Latest Short Film Reviews

A young woman lives with the fear of being watched and stalked, while her phone becomes a way for the attacker to enter into her life.

In Last Notification, there’s not a lot of time for anything to get explained or given background detail. At six-and-a-half-minutes long, with no credits or title sequence to speak of, we just have to get on with it and hope that things become clear as we go along. Unfortunately, we’re forced to wait as writer/director, Shaghul Mecheri leads us into the story gently, using the first minute-and-a-half to get our unnamed protagonist (Chelsia) up the stairs, into her flat, and onto the bed to take her shoes off.

Once settled in at home, the young woman gets herself into the shower, saying nothing as there’s no-one else around, leaving the film completely devoid of dialogue. There’s no inner voice, no self-chat, no monologue or reaction to TV or phone, only the chime of a notification and a subtitled message of ‘You are being watched…’ pinging up on her screen.

Once that message has been received, however, things start getting very creepy outside the window and around the flat, for the young woman. The memory of the old ghost story, and the introduction to Scream (1996), begins to come to mind, where ‘the call is coming from inside the house’, as the shower switches itself back on and odd sounds keep happening. There’s a shadowy, hooded figure standing out in the street, but maybe, just maybe, he’s made it into the flat, too.

For what is an extremely simple, and heavily replayed, concept, Last Notification does everything it can to try and up-the-ante and stylise what it’s showing on screen. As such, Mecheri has chosen to shoot in black-and-white, giving a certain noir feel to the proceedings, while the lack of dialogue presumably aims to keep things arthouse and concept driven. The concept though, is still only one of home-invasion in a slasher flick style, but perhaps Mecheri was trying to reach for something more through the way the attacker enters the young woman’s life.

The idea that she’s let him in somehow through her mobile phone could be an intriguing concept to follow, if it was at all addressed by Mecheri in the narrative. The phone is the only point of contact between the two characters initially, but with no dialogue, inner or outer, and no reference through visuals, we as the audience just have to make things up for ourselves. This is a real shame, as without any concrete details or guided reference to follow, there’s just not enough in Last Notification to explain what’s going on.

When the attacker (Babu) does finally show up, he is deeply menacing and creepy in a way that is reminiscent of Killer Bob in Twin Peaks (1990-1992), making him pretty terrifying but still unaccounted for. There are hints that he might not be real, or a figment of the woman’s imagination, but nothing is for certain, and as an audience we’re left looking for answers. While Last Notification works well enough in the scares department, there’s not enough in the narrative to work with in order to get the whole picture, and so the viewer is left out somewhat from fully enjoying what could have been.

A body-swap short film, written and directed by filmmaker Emma Jesse, utilises this powerful storytelling technique to explore concerning themes of consent, sexism, and objectification.

Dave (Aaron Blake - brilliant in His Hands) wakes to a startling discovery. Looking back at him in the mirror is not the man with facial hair he is used to, but instead a “smoking hot” female (Antonia Whilans). After jiggling his chest a little and making a quick exit from the apartment he’s in (to the sounds of the female occupant calling the police, who clearly went to bed with a man the night before and woke with a woman), Dave hits the town to taste life as a woman.

Whilst the benefits draw initial appeal - free savaloys and quick entry into a club - the downsides quickly become apparent. From lewd comments and unwanted attention to much worse, Dave’s journey becomes increasingly hostile and dangerous.

With a strong production quality and impressive performances, ASKING4IT is a worthy short film to seek out. Blake handles the majority of the screen time, putting in a well-balanced performance that feels bold and refreshing. He handles the film’s lighter moments of comedy brilliantly, such as trying on clothes and flirting with perverts, and is more than capable when things get dark.

Deliberately provocative, the idea of blame is highlighted, and the script purposely muddies the water to ensure audience debate will rage. By living out his own male fantasy, should Dave’s attempts to dress sexily and skip queues (and paying) be met with the consequences he faced? Is he indeed asking for it? Or is the culture of unsolicited sexual advances so ingrained in our lives that we have become numb to the abject horror of it?

The pacing of the short film is quite frenetic. Dave steams quickly into the experiment of his body swap without questioning the reasoning behind it. The majority of ASKING4IT feels like a night out montage, and the moments of reflection and pathos are perhaps too few and far between. Had Dave as a character been explored more, in terms of his social standing and community, we could have felt a deeper connection to his female journey and how different his experience is as a woman.

Overall, though, a powerful and moving short film that feels as tragically relevant as it is potent. Whilst the comment section wars continue, ASKING4IT feels like a creative and fresh perspective to offer audiences, enabling them to get a mirror held up to them, if only for 16 minutes.

The Last Laugh is a short piece that follows a police officer (Samuel Lawrence) apprehending a clown (Zachary Coleman) with their two opposing ideals at odds.

Despite the film's incredibly brisk runtime, it wastes no time building tension and executing its ideas almost immediately. While there isn't much material to sustain a feature-length runtime, the filmmakers clearly intended to execute their distinct vision as depicted on screen.

The most impressive aspect of The Last Laugh is its camerawork and fluid editing choices, which are on display. Dan Abrams, serving as both cinematographer and editor for the piece, utilises unique framing choices, including extreme close-ups during moments of severe conflict, and switches to wide framing to give the viewer a sense of the surrounding area. It's an incredibly visceral experience that doesn't let up until its final moments. However, without any prior context to the arising conflict between the two central characters, it's difficult to comprehend what is actually occurring, as the narrative throws the viewer in the deep end, requiring them to decipher what has led to this confrontation. It's a deeply frustrating aspect of the piece due to the lack of character development or thematic purpose, aside from the brief exploration of crime themes.

The brief use of music is incredibly impactful and accompanies the severity of the conflict extremely well. Going into the film blind is genuinely a rewarding experience as it's a rather unique piece of indie filmmaking that relies only on a single dispute between two opposing ideologies. While the narrative isn’t fleshed out much, it's extremely refreshing to see an uncompromised vision executed to this level of absurdity. Despite the film having fairly sparse material to work with, the filmmakers do their best to convey their talent with such raw production value. Its absurd nature is commendable, and the narrative does sweep the rug from under the viewer with a shocking twist.

Both central performances from Samuel Lawrence in his portrayal of the police officer and Zachary Coleman’s portrayal of the clown are mostly impressive. Samuel Lawrence, in particular, conveys a profound level of restraint when trying to diffuse the situation and decipher the clown’s intention. Zachary Coleman, on the other hand, is deeply haunting and manipulative as he attempts to play mind games with the police officer about his plans as a criminal. Both performances complement one another incredibly well, and it's one of the most impressive aspects of the piece, given the limited material they were given to work with.

While the film would’ve benefitted deeply from a prolonged runtime to flesh out the central characters more profoundly, the filmmaker’s intent was clearly in the right place, as the minimal ideas are executed aptly despite its shortcomings.

The Last Laugh is a bizarre and questionable experience that throws the audience into a state of conflict between two opposing characters with a severe lack of context. Whilst there is minor material to latch onto outside of the central conflict, the lack of spectacle may have been intentional and instrumental in helping the filmmakers execute the idea they envisioned with this short piece.

A short adult dark comedy from Ireland written and directed by Natasja Schaafsma and starring herself and Keith Anthony Murphy.

A young couple, consisting of Ciara (Schaafsma) and Jordan (Murphy) enter a bedroom, hugging and kissing and it is obvious that things are going to get much more intimate. Things to go further, however not in a way one would expect. Ciara states that she likes it rough and she seems to be literal as she encourages Jordan to physically harm her and she reciprocates.

A situation begins with romantic expectations before becoming a wrestling match. Over the course of approximately three minutes, the couple punch, kick and throw each other around, whether on the bed or around the bedroom. And the use of a dildo as a weapon occurs as well and so do attacks to the groin. Just adding that both participants are fully clothed.

It is crucial to acknowledge that this activity is consensual and both characters are participating in their own free will. The comedy comes in the form of the performances and the fighting, the choreography of which is credited to the work of James Cosgrave. Ciara is the one who seems to be enjoying this...unusual occurrence and it is evident that it was her idea. She grins as she strikes and seems to enjoy being hurt. The same could not be said about Jordan who is hesitant and does not appear to be taking a liking to physical pain. Nevertheless, the fight goes on, accompanied by amusing music by Nelson M. Olivares Alfaro.

The fun is not restricted to the brawling, with the cheeky opening and closing credits adding to the humour and there are plenty of cartoonish sound effects when strikes occur.

So what does the content of this film mean? It seems to be exploring unconventional sexual desires, particularly sexual gratification via violence, maybe sadomasochism? As an intended sexual encounter turns into a fight where receiving and inficting pain is being playfully enjoyed, this viewing could be perceived as a comedic commentary about this derivation of pleasure.

Two youths beat each other up in a comical fashion. Sex and violence. A fun adult comedy, although some people might find the violence uncomfortable.

A short low-budget drama from India, written and directed by Ashish Bisht and starring himself, Kanchan Rawat, Anjali Bisht and Shoban Singh Rawat.

The setting is India and the coronavirus pandemic has caused global lockdowns. One man (Ashish Bisht) lives in an apartment with his sister (Anjali Bisht) and his wife, Sapna (Rawat). The three of them are currently in quarantine, waiting. The man spends his time watching the news and being influenced by all the bad news, be it warfare between countries or the pandemic.

Being less keen on a narrative, this film concentrates on the anxiety that the man is going through because of the outbreak, being constantly worried about what might happen. Forced to be in his household, he contemplates the world's current unfortunate situation and when he goes out for some shopping, he is faced with the harshness of sanitising, being cautious not to touch anything.

Numerous films (both short and feature) have been made that deal with the COVID-19 pandemic. This one focuses on how the media affect people, utilising words that cause them to live in fear.

Ashish Bisht's character represents the everyday person who becomes more and more anxious due to the virus and generally because of the negative messages that are communicated to him via news media or other individuals such as the shopkeeper who condemns his apparent irresponsibility when it comes to preventing the disease from spreading. He is a victim of fear generated by the media. His sibling and primarily his partner are more confident and do not let themselves be victims to the effects of news reports and social media.

This short explores how the media can affect people in negative ways, causing them to feel fear, frustration and anxiety and of course, this film is also a commentary about the coronavirus lockdown and what it involves, such as isolation, sanitising and mental health issues.

Another film about the COVId-19 pandemic. This project acknowledges the pcychological effects that outbreaks and the media have on people and this makes it a viewing worthy of attention.

A single man desperately wants to upgrade his AI girlfriend experience, and hires a body proxy for her to inhabit so that they can both get down to some real-world jiggy-jiggy, without either of them realising the real-world consequences of their actions.

Somewhere in the near/alternative future, AI girlfriends are all the rage and can be materialised in real-time, as a sort of hologram, through a cerebral implant. This function still has its limitations though, with touch and sensation still beyond the ken of the programming, leaving only the emotional and communicative aspects of relationships still open to the user, even though they can see their chosen partner right in front of them. Despite the obvious frustration of this set-up, business seems to be booming, however, Clyde (Souza) is still not satisfied.

With a little bit of technical wizardry and know-how, Clyde has already upgraded his AI girlfriend, Alora (Neave), in his spare time, giving her extra, illegal code, that makes her more personal, individually tailored, and loving towards him. Together they have concocted a plan to transfer Alora’s memory into a Proxy, a living host who will take on all of the implanted memories and personality that Clyde has built up in Alora, but who will be someone flesh and blood that he can touch and make love to. The fact that the Proxy looks completely different to the girlfriend he has created and loves, somehow doesn’t seem to faze Clyde at all, and so when Renata (Lockhart) is delivered to his door, all steely-eyed, distant, and submissive, there’s only really one thing on his mind.

Looking for all intents and purposes like an episode of Black Mirror (2011-2025), Proxy takes the idea of the uses of modern technology and extrapolates a little into the future to present us with a cracked version of what might be. At only fifteen minutes long, it doesn’t have the luxury of explaining everything in detail, or settling us into the scenario completely, before getting on with things, but as a proof of concept for what is intended to be a full feature film, it gets enough of what is needed into the narrative to let us understand the themes and drive of the movie.

With that, the techno-babble at the beginning is a little light on specifics, and the double talk of AI girlfriends, holograms, cerebral implants, proxies, and so on, can get a little confusing to the uninitiated. Once our Proxy has been delivered, however, most things slot into place and the themes become the driving factor of the story and character play. These themes, unfortunately, seem to be very one-dimensional, poorly thought out, surface level, and even a little crass, as they set about painting men as sick abusers and heartless animals who only think about their sexual appetite. The entire dynamic of the threesome is one set upon male dominance and exploitation of women, with male users shown to be only too happy to be complicit in institutional rape and control, even when they have no knowledge of the deception behind the scenes of international, global conglomeration.

There is never any hint that AI boyfriends might exist in this world, or that proxies might indeed be male instead of female, and that the issues which complicate the matter of proxies would transfer across sexual and gender lines, which is a real blind-spot in terms of the writing. While borrowing a lot of themes from stories such as The Handmaid’s Tale, Blade Runner 2049 (2017), Ex Machina (2014), Her (2013) and A.I.(2001), as well as many episodes of Black Mirror, Proxy doesn’t dig down into them to try to understand the relationship between human and machine, but instead tacks on a forced narrative of male sexual abuse as the inevitable outcome.

While sci-fi has long been used as a medium for exploring modern day real-world themes, offering windows into dystopian futures and catastrophic misuses of technology, in Proxy it misses its mark. The theme completely overtakes and drowns out the narrative, forgetting to allow actual characterisation and deeper thought behind their actions, instead focusing on shock value and unfiltered ire to deliver its message. While the threats of AI and especially AI companionship are definitely something to be considered and explored, Proxy, with its singular vision of a wildly specific scenario, and introduction of a problematic concept, struggles to bring anything pertinent to the conversation.

Hierophany follows Samuel (Andrew Grayson), an introverted man in his thirties, obsessed with extraterrestrial life. Each night, he is tormented by a mysterious presence that leaves him desperate for answers. Samuel seeks therapy with a counsellor, Matthew (Craig Andrew Mooney), who offers a unique and insightful perspective on what may be causing these nightly visitations.

One of the most impressive aspects of the piece is its engaging material; although most of the runtime is condensed into a single therapy session, the dialogue is consistently enthralling thanks to many of the technical aspects and the two central performances. Firstly, Luis Maurizzio serves as the film's cinematographer, primarily framing the two characters from either fixed camera shots or extreme close-ups to convey the protagonist's inner turmoil. During dialogue that appears evasive as the central character opens up about his trauma, an understated and melancholic musical score accompanies these scenes, effectively conveying the emotional resonance. It's a deeply haunting showcase of how different people cope with grief and how opening up to another can heal your wounds through acceptance of yourself.

The piece tackles thought-provoking themes and ideas such as guilt and trauma, feelings that have haunted Samuel most of his life. This is showcased through steady editing as he recounts his childhood experiences. Despite the film's incredibly brisk runtime, the pacing flows exceptionally well due to the provocative dialogue and deliberate formal choices. Sadly, the film doesn't really explore Samuel's current lifestyle, and a deeper characterisation could have fleshed out more recent events that have led to his nightly visitations. While the film does explore Samuel's childhood experiences through his opening up about his neglect, particularly from his father, a more nuanced dive into why he is so closed off from the world would have been more memorable.

The central performance from Andrew Grayson in his portrayal of Samuel is deeply moving, as he conveys the haunted nature and introverted side of his personality with astounding accuracy. Samuel is more closed off as he tries to understand if what is happening to him is real or not, and his expression of grief and guilt is deeply moving. Craig Andrew Mooney, on the other hand, in his portrayal of Matthew, is a calm and collected presence who tries to offer insightful methods on how to express his feelings to move on. He doesn't judge Samuel’s actions and chooses to be patient and understanding of what may have caused the force that is haunting him. Both performances play off one another profoundly, and they are ultimately the heart and soul of the film's central ideas.

While the overall conclusion to the narrative is fairly minor and somewhat open-ended, it still manages to connect on a deeper level due to the moving ideas and themes present. The conclusion doesn't offer any easy resolutions to self-acceptance and grief, simply leaving these ideas open for audiences to discuss after the credits roll.

Hierophany is a thought-provoking exploration of guilt and trauma that leaves room for interpretation of how each person deals with grief. Anchored by director Tom Alner’s formalism and two terrific performances from Andrew Grayson and Craig Andrew Mooney, Hierophany is a deeply engaging experience.

Directed by Parker Croft, The Liars of Black Mountain Road is a short film that begs the question: “why do we lie, and what is the cost of telling the truth?” Starring Nolan Gould and Millie Gibbons as couple Ethan and Abbie, the film explores relationship dynamics in the wake of an unfortunate accident. It’s a masterclass in tension, and is sure to have audiences on the edge of their seats.

Driving along the titular road, Ethan stops the car when he realises that he has hit and unfortunately killed a dog. He calls the owner to inform him of the accident, but trouble begins when Abbie points out that Ethan didn’t explicitly confess to being the driver of the car. Thus begins a heated back and forth, the couple ruminating on Ethan’s phone call and whether or not he was dishonest. Croft does an excellent job of capturing the couples’ silent gazes at each other, making the audience feel the palpable sense of awkwardness in the car. In this way, the audience becomes a party to the incident, free to make up their own moral judgement. The ethical questions are tantalizing, as the film invites us to consider how good of a person Ethan is, and how reliable his interpretation of the preceding events really was. Gould’s performance should be noted as he portrays his character with nuance; upset by the incident with the dog, yet stubbornly defensive over his actions, insisting that it was an accident that couldn’t be helped. Similarly, Gibbons plays the role of Abbie with precision, her eyes casting an accusatory stare in her partner’s direction one moment, and seemingly unable to look in his direction the next. It creates a vivid portrait of the couple’s history – perhaps this is not the first time issues relating to trust and honesty have surfaced. The wedge between Ethan and Abbie drives the tension up, creating a sense of dread as they drive towards the owner’s location. Who is the dog’s owner? Will he catch Ethan in a lie? How dangerous is he? Croft delights in asking these questions, sustaining a real sense of dread for an impressive length of time.

While the performances are excellent across the board, it’s possible that Abbie’s characterisation could have been more interesting. Ethan is depicted as complex, a three dimensional character with a truly questionable sense of self-awareness. Abbie on the other hand came across as too agreeable. Perhaps that’s my own personal bias, but I found her largely too passive for most of the film, and I would have liked to see that character make some more interesting decisions. Gibbons plays the role well, but I would have liked to see her given a little more to do beyond simply admonishing Ethan for the middle chunk of the short. I also think that the last act of the film could have been pushed a little further by adding a new element to complicate the narrative. Something to recontextualise the events that had transpired, or to give the characters a final new challenge. The film makes an interesting choice in how it plays the drama which I do admire, but there’s a risk that it may feel underwhelming to some viewers.

The Liars of Black Mountain Road is a confidently shot and well acted short film that should be lauded for its ability to deliver quality character writing within a tense and dramatic story. While it’s possible that it could have been further expanded in a few places, it’s an admirable film that asks thought provoking questions and invites fervent discussion.

The pilot episode of a TV mini series, a comedy mystery thriller created by Daniel John Peters and starring Milly Mattison-Nottage, Andrew McGillan, Julie Harrop and Irene Peters.

The year is 2015 and something strange is going on in a town in England. A man (McGillan) has been spying on Beth (Nottage), a young woman. Why? Evidently, there is something about her that only he seems to be aware of. He knows her but she appears to be oblivious to his existence. So he follows her and her friend, Sarag (Harrop) around town and at one point they become aware of him. Who exactly is this man and why is he obsessed with Beth?

With a duration on just under twenty minutes, this series' debut episode establishes a sort stalker story that also contains comedic moments. The mystery is primarily what makes this watchable, with the script managing to create enough question marks to make the viewer want to follow the continuation. The mystery deepens by the apparent sudden and brief headaches that are experienced by Beth and the mysterious man. Does this mean that the two of them are related? This will probably be answered in the following episodes. Peters also worked on the music and the result is a tense and electronic score with occasional drum beats that adds to the atmosphere.

A significant amount of time is spent observing the unusual man, the obvious intention being for the audience to get some understanding regarding what he is up to. Nevertheless, less time could be spent watching him ascending staircases or driving.

McGillan's character is a loner. A guy who is determined to discover something and that something involves Beth and this seems to be achievable by analysing cans of pineapple slices, dialing 999 and not actually making the call, observing pictures of Beth and Sarah on his phone and using it to verbally record his clues and thoughts. Meanwhile, Beth (apart from the headaches) and Sarah come across as typical youths, going for walks together, taking selfies and socialising on social media. Just two youngsters having become the center of a stranger's obsession for unknown reasons. Beth's mom (Irene Peters) seems to be just a simple, nice person until it is indicated that she is harbouring secrets.

Mostly, this is a story about spying and secrets and furthermore, it also brings friendship and parenting into the picture.

What is going to happen next? This is the question that will most likely motivate people to pursue the next episodes. Also, regarding the title, it is appropriate because trying to figure out what is happening is puzzling and is it also supposed to sound like ''Amazing Truth''? Just wondering.

Astraea is a short film set in the near future, depicting human's relationship with aliens. Its writer Craige Middleburg also stars as the ‘Rookie’, alongside Peter Inskip and Zak Watson-Smith. Between the three characters, the audience witness one man’s initiation into the interdimensional division of a futuristic job. As part of it, he must convince an alien to use its abilities of drawing memories out of objects.

The film sets up its story well using just three characters - not only because of their naturalistic performances, but because they each offer contrasting perspectives. The cliche dynamic of the rookie (Craige Middleburg) and the Veteran (Peter Inskip) is immediately powerful in foregrounding the story. What may be seen as an over-used stereotype works well, as it is cleverly established through miniscule details in the mise-en-scene and their conversation, rather than dramatic or plain dialogue. For instance the Veteran ignores the Rookie's handshake and takes advantage of his superior knowledge, misleading him in the interaction with the alien (referred to as a mimic) to poke fun. The Rookie, as expected in the inexperience of his character, receives this belittling and obediently follows instructions. He endeavours to impress and perform well in his assessment job interview, providing the character with a strong, engaging incentive for the piece. The science-fiction element is drawn from the final character - an alien. There is an added exciting dynamic of an outsider, which also works in strengthening the united front of the Rookie and the Veteran against him. All of them possess starkly different characters, charging the film’s action and dialogue.

There is an intriguing exploration of status within the interaction. The alien is naturally something to be wary of, but in this circumstance it is simultaneously inferior. Seemingly kept captive, it is used for the benefit of humans in determining their suitability to a job. Not only this, but the job is implied to provide humans with a superior status to the aliens. This iniquity is partly shrouded by the fact the alien presents as human-like through ‘mimicking’, but with certain unnatural features and behaviours.

The choice to make the aliens visually present as humans is a clever decision that both saves the film from an insincere element, and provides some eeriness. It suggests a possibility that they are not always identifiable, instead able to pass through life and humanity undetected. Not only this, but it reveals their unnerving ability to take over the physicality of humans, adopting their appearances while remaining alien.

The clever writing and directing spares the film from feeling performative or elementary. It establishes its futuristic setting, science fiction genre and the nature of the aliens majoritively through showing rather than telling, demanding that the audience infer for themselves. Incongruently, the sequence presenting the alien’s power utilises warbled, shaky camera movements and sound effects. This may be an ironic call back to the outdated film effects seen in early cinema, an attempt at comedy, but it comes off as insincere and not complimentary of the storytelling talent made evident from the rest of the film.