Latest Short Film Reviews

Midnight Bloom follows the friendship between two young fathers, Aaron (Raphael Santiago) and Jamie (Tyler Astley), as it deepens into a powerful, fragile romance. The two men meet in an isolated car park night after night, and by day, the love for their families calls them back. As Aaron grapples with split loyalties, he wonders if he can maintain his relationship with Jamie before he loses everything.

What is perhaps most compelling about Midnight Bloom is how the filmmakers delicately pull the audience into the lives of Aaron and Jamie. Despite the lack of characterisation and context surrounding the central characters' encounters, the dialogue is incredibly compelling, profoundly capturing the growing sense of yearning and guilt between them. It's an uplifting depiction of queer love, as Aaron and Jamie’s relationship is heartwarming while also tragic, as they are forced to hide their feelings for each other in an isolated car park. The script, wonderfully written by Jake Williams, explores the deeply intriguing themes of desire, guilt and queer love, weaving them seamlessly into the personalities and experiences of its central characters. While these themes and ideas could have been more fleshed out in an extended runtime, the film leaves the viewer wanting more without overstaying its welcome.

Despite the film's brisk runtime, you can easily root for Aaron as the narrative delves into his struggles with fatherhood. The dialogue compellingly explores themes of melancholy and love, and its dramatic beats resonate throughout. While the film could have explored more of Jamie’s personal life beyond his relationship with Aaron, his performance subtly conveys the depth of his feelings. The narrative also briefly explores Aaron’s relationship with his child, which is one of the most compelling aspects of the script and the emotional crux of the conclusion (without venturing into spoiler territory).

The technical aspects of Midnight Bloom are incredibly impactful, thanks to its incredible cinematography and tight editing. Joshua Ighodaro serves as the film's cinematographer and does a wonderful job framing each scene. The piece primarily utilises extreme close-ups in the more intimate scenes as the characters grapple with the isolation and guilt of their relationship. The camera also shifts to wide framing within the confines of the car park to convey the desolation of the location. Hector Miller serves as the film's editor and does a tremendous job seamlessly cutting between the central characters' meet-ups and personal lives, intertwining them throughout with some incredible dissolves.

The two central performances from Raphael Santiago and Tyler Astley, portraying Aaron and Jamie respectively, are incredibly compelling. They both convey their characters' guilt-stricken personalities with remarkable depth while simultaneously preserving the tenderness and warmth that develops between them in isolation. Their magnetic chemistry makes for an incredibly thrilling experience. It's also difficult to watch as Jamie desperately craves more reciprocation from Aaron, longing to take their relationship beyond the confines of the car park.

Midnight Bloom is an emotionally resonant short film steeped in melancholy and desire, anchored by two remarkable central performances. While its brisk runtime may come at the expense of deeper characterisation, it remains a worthwhile effort, elevated by exceptional editing and striking cinematography.

This is a short film looking at Cambodian Gang life in the USA. The title is an amalgamation of Khmer which is the ethnic group of Cambodia and their official language and American. The film opens up with two young Cambodian-American teenagers discussing their future while setting up for the morning shift at the family Donut shop. Soon their peace is destroyed by the very life they are both trying to escape from. This is an introduction to the world of Cambodian gangs.

This is an adrenaline charged picture that really makes the audience fear what will happen next. The score starts softly and then slowly builds to a heavy beat to complement the pace of the action that Is unfolding. This is an emergency situation which is being driven by a pretty scary individual with a formidable presents.

The performances throughout are outstanding. The audience will really believe what is happening and fear for those involved. The tension amongst the main characters is palpable as barriers develop , so does the fear. This appears to be a debut film for David Klaut as Sovankary the teenager trying to keep a clean life in helping his father run his Donut shop. This is a mature performance showing great skill in reacting to everything that is going on. Klaut is able to convey the stress that his character is under as the situation becomes more and more perilous. This is supported by the performance of Sam Puefua who plays the gang member Monk. Puefua shows real menace with this character, helped by his physical presence in each scene. The danger they all face feels real and there is no let up in the action. The physical aspects of each performance are choreographed well and the audience is treated to each characters viewpoint, as the camera moves around the scene. Overall this is superb casting.

The director Jimmy Chhiu skilfully navigates each scene in what is a claustrophobic environment. The close up camera work adds to the tension, making the action that much bigger and elevates the threat that each character is under. The opening scene develops the background of the two teenagers. The character Bountha is striving to improve his life and Sovankary is resigned to a future at the shop because this is the only life for those born of refugees. What starts off as an everyday shift soon derails into violence. Chiuu works the script well and has a good eye for location for both internal and external sets. The choice of musical score is perfectly chosen.

The writer is able to present a snapshot of what life is like for gang members in the U.S. They have developed each character and in a short time we learn their background. Even those that don’t make it on screen have an impact on the situation. The audience learns about the family dynamic and the battle Sovankary has to stay on the right side of the law and away from danger. The dialogue sounds authentic which really helps the actors deliver on their performances.

This is a well polished film with some superb performances. It is a mixture of relentless action where the audience will struggle to catch their breath and calm thoughtful dialogue. It is a scene from your worst nightmare and unfortunately scenarios like this are all too common. The viewer will have plenty to contemplate when the film stops rolling.

Cancer Kid is a dark comedy about a schoolyard prank that keeps Elliot (Charlie Zeltzer) spiralling down into a health anxiety hole. His life seems over as he tries to understand his own mortality.

Throwing us right back to our school days, we follow innocent, naive Elliot navigating school life and bullies. Without going into spoilers, the set-up of the prank is so nostalgic. This was one that went round every school and caused panic but also, upon reflection, carried a lot of weight. Adulthood and so many serious issues are touched upon in this but through a comedic sense of wonder about the world. It uses children’s innocence to open up a wider conversation whilst balancing a lightheartedness.

The children’s performances are strong; they don’t really understand the gravity of the situation and how to properly comfort Elliot in such a vulnerable moment. They are, as to be expected, very childlike responses and matter-of-fact, which really pushes the comedy element. Their lives consist of going out to play and their biggest worry being what’s for tea tonight?

Even his own family can’t believe what he is saying. Battling his own demons, but he doesn’t quite understand them himself. We see Elliot going through Google searches, misspelling serious terminology, reading and frightening him, all adding to the health anxiety. One scene in particular shines through when he’s going through his mum’s medication drawer and picks the option he does, completely clueless but hilarious. His solution to this life-altering prank is extreme and he doesn’t quite understand the consequences, writing out a letter to his family that’s heartfelt but naive.

The quality is apparent in this film: well shot, clean audio, and sound design throughout. The sound, especially, is used as an effective device to portray Elliot’s emotions through shock, sadness, and disgust, and helps to strengthen the comedic timing during dialogue. The relationships are well established in this film: the easygoing friends, the annoying older brother, and the unaware mother. It grapples with growing up and that ever-looming thought process of self-awareness and existence.

Most age ranges could watch this and take something away from it. From an adult audience, it hits so many relatable marks, having grown up with the same elements of childhood and how we learn lessons the hard way. The ending just solidifies that point, and it’s really well executed, leaving Elliot in a state of disarray and relief.

It’s no wonder that Cancer Kid has won Best Short Film at the Blue Mountain Film + Media Festival, Toronto Independent Film Festival, and Vancouver Island Short Film Festival, and was an Official Selection at the Austin Film Festival. It’s an independently produced dark comedy made by brothers Vasili and Dimitri Manikas.

This project alone proves the brothers’ dedication to filmmaking and creates excitement for any future endeavours.

Directed by Remi R.M. Moses, Hindsight follows a young man called Jamal as he buys his first car. Initially an energising novelty among his group of friends, the unexpected caveats of extensive repairs, occurrences of prejudice, and an increase of mundane family errands, make Jamal’s newfound freedom more of a chore than a joyride.

This entire short-film is presented through a sequence of carefully framed match cuts looking from the front of the car’s bonnet inward, a fantastic framing device that challenges the writer to convey a clear vignette of the protagonist’s life purely within the confines of a car. This is made even more impressive by the discovery that most, if not all, of this film was shot on a virtual stage. With a high potential of looking cheap or unnatural, this production manages to utilise the virtual shooting space to its highest effect, and one could easily mistake the car’s location for a tangible one. “When done correctly, virtual production not only solves logistical problems, but also provides a more liberated canvas on which to paint with light and to craft gorgeous cinematic images” remarks V Studio’s VP supervisor/ head of studio Kate Phibbs in relation to this shoot, which is clearly reflected here through the high level of preparation and precision on display from director of photography Fola Abatan.

At the core of the story lies four fantastic central performances from Josh Tedeku, Jude Carmichael, Denzel Baidoo, and Joshua-Alexander Williams that all feel effortlessly relatable, each bringing their own unique energy and humour to their respective roles. This is testament not only to the spot-on casting, but also Moses’ ability to direct actors with such ease and freedom that it plays to the audience as if each moment were entirely candid.

What could easily stick to being a comical tale about four friends and their first car is also laced with deeper themes as Jamal experiences viscerally true-to-life trials such as being racially profiled by police officers, drifting from friends over time, and being suffocated by financial burdens. All of this culminates in a surprisingly hard hitting coming-of-age story that any adult, no matter what demographic, sex or religion they belong to, can sympathise with.

Hindsight is a wild ride and drives the thin road between humour and sincerity to outstanding success, all the while showcasing originality, innovation and talent from all the creatives involved. I have no doubt we will be seeing a lot more exciting work from this team in future.

Hindsight premieres at the BFI London Film Festival in October.

Homeless is a short film released in 2025, directed and written by Rikhiil V Bahadur. Throughout it’s 18 minute runtime, the short follows Roufus (Rocco the Adorabull) as he leaves his current life behind and bonds with Fred (Blakely David), a homeless man he encounters outside of a coffee shop. The heartwarming relationship formed between these two protagonists allows for a deeper, feel good approach towards the content. Exploring such topics is cleverly enhanced through the use of this canine star, shifting focus onto their raw connection rather than dialogue which provides unnecessary exposition as to how the pair feels. Theory of mind between our deuteragonist Fred and those viewers with pets will not come difficultly, as it is very easy to place yourself in his human perspective of the camaraderie.

We begin with an insight into Roufus’ home life, in which he is practically shunned away for simply seeking positive affirmations from his owners, Katie (Sam van Goph) and Linda (Evelyn Tran). This instantly informs the audience that Roufus is a sympathetic and endearing character, rather than an outright disobedient dog. His home life difficulties are shown to lead to some destructive behaviour, however his owners clearly fail to see how this can be traced back to their own argumentative and dismissive behaviour. Upon partnering with Fred as he is left by his disengaged carers, Roufus instantly receives food, water, and friendly remarks - these are all rarities within his own home and is even later repaid by the dog as he find food for him and his new friend to eat. It is very clear that the duo see reflections of themselves within the other, strengthening their bond and helping them both through their trauma together. In the latter half of the short film, this teamwork is demonstrated beautifully as Fred even puts his life on the line during a robbery to ensure our main characters safety (once more, this is later reciprocated as Roufus refuses to leave Fred’s side upon his previous owner’s return). The juxtaposition between his newfound life in contrast to his previous neglect is able to subvert expectations and stereotypes for those with versus without stable housing, displaying how a truly formed attachment will prevail throughout adversity. The story ends peacefully, open-ended as to where Roufus and his mankind counterpart will be taken in the future. Only one thing is for certain: they have each other.

A large portion of the production of the short was largely under the influence of Rikhiil V Bahadur, however other notable figures include co-producer and Shahchi Sharma and cinematographer Dan Barham. The visual style largely takes inspiration from the wondrous city of Vancouver, Canada and the film itself was made possible by the Vancouver Indie Film Community. One specific quote from Bahadur himself tells how the creation of Fred and Roufus were directly encouraged by a homeless man and his “beautiful dog”, alongside a comfy duvet outside the director’s apartment in the very same city. A noticeably warm colour palette mirrors the flourishing affection these two characters form throughout, whilst some scenes depict a harsher grey-ish scale to display brief moments of despair. Choosing to close up toward Roufus’ eyes in various shots, assist in humanising the character and translate his emotions as this is sometimes a simpler guide to gaze upon rather than body language. The acting of this talented pooch cannot be understated, hitting each mark and remaining eloquent throughout some tough to watch scenes as to retain Homeless’ comforting nature. Cleverly placed and quirky sound design also ensures the tone of the film remains light-hearted rather than strictly mean spirited, as that could dampen the overarching message. The short dedicates itself to animals without a permanent home with a written message after the narrative, a smart chronological choice following the engaging hypothetical viewers are met with. The zero budget short movie made a DirecTV network debut on 31st May 2025, followed by international streaming release to Amazon Prime on 1st June 2025.

Overall, the serious message of Homeless is wrapped neatly and delivered carefully under layers of optimism which shine throughout. It is recommended to those who may need to reignite a feeling of deep connection within their own life as it lends out it’s positive nature. A small budget could have assisted in displaying some of the adventures our loving pair engage in following these events, perhaps in a follow up short or extended version of the original. This may have meant minor issues could have been avoided also, such as slight continuity errors and a lack of severity when dealing with Roufus’ abandonment which in turn would reinforce the relief of unity between him and Fred; these hardly hinder the message of the film, however, as it remains impactful within it’s own right. Those behind the scenes and on camera were able to come together and share an important anecdote relating to animal and human welfare alike in the absence of a true home. Even through troubling times, everybody deserves someone to form a deep-rooted and loving connection to, and this short ensures you do not leave unaware of this fact.

Shannon Lee’s Head of a Camel is an experimental, circuitous animated film about a Korean-American woman who tries to reconnect with her cultural roots by conjuring a mystical creature from an ancient Daoist recipe.

Head of a Camel is closer to a visual poem than a conventional film: it has no on-screen actors, little narrative, and a minimal score. The sounds mainly consist of a narrated recipe describing the anatomy of an Asian dragon.

The film’s greatest strength is its visual style. It opens with poem-like text, each line appearing on screen as though thoughts are being set down on a page. These words describe the physical distance between the narrator’s mother and sister, as well as the difficulty the narrator and her father have communicating. 

To reconcile her Western identity with her cultural heritage, the narrator turns to an ancient recipe. As she recites it, images of its animal ingredients flash rapidly across the screen, which include a frog’s belly, a hawk’s claws, a carp’s scales, and, of course, a camel’s head. I particularly liked how the parts appear to be cut from the animals in a papier-mâché-like style. 

The rapid sequence of photographs also recalled the opening of Gaspar Noé’s Enter the Void, though Lee’s imagery is more ethereal and dreamlike. She created the effect by placing photographs directly beneath the camera. When the recipe reaches the camel’s head, the narration slows, deepening the dreamlike mood. 

Despite the strange imagery and measured delivery, the sequence is engaging and almost hypnotic, as if something is truly being conjured. Sounds resembling stones grinding together further enrich the atmosphere.

This short film will not appeal to everyone, and some viewers may struggle to follow its narrative. Its abstract ideas and four-minute runtime leave its theme, reconnecting with one’s culture from halfway across the world, feeling underdeveloped. Those who prefer conventional storytelling may also find its unconventional approach off-putting.

Overall, Head of a Camel is an abstract, cryptic film whose striking visuals and Foley effects create a dreamy, hypnotic experience. Its lack of a cohesive plot and dialogue may leave some viewers confused, but it remains an engaging four-minute watch.

SILENCE is a Ukrainian short film written and directed by Pavlo Shpegun. The film stars young, fresh-faced actors, with Hryhoriy Naumov as Luka and Iolanta Bohdiun as ‘Mia’. Set in the war-torn country of Ukraine, SILENCE poses intriguing questions about identity and time, using almost exclusively indoor, intimate shooting styles to create a dreamlike array of sequences with surreal characters. The film incorporates political dark humour and relies on the impeccable chemistry between Naumov and Bohdiun to carry most of the narrative. It all begins when Luka’s stand-up comedy act has a very disappointing reception, enjoyed only, and wholeheartedly, by a mysterious nameless woman, who requests to stay over at his place.

Shpegun’s short had a tremendous run at the 83rd International Venice Film Festival, receiving the newly established prize of the Airone della Laguna- International Collateral Award. One of its many achievements is in the film’s ingenious title; a play on words, as the writers parallel the significance of silence in a comedian’s terms- a marker of their death- to the indefinite silence of the tragic lives lost to the conflict in Ukraine. Whilst bringing avid awareness to the monstrosities occurring in the current political world, SILENCE is mostly a lighthearted film, and fits, though atypically, within the romance genre.

Luka and Mia’s first interactions do not present an immediate spark the way viewers may expect within a meet-cute. Their conversations are slightly awkward and Luka even seems uncomfortable with the forwardness of Mia’s intrusion. However, as the film goes on, the two characters are brought together by an emotional connection, more specifically a shared understanding of the devastating world they are living in. This acknowledgement seems to bring them both some comfort, as they both recognise that their hopelessness brings them a sense of freedom.

Mia is characterised very similarly to Kate Winslet’s Clementine Kruczynski as seen in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, fitting into the manic pixie dream girl trope with her mysterious and unpredictable personality. Similarly to Charlie Kaufman’s 2004 sci-fi romance, there is intrigue in the clear temporality of Luka and Mia's relationship, and in the way the characters seem not to fully understand one another, or the world around them, but still have a distinct and unique connection which audiences feel transfixed by.

Along with its surreal feel and alluring characters, SILENCE contains important commentary about modern relationships, particularly in concordance with the patriarchy and the way that women are taken advantage of. Some nuances of this are seen in the subtle shot choices during Luka and Mia’s sexual exchange, as there is no attention drawn to intimacy or pleasure; it is a purely loveless act, posing the way that sex is seen as an expectation in dating nowadays, rather than an act of passionate connection.

With many strong ideas about the political state of the world, touching characters, and incredibly artful uses of lighting and handheld camera work, SILENCE is an excellent example of genre-blending filmmaking, with an incredibly memorable finish to fully bring the film’s message home.

A Few Moments of Happiness is a stark work of filmmaking. As unusual as it is uncompromising, the film takes the form of a series of screen-recordings, phone calls, audio clips and phone camera footage, all of which either capture or refer to the horrific, and continuing attacks on Lebanon by the Israeli military. All of these glimpses of footage are edited together with enough thought and patience that a purposeful cinematic approach reveals itself (though not one of sequencing or cinematography in any regular sense). As well as obviously being about the indisputable, genocidal evils Israel is currently committing – and just one example of a people and a place currently suffering genuine horrors, it manages to also be a meditation on how one processes these horrors, or distances oneself from them, through the context of our digitally connected world.

I find it slightly dispiriting that the top Letterboxd review of this film argues that what we’re watching here cannot be considered filmmaking. And as valid as it is to criticise the form this piece takes, the fact is that a film can be anything. There’s also no better way to experiment with an idea like this than in the form of a short film – because, no, this would not be effective or interesting as a feature. But a short allows it to be an exercise in something; a unique abstraction of real life without being bound by the grander expectations of an entertainment-based medium. Whilst I’m uninterested in the idea of continuing to use screen recordings on smartphones to constitute a ‘film’, one must concede that when there’s a deliberate point to doing so – whether it be spectatorial or information-based – we don’t have to like it, but we should be open to the creative vision.

I’ve used the term ‘documentary’ broadly; however, this is a short film which is using its form to document reality – and so despite the lack of scenes, shots or conventional form, the fact that the medium of cinema has been selected is a significant and deliberate decision to consider. For instance, the filmmaker is well aware of the fact that during the recorded phone calls, the audience will be staring at a black screen. Here, the absence of an image is just as relevant as if there were images to look over; it leads the viewer – or in this case, listener – to isolate these crackled voices, place yourself in the frightened, focused perspective of our documentarian, and observe the truth in the words. It’s also helped that the use of sound design and editing in this 17-minute piece is incredibly immersive.

A Few Moments of Happiness is a revealing work about the ways in which social media can connect you with the suffering in the world or in your home, or – on the flip side – numb you to it. This is illustrated in the high point of the short film. The pace of the editing increases dramatically as we cut back and forth between phone footage of people dancing and partying as a form of escapism, and the visceral truth of the continuing bombings and chaos ensuing in Lebanon. There’s some powerful messaging taking place here, even when it’s simply drawing a line between one thing to another – but to me, that’s called editing, and therefore filmmaking.

In the middle of an intergalactic war, a princess struggles with a dark power that she cannot control which propels her through time, offering her insights into a brutal and terrible future that has yet to come to pass.

In The Heir Of Time, we are dropped slap-bang into the middle of a war between a dynasty of space elves and a human federation of colonisers. The Armelion (space elves) are led by King Thallan (Mark), Queen Fiorella (Cameron-Mowat), and their daughter Sel’van (Eddleston), who are arguing amongst themselves about whether to continue the war or to sue for peace. The humans are represented by a young soldier called Zac (Marciano), from a planet called Xalgoria, where the peace treaties can be ratified, but no other real mention of how or why the humans are spread throughout space is ever offered to us.

Much like a lot of the dreadful Star Wars prequels (1999 – 2005), plenty of this space opera focuses on the politics and bureaucracies that go on behind the scenes to propel the theatre of war. This keeps everything very wordy and grand, as we enter into the chambers and halls of the space elves, but it also keeps things very boring and bland as we’re forced to listen to garbled exposition of arguments and beliefs which underpin the reasoning behind the war, which mostly takes place somewhere else.

In amongst all of this supposed intrigue and machination, along with the stock star-crossed lovers side story between elf and human, is Sel’van and her gift. Every so often she is dragged across time into some pretty hairy situations, and only barely makes it back each time to report on what she has seen, remaining vulnerable and mortal as she drifts from one point to another. All of this rests in the centre of some other over-arching plot which is yet to be expanded upon, as what we have in this pilot episode of The Heir Of Time, is just the first instalment of what is to be a full-blown web-series.

The far-reaching narrative that is attempted here from writers, Trent Meacham and Marco Jonathan, should definitely be afforded the credit that is due, as it sprawls across the galaxy and through time to deliver a sci-fi fantasy epic that could, if done right, rival some of the most ambitious space flops of cinema history, such as John Carter (2012) and Jupiter Ascending (2015). The problem with these vast stories, which is also something that is being seen in the drop off in interest and quality in the Dune sequels (2024-2026), is that past a certain point people begin not to care anymore. Ancient space dynasties that mean nothing to the regular viewer, along with fantasy characters and places that have a litany of silly names, just become too esoteric for most audiences, as they offer no hope of being identified with and feel too disconnected from anything that is real.

Coupling that with the fact that the animation in The Heir Of Time is clunky and stiff, with an ill-advised dance segment and a laughably bad fight sequence where no-one touches each other really showing off the limitations of the Blender generated 3D models, means that what we’re offered at the end of it all is an amateurish cartoon, with Y2K CGI visuals, masquerading as something that is grand and spectacular, when in reality it’s just quite poor.

Thankfully though, The Heir Of Time is a passion project led by a group of over seventy creative volunteers who have surrendered their time and expertise over the space of six years to create this first episode. This means that the quality is not so much of a priority as the actual creation of the vision, and that the real success of the project is the fact that it exists in the first place. For those who are invested in the story of The Heir Of Time there should be a deserved sense of pride in accomplishing this first half-hour of footage, especially considering the workload and timeframe that it has taken to get to this point, but the hard part is then getting anybody else to be interested in that vision, especially when it’s something that is going to take a long time to tell.

What is offered in The Heir of Time is the first part of a lengthy epic, which in all reality may never see its conclusion. The introductions to the characters and scenarios in this first act are fairly impenetrable without further knowledge of what’s going on, or what has already happened to get us to this point, and there’s no guarantee that the threads that are left for us to follow will ever get the opportunity to be tied up. This makes jumping into The Heir Of Time a tricky and perhaps unsatisfying prospect, as at this rate, for a regular eight episode series, any audience member will have to be willing to wait another forty years to see it through.

Saba Ghasemi's superb LEAVING EALING is brimming with both passion and frustration. It follows the journey of Sima, an Iranian film student currently working towards her graduation piece. She wishes to film in Iran, but must navigate the potentially life-threatening nature of her venture, in addition to the creatively oppressive pushback from her tutors, whilst also staying utterly true to her vision.

The screening I attended at BFI Stephen Street was a truly lovely experience; a gathering of people who clearly had invested a lot of love into the project. There was certainly a sense of catharsis that the film was finally getting its moment to shine.

To touch on the technical briefly, this is a precisely shot and edited work, demonstrating a consistently impressive balance of lighting and a sturdy, confident approach to composition and focus. The sound recording is also as sharp as anything. This is a high-level production.

I already love reflexive filmmaking -- movies that deconstruct the struggles and processes that went into the work of art you're consuming. But for that struggle to be centred around one's culture and family makes this piece feel more substantial than most 'films about filmmaking' student or low-budget works.

It's our protagonist's determination to produce her own art without social or creative compromise that makes this an important and moving story. No matter the dangers posed by the unrest in her home -- and despite her tutors' dispiriting, by-the-books response to filming in the place she is most emotionally connected to -- Sima knows that this journey is not just that of one filmmaker's...

Her narrative has wider-reaching implications outside of personal fulfilment. And the wave of warm support LEAVING EALING received at the screening is illustrative of this. Our character of Sima is compelled to create something honest, and she succeeds.