Latest Short Film Reviews

A short psychological drama directed by Marc-Antoine Turcotte, written by Lydia Hopgood and starring Hopgood, Fraser Adams and Maeve O'Haire.

Emma (Hopgood) and Matty (Adams) are a young couple living together in a smart house by themselves. For a while they have been trying for a baby, however, so far, they have been unsuccessful. As Emma becomes distraught by her apparent inability to conceive, she discovers that her partner might be up to something sinister.

This story begins as a drama about having a baby and later turns into a thriller about betrayal. The primary focus is Emma, how the struggle that she is facing in her efforts to become pregnant is affecting her psychology and creating waves in her relationship with Matty. The screenplay is heavy regarding drama and the life-changing discovery brings the atmosphere to a whole other level.

Talking about the discovery, without any spoilers, although it appears that it will lead to a major confrontation, the ending is not very conclusive, leaving question marks and some might find that disappointing.

Emma is a sort of tragic figure. Even though she lives in a nice, big house, with a partner who ostensibly cares deeply for her and they plan to have children, due to not being able to conceive, her life has taken a wrong turn, leading her to a situation where she feels miserable and alienated as she is keen on becoming a mother. The presence of the song Captive emphasises the isolation that Emma is feeling and the fact that it is sung by Hopgood provides more depth to her character. Matty is physician and seems to be a supportive partner but also gives the impression that he is man who might not understand when he is wrong. Chris (O'Haire) has the role of Emma's bestie, a person who is there for her and willing to listen to her problems.

Self-reflection, anxiety, self-esteem, control and betrayal all play a key role in this story. Perhaps more heavily though, this film explores the subject of having a desire to become a parent, how it could affect people's mental health. Moreover, it is indicated that individuals who work in the medical sector could take advantage of their knowledge in order to manipulate others.

This is a dramatic film, one that relies on the perspective of a young woman in order to tell a story and explore its themes and it does so effectively.

Colorado-born director Ari Groobman's short comedy-drama Essentially Amy takes the viewer back to a time that feels both sureally distant yet also significantly recent: the pandemic.

Amy (Stacy Chu) is a competent supermarket supervisor who almost single-handedly runs the show, along with her pleasant but somewhat preoccupied colleauges Norm (Seyi Ayorinde) and Mia (Brenda Valencia).  Elsewhere, the aloof manager Mr Park (Hidekun Hun) is even more of an absence, whilst there is little solace for Amy at home.  Amy lives with her parents; her biogted Mum (Ping Liu) is weary of the African-American community, her father is crucially ill and hooked up to a ventilator whilst Amy herself has completely stalled on her application to study medicine.  Back in the store, tensions mount when an angry customer (Jim Todd) launches a foul-mouthed, racist tirade over the Covid catastrophe with Amy as the target.

Groobman's opening scene immediately jolts the viewer back into the sudden reality of post-lockdown.  On the one hand, the regime of enforced mask wearing and rigid social distancing feels like it just didn't happen (five years on).  On the other, the scene feels only too recognizable as we recall how the everyday suddenly became tainted with the alien.  

Another contrast is served up directly by Groobman in the jarring contrast between Amy's work and home-life.  At work, she faces frustrating but familiar challenges - serious staff shortage, the looming threat of reduced hours and, worst of all, ignorant customers.  Yet, she is no-nonsense, self-assured and in control.  But she's not where she should be.  It's all simply a stop-gap before her medicine programme.  And, unlike at the store, she hits a wall at home.  Her father is sick (perhaps as a result of Covid), is unseen and unresponsive, her mother is frustrated at her academic ambitions taking a plunge and her motivation to break away and get where she needs to be just isn't there.

Clocking in at exactly 15 minutes, Groobman’s script doesn’t take any particularly surprising turns.  Her brush with brutality is the catalyst for self-realisation and reconnection.  For all the troubles, Amy learns to put aside the problems and focus on what’s important.  It’s a familiar resolution yes, but it’s a story told with skilful restraint and wonderfully authentic performances that we really do believe in the drama that we're watching.

Essentially Amy may not be essentially memorable, but its warmth and intimacy are a welcome reminder of a time when the human touch was missed and sorely needed.

The short film Lampros (2024), directed by Giorgos Vasilakopoulos, is a disturbing exploration of grief. The film goes straight to the point, sharply narrating the story of Lampros and Lena, siblings whose relationship has become estranged following the death of both of their parents. Through washed-out colour grading reminiscent of Twilight, with a bluish tone overwhelmingly toning the majority of the piece, viewers are taken on an uncomfortable journey of loss and family turmoil as secrets threaten to surface.

Lampros is a young boy played by Aristotelis Nikau, and whilst struggling with grief, he becomes eager, alongside his like-minded friends, to embark on sexual conquests through unconventional means. Meanwhile, he and his sister Lena, played by Eren Stauraki, suffer from a communication breakdown. Hiding her true profession, she vaguely describes to Lampros the horrors she faces whilst working at a hospital. Frustration builds between them as Lampros can sense that Lena is keeping information from him, and Lena is unable to express what she is having to go through in order to support them both financially now that their parents are gone.

Both Nikau’s and Stauraki’s performances are outstanding. The film deals with very complicated issues, and both actors evoke a heavy disturbance that encapsulates what they are going through brilliantly. Through facial expression, body language, and tone of voice, which are often delivered in blunt dialogue, viewers feel their sense of detachment from reality and confusion around their identity.

Visually, the film contains many effective, moody shots with varying stylistic choices, painting an erratic picture of both the emotional and physical endeavours both characters are facing. Accompanied by a heartwrenching, sombre soundtrack, the film grips viewers with its darker moments and doesn’t shy away from creating an atmosphere of hopelessness as it tells its story. The film is permeated by catastrophe and deprivation, yet, through its artful shots, it captures a beauty hard to define in its ability to depict such a tender struggle. The despairing mood the film captures is comparable, perhaps, to the feeling evoked by I Saw The TV Glow, both dealing with slightly similar themes of loss and isolation.

As the story unfolds, each setting is necessary in providing another piece of the puzzle. Side characters drift in and out, every one adding layers to Lampros and Lena’s situation in disturbing detail. Viewers may find some aspects difficult to watch, especially as the cast members are clearly very young and play their roles convincingly, making the film's tragic events truly sorrowful to watch.

Overall, Lampros is an expertly crafted exploration of highly difficult situations through the naive lens of adolescence. Each and every aspect of the film, from its artistic choices to its blunt dialogue, brings together a unique telling of the two siblings' story. As they grow and navigate the world without any role model figures to help guide them, viewers understand their journey as one which has been derailed and left them feeling lost and helpless. They must deal with the hardships of being financially struggling young adults in a world where they feel abandoned and unable to find their way, and in a way, they do. Viewers may find it difficult to accept the choices that Lampros and Lena make; however, it is impossible to blame them, as their scenario is so specific and complex that the only possible response is one of empathy and compassion.

An argument in favour of AI generation is that it could allow smaller or lone filmmakers to explore worlds and concepts that have been locked away behind million-dollar budgets since the invention of VFX. But on the basis of Lunavom, technology has a long, long way to go to bridging that gap – and a true understanding of character and human emotion will always outweigh visual spectacle: something able filmmakers ought to understand.

Created by Tamil filmmaker Muthu Karthikeyan entirely with AI, the film is a sci-fi tale of a human colony based on the moon in the not-so-distant future after the collapse of humanity. A mysterious signal from Mount Kailash triggers an investigation, and a glimmer of hope emerges of a brighter future from the lessons of the past.

There are important ethical questions about the use of AI in film that are far too extensive for a single review. Needless to say, many in the industry will find films like Lunavom controversial; my intent is to review this film independent of these. However, it really is impossible to separate it from the technology behind its creation. Most prominently is that for all the sci-fi spectacle, epic space sequences and photorealistic ‘actors’, the uncanny valley effect is completely overwhelming. Even 68-year-old Facebook users will be able to spot that the scenes are off, with the characters almost unanimously robotic and artificial. This is purportedly intentional, but it’s impossible to connect to their stories or invest emotionally when such a clear lack of humanity emanates from the screen. It is unlikely that Karthikeyan could have done much more to resolve this due to the technological limitations of the day, but whether the endeavour was worth proceeding with is another question due to this.

The plot is based around Tamil mythologies implanted into a futuristic imagined world where humanity has nearly perished. It is an admirable idea to proceed with – one that will be unfamiliar to many Western audiences and one that may not otherwise be supported by large studios. It is these types of stories where an argument for AI use exists – that filmmakers who otherwise would be ignored can punch through the ceiling of financial restriction. But Lumavom does a poor job of explaining its quite complicated story aspects and concepts. Perhaps to those with prior familiarity with the culture, this will have more of an impact, but otherwise comes across as difficult to interact with. It also seems particularly galling to mention humanity forgoing real human experiences in place of the artificial as one of the film’s themes.

If an appetite for fully AI films even exists, it is unlikely to be satisfied by Lunavom. The film is the definition of artificial and is utterly shallow despite occasional photorealism. There are far more interesting and fulfilling ways in which such a story could have been told, and whilst the questions around the benefits that the technology can have for small-scale films ought to still be pondered, AI superiority is still, thankfully, a long way off.

Jake & Pete’s Christmas Special follows the titular characters in their small town in Gloucestershire, when the spirit of Christmas seems to have left. Jake and Pete must find a way to restore it in time for Christmas, just around the corner. Heavily reminiscent of South Park (1997-), the piece even pays loving homage to the series as it clearly wears its influences on its sleeve with its deeply raunchy and absurd comedic elements.

One of the most endearing qualities of the piece is the gorgeous animation, which suits the tone and setting perfectly for the Winter season in Gloucestershire. Its animation is predominantly impressive to witness despite its budget limitations. The film also surprisingly feels incredibly grounded, given the absurd nature of the more fantastical elements of the narrative. However, the use of a visualisation of gameplay implemented into the animation can look bizarre and unnatural, ultimately detracting from the film’s style. Specific pieces of dialogue are also delivered inadequately due to the use of subdued voice acting, which detracts from the experience. While many of the comedic gags effectively land, the raunchy dialogue becomes grating and repetitive towards the end, despite its limited runtime. However, the live coverage sequences are mostly brilliant as they employ social commentary on the current state of the cost-of-living crisis within the UK.

The piece feels profoundly British within its iconography and references, which may not resonate with audiences outside the UK as much. It's accompanied by a lovely Winter backdrop, which is integral to the narrative and again feels heavily inspired by South Park. The central three characters, Pete (Taylor Taberner), Jake (Luke Marley) and Beth (Kaitlyn Walker), all work well together with fun onscreen chemistry as their banter and charm are the driving point of the experience. On the other hand, specific supporting players are deeply unlikeable due to their absurd and misogynistic nature. While the social commentary is justly impactful in its attempt at darkly comedic satire, many of the gags come off as problematic and sometimes uncomfortable to digest as a viewer. The film can also lose some steam towards the conclusion, thanks to how stilted and awkward the central conflict between characters feels at times. Its narrative amounts to just minor, with a lack of character development for either Jake or Pete, and their bizarre motives don't give the audience enough reason to care enough about where they eventually end up.

The performances across the board are solid, in particular Kaityn Walker, who portrays Beth. She is ultimately the heart and soul of the narrative and a far more likeable leading player than Jake and Pete. Another major standout is the use of music, which is effectively implemented throughout to fit the tone and Christmas setting. This is a prime example of a piece of filmmaking that may resonate with a target demographic of teenagers for repeat viewings, thanks to its provocative and edgy humour.

Jake & Pete’s Christmas Special is a fun and endearing comedic piece with an effective splice of social commentary regarding the state of the cost-of-living crisis in the UK. While it may suffer from bizarre creative decisions in the art direction and insensitive jabs at creative talent in the film industry, it draws on well-loved influences to deliver a charming Christmas delight.

A short drama written and directed by Josh Cox and starring Lucas Nealon and Jarid Dominguez.

Two male youths (Nealon and Dominguez) arrive at an isolated beach. There, they undress and go for a playful swim. Then, they lay on the grass and get intimate. However, all does not seem to be well.

Two young men, alone, in the countryside. With this simple premise, this short tells a dramatic story about a romance that may already exist or could be just beginning. By having very limited dialogue and providing almost no information about the lives of the two protagonists, the story is mysterious and that is probably because the goal was to concentrate on the relationship, the romance, which appears to be unstable. Things start out joyfully, with the two youths enjoying each other's company and after they get intimate, the atmosphere changes, making it questionable whether the romance that develops is welcomed by the youngsters.

Cox took on many roles for this project, including cinematographer and editor and the result is a viewing experience that contains wonderful shots of the beach, the ocean, the forest and the sky. The fact that the weather is unsettling adds to the drama and so does the beautiful music.

The story centres on the two characters and they are the only ones in the film. The are brought together by the fact that they are attracted to each other, however, Dominguez's character appears to be the one who is unsure about the relationship, much to the dissatisfaction of the other guy.

Through a homosexual romance, the screenplay explores happiness, peacefulness, self-discovery, as well as regrets and uncertainty.

A four-and-a-half-minute-long film about an unsteady homosexual relationship between two young men. During its short duration, the script is able to generate a great deal of drama and end on a note of significant character development. A moving and thoughtful viewing.

Just the Usual is a rich and emotional Danish film about an older hairdresser, Ole Benny (played terrifically by Søren Sætter-Lassen), and how exactly he spends his final day before his beloved barbershop closes. He encounters a few other characters through the story who each illuminate a different facet of his professional life – much like the narrative structure of a fable. But at its heart, this is a tale of a deeply lonely man who is about to lose a significant aspect of his identity: his passion. The film’s running time is 27 minutes. It’s a slow, textural, contemplative film; one which won’t entirely sit right with everyone for its slow place. Yet, this is an immensely accomplished piece – masterfully designed, performed and constructed. A wonderful picture.

There’s plenty to discuss when it comes to the visuals. The first thing that strikes you is the flawless set-design. The Wes Anderson-feeling colours; the vintage lights; the pleasing combination of materials and eras. That, combined with what Ole Benny looks like as a character – the particularities of his formal wear, his use of hairspray and black-rimmed glasses – really infuse the story with a fully-realised sense of style. Directorially, this is an incredibly confident piece. The camera is seemingly always in the right place, as the lenswork, in turn, complements the arrangement of the location.

One characteristic of the cinematography which I’d like to draw attention to is the effective yet sparing use of the dolly shot. In the opening shot – in addition to one or two shots later on – the camera slowly slides forward through the location, and it’s incredibly satisfying. It’s a form of camera movement whose sensibility seems to match nicely with the lines, operations and smooth surfaces of the establishment; – and heightens a certain sense of meticulous care and focus from the protagonist himself.

Writer-director Nanna Tange has done a truly immaculate job with the mise-en-scene of this movie. There’s not a detail in any frame which doesn’t please the eye or stimulate the senses in some way. I found myself becoming very relaxed due to the pastel balance of the colours, the softness of the light, the crispness of the sound, and of course, the slow flow of the pace. Anyone can tell that, from the form and technicalities alone, this movie is a wonderful and positive work. But I’d argue that it’s the central performance – its tenderness, charisma and emotional depth – that elevates this smooth aesthetic into genuinely moving territory.

The conceit itself if quite random; this isn’t a setup we’ve seen before, and in addition to that fact, it’s being depicted in a uniquely restrained, matter-of-fact manner. Some may find such a setup intriguing, but maybe too mundane to sustain their attention. But it’s the opinion of this critic that the concept and lax runtime provide a refreshingly open space for the filmmakers to form their tone, and – maybe most importantly – for the lead performer to find the beauty and complexity in his character. In summation, this is a near-masterpiece; and potentially a film which, due to its refined, comforting tone and deep sense of identity, a film I may be inclined to revisit.

Three friends meet up for their monthly attempt to land the fabled fish known as ‘The Big Pelvis’ before their arch-nemesis gets to it first.

It’s that time of the month. The time when ‘The Big Pelvis’ comes out to play and is active enough to be caught, but only for a brief, short window. Three teenage friends who have been searching for ‘The Big Pelvis’ for quite some time now, are together again to go fishing down by the pier, in the hope of landing the biggest catch of their lives. The Cast Master (Jeavons), Knot Master (May), and Bait Master (Mook), who prefers to go by the name of Brad, are all suited and booted in their cargo shorts, tie-string bucket hats, and short-sleeved shirts, ready to take their shot at ‘The Big Pelvis’, while their close rival, Other Brad (Nichols) also wants a piece of the action.

We watch as the scene plays out down by the lake, with the three stooges bouncing off one another in that bumbling, annoying, nonsensical way, as they argue over who should be doing what, and who is the most/least useful in their group. Then thrown into the mix comes Other Brad, who approaches the simplest member of the group on his own first, coming over all nicey-nicey while actually listening to and being considerate of this mostly overlooked of the three friends. Knot Master thinks it might be quite a good idea if they let Other Brad join the group and the hunt for ‘The Big Pelvis’, but when faced with the staunch disdain of the Cast Master and Bait Master/Brad, it soon becomes clear that this is not going to happen.

So, what we’ve got is a home movie style of video, shot on a digital camera, with four friends acting out a scene down by the lake thinking they’re funny, while the world goes on around them in the background. The dialogue at least has been scripted and is then delivered, but that doesn’t mean that it’s any good or makes any real sense to anyone outside of the group, or that the performances are any better for it. The direction and sound are as basic as they can possibly get, with a home camera being pointed in people’s faces as they stand around statically talking with one another, and everything being picked up ‘as is’ from in front of the lens and the microphone.

There’s also some background incidental music as well as a process of editing going on behind the scenes, which helps The Big Pelvis mark itself out as an actual production, but beyond that there’s very little for the viewer to enjoy. It seems as though the teenagers behind the film wanted to make some jokes around their idea of ‘the fish that got away’, and their puerile humour comes through at every mention of The Big Pelvis and the fact that ‘they want their shot at it’, or they ‘don’t want to distract it from coming’, and other such basic double-meanings. It’s obvious that ‘The Big Pelvis’ is a metaphor for sex and judging by the poor, poor quality of this film, it’s something that the filmmakers are going to be chasing after for quite some time.

A short crime drama written and directed by Dave Shecter and starring himself, Scarlett Vaill, Jason Whited, Amy DiLorenzo and Carl Covington.

Teenaged Amber (Vaill) lives in a small town with her parents. One school day, she goes out, ostensibly to meet with a friend, however it soon becomes evident that her true intentions are to steal here and there. She enters a convenience shop and steals some sweets, before wondering around the area and breaking into a car. Eventually, she ends up in a restaurant, where she sits at a table with a stranger, a middle-aged man named Bradley (Shecter) and he tells her interesting things about him and offers her some advice.

The narrative takes place over the course of a few hours and focuses primarily on exploring Amber and Bradley's lives, as well as several other characters, including a shopkeeper (Whited), Agent Grey (Covington) and two police officers. It is when Amber meets Bradley that things turn very dramatic and the film reaches its peak, communicating important lessons about life. There is great character development and the inclusion of tense and interesting music adds to the atmosphere.

This may be a minor observance, nevertheless, it should be acknowledged as it is obvious. When Amber is at the restaurant, why does she sit with Bradley, a person she has never seen before? This does not really matter, but when people go to places like these, they do not tend to sit at the same table with stranger.

As Bradley, Shecter portrays a career criminal, a theif to be precise. However, he is not proud of his illegitimate actions, on the contrary, he deeply regrets having chosen such a life, particularly due to a terrible incident and when he meets Amber he becomes a sort of mentor, trying to persuade her not to follow in his footsteps. Wearing a black jacket and headphones, Amber is a rebellious teen who is going down the wrong path.

Crime is a main theme in this short, especially the fact that crime does not pay. The film's primary objective strongly appears to be to communicate the message that turning to crime will only end in tragedy. Alongside this, this is also a story about law enforcement, self-reflection, regrets and the ups and downs of marriage.

A story about crime that centers on a life-changing encounter between two strangers. The strongest aspect of this film is the fact that it encourages people to say no to crime and that is enough for it to be categorised as a viewing of considerable significance.

If I Could Get You To Stay is a touching love story which follows a young man, James (Hamish Wolstenholme), who struggles to find the courage to ask his long-distance girlfriend, Yvonne (Erin Thwaites), to stay with him as they prepare to part ways once more. It is a relatively grounded narrative that's tough to witness as both characters delay the inevitable and make the most of the final time they have together.

The writer/director Michael Spencer sublimely ushers the viewer into the final time James and Yvonne have together, using steady camerawork to ensure both characters are always in the centre of the frame. Consisting predominantly of extreme close-ups and fixed camerawork by cinematographer Jeason Hanson, it's an incredibly intimate experience that feels meditative and a window into the love the two characters share for each other. Vanya Korolchuk’s musical score is low-key and moving while anchoring the touching nature of the narrative and quieter moments of recollection as James attempts to muster up the courage to speak before it's too late. It's an inevitably tragic story which makes the most of its short-lived runtime to flesh out both characters to a suitable degree. This is clearly a deeply personal piece of filmmaking that the performers and crew had joy making with a distinct love and passion for the material in every frame, while making astounding use of its budget limitations.

The chemistry between the two leads is endearing, and they convey their characters’ emotions with such empathy and raw tenderness that it's incredibly heart-wrenching to see them both attempt to make the restricted time spent together as special as they can. While the characterisation for both central characters is paper-thin, the screenplay still manages to ground both characters well enough, and the formal elements soar to anchor the understated nature of the material to impressive heights. However, the short-lived runtime is a detriment to the experience, and there is ultimately not that much to chew on thematically. A broader runtime could have fleshed out James and Yvonne’s relationship more deeply to make it fully emotionally resonate with the audience. Perhaps reworking the material into a feature-length narrative could be a potential idea down the line, as the performances and filmmaking are profoundly moving. The piece still manages to be consistently engaging until its emotionally driven climax. Both actors clearly have a bright future ahead of them, considering what they were able to accomplish with such limited material.

While the conclusion to the piece is ambiguous and leaves the viewer wanting more, it's a suitable place to leave it, as the audience can decide for themselves the further journey both characters end up on. The conclusive moments are emotionally overwhelming and deliver on the film’s steady build-up, effectively wrapping up both character arcs in a satisfying manner.

If I Could Get You To Stay conveys the meditative and low-key journey of two individuals making the most of the time they have together before their inevitable departure. Held together by two outstanding central performances from Hamish Wolstenholme and Erin Thwaites, and Michael Spencer’s formalism, it's an intimate and touching piece of filmmaking that depicts the power of love between two individuals having the courage to reach out to one another.