Elchin was at something of a career crossroads at the time of his death. Always conscious of his own mortality - the average life expectancy for someone with cystic fibrosis is roughly half that of a healthy person - and increasingly uncomfortable with the "rising star" tag that had stuck to him for a bit too long, he seemed to be edging away from blockbusters and more toward the esoteric, taking roles in low-budget short films and indies, as well as writing a script called "Travis" that he hoped to direct. Where his third act would have taken him is anyone's guess, but that's the most bittersweet takeaway of the film: It could have been just about anywhere.
Review of Love, Antosha
