Latest Short Film Reviews

Loving Silence follows Jerome (J.J. Bozeman), a young man who runs into his ex-partner, Luke (Addy Marsh), at a silent retreat. As they begin to reconnect through silence, their past threatens to unravel their present. Loving Silence is a self-funded short film made by a five-person production team with minimal production costs.

Perhaps one of the most impressive aspects of Loving Silence is its incredibly unique and heartfelt narrative. While the film may have worked better as a feature-length narrative, the filmmakers waste no time pulling the audience into the silent retreat and introducing the two central characters. The use of voiceover works well, with brief exposition explaining how the retreat works to the central character, Jerome. Sadly, one of the biggest issues is the lack of characterisation. Despite the powerful use of silence throughout, it is hard to feel emotionally invested in Jerome’s reconnection with Luke, as the runtime and lack of context don’t give the audience enough time with either character to understand their relationship. What's not said is incredibly moving, and thankfully both J.J. Bozeman and Addy Marsh’s chemistry is magnetic.

The production value is another memorable technical standout, as the retreat feels incredibly lived-in with a plethora of impressively designed cabins around the area. It's a fly-on-the-wall experience: the camera lingers on each character and captures so much emotion through each performance. Jett Cain, the film's cinematographer, does an astounding job capturing each character's emotion and the silence they have to overcome to heal their wounds. The piece primarily consists of fixed camera movement with unique framing choices such as extreme close-ups during moments of intimacy and characters in recollection. The camera also shifts to tracking the central character as he moves around the retreat, an apt choice as it places the audience firmly within his point of view.

It's a beautifully edited and well-paced film; despite its brisk runtime, the narrative never feels rushed, and its themes of love and desire continue to resonate. That being said, there are some bizarre editing choices, with inserts of flashbacks integrated into pivotal scenes that feel jarring and out of place. While these flashbacks are integral to both characters' arcs, they sadly fail to resonate due to their bizarre placement in the narrative. Despite these issues, the musical score elevates the more pivotal narrative beats with some whimsical motifs that match the characters’ need for connection and comfort.

Both central performances, by J.J. Bozeman and Addy Marsh as Jerome and Luke, respectively, are incredibly moving. Their performances are all the more impressive given the dialogue-free nature of the piece, with their body language conveying so much of what they feel for each other. Despite the lack of characterisation, their chemistry shines through the film's flaws, and the use of silence makes it even more compelling. While both actors are giving it their all, there ultimately isn’t enough buildup for the romance to connect emotionally.

Loving Silence is a heartfelt piece of filmmaking about letting go and finding closure in oneself through silence. Despite the film’s many flaws, it tells a beautiful story, clearly crafted with its heart in the right place when it comes to its exploration of queer love and desire.

The Long Spring (2025) is a critical short film portraying the tragic realities of many young lives who are victims of human trafficking as a result of unsafe migration routes. Olly Ginelli’s directorial proof of concept won the Best Film award at the Soho Independent Film Festival and received several other awards and nominations at various festivals. With a minute-long runtime, The Long Spring is crisply shot, features impeccable sound design, and has well-written, fully rounded characters despite audiences' brief time with them on screen. 

The film begins as viewers meet siblings, a brother and a sister, both seeking refuge and eager to start their new lives. On the one hand, the sister is exhausted and apprehensive about their journey. She is visibly panicky and uncertain about how safe they are, rightfully so, given the treacherous journey they are bravely taking on. On the other hand, her brother appears bold in the face of danger. Whilst his fear is still perceivable to viewers, he acts as a comforting leader for his sister, using light humour to brighten her mood and reassure her that they will be okay. Meanwhile, also inside the container are several other afraid and conflicted men and women, unsure of whether they have made the right decision in seeking refuge.

Heavily highlighted are the brutal conditions that the migrants undergo to seek safety. Attention is drawn to the way that passengers’ basic needs are not met, such as being able to use a toilet. This is indicated through performances from the smaller cast members whose disgust and discomfort at the odours within the container are emulated strongly. Having this added detail is extremely powerful given the film’s message, as it brings to the forefront that it is more beneficial for these asylum seekers to risk their lives and put themselves in horrible situations than to stay in a country where they are not safe.

The cast of The Long Spring is small, largely using unprofessional actors; however, it is incredibly strong in portraying the story and feelings involved. The chemistry between the main sibling dynamic is beautiful to watch, as viewers sense the impact of the brother’s reassurance for the sister, and how having each other by their sides makes all the difference. Their loving relationship is heartwarming to see, and importantly highlights the innocence and normality of the individuals who are seeking refuge, a fact that is often ignored by the radical right who are hateful towards those who leave their country in search of a safe home. 

Many aspects of the sound design are excellently done, accompanied by crisp location shooting, with effective use of wide and tight spaces, characterised by the sinister darkness of the night. The music in the film adds brilliantly to certain scenes, artfully incorporating the language and cultures of nations. The final 30 seconds of the film involve an ingenious contrast to the first and main segment, as the filmmakers literally bring to light the realities of modern slavery, placing the viewers within a reality they recognise, following on from the story of the film. 

As The Long Spring gains increasing traction, viewers may await the upcoming Television Screenplay which the short is being developed into, an exciting, refreshing project hopefully to be available on Netflix or Insight MP in the future. It is impossible to overstate the cruciality of this story, as more and more people become victims of human trafficking every day, and governments continue to fail to provide safe routes for migrants, leading them to have to make the very difficult decision of risking their lives for a chance of safety.

Dogbone (2025) is a short graduation film, written and directed by Austen Taylor Pease. It follows Mark (played by Jude Pollitt), a teenager who plays football as a homage to his late father, who was a massive football fan. The abuse by his football coach and the suicide of his teammate Simon cause Mark to spiral, as he is engulfed in grief and the dark reality of his sport.

This film was exceptionally crafted to be deeply emotional and gripping. What seems to be a very uncomplicated script hides many layers and complexities through the multifaceted characters and amazing performances from the cast. I was surprised by the quality of Jude’s performance and his ability to portray such saddening trauma so beautifully.

The story was very powerful and eye-opening, with the film making comment on the terrible side of grassroots football culture in such a cinematic way. The visuals, sound and even the casting were all very professional and to an impeccable standard. Despite the strategically used original music and crisp shots, the performances were not lost at all. The strength of this film comes from its ability to engage audiences in its compelling and sensitive topic.

There are a few moments that stand out in particular. The performance of Mark’s mother (played by Lucy Dixon) as she breaks down and apologises for not being able to protect her son was very touching. The reveal of Mark’s injuries and his anger was a very moving scene also. The end moments where Mark moves through the camcorder-captured memory offer audiences a glimpse at what he and his mother have lost, emphasising their grief and the hard-hitting plot. This was such a heartwarming, yet heartbreaking way to end such a reflective and sombre film.

My only criticism is that I would have liked some more insight into Mark’s relationship with his teammate Simon, who committed suicide. Without taking away from the protagonist’s focus, some flashbacks of them together and to actually see Simon in the film may increase the emotional depth even further.

The aesthetics of the scribbly film title was a nice personal touch; I would have liked to understand the meaning behind the title ‘Dogbone’, however.

Overall, this was a captivating and passionate film, produced to be polished and to look almost high-budget. The performances stood out the most throughout, with the cast’s ability to open themselves up like that to the camera being highly admirable.

A criminal wants to tell us that really he’s a good guy, that he’s just a victim of circumstance, and that the criminal justice system is really just a joke to anyone who’s been on the inside.

Starting us off with a couple of statistics about reoffending in the UK; 33.2% of those released from custody or starting court orders, growing up to 55.5% of those released from custodial sentences of less than 12 months; you might think that writer/director, Chris Clynes is going to give us some sort of short, sharp documentary into life beyond the criminal justice system. Instead what he’s got for us in Good Guy, is a two-act play with him as the star.

Sitting with his shirt off, and proudly displaying his wolf neck-tattoo, our guy starts talking to us directly through the camera. He’s chugging some cheap Stella knock-off and is waxing lyrical about how easy it gets to do time on the inside. Every so often he looks straight down the barrel to leave us in no doubt that he’s talking to us, but really he’s just pleasing himself in bigging up how much of a man he is, and how the system is bullshit, and how no-one could be expected to live by the normal rules – which is why he keeps finding himself in prison all the time.

The camera stays fairly static throughout, just with a dramatically slow push shot thrown in towards the end of the monologue, and we’re left sitting with Guy, listening to his ranting until he’s done. That is until about half-way through, where we get some transition, and then we’re into scene two, where he’s got some clothes on, but is standing against a similarly bare white wall as before, with the light off. A phone call with Nan provides some emotional context to Guy’s story and finally we see some vulnerability as he contends with perhaps knowing that he’s not always making the best choices in life. A sad lament for a violent thug.

What we get during the fourteen-minutes of Good Guy is an almost static chamber piece, written in two acts, filmed in HD from a single camera and microphone, and performed in monologue by the guy who wrote it, who we can tell from his fake temporary tattoos and peely-wally body that would only get him some admirers on the inside, has probably never actually seen the real insides of a prison. This can make it difficult to connect with Clynes’ performance, too, as we witness him try to spout vicious hard-man lines, when really he seems more like a gentle creative type who prefers treading the boards.

It’s not that Clynes’ ability to carry off the character isn’t there, it’s just that there’s no action or dynamism to the role to allow him to inhabit his character with any sort of realism or believability. Everything in Good Guy is approached as Clynes knows it, as a play, and so he has presented it as such, from one point of view, talking straight to the audience as though he was on stage, never minding about lighting or audio in front of the camera, and keeping everything very still. The character’s monologue keeps most things vague and uses broad brush strokes, not allowing us to get to know the actual character underneath, but instead gives us a stock, standard, anonymous villain who we never learn anything personal about. Beyond the turmoil of a fairly archetypal character, there’s not much else to see here.

In amongst it all, Clynes does manage to work through his themes and create an arc to the story, to at least make you think when the credits roll. Guy Cooper is an everyman criminal caught in a system that doesn’t care for him, which makes his story one of many. It’s just not clear what makes his story different enough from all the others to tell it.

Egg (2025) is a short film from Darren James King courtesy of Golden Eagle Films and Red Road Productions following the teenager Kelsie (Kezia Cotterrell) as she lives with her abusive stepbrother George (Jake Curran). It is a horrifying and deeply unsettling short film that highlights the brutal realities of domestic violence.

The film begins and ends with the same scene of Kelsie sitting on a bench. As the film opens, there is an ambient yet haunting score that immediately unsettles the viewer and as the camera focuses on the back of Kelsie, a brief siren in the background foreshadows the final scene. The street lights create a great lighting to this scene here too amid the darkness.

King is incredibly effective in his portrayal of domestic abuse which is shown through his mirroring of both characters. When the title screen drops to George sitting in front of the TV, stabbing an egg and swigging from a can of Tyskie, it is evident the kind of character he is. At the kitchen table, however, Kelsie has left her food untouched and she is seen daydreaming with sunlight etched across her face. It is a poignant pair of scenes that captures both characters and highlights signs of this abuse early in the film before the viewer sees it develop.

From this scene onwards, Egg descends into a devastatingly horrific insight into the lives of victims and the humiliation that King decides to revolve around the title of the film, eggs. At times, it becomes increasingly difficult to watch which is only heightened through the performances of both Kezia Cotterrell and Jake Curran. As George, Curran plays an evil, aggressive and unpredictable man that sees delight in the humiliation of his young stepsister. Cotterrell, however, plays this character that defies the weak, timid character as seen through George’s eyes. She gives an incredibly strong performance that leads to a look of pure defiance that terrifies George (Curran). It’s a powerful moment that leads to the film’s full circle final scene and what viewers will feel like to be a satisfying ending that leaves the question, ‘what happens next?’

Egg would not be the film it is without these two lead performances. The film has a short run time, even for a short film, at eight minutes and it’s the characters of Kelsie and George that carry the tension. Viewers may be surprised to learn of the small £250 budget that went into the making of Egg, when the film looks and sounds as good as it does. There are some beautiful shots that showcase King’s excellent eye and the score, as mentioned before, adds to the unsettling harsh reality of the film.

Overall, Egg is a difficult but necessary watch that uses its short runtime to shine a light on the harsh realities of domestic abuse and violence against women. It is anchored by two fantastic performances and King ensures that there is a powerful, defiant ending. It is a film that will stick with the viewer and gives a voice to the voiceless.

A short, poignant drama inspired by true events, written and directed by Kasra Karimi and starring Suzanna Hamilton, Lizzy McInnerny, Francesca Zoutewelle and Mark Edel-Hunt.

Juliet (Hamilton) has lung cancer. She has been in a romantic relationship with Ruth (McInnerny) that they have kept secret from loved ones. The year is 2013 and the British govenrnment is considering the legalisation of same-sex marriage. Aware of this, Juliet and Ruth announce to their relatives that they want to get married before Juliet passes away.

Right from the start, this film makes it clear that it is going to be a heavy viewing, opening with a scene where Juliet poignantly shaves her hair off, while Ruth watches her in sadness. What follows is a great deal of drama, with Juliet undergoing treatment with her partner by her side, while eargerly awaiting for the law enabling same-sex marriage to come into effect. Meanwhile, their decision to marry, especially under such circumstances, creates tension in the family, particularly between Ruth's daughter (Zoutewelle) and son (Edel-Hunt). Confrontations, sadness and comfort ensue and the atmosphere is significantly supported by Alan Snelling's dramatic music.

The narrative could be described as a combinations between a romance, a family drama and a political thriller, with archival footage throughout of same-sex marriage legalisation being debated by politicians. Karimi directs beautifully, creating wonderful shots that are aided by Arushi Chugh's cinematography.

Hamilton and McInnerny deserve great praise for their performances. Hamilton is very moving as a woman battling lung cancer, who hopes to live long enough to marry her partner. McInnerny is just as emotional as a person who is doing her best to support her ill partner and (like Juliet) desperately wants to become marry her. Zoutewelle plays Ruth's understanding daughter, while Edel-Hunt portrays the son who does not understand the situation between his mother and Juliet and therefore is uncomfortable with it.

Deep themes are explored here, terminal illness being one, predominantly how it affects the sufferer and those who care for them. Another major subject is same-sex marriage, how it brings joy but also how it is condemned by those who disagree with its legalisation. Moreover, this short involves courage, support, equal rights and the determination to achieve one's dreams.

A film that utilises same-sex marriage and terminal illness in order to tell a heartbreaking but beautiful story. A main message appears to be that making same-gender marriage legal brings happiness.

Hereafter (2024) is a short horror film directed by Max Bramley. The story follows mortician Archie (played by Max Gold) as he prepares the deceased Ellen (played by Safiya Shamji) for her funeral.

After Archie states he was going to apply makeup, but then strokes her lips inappropriately, Ellen abruptly rises, gasping and coming alive. This is to both of their shock after she apparently faced a ‘sudden death’. Ellen begins to question where she is, if she is still dead and what Archie was doing to her, considering her funeral was not going to be an open casket. Archie becomes more flustered during her questions and concerns, before his anxiety peaks when other bodies in the morgue can be heard coming alive. Their screams prompt Ellen to continue her interrogation as she gets closer to him.

This short film was simple yet effective; although it contained two characters in one setting, it was engaging and definitely has the capacity to get audiences thinking. The issue is that the narrative draws you in, only to leave you hanging with questions that never get answered. Although open endings can sometimes be successful with enough information offered, there was a lack of understanding of the plot of this film and this may lead to confusion.

As the tension peaked, the film ended, leaving audiences without any clarity of why Ellen and the other supposedly dead people are awake, if mortician Archie had anything to do with it and what events would now follow.

Despite this, the film was enjoyable and the narrative was interesting; it just needed some more context. The sound effects were impactful for the horror genre and the cinematography was strong and professional also. Audiences can appreciate the limited set design and lighting plan, as the performances take most of the focus. Although the performances were strong, they were not very convincing. Considering a dead body came alive, I suspect viewers will expect more shock value from the cast.

To conclude, Hereafter (2024) followed an interesting concept, with high production value; some simple backstory that still fits within the time constraints of a short film would elevate it.

A young musician is finding it hard to sell his music or to make anything that matters, until one night he falls into a strange slumber and meets a shadowy figure at a crossroads.

At seventeen years old, Seth Fenter has decided he wants to be a filmmaker. As writer, director, cinematographer, editor, and producer on Midnight Rot, he’s taking that decision very seriously indeed. He and his friends over at Small Shot Pictures made a few films about a year or so ago, which were varying degrees of interesting but all very amateur, however, there appears to have been nothing since. Perhaps the quality of Midnight Rot might provide an explanation for that.

Unlike most of his buddies, and considering the roster of tasks he already felt compelled to take on during this project, Fenter decided not to star in Midnight Rot, but instead gave that honour to his similarly adolescent friend, Jacob John Wood, who rather optimistically is credited as ‘The Man’. This anonymous guy stands in the dark in his bedroom, in what seems to be his mum’s house, with his curtains open, but with absolutely zero light coming in to illuminate the scene. He’s on the phone mumbling like a teenager about not getting his music sold, or it not being the right fit for the current production. He’s at a bit of a crossroads in terms of what to do about breaking out and making his music sound better to the world. That’s when, like in a lot of gloomy teenage bedrooms these days, the computer screen speaks to him and hypnotises him into a macabre dream.

The musician then meets a hooded figure at a crossroads, in the dark, at night, with no light anywhere to illuminate the scene, and they mumble together in some sort of backwards language to strike a deal. Waking to find that he still has no real talent, there is instead a gift of songs for the musician, the first half of a bargain, but of course the price always has to be paid, and the reaper will always come calling.

On the whole, what Fenter has managed to do is create a strong visual narrative around a very well tried and tested storyline. His characters are automatically archetypal, and the themes resonate with everyone, so all he’s really got to do is get the storytelling right, and for what he appears to have wanted to achieve, he’s done that. His decision to film in almost total darkness is a strange one, as it doesn’t help the viewer when they can’t see what’s going on, but it does make sense that these themes and these scenarios would most likely take place in the absence of any light. It’s just not very cinematic.

There’s obvious issues with the sound and the dialogue, but when you can’t always see what they’re being matched to it doesn’t really matter so much. The music from Cryptic Scenery works well and is a nice accompaniment to the narrative, and Fenter does choose his shots nicely to create a feeling of continuity throughout his film. It’s just never clear if we really get anywhere in the whole twenty-four minutes of Midnight Rot, or that we ever get away even slightly from the central action of the selling of his soul.

While Midnight Rot is definitely atmospheric and visual in its narrative, too much of it is hidden away in darkness for too much of the time, and almost no technical skill is attended in the making of the film. Fenter shows real promise as a director, but in taking on every role himself he has let his own production down by not getting the best people for the job. After a year to think about it, maybe it’s time to get out there and make another one, just with a stronger, wider story to it, and maybe some light thrown in there as well.

Arron Blake writes, directs and stars in this short drama, the cast if which includes Theodore Slyvain and Mark Gatiss.

To a degree, the plot is reminiscent of the 2013 Oscar-winning feature Her. The setting is Britain and a program, an app, has been developed that enables customers to hire people for a limited time and they hug each other. According to a news report in the film, the intention was to improve the well-being of those who are suffering from loneliness. One person who takes a shot at this is Oliver (Blake), a young homosexual and painter.

The screenplay examines how Oliver is influenced by his experiences with having a stranger (stranger's name is Nate and he is played by Theodore Slyvain) in his home with the sole intention of embracing. Initially, he changes his mind and refuses to participate but later ends up embracing (no pun intended) the arrangement and seems to find joy in it, until something happens. The viewing is dramatic and thoughtful and gets quite intimate at times.

The dramatic music by Filipe Silva adds to the atmosphere and so does Darius Shu's moody cinematography. Effective use of slow motion takes place in montage sequences.

The rapport that develops between Oliver and Nate is a primary aspect. Oliver appears to be struggling to form a relationship, constantly meeting with one man after another, all leading to nothing more than sexual encounters. After meeting Nate, Oliver seems to have found something, or at least the believes he has, until he realises that he was mistaken. He is a lonely man whose main company appears to be his AI home device and he does not seem to know what he longs for. Sylvain's character is an employee, a youngster who listens to Oliver's thoughts, but ultimately, he stays loyal to his job, without commitments.

This is a story about connection, about yearning to connect with people, about meeting someone special and about self-reflection and frustration. Through Mark Gatiss's character, the film points out how much people are distracted by technology, with him constantly looking at his phone while Oliver tries to communicate with him.

A short drama about connection that is (in certain ways) also a romance. In the end, it is about a man struggling to comprehend what it is that he is looking for.

Bereavement is a difficult part of life and even more so when the person who is gone was adored by so many and you have to fill the void that is left. That is what Stella played by Stella Talpo has to do as the new queen of the Burlesque at The Belladonna. Her mother has passed and we see how she unravels under the pressure of grief and being part of the competitive and cut throat world of Burlesque.

This short film begins with glitter and sparkles with the well chosen “Yes Sir, I can Boogie” by Baccara. From this point the focus is not on dancing but the breakdown of the new star, who feels everyone is out to get her. Stella Talpo is brilliant in the main role and she is able to convey the pain, trauma and anguish throughout. This could easily be performed as a one woman show as we see inside the mind of someone tortured by the past and present. The audience will be completely engrossed as they see a woman on the edge portrayed so brilliantly. The supporting cast have little do but are able to react to the main characters behaviour in an understated fashion which is a real positive and allows for the focus to be on Stella and Cherry.

Cherry played by Janiq has a vital role to play as Stella’s protagonist. Cherry is provocative and is able to mix titillation with a strong feminist message. This is an all female cast and the message put out to the audience is very important in modern times. Janiq is able to convey the feelings of empathy but also shows a colder side as she looks to take advantage of the situation. This is a really well cast film and they all complement each other brilliantly.

The costumes are sexy, dazzling and sparkly and are perfect for the theatrical nature of Burlesque. The ladies can be seen in corsets and stockings and bright makeup which is a tribute to the Burlesque dancers of the early 20th century. The set has the glamour of Burlesque but also the dowdy look of the local pub. This works really well and is used to separate the dance persona and the person behind the makeup.

The Writer and director Javid Rezai has experience at writing roles for women, particularly those going through trauma. This experience is clearly shown in this story and the use of Burlesque is a topic the audience will not have come across too often. There is also a strong message of feminism with the use of “ My body My Choice” being displayed in one of the standout scenes. The writer really knows how to grab the viewers attention and is able to convey the emotions of the main cast very effectively.

As the director Javid Rezai wants the audience to focus on the two main characters and get a close look at their faces as everything unravels. This makes the scenes feel claustrophobic as the thoughts of inadequacy draw in. The use of jarring music is extremely impactful and will make the hairs on the back of the neck stand up. There is a strong tone of horror in the musical score and this is very effective.

The 15 minutes viewing moves at a great pace and is the perfect amount of time to get a snapshot of the past and present and it draws to an end with a very powerful scene. Overall this is a really thought provoking film depicting a very important message about grief, feminism and mental health. The performances are really good and the audience will be transported to the mind of the main character Stella as she battles with her thoughts.