Scottish writer-director Tom Nicoll is unveling at Toronto his buzzy debut “Salvation.” It tracks an aspiring online life coach whose attempt to reinvent himself and then sell that transformation to others pulls him in increasingly desperate directions.
The psychological and blackly comic thriller world premieres in TIFF’s Discovery section, having already been selected for the BFI and British Council’s Great 8 showcase at Cannes. MetFilm Sales recently boarded world sales on the film, which stars Liam Harkins, Stephen McMillan, Kathleen McDermott and Conor McCarron.
Set largely in Greenock, a post-industrial Scottish town, “Salvation” follows Danny Carlton, played by Harkins, as he emerges from a self-improvement retreat convinced he has found the way forward. Having been transformed, at least in his own mind, by charismatic guru Marshall Allison (Kevin O’Loughlin), Danny sets off to build a life coaching business of his own. The problem is that virtually nobody wants what he is selling while the money he has spent and borrowed pursuing it grows.
For Nicoll, the film was never primarily about finding easy targets in the world of male influencers.
“I suppose, in general, in my life, I’m interested in that idea of what people find purpose in, what people choose to do with their lives, what they find value in, what they choose to put their energy into,” he told Variety. With Danny, that became a question of “what is lacking” to compel someone’s move towards a culture offering answers, status and self-optimization.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever been insulted into changing their mind,” Nicoll explained. “It’s easy to point and laugh at someone.” A sweeping satire of the influencer sphere might provide “easy jokes” for five or ten minutes, he argues, but understanding why somebody is susceptible is the harder and more interesting motivation to pursue.
We see Danny’s excitement and defence of his new found answers among a doubtful circle of family and acquaintances. His confidence might be misplaced, but he isn’t cynical. When he tells Scott, a depressed young man played by Stephen McMillan who comes to see him, all he’s learnt and how he wants to help he’s genuine.
“He really means that when he’s saying that Marshall saved him from a very dark place,” says Nicoll. “That is, I think, a crucial part of the character.” Over the course of the film, “the economic imperative kind of takes over,” altering the relationship between Danny and Scott as the former discovers the wordplay he absorbed as self-help can turn into a tool for manipulation.
The result is a chain of unequal relationships: Marshall has power over Danny, while Danny gains power over Scott. For Nicoll, that dynamic goes beyond any single strain of digital culture.
“Most people could probably relate to the idea of when you go online and someone’s telling you how to eat better or exercise better or be happier, be in a better relationship,” he said. At a moment of insecurity, the promise that somebody else knows how to sort it can prove hard to resist.
Nicoll had previously directed Liam Harkins in short “Lighting Tests” and wrote Danny around a rare combination he saw in the actor: an outwardly conventional masculinity alongside vulnerability, sensitivity and comedic timing.
“I had the idea for the story and thought he would be perfect for the role,” said Nicoll, who sent drafts back and forth to Harkins roughly a year before shooting. “I knew that on a production standpoint, he would just be the rock that could build the production around.”
The relationship at the film’s centre needed warmth as well as exploitation. The director recalls nervously arranging a Zoom between his two leads prior to filming, preparing questions in case conversation petered out.
“I think I probably said about three things in the hour,” he says. “They were just chatting, getting to know each other, and then just talking about the characters.” A later read-through of three key scenes confirmed the chemistry: “It was an amazing one of being like, ‘Oh, we’ve got something here.’”
That closeness is gradually squeezed by the film’s visual language. Working with cinematographer Alex Grigoras, Nicoll chose a 4:3 frame. “We always knew it was going to be a film of faces,” he says. The format offered intimacy and, as Danny’s choices reduce, claustrophobia. Centering him clarifies his self-absorption. He is initially, “the centre of his own world.”
The use of long lenses compress the spaces around him, particularly in the interiors, while stillness releases giving way to unsettled camerawork as the predicament deteriorates.
Composer Salla Luhtala’s score pushes in almost the opposite direction. At the start, as Danny leaves the retreat filled with new conviction, the music enlarges his modest circumstances matching the way he sees himself.
“It’s like the world is his oyster. That’s what he feels like,” Nicoll explained. “It should feel like he’s reborn. It should feel like new momentum. It should feel like the new life is calling him.” Rather than standing outside Danny and mocking the fantasy, Nicoll wanted audiences pulled into it.
“Salvation” is as Indie as it gets assembled through self-financing and crowdfunding, with Screen Scotland boarding late and providing £45,000 ($60,750) through its Production Growth Fund. Shot around Greenock and Glasgow, the production initially completed 15 days before returning months later for a few more days.
“That’s the nature of independent filmmaking, I suppose,” he says. But the enforced pause became “an amazing opportunity,” allowing a chance to clarify the story and add “scale and cinematic scope at the right moments.”
Nicoll looked to an American independent tradition for ways of making those limitations feel like choices. Sean Baker’s “Red Rocket” and earlier work were reference points, as was Kelly Reichardt’s “Old Joy”: films capable of retaining a distinct voice without requiring vast resources.
And what of that word “Salvation”?
“It’s the kind of underpinning, I think, of a lot of these self-help ideas,” says Nicoll. “You can be saved from this thing, and you can move into a kind of hallowed place, or a place free of this previous pain or this previous deficiency. And I don’t know if I believe in that.”
The film isn’t interested in providing a clean, moralistic conclusion. The director prefers films that resist “easy answers,” leaving open the question of whether Danny is capable of deep reflection or likely to place explanations for everything that has happened to him elsewhere.
For a film that Nicoll describes as “an independent film in its bones,” there is buzz around it. MetFilm Sales’ acquisition adds a strong international sales push to a run that has included Great 8 and selection as one of Screen International’s Rising Stars Scotland 2026.
“It’s been pretty wild,” Nicoll said. “It’s pretty much close to best-case scenario” for a film made this way. More importantly, he adds, “it is the film I wanted to make.”
The recognition offers the possibility of scaling up, something the writer-director is keen to pursue as he looks to move beyond the indie and micro-budget level. He has several scripts in various stages, including larger-scale thriller and horror projects. “Ambition can be talked about just as it relates to budget, but I think it’s about your approach to characters and characterisation, and how deep you’re willing to go in terms of excavating what it is to be human,” he says. “That’s what ambition is about in filmmaking to me, and that’s what I would want to take going forward, no matter the level of budget.”
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