A narcissistic writer named Mr Carol sits in the auditorium of a barren theatre space watching the murder scene of his own developing thriller ‘The Act of Innocence’.
Consumed by his ego, his anxiety gets the better of him when he hears from a stranger that he is potentially trapped, dead and accused of sin for an act he supposedly committed in life. Time is inexistent for Mr Carol as he experiences a surreal torment where clocks stand still when his work blurs with his predetermined fate. By attempting to open a red door, the only exit, will he truly define fiction from the truth. Who done it ? What is real?