thrive even when used sparingly. My Greedy Friend reminds us that stop motion isn’t just about movement — it’s about mood, tactility, and the power of embracing the strange.