Latest Short Film Reviews

A short drama, written and directed by Jack McLoughlin and starring Max Ainsworth, AJ Jones, Sarah-Louise Chadwick and Matthew Mora Hegarty.

Schoolboy Mikey (McLoughlin) is skipping school and when he arrives home, he is greeted by an unexpected visitor, that being his uncle (the titular Tommy, played by Jones), who has travelled here from his home abroad and entered the property via an unlocked door. After Tommy lies to a visiting, concerned teacher (Hegarty) that the youngster is not home, the two of them catch up and play some video games and discuss some of Mikey's issues. Then, Mikey's mum (Chadwick) arrives, resulting in further dramatic revelations.

This ten-minute-long story begins lightheartedly, with Tommy and his nephew having a laugh and relaxing, before things move towards Mikey's lack of motivation and mental health and Tommy's unpleasant situation. Significant drama ensues, with close-ups being utilised to catch the character's emotions. The screenplay explores the characters' relationship with each other and reveals their struggles.

Ainsworth portrays a typical teenager: naive and irresponsible, who performs well as a student but cannot get himself to commit to academic achievements and keeps cutting class. Additionally, he is also struggling with his mental health. Chadwick plays Mikey's mother, a responsible, no-nonsense parent who is also willing to help. As for Tommy, he is a well-meaning guy who cares about those around him, unfortunately though, appears to be unable to pull himself together and constantly finds himself in trouble.

Through a narrative that operates as a nephew-and-uncle, mother-and-son and brother-and-sister story, this film looks into themes involving mental health, self-reflection, support and family values.

A short moving drama that looks into a family's issues. It has its cheerful moments, however, primarily, it aims to be serious with the heavy subjects that it brings to the surface.

The Nomophobe follows teenage girl Madison Ashley-Cooper (Beau Gadsdon) as she struggles with nomophobia and tries to break free from her smartphone addiction to restore a close connection with her mother, Laurie (Clara Paget). The Nomophobe premiered at the BAFTA Flickers’ Rhode Island International Film Festival and is a short film that depicts the current obsession with smartphone use and its damaging impact on individuals.

The film is an incredibly moving portrayal of a mother attempting to rekindle a relationship with her daughter, and it's difficult to watch as Madison rejects the idea of human connection through her anxiety-ridden personality. While the film doesn't explore what led to her struggles with nomophobia, it's instantly engaging thanks to the compelling central performances and technical aspects. One of the film's strongest technical aspects is its visual storytelling, which depicts Madison’s smartphone with text pop-ups and puts the audience in her point of view. Due to her addiction to her smartphone, she visualises the world through a digital lens, and she's unable to separate herself from the constant need to capture everything through her phone camera.

The visualisation of the smartphone through text pop-ups and apps is an incredibly creative formal decision that conveys Madison’s anxiety and escapism from the real world profoundly. Formally, the piece rarely puts a foot wrong with seamless editing choices that help the narrative flow without ever overstaying its welcome. Jean-Pascal Beintus’ musical score further grounds Madison’s struggles with isolation, using timeless motifs that underscore the film’s more intimate scenes.

By far the most compelling aspect of the piece is its cinematography by Richard C Bell. The piece utilises wider framing to capture the futuristic visuals from the exterior locations and shifts to extreme close-ups to convey Madison’s deteriorating mental health through the consumption of her smartphone. It's a commendable choice that feels incredibly personal and visceral to witness. Another outstanding use of camerawork is the drone photography that captures a moving vehicle and the text pop-ups surrounding the protagonist as she loses connection on her phone. The dreamlike visuals are also incredibly creative despite the film's budget constraints. It paints a bleak image of the future and how individuals will continually consume media and lose touch with the reality of human connection.

Beau Gadsdon's portrayal of Madison is incredibly remarkable. She conveys the anxiety of being without a smartphone intensely, and it's hard not to empathise with her. It's a performance that may stick with viewers and encourage them to look at nomophobia more openly, as it's increasingly worrying how widespread it is today. The supporting players are also memorable, in particular Clara Paget’s portrayal of Madison’s mother, Laurie. Her chemistry with Beau Gadsdon is moving as she expresses her love for Madison and the frustration of trying to re-spark their connection. It’s difficult to watch as Madison struggles to accept and return her mother’s love.

The Nomophobe is compelling and essential viewing for its depiction of nomophobia and the fear and anxiety it can inflict on an individual. While the narrative's conclusion is uplifting in its character growth, it may also leave audiences concerned for the future of technology, with individuals unable to separate themselves from their smartphones.

Blue (2026) is a short film, set and filmed in Edinburgh. It is written and produced by Joe Dingwall, who also stars as the main protagonist, Sam. The story follows an actor (nicknamed Blue by his partner Kate) who takes a walk through Edinburgh with him as they reminisce about the place they met and went on to visit together. Their journey takes the story into flashbacks of their relationship struggles, as well as many lighter moments also. The audience can begin to understand the stress the relationship was under due to both parties being different types of artists, with desires to take opportunities to expand their careers whilst still prioritising each other. Towards the end of the film, we see Blue walk into an exhibition full of Kate’s paintings. A glass breaks and he turns; when he goes to face Kate again, she is gone.

This is a beautiful narrative about love and eventually loss. Understanding the dynamics of the protagonist’s relationship and its complexities, shared gradually throughout the course of the film was enjoyable. The couple walks through locations they have visited before the film flashes back to memories in those locations. This was an interesting storytelling device that allowed for an engaging non-linear structure.

Despite the performances of Blue (Joe Dingwall) and Kate (Jade Sylvester) being strong and emotionally fruitful, the chemistry of the pair was not always believable and their relationship felt like a jokey friendship a lot of the time. I found some areas of the scriptwriting cringeworthy but was also heart-warmed by many other scenes. The ending depicts Blue looking at the work of his past lover; he stumbles upon a blue painting, created for him. His eyes fill with tears as he admires the work of someone he used to know. Joe’s execution of reminiscing in this scene is extremely powerful; it is one of the most memorable scenes that showcase Joe’s talents as an actor.

The cinematography and colour grading of the film were crisp and professional; my only complaint would be that some scenes in certain locations felt too dark, but I can imagine the lighting in these locations was more difficult to control. When the main character, Joe, performs on stage, he is not in focus throughout, which unfortunately may take viewers out of the story. I also found that the montage of the pair towards the end was touching, yet slightly too long. The music assists the tone of each scene and was competent throughout. The use of many locations in Edinburgh was captivating and framed the city in a beautiful light.

Despite a few technical difficulties, Blue is a passionate film that draws on the human experience. The narrative is tender and has the ability to resonate with many audiences. It relishes in the genuine connection between people and the lasting impression these connections can leave on our lives.

The Party’s Over is an unusual short film which speculatively depicts the Academy Awards dressing-room interaction between two legends of the silver screen, Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. Directed effectively by Skyler Sulby and written, interestingly enough, by its two stars Jessica Ann Brydon and Leah Freilich – this intimate, 7-minute drama is well-photographed, well-performed and satisfyingly structured.

Despite the fact that it’s based on the identities of two of the most famous screen-presences in history, the conceit and overall story structure feels most original. What it is confronting through the characters is the idea of walking away from your career. Kelly famously stops acting once she marries the prince of Monaco. It makes for a deeply moving passage of dialogue as she begins to confront how little choice she’s had in the evolution her life is taking; there’s a lot of nuance to how much she either does or doesn’t want to address about her own personal feelings. And Audrey talks about walking away for now, and the viewer is left to infer a lot from what’s left unsaid.

If there’s one odd effect the film has on the viewer, it’s the following. By stating that the two people you’re watching are Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly and then casting people who do look very much like them, you can’t help but then examine their faces and think of all the things that are different about their looks and behaviours. This isn’t really a complaint, but an inevitable aspect of any biopic-adjacent film. It’s almost like a very successful acting exercise, filmed fittingly.

Speaking of which, the cinematography of this film is incredibly impressive. It adopts of high-contrast, soft focus, black and white style to tell its story – and all these elements also contribute to the sense that we’re observing an old, treasured photography (which, in fact, is the very inspiration for the film, as displayed before the end credits). On a technical level, perhaps the greatest accomplishment is the first shot: a quick push in through a living room as the camera dollies towards a television set introducing the Oscars. I’m not certain how the lighting and tracking was achieved all so perfectly, but it’s a sensational way of introducing the concept of the film.

I would actually love to see these writers and performers make a film about themselves as actresses in the current film landscape, and I’d say that’s a good sign. Because even removed from the outside context of Hepburn, Kelly and the trajectory of their careers, our screenwriters manage to hit on some universal themes – such as uncertainty for the future, questioning of one’s legacy, and trying to find hope and freedom within the confines of the life you’ve found yourself in the middle of. These are ideas and emotions worth exploring in a longer form.

I couldn’t have predicted that a short film would choose to depict such an interaction – it almost seems off-limits in some uncanny way. And yet the fact that these talented filmmakers pull it off is testament to the craft behind the work.

Giants follows Sandy (Josh Barrow), an isolated teenager drifting through his post-industrial town, scavenging for scrap. He finds unexpected purpose after meeting an older conspiracy theorist, Don (Trevor Fox), who tasks him with destroying a local wind farm. Giants is a short film based on true events and shot in the North of England.

What is perhaps most impressive about Giants is the raw attention to detail in every frame from director Andy Berriman. Shot on location in the North of England, the film captures the area’s vast landscapes beautifully and almost makes the town feel like a character. The entire production has a homemade feel, with a clear love for the subject matter and location. Structurally, the film prioritises the relationship that grows between Sandy and Don over spectacle. While the narrative has a clear focus, the central task only really comes to fruition in the final third of the film. The film adopts a rather mellow approach in its opening and shifts to a more exhilarating focus in its final stretch.

The dynamic between the two central characters works incredibly well, as Don fixates on looming giants and takes Sandy under his wing to educate him. The inter-generational friendship that grows between them is easily the most compelling aspect of the script, and their chemistry is magnetic throughout. Thematically, the film tackles provocative themes such as grief and self-purpose, which are integral to both Don and Sandy’s character arcs. Don is grappling with the loss of his wife and blames the state of the post-industrial town for his struggles. Sandy, on the other hand, is trying to find purpose as a confused teenager and finds solace in his friendship with Don, which guides him through his coming-of-age. Both character arcs are executed profoundly with nuance.

Technically, the film is visually stunning, with incredible camerawork and a wonderful musical score that perfectly matches the tone. Jack Edwards, the film’s cinematographer, does a tremendous job capturing the intimacy and scope of the town. The film consists primarily of wider framing to capture the vastness of the landscape and shifts to over-the-shoulder shots and close-ups during the more intimate scenes between Sandy and Don. It's a commendable choice as it feels grand in scope while being an incredibly personal experience. Cecilia Morgan serves as the film's composer and delivers a sombre score that complements the narrative’s more dramatic moments.

Josh Barrow and Trevor Fox’s portrayals of Sandy and Don, respectively, are remarkable. Josh Barrow captures Sandy’s tenderness and youthful spirit as he searches for a sense of purpose. Trevor Fox strikes a wonderful balance between Don’s dramatic and comedic sides, and his chemistry with Josh Barrow is an absolute delight. The narrative reaches an incredibly thrilling conclusion, culminating in jaw-dropping tension in its final moments. It's a deeply engaging finale with an ultimately satisfying end that wraps up both characters' arcs sublimely.

Giants is a breathtaking short film that's deeply moving, funny and beautifully shot. Anchored by its tremendous production design and two compelling central performances, Giants is a perfectly paced film that leaves you wanting more.

'Eterne’ is a love letter inspired by those who lost someone throughout the pandemic or to a fatal disease. It looks at loneliness, the experience of grief, and the mental health of a person who struggles to speak about the difficulty they are going through internally.

We follow a morning in the life of John (Pat Mooney) at 85 years old, having lost the love of his life, Mary (Helena Bereen), a week ago. They met at 15 years old, and she was the beating heart of the home. Throughout the film, we experience the quiet of a house once blossoming with life and the small moments that can trigger tidal waves of grief. We explore how John experiences these memories alone and how he tries to process them.

The colour palette is dull as John wanders the house; he moves past trinkets and memories, reflecting upon them as life fills the scenes with warm tones and dialogue between him and Mary. Heartfelt music is played every time a memory flickers by, and this deepens with dread as John experiences both sadness and panic simultaneously.

It is impossible not to feel the emotion packed into this film. Through a short run time, it captures the grief and isolation through loss. How simple things in your routine can change abruptly, missing the ones you love. From an empty place in bed to needing help on a crossword, simple things yet where you miss their presence the most. It’s deeply rooted in everything you do, think, and feel. A house becoming a ghostly shell to what it once was.

This film is inspired by true events. On a heavy day in October 2021, at 91 years old, both her grandparents got Covid and sadly her Grandma Bessie passed away. This left Ian to have to completely recalibrate his life without his focal point. It was said they had a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ type romance. Meeting just off the school bus, from opposite sides of the town and rival families who did not approve of the match. Their wedding rivalled a royal wedding; the town square was packed with well-wishers. A total of 76 years together, 3 children, 18 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren. They had an extraordinary love and a wonderful life that would be reminisced about across generations.

We explore the aftermath of such a sacred kind of love. After a life together, after well-wishers stop calling, after sound and structure and familial chaos. What is the new normal for John? When it feels like the ground under your feet is crumbling and you can’t quite steady yourself. We feel a sense of relief for John when Hannah visits (Eleanor Shannon). Overwhelmed by emotions and terror, John can breathe again, a sense of relief when a familiar and nurturing face comforts him in his darkest moments. It’s especially fitting within that generation and how they often don’t open up, just to suffer in silence. It gets us to reflect and appreciate how precious life is, how our support system can help calm the storm.

Overall, the film is shot well, although only set in one house, it explores the isolation across such a vast space. It utilises the rooms to tell a story and conjure up John’s fondest memories. The set dressing and props act as a device to delve into pivotal moments between John and Mary. They act as a peephole into their life and evoke a sense of vulnerability and relatability between audiences and characters. Grief is most prominent in the silence and both the music and colour palettes portray that effectively.

Pat Mooney’s performance is heart-wrenching, and the film is especially moving as it was his last project before his unfortunate passing a month ago. He was an incredibly talented actor and, most notably, a kind man to those surrounding him. This performance is a true testament to his love of the craft and how he can tell such an important story just by his captivating presence. A project everyone should watch to deepen their understanding and perspective on such a significant topic. Mooney’s work will forever live on through his remarkable legacy.

Praeis, released in 2024, is a Lithuanian short film written and directed by Dovydas Drakšas. The 27 minute short follows Ada (Ieva Kaniušaitė) as she graduates and is forced to face the reality of her father’s (Šarūnas Puidokas) nature, fighting against her childhood perception of him. Set in the 90’s, this story navigates themes of self identity, parenthood, guilt and the cyclical nature which family can create. “Praeis” itself translates directly to “it’ll pass” in English, further emphasising the film’s focus on constantly evolving relationships as we grow and change as human beings. The heartfelt drama is condensed, focusing almost exclusively on our two main characters as their dynamic evolves, or spirals, overtime.

The story opens with shots of nature/natural elements, such as trees and a burning fire, which relates to the theme of unavoidable evolution of personal relationships through experience. Ada’s father works as a street cigarette dealer, the objects which are able to symbolically display each stage of their likeness. Ada chokes towards the beginning and states that her father also does not smoke, but can later be seen smoking with no difficulty, portraying how she is breaking away from this bond; this is cemented later when her father is denied the opportunity to smoke a cigarette, it is too late for him to bend towards her preferences. Ada’s more stereotypically masculine appearance amongst her location and time period could also suggest an idolisation of her only present parent, one which is now fading away as she accepts the truth. In case anyone in the audience is skeptical of this truth, the film confirms the paternal figure’s priorities after he disregards acknowledgement of his daughter during a robbery. This short fantastically uses a plethora of physical evidence to reflect the current state of connection between characters. More examples of this include an injury closer towards Ada’s eye after confronting her father (as much as it hurts, she can finally see for herself) and her father placing Ada to bed towards the climax (he is able to physically lay their relationship to bed).

Whilst Ada’s view is intensely thorough, it is hard to wonder whether the short could benefit from a more in depth perspective of the father, as his guilt and self-disappointed is slightly difficult to place within the short duration we spend with these characters. This is of course, not his story after all, so this does not overly harm the narrative. The 90’s setting undoubtedly struck a chord with older audiences also, as they can reflect upon their own life and assess relationships they may have had or lost in the past - this assists in forming a closeness to Ada’s life. Credit can be attributed to Anastasiya Mykhaylova for this production design, who has stated that “…a lot of production design focused on creating a historically accurate atmosphere: from cigarette box designs to small details of prints that adorned the walls…”

Music for the short is credited to Agnė Matulevičiūtė which is very well composed in a somber, drawn out and almost soft fashion which complements the plot nicely. Both main characters often find themselves technically submissive to the side of the frame, mostly dominated by open space. This could show how they are not truly aligned within their own lives and often feel disoriented within the relationships. Various angles also display a tunnelled vision of Ada or her father, linking to a separation or a secludedness from one another. Ada’s neckwear also consists of a bright blue necklace alongside a dark black necklace, representing the polar opposite visions of her dad that exist simultaneously in her own mind. The colour palette is generally bright, however instances exist in which typically bright colours are also presented as muted, another allegory for Ada’s thoughts towards her father. The lack name given to this character, simply listed as “father”, also helps creating a mysterious identity which cannot be labelled singularly by Ada or the audience. These ideas and subliminal messages upon the eye can of course be credited to every bright mind who worked behind the camera, such as cinematographer Tamás Méder. The short was created under the Paprastesni production company and London film school, undergoing a world premiere at Cannes Film Festival 2024, winning a multitude of awards and nominations upon release.

A bittersweet ending rounds off the film, actively engaging an audience to take a stronger hold in their own lives if they are troubled by damaging relationships, even if they are held back by positive memories. Whilst often bleak, the product carries some warming statements surrounding the importance of self preservation over fleeting fantasies. An excellent combination of camera work, strong acting and physical production nicely wraps up this story with a necessary message which translates well across the cultures, gender and other differing identity factors. A highly recommended watch for anybody who is interested in or can relate to the subject material.

A young girl sneaks into her classroom early, to leave her beloved teacher a present, but sees more than she should when she hides underneath the desk.

Tears Of Knowing from writer/director, Miles Marti follows young Ava (Shea) as she is dropped off to school early by her father. Ava is in primary/elementary school and is about six or seven years old. She knows that she is not supposed to be in the classroom without anybody else there, but she is so early, and there is nobody else about in the playground or the building, that she decides her class is the best place for her.

Whilst inside, Ava checks on the class pet, a golden haired guinea-pig by the name of Gus Gus. Poor little Gus Gus is far less perky this morning than he usually is and Ava can’t figure out what’s wrong – that is until Ms Price (Price) turns up acting all stressed and flustered, even more so than usual for an overworked, undervalued, and underpaid primary educator.

Ms Price is carrying a large cardboard box with holes in it, which is making little squeaking sounds, and Ava watches from her hiding place under one of the desks as a simple switcheroo happens right before her eyes. Ava then has to contemplate what she has just witnessed and must try to come to terms with it, whilst deciding just how this act is going to affect the relationship she has with one of her most trusted adults.

In the space of only six minutes, Marti tries to get across to us just how affecting small acts of subterfuge can be when played on the young minds of small children. As adults it can sometimes be only too easy to try to pull the wool over the eyes of the innocent, trotting out the tired old platitude to ourselves that ‘what they don’t know can’t hurt them’ and other such garbage. What we can fail to realise at times, however, is that children are far more knowledgeable and aware than we give them credit for, and that by trying to protect them we might be doing far more damage than we might believe.

A lot of the story is given to us through hand-held shots that drift this way and that, mimicking the young eyes of a curious child who is seeing more than they know they should, and Kai Romero’s cinematography keeps us right in the centre of the story with Ava. Marti’s direction, too, tries to keep Ava front and centre, never needing her to say too much for us to be able to understand her thoughts and her feelings, while her actions speak volumes about how she has come to terms with what she has witnessed. The setting of the classroom is also absolutely spot-on, with a real-life school being the backdrop for Ava’s story, and everything looking exactly the way an early years classroom would, bringing us directly into the frame along with the children in the class.

It is unknown whether Marti was trying to say anything with the choice of location in his movie, or whether it was just a convenient and accessible place to film, but the St. Jerome school offers another level of meaning behind the main message being given, especially if you consider the passage cited on the classroom door, of Matthew 4:19. We all know that the most pervasive lie that we tell children is the one about a jolly fat man with a white beard and a red coat who brings them presents at Christmas time. In fact it is so pervasive, and hard to shake, that most parents tie themselves in knots piling one fantastical fabrication on top of another to combat the justified questioning of the unlikeliness of it all, rather than admit to their children that they’ve being lying to them all of their lives. This can then, of course, be extrapolated to God, and the lies of all religions, which seek to ‘protect’ and ‘comfort’ the flock of innocents, whilst obviously using these lies for control and submission to authority.

Whether Marti is making these points or not, they are pertinent to the theme and message of Tears Of Knowing, and come out intrinsically through the watching of the film. It is not just the simple lie that is being covered up, it is also the blatant disregard for the actual knowing of the truth, that is so hurtful and damaging, although perhaps in the end ultimately freeing, for Ava. For what is on the surface a simple short film, Tears Of Knowing opens up a whole Pandora’s Box of questions for adults and parents to answer when deciding just how much of the world to share with their children, and which lessons should be taught when.

“Our Story was meant to be longer than a year; it was meant to be a lifetime”.

This is a short film looking at grief and how one young woman, Sage Evans, is coping a year after her boyfriend’s death. This was her first love, and we see how she struggles as grief impacts every part of her daily life. She battles to keep him close but is overwhelmed by the reminders of what happened that tragic day. To cope, she writes chapters in her diary, which help bring her lost love to life. Is this healthy, or is this taking her down a dark hole? It is amazing what can trigger a memory: a sound, a picture, or even a smell. The film shows all of this.

Genevieve Chenneour plays Sage Evans, and she does a remarkable job keeping the audience engaged. This is an achievement, as so much of the film focuses solely on her. With minimal dialogue, Chenneour successfully conveys the character’s sadness through her facial expressions and body language. Her actions make the audience feel the pain of loss as they follow her through every emotion. This powerful performance will speak to many who have experienced the pain of grief. Alfie Noble gives a sincere performance as Riley Leeks, the boyfriend who has been lost far too soon. He and Genevieve Chenneour have strong chemistry as they bring comfort and sadness to the main roles. His character delivers an important message that it is time to move on. There are disturbing moments, but they give the audience a gritty reality outside of Sage's mind.

Caroline Hajny directs and has experience developing stories with a female lead. In this film, she has created a beautiful story that will have a lasting effect on its audience. The locations support the actors’ portrayal of loneliness, and the close-up camera work helps the viewer understand how the main characters feel. The musical score is well chosen to reflect the sadness in each scene, particularly those involving Sage and Riley. Music can play a pivotal role in emphasising emotions and developing a film's many layers.

Some words will leave an imprint on the audience, and that comes down to the writer's talent. Some of the script is pure poetry with a beautiful insight into how a person can feel when someone close has died. It is impossible to know what people are going through, and the writer delves into the loneliness that accompanies grief with a powerful closing message. The words are delivered softly but with conviction, making them even more thought-provoking.

I think every part of this film will tug at the heartstrings and allow viewers to reflect on their own feelings of loss and grief. The cast's performances are highly impactful and show that grief can affect everyone around you. Film can make a real impression and play an important role in people’s lives by giving them characters they can connect with. This film certainly does that.

Every Time I See a Yellow Car (2026) follows protagonist Olly as he is troubled by his childhood trauma and recent sexual assault. His declining mental health causes him to spiral, as his older brother attempts to protect him in violent ways. Their different approaches to healing cause a large rift between the brothers and as their methods of overcoming emotional distress contradict each other, more pain is forced upon the pair.

This short film is beautifully written; the voiceover explains enough, yet not too much, keeping you engaged and curious throughout. Audiences can enjoy the buildup of tension before the twist in the narrative changes everything. The film tells the story in a non-linear way that is composed of delicate sound work and interesting cinematography. The use of colour, especially the reinforced meaning behind the yellow (which seems to forcefully display a never-ending cycle of trauma), is tactically placed, enhancing the flashbacks to Olly’s childhood.

The performance of Ty Tennant (previously known for his 2022 work in House of the Dragon) was exceptional, full of depth and emotion without an ounce of melodrama. His exhibition of mental health was subtle yet deeply moving and his voiceover elements were executed with such conviction.

The act of displaying trauma and sexual assault through the journey of brotherhood was a unique approach, one that ensured the audience could empathise with the characters without needing to know every small detail of their previous hardships. The shots of the young boys playing the game ‘yellow car’ definitely aid in the amount of sympathy felt by audiences. It is a breath of fresh air that the film ensures viewers understand the characters as more than what has tragically happened to them.

One of the most breathtaking shots that stands out is the choreography of the hands coming out of the yellow car, an eerie sight when you begin to understand the symbolism behind the use of the colour yellow. Another creative choice that was intelligently produced is the reveal that the ‘therapy’ session with Olly is being watched by what seems to be investigators. This helps round off the narrative and ensures audiences have a moment where everything clicks into place for that satisfying ‘aha’ moment.

Overall, this short film is produced with great professionalism; all technical elements seem to be of the highest quality. The non-linear structure and fast-paced montages keep viewers engaged throughout, and the performances in such a touching story are admirable.