Yeah, a mirror maze is just a director’s way of saying, “I’m messing with your perception, then I grin when you get lost.” You throw scenes into the labyrinth, and every corridor echoes a different script. It’s like your own noir, but with a kaleidoscopic twist.

First scene: a smoky diner, the kind where the waitress is half‑ghost, half‑plot‑starter, she drops a cracked map into the protagonist’s palm. Then a flashback that’s a full‑color nightmare, all over the place, like a kaleidoscope. You pull a corridor full of old gangster tapes, each tape’s a different version of the same crime. Next, a chase through a hallway that’s a straight‑line in the script but in reality bends like a pretzel—people think they’re following one direction, but the camera’s got a different idea. Throw in a quiet garden scene where the protagonist finds a bouquet of clues, each flower a symbol, and the gardener is the antagonist’s brother. End with a room of mirrors where every reflection gives a different “truth”; the audience leaves wondering which one is real. It’s a bit like a heist, but the vault is your own mind.