Latest Short Film Reviews

It would honestly be quite difficult to fault Paul Nevison’s In Absence for really any aspect relating to the technical department. One might even be tempted to say that every frame of this 24-minute drama is perfect – at least from an audio-visual standpoint. We follow a young boy who has recently lost his mother. His family is Christian, and thus, this untimely death results in the father questioning his very faith in the good. Yet it’s the young boy whose perspective the audience experiences this story. His confusion and sorrow as he navigates his place within the familial-religious chaos of mourning. Conceivably, it would more be the screenplay – its plotting and its characters – which could receive any kind of scrutiny from a less favourable critic. But even that would be a case of personal preference; not as a result of any thematic or structural inconsistencies. In Absence is a masterpiece. A cinematic marvel and deeply moving.

I’d like to first draw your attention to Bjorn Amundsen – the director of photography for this picture – for this is a flawlessly lit movie. Characters bathed in gold light, blue light; everything stylistically impressionistic yet somehow natural and motivated. Not only is every shot perfectly balanced in terms of light and shadow, but entire rooms are also lit up from multiple artificial sources – a mix of daylight and domestic impressions – giving the film a lived-in, exploratory aesthetic wherein the viewer can feast their eyes all about the frame.

Flawless lens-work. And in collaboration, of course, with director Nevison, I – as a filmmaker myself – was quite inspired by how the film oscillates between these extremely wide-angled lenses (often placed at high angles in the corner of a room – perhaps formally symbolic of God’s omniscience) and these sharp, clean medium lenses which provide the frame so much depth and the subject’s face so much detail. This is award-worthy work from Amundsen as their work seemingly redefines just how good a short film drama can look in this age. I’m talking superior to the majority of feature-length studio products you see in your local multiplex. I’d also be remiss not to mention the effective on-location sound recording and resonant sound design, in addition to the striking set design and the fact that every performer is more than pulling their weight.

To surmise, what we have here is a truly refined work of visual storytelling; one told with passion and awesome technical and aesthetic prowess. I’ll conclude by mentioning a director whose works have a lot in common with this short alone... Since the passing of one of our greatest filmmakers, Terence Davies, I’ve written many pieces about his films (particularly his early shorts) and their significance to independent film. It is a stupendous compliment, therefore, that I thought of his films constantly while watching In Absence, since it is that they share many concerns relating to broken faith, feelings of desperation and disillusionment in trying times, and how these manifest within the family setting. Not only this, but Nevison’s dedication to craft and evoking mood through imagery, evoked much of Davies’ groundbreaking style.

A short dark comedy written by Natalie Hay, Bri Power, directed by Phoebe Critchlow and Natalie Hay and starring Ben Xiao, Ru Gupte, Estee Poichot and Thomas Tricerri.

Owen (Xiao) has found himself in quite a situation: he has just murdered his best friend (Tricerri). Apparently, there had been an altercation between them in Owen's apartment and he shoved his friend roughly, causing him to fall and die on the kitchen floor. Now owen is panicking and does not know what to do. By accident, he grabs the attention of his smart home device and proceeds to ask advice regarding getting rid of the dead body.

The aftermath of a terrible incident, leading to an awkward interaction between a young man and an electronic device. The story starts off as a serious thriller, before turning into a darkly comical situation involving the disposal of a corpse. Owen desperately and repeatedly asks for the device's advice on what to do and he is given it, as he has tricked the device in to believing that he wants to learn how to get rid of a body as a joke. Dark humour, gore, drama and gruesomeness dominate this film.

The narrative is intriguing and amusing (as far as dark humour goes), however it ends in a sort of cliffhanger, which is OK, still though one might think that the story could had carried on beyond that point.

Xiao delivers an entertaining performance. His character is a naive (and as it turns out: bad-tempered and disturbed) guy who has suddenly found himself having to cover up his crime, all while being assisted by a device with a female voice (Gupte provides the voice for the device and it is named Mimi), like a child asking their mother for help to clean up their mess. In the blink of an eye, he turns into a killer and body mutilator.

This is a story about murder and consequences, desperation and it also serves as a comedic commentary about how much people rely on technology these days.

Three-and-a-half minutes of dark humour. A viewing that will most likely be amusing to those who enjoy dark comedies with very dark humour.

Maddie Cobb’s Antithesis places a manipulative relationship at its centre, asking complex questions of its audience as it follows a young woman longing for a first love whose toxic traits threaten to derail her ambitions.

Claire (Mackenzie Cain) is an aspiring writer who meets Aaron (Owen Correll) at a house party. Quiet and reserved by her nature, Claire is swept up by Aaron’s charisma and roguishness. Throwing caution to the wind and embracing the spontaneity Aaron propagates, she is quickly mesmerised by this new love who fuels her creativity. But over time, Aaron’s unpredictability and disregard for Claire’s priorities shows a different side to his character.

Antithesis is an impressive and wizened examination of young relationships. Owen Correll’s Aaron is a poster boy for the type of boyfriend that teenage girls dream about. Exciting, magnetic, mysterious and boasting Chalamet-esque good looks, he is perfection on the surface for a romantic like Claire. Their love story gets off to the perfect start, but even in their early encounters there are red flags flying. The passion and unpredictability that romances her in their early encounters slowly reveals itself as selfishness and indifference for anyone’s wants but Aaron’s own. Maddie Cobb allows the viewer to unravel Aaron’s true self along with Claire – viewers will themselves sense his appeal in the film’s early stages and think that their relationship is something that can be rectified until late in the narrative.

Mackenzie Cain proves a fantastic choice as Claire. Her intelligence, drive and creativity fuel her dream of authorship, yet Aaron’s force of personality convince her to make rash decisions well outside of her character. Cain captures the character dilemma between hesitancy and yearning for excitement, an essential element to show that even the smartest of us are vulnerable to emotional manipulation when the circumstances are right. Even as Aaron’s worst tendencies begin to show, she struggles with casting him aside, torn even when he shows up at her house late at night after ghosting her for hours. Owen Correll is similarly brilliant as Aaron, his attractive qualities clear to see but carrying also a vulnerability that acts as a shield even when his behaviours turn into unacceptable territory.

The film is shot functionally and some scenes are allowed to stand out thanks to their staging – one in which Claire and Aaron speak in Aaron’s bed after she spends the night is a cleverly staged moment that first gives clues that this new mysterious love interest may not be all he sets out to be. A cool tint sits over the film that drains some of the life out of the short – an interesting decision that creates an overtone that events are not as pure and exciting as they initially appear to be. However as we experience the film through Claire’s eyes, it feels like a missed opportunity not to add energy and vibrancy with a bolder palette, at least in the early stages of the film.

Antithesis is an accomplished short film that is destined to move audiences who know the confusion and confounding emotions of a troublesome first love. Lesser filmmakers would opt for a more straightforward presentation of its characters than Maddie Cobb opts for. But the presentation of Claire and Aaron’s complicated lives is what allows this film to thrive.

A wonderful short documentary about nature, made entirely thanks to the hard work and dedication of Kamil Trzebiatowski.

Trzebiatowski is a long-distance hiker with impressive achievements. Over the course of seven years, he has travelled extensively around the British countryside, exploring its vast beauty. He documented much of his journeys on camera and now he tells his story to others, filming himself as he walks through the countryside.

Over the course of 40 minutes, Trzebiatowski takes the viewer on a mesmerising and thoughtful journey, revealing the beauty of British landscapes and explaining the reasons that motivated him to start journeying through nature. His footage certainly captures the wonderness of landscapes, showing mountains, moors, fields and lakes. And he spends a great deal of time filming himself as he hikes through the countryside and talks about his experiences and his perspective regarding nature. The shots of nature are fantastic, his words are meaningful and the experience is supported by the terrific music by Dreyma, Daniel Ran and Fantasy Meditations.

Focusing on Kamil now. As mentioned, he is solely responsible for the creation of this documentary and the results of his efforts are very rewarding. He is also the only person in the film and he comes across as rather friendly and the way he expresses himself makes it evident that he has great passion for nature and exploring.

Throughout the film, Kamil utilises quotes from a variety of famous individuals, including Heraclitus, Helen Keller, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Thomas Merton in order to support his theories about the power of nature and the value of solitude. These quotes appear in words in a variety of wonderful paintings of landscapes and are quoted verbally.

Obviously, nature is the main subject here, its beauty and how mesmerising it is and how uniquely people can experience the physical world in solitude. Moreover, this film is also a commentary about pursuing a passion, being motivated, exploration, self-reflection and of course, hiking.

People who view this documentary will be rewarded with beautiful landscapes and will have the pleasure of becoming familiar with an inspiring individual with unique thoughts about the significance of nature and the ways people connect with it. And they might even be inspired to set off on their own adventure.

A comedic horror buzz not to be taken too seriously.

This 15-minute comedy focuses on revenge and dating in a world of modern-day witches who use smartphones as well as spells, and zips exist on buxom wenches’ bustiers.

Fraya (writer and producer Jazmine Cornielle) is “the ugliest witch in town” looking for love and also collects male genitalia in a jar for her collection. Taking a breather from swiping left on non-matching potential suitor warlocks on her smartphone, she visits a cobweb-strewn bar for a drink.

Here she hits on Dalvin (Ryan Marko), the self-proclaimed town “warlock-saviour”, who deals fearlessly with dragons; he’s also a conceited womaniser, all flowing neo-gothic shirts and designer stubble. Despite Fraya promising him a good time (“I can take care of that wand of yours,” she purrs seductively) to her annoyance, he turns her down. In revenge, Fraya puts a curse on him, causing Dalvin to lose his warlock powers unless he fancies her, so he is forced to turn up to her lair and beg her to have sex with him in return for his powers back.

The action takes place on the cheap in a Halloween-themed bar, and according to the entertaining YouTube behind-the-scenes short with leads Cornielle and Marko, it was in fact completed in two overnight shoots in a Long Island bar finishing at 6 am. 

The acting is vampishly hammy, and could be toned down along with the non-stop fart jokes, but viewers can tell working on the vampy production was fun, like an R-rated Hocus Pocus with more knob gags and witchy saucy banter. 

There’s also a streak of visual comedy as when one of Delvin’s ladyfriends/conquests demands payment in gold coins, which end up being chocolate pieces instead of cash, and promptly starts eating them.

Like a Halloween-themed cocktail laced with cheap green-dyed tequila and pumpkin-shaped chocolate, Witchez are Bitchez is a fun horror buzz not to be taken too seriously.

A dark, brooding atmosphere underpins Danielle Baynes’ The Dog, a complex character study perfectly realised in a tight 12 minutes. The short follows a vet played excellently by Kate Walsh, who is struggling with the emotional burden of her job and the enormous expectations placed upon her. Baynes confronts a variety of challenging themes head-on in a unique and affecting way, delivering an empathetic and hopeful thesis which is still cognisant of a darker reality.

The Dog succeeds in putting the audience into a subjective space where they can empathise wholly with Walsh’s character from the start. It begins with the camera lingering on her face as she stares at her phone, the intense blue light uncomfortably illuminating an unemotional stare as she reads online reviews of her clinic from grieving ex-pet owners. Later, she attempts to regain composure in front of a bathroom sink, and the audience are given the opportunity to peek behind the curtain and see the emotional burden she is carrying entirely unmasked. It’s a testament to Walsh’s performance as well as Baynes’ direction in that so many thoughts and feelings are conveyed in these moments, hidden behind layers of worn down stoicism. A particular stand out is Justin Amankwah as Joe, a trainee vet who exudes warmth and kindness whilst also appearing convincingly hesitant in his role; he embodies an earnest quality that juxtaposes the lead vet’s exhaustion. Perhaps Walsh’s character was once like Joe, and his fate is to be worn down just as she is. Strong editing and sound design choices enhance the subjective experience as the vet is seemingly haunted by the sounds of dogs barking, hinting at some unspoken trauma that overwhelms her when she’s alone with her thoughts. It’s a compelling internal struggle, made all the more significant when externalised later in a scene that brings the underlurking horror to the surface.

Baynes presents the veterinary clinic with a sense of unease, tapping into elements from horror to create an eerie and upsetting tone. This is helped in great part thanks to cinematography by Stefan Duscio, who shoots the clinic with strong contrast and shadows. The sound design is deliberately oppressive throughout, giving the clinic a harsh soundscape. The dissonant sounds of buzzing, weeping, and whining fill the clinic halls with a depressing cacophony. The filmmakers have constructed an environment that feels entirely crushing, an exaggeration of a real veterinary clinic perhaps, but one that captures exactly how that environment feels to be in. The film is edited confidently and maintains this carefully constructed sense of atmosphere, even as the tone switches to being more dreamlike in a particular sequence. In this short scene, the lighting switches from the film’s usual colour palette towards colder, ghostly pale blue tones. It’s immediately understandable that something has shifted in the atmosphere when the vet finds herself face to face with the titular dog (voiced by Nicholas Hope). While the clinic felt absent of warmth before, this scene’s use of colour and shadow pushes the short into a much more emotionally chilling place. The effect is mesmerising, appropriately putting the characters and audience in an eerie and vulnerable space for the climax.

Baynes is clearly a confident filmmaker, and The Dog is a breathtaking short that viewers will find hard to shake. It’s a testament to the quality of the film that, while one could easily imagine it being expanded into a feature, its length is by no means a hindrance to the storytelling. Baynes presents challenging themes without pulling any punches, delivering a short that points the camera towards the carers in our society, who are so often not afforded the same care that they are expected to give.

The sacrifice of young men thrown into the meat grinder of World War One and the hollow differences between soldiers of both has been pondered endlessly through cinema history. World War Two is more commonly seen through an unequivocal lens – obviously due to the genocidal intent of the Nazi regime. Man on the Hill examines two soldiers from opposite sides of the conflict who end up bonded by their experience.

During Operation Overlord, a British platoon stranded behind enemy lines is picked off one by one. Jim (Michael Tait) is the last man standing and is confronted by lone German soldier Oskar (Alexander Clark). After a fight breaks out, Jim takes Oskar hostage and marches him back towards British encampments. But on their journey, Jim discovers that there is more to Oskar’s story than he could have predicted, and his commitment to the German cause is not one formed by ideology alone.

Perhaps contemporary international politics have conspired against Man on the Hill. ‘Just following orders’ has long been a lamentable excuse for Nazi atrocities during World War Two, but one would have thought the passage of time would allow for more nuanced approaches to the moral centre of those who served under Hitler, not less. As it is, watching masked stormtroopers on American streets, Russian troops in Ukraine and a genocide unfold in Gaza mean that understanding and sympathising with the other side feels a long way down the list of priorities for those who care about democracy and liberty – the bedrock of the ethos of the Allies in World War Two. Oskar may not care for Hitler’s racial theories, but his commitment to nationalism and willingness to look the other way permit them. And asking an audience to have empathy or consideration for him may be tough for some to swallow – even if he does invite his enemy round for dinner.

The plot itself is straightforward, focusing on the unexpected bond between two men who find themselves in grave danger. Each man discovers the other’s nobility in a well-paced manner triggered by gripping enticing events that are dripping in tension. It gets a little far-fetched at times, and some of their decisions stretch credibility in what is meant to be a combat setting, but the emotional drive comes through. The ending is pure Sunday afternoon schmaltz, tear-shedding for the John Lewis crowd but vomit-inducing for others.

There are other highlights, such as Michael Tait’s performance as Jim as well as impressively strong design across the film that largely convincingly recreates the Second World War despite a lower budget. Writer/director Jacob Stockton has clearly given some thought to plot holes and logical inconsistencies that, whilst still present in some areas, are addressed in others – such as why Oskar doesn’t run when German troops are present.

But it is that central conundrum around the film’s moral core that prevents it from fully working. Oskar’s love of his country may be his motivator, but for most, a Nazi is a Nazi. And where reconciliation and forgiveness are essential for healing the wounds of the past, moments in which the two men feel like they are being placed on equivalent moral footing are a misfire. The holocaust, inextricably linked to the German war machine, is barely given a passing mention in the film. And where Jim may be willing to offer Oskar an olive branch, it does not feel like it is his to offer on behalf of the viewer. Those looking for a quick shot of sentimentality will leave Man on the Hill satisfied, but anyone with more than a passing interest in the war will find its narrative difficult. It is a shame, because the direction, performances and story structure are largely fine. Ultimately, it’s about the wrong war.

A disgruntled consumer tries to argue his case and receive compensation for losses he incurred while purchasing a new vehicle which was not delivered to specifications.

Timur Bey has bought himself a Tesla. In fact, as an ‘entrepreneur’ he bought it for his new business venture in vehicle rentals, all the way down in Miami, Florida. For some reason he seems to have bought the car from a dealership right across the country in California, and now that the car is found not to be up to specifications, he’s looking for a replacement, or compensation, or some resolution to the arrangement from the dealer. Bey alleges that the dealer had fiddled with the odometer on the car, and most likely to avoid a damaging lawsuit which could blow up in the Führer’s face (CEO, Elon Musk), the dealer says he’d buy the car back, if only Bey was in California.

Cue Bey taking a road trip across America, to get to California to hold the dealer to exactly what he says he will do, while trying to keep himself afloat and alive with no cash reserves and no income. We watch from the dashboard as Bey fills up at gas stations and heads out along the highways of the USA to fulfil his destiny. At the same time, we listen to his phone conversations through speakerphone or the Bluetooth connection in the cab, as he tries his best to talk to anyone who’ll listen and who’ll take his side in the multiple consumer gripes that he has going on at the same time. Around five minutes in, Bey then tries to talk to his storage company, who he also has issues with, even though he states freely that he didn’t pay his storage fees bill. These conversations continue ad nauseum as Bey witlessly wrestles with wage-slave telecoms operators who care little for his situation and cause.

The thing is, that Bey seems to be a forceful participant in his own demise; not paying his fees, not doing his due process, and not having the first inkling about the business world and its many bureaucracies before diving headlong into funding his fantasy of being an ‘entrepreneur’. He reveals that he went to college for a year before dropping out (!), telling himself that it was for the reason of becoming this fabled entrepreneurial person he’d just decided he’d always dreamed of being, when really it looks like it was just a masking of his failures. At every turn, Bey shows his ignorance and incompetence as a businessman, revealing that he’d already had another failed business in holiday lets which he also believed he was scammed out of, and so it’s no wonder no-one on the phone takes him seriously, when his claims are such obvious whiny nonsense that no legal professional could possibly in good faith defend.

All of this is relayed to us through the tinny speakerphone conversations we hear from inside the car, and from almost exclusively dashcam and GoPro shots of the road and Bey’s face. However, rather than creating an artistic film, or factual documentary piece, what Bey has actually filmed is substantial evidence of his many traffic violations committed whilst behind the wheel. It is astounding just how bad a driver Bey is, and just how little regard he has for his own safety and the safety of other road users, as he flouts traffic laws consistently throughout the ten-minutes we sit with him for behind the wheel. Continually throughout the piece we see Bey without his hands on the wheel, preening into his mirrors, checking his nails, drinking energy drinks, holding entire in-depth complaint and legal conversations, getting angry while doing so, using the phone hand-held, with his eyes forever flitting everywhere and anywhere but on the road. Instead of filming something that was intended to bring people onto his side, Bey may have inadvertently, yet again, been the architect of his own downfall, and shared evidence that could get him into more hot water.

Lost And California is intended to be a web-series chronicling the entire tale of “survival and determination” which Bey sees himself set upon, of which this eleven-minute piece is just the first episode. However, his YouTube channel has not yet had any other episodes uploaded, and so we don’t know how he has got on, or if he eventually managed to find a resolution to this, just one of his many self-inflicted troubles. Frankly though, this is no loss to anyone, as there’s no artistic vision for anyone to be interested in here, nor any factual insight into a real industry-wide problem that is being tackled by the lone consumer underdog. Bey’s problems run far further than a boring eleven-minute video of him whining down the phone trying to fix his own mistakes, so it would likely be beneficial to everyone if he gave up on the travelogue and instead invested his time and effort into litigating his problems in court, should they actually stand up to scrutiny, rather than trying to prosecute a multi-national run by a far-right, imbecilic man-baby, in a short, inconsequential web-series.

The Reveal is a structurally inventive short film with many metatextual aspects. The piece begins with dramatic voiceover and pretty skyline shots of a figure standing on the roof of a building. But then, swiftly, there’s a shift focus, tone and aesthetic. It’s revealed that the voice we’ve been hearing is in fact the voice of, perhaps, a screenwriter or producer, pitching a concept to an executive in an office building. What proceeds, then, is a constantly fluctuating narrative relating to how we build an engaging story... or that’s what it seems. There’s a twist ending to this movie which is incredibly impressive and recontextualises the purpose of the whole short.

I’m going to begin by getting some technical reservations out of the way. In terms of shot construction and sequencing, this is not the best directed movie. If one were to point to one obvious element which is lacking, it might be the camera blocking. Unfortunately, this movie constantly breaks the 180-degree rule without seemingly any ultimate purpose. In the back and white scenes (containing our two characters discussing the practicalities of the story), we’ll have shots that cut from the right side of one character’s shoulder to the right side of the other character, completely disrupting the viewing experience and leaving the viewer visually confused. Learning blocking is a skill which comes with a lot of experience, and it’s difficult to perfect. While there are no rules, if there’s one cinematic concept that these filmmakers should consult, it’s the 180-degree rule.

Without a doubt, the strongest characteristic of The Reveal is the scenario and screenplay. For only around six minutes in length, this is a superbly written script. It’s funny, perceptive, and somehow manages to pull the wool over our eyes and quite methodically reveal it’s true, and rather amusing, intentions. Without going into specific details, the gradual twist of the film relates to the idea that these two modes of storytelling we’re seeing – this cinematic thread of a furious killer; this production consultation – are in fact not as disparate in nature as we might have first thought. In fact, in the early moments, it’s an effective point of reflexive comedy to cut between the mundanity of the monotonous office space to the flashy Hollywood feel of the other. And yet, to then go ahead and blend these approaches so impactfully – our black and white world even fades into colour – whilst also imparting more fascinating information about the characters in play, is an admirable structural achievement.

To surmise, this is a successful short film. It finds an effective method of conveying its core concept, and leaves audiences satisfied by the mind-blowing conclusion. Not only that, but within this film resides a spirit of fun from beginning to end. Writer-director Rakib Miah manages to cinematic conventions that we as viewers recognise and turns them on their heads. Despite what you may think, that’s quite a challenging thing to accomplish – but this movie does it. In parts, the film is technically unsound; however, the positives most certainly conquer the negatives.

A web series pilot directed by Sunny Outlaw, written by Jazmine Cornielle and starring herself, Roxie Pell and Kohlman Thompson.

Filmed as a documentary, this short introduces Shazmine (Cornielle), a troubled young popular singer just out of rehab due to drug addiction, who is now planning a comeback by releasing a new album. Unfortunately, her time in rehabilitation does not seem to have done much good as she is still an addict. The crew follows her as she embarks on a series of outrageous outbursts, while her assistant, Noxie (Pell), desperately tries to prevent her from going off the rails.

The premise is a celebrity who is out of control and that celebrity is Shazmine, who is pretty much the heart and soul of this pilot, with her wild behaviour, doing drugs, swearing, shouting, generally acting like an utterly obnoxious person. And yes, she does do some singing in the recording studio, where she insults the producer (Wilder Troxell). The only person who appears to be a challenge to her is DJ Pop Rock (Thompson), another pop singer.

As the writer of this show, Cornielle creates Shazmine, a character who is unrepentant for her disrespectful actions (actually, she does not seem to have respect for anyone). She is a substance addict, a troubled individual and a narcissist. DJ Pop Rock is depicted as being her nemesis, a cheerful youngster who enjoys teasing people. As for poor Noxie, she is the unfortunate assistant who is constantly mistreated by Shazmine and probably puts up with her for the money.

This pilot is giving the impression that this series is going to be focused on themes involving fame, narcissism, drug addiction and the world of the music industry, while also dealing with self-reflection and having a passion.

This is an intriguing pilot and those who enjoy rude humour and have an interest in the world of celebrities are the ones who are most likely to be the key audience of this series. It would be interesting to find out how things are going to turn out for Shazmine.