Latest Short Film Reviews

A short comedy drama written and directed by Tahmid Choudhury and starring himself, along with Corey Fraser, Ebony Skerritt and Oliver Keaton.

There isn't really a plot here. Instead, this film explores the life of a British teenager named Michy (Fraser), following him as he engages in a variety of activities including working a dull job at a cinema, skipping school with friends and fellow students Wasim (Choudhury) and Pascal (Keaton), having a word with his mother (Skerritt) and attempting to go on a date.

This short also places the viewer inside Michy's mind and it does so by having him inside a room that appears to be windowless and doorless, with paintbrushes and paint containers scattered around and the walls covered in paint, depicting things that seem to be related to his life, such as music notes and a calendar. Evidently, this is the titular ''paintbox'' and it appears to be where Michy's inner thoughts take place, as the film cuts to this ''place'' and provides a better understanding regarding this character by having him address the audience and describe his opinions about himself and situations he has to deal with.

The events are told through Michy's perspective and revealing how he perceives things not only as a person but via his mind too, thanks to the paintbox. The general impression of Michy is that he is a well-meaning guy, a typical teenager really, trying to pursue romance, hanging around with friends, having trouble dealing with responsibilities and struggling to comprehend himself. Skerritt plays his supportive and loving mother, who also wants him to acknowledge the fact that he needs to learn how to be responsible. As for Wasim and Pascal, Choudhury and Keaton portray them as fun-loving schoolboys.

This short deals with themes many teenages would identify with, such as school, friends, dealing with parents and going on a date. Friendship, parenting and support are vital elements in this film, primarily though, the screenplay explores teenage anxiety and what goes with it, including self-reflection low self-esteem, facing responsibilities and self-discovery.

With emotional and gentle music by Toby Longhurst, this is a comforting viewing that communicates the message that people must believe in themselves, that they must believe they are capable.

The Tamil language drama AVALUDAN builds rapidly in intensity over its 15 minute runtime, delivering a damning statement on patriarchy and the domestic abuse of women. The film’s rising intensity builds to a powerful and surprising crescendo, which combined with the confident filmmaking and excellent performances across the board, make this a tense and satisfying watch.

The film starts with Raman (Sivakumar Palakrishnan) in his home kitchen, preparing an honestly fantastic looking meal. Cinematographer Muhammad Syakir Bin Subana captures Raman’s care and attention through his culinary skills, immediately cluing the audience into what kind of man he is. AVALUDAN is structured nonlinearly, jumping seamlessly between a present day interview with the police and flashbacks that generously feed the viewers with more context. We soon learn in this interview that Raman’s daughter Radhi (Dhurga Lingasparan) has reported that her husband Rajan (Seshan Veerappan) has been missing for two days.

Thanks to a focused screenplay from writers Subash Kumar and Darshan Kunasagran, as well as Lingasparan’s excellent performance as a woman stuck in an abusive and unfulfilling marriage, AVALUDAN the film wastes no time in exploring themes of marital coercion and domestic assault. Veerappan’s performance as Rajan is equally deserving of praise, as he plays the role of a controlling, aspirational patriarch with venom. There’s a measure of complexity within Rajan which gives depth and believability to his character; he’s desperate for a child with Radhi because he feels that people are laughing at him, and he feels as though he has “achieved nothing in [his] life so far”. His insecurity manifests as abuse, and as the narrative bounces back to the police station, there’s an impending sense that something is awaiting Rajan to have caused his disappearance.

While director Darshan Kunasagran does an excellent job of bringing all the elements of the film together into one coherent piece, I cannot help but feel like I would have liked to see more of Palakrashnan’s performance. He is ever present through the film, sitting next to his daughter in the police interrogation room, but considering his role within the film’s larger conversation about the importance of community and the protection of women, he does unfortunately fade into the background a little. Still, it’s laudable that AVALUDAN centres Radhi’s story, never depriving her of agency despite her circumstances. Without spoiling the film’s climax, I feel it mostly nails the landing. While it pushes against the boundary of believability, the performances from the cast sell the drama of the conclusion.

AVALUDAN is a compelling drama with complex characters that feel entirely fleshed out and well realised. The short’s subject matter is heavy, but Kunasagran doesn’t stop this from weighing the narrative down with a sense of self-seriousness. It’s still a thrilling watch, with information and character motivations constantly revealed at a steady pace. Most appropriate is the film’s title, which translates loosely to ‘with her’. Considering the motif of female solidarity, it’s a fitting summation of the ideas that Kunasagran is clearly invested in.

Questionable is a superhero spoof directed and written by Joseph Jeavons. When two criminals inadvertently schedule a bank heist on the same day, they plot to work together to take out their common enemy, the unorthodox hero known as Questionable Man. There’s no doubt that the film is lacking in substance, and the script is far from being as tight as it could be. However, the likable cast and snappy editing keep the short from dragging, and there’s plenty of charm in here to amuse audiences willing to give these oddballs some attention.

The fantastically named Duke Maplecloth (Jacob Watson) and Danny (Duy Hong Pham) are common thieves aspiring to be supervillains. Questionable Man is the only major road block to their career aspirations, and he ends up the catalyst who brings these two would-be rivals in an unlikely alliance. The performances from Watson and Pham are laid back and easy, and while they don’t necessarily fit the image of being hardened career criminals, it works in the film’s favour, building out a universe of lovable eccentrics who talk of robbing banks as though it’s entirely routine. Questionable Man, played by Morgan Moses, is soon introduced, and he immediately sticks out as the only character in this world who seems to possess any fighting capabilities whatsoever. In an unexpectedly well edited scene, he interrupts a would-be supervillain’s pathetic attempt at mugging a woman’s purse, slamming the assailant’s head into a brick wall. Moses portrays the character with a comedic stoicism, excellently juxtaposing his ridiculous costume; the hero appears to wear a wetsuit, a gold chain, and a label that reads ‘Hello, my name is Questionable Man’. It’s idiosyncratic, uncynical, and very easy to like.

It’s worth acknowledging that Questionable doesn’t aspire to be much more than an absurd romp, and while it succeeds in being a fairly dumb parody of a genre nearly everyone is familiar with, it’s a shame that Jeavons doesn’t use this opportunity to really comment on or say anything. Questionable could have aspired to be a little bit more; locations are limited to two alleyways and one copse, and the whole short has an improvisational energy that gives what little plot there is very little drive. I can easily imagine that audiences who are not charmed by the fairly amateur production will find themselves bored by Jeavons’ film, wishing that the satire was focused in a particular direction. While the action scenes are well edited, and for my money the highlight of Questionable, I would have liked to see more of them, and potentially expanded in scope. The cast have a great energy when they’re grappling with each other and tumbling to the ground. Perhaps next time Jeavons will lean into this, and allow his cast to show off their stunt action chops?

There’s no denying that the cast carry the energy of the film, and while Questionable’s concept as a superhero parody is far from novel, it’s nonetheless enjoyable to see a group of actors sincerely having fun, playing loosely and with room to inject their own personality into the film. Jeavons knows his strengths, and at only 8 minutes in length, he knows how long the comedy in Questionable can be sustained. While Questionable doesn’t aspire to say much of anything, it’s worth acknowledging that this isn’t exactly new for films in the superhero genre.

Directed by Cameron Summers, Bobby is a tender story of loss and family centred on a ghostly protagonist. While the film manages to stir some heartfelt emotion in a minimalist package, there’s a tangible feeling of discomfort in the film’s central thesis that doesn’t appear as intentional, veering dangerously close to justifying suicide.

Bobby is the short’s protagonist, and it’s quickly revealed that his story takes place after his tragic suicide. He speaks to the audience matter of factly, in a soft voice performed adequately by Luke Pierce Powell. Physically, so to speak, Bobby appears as an archetypical ghost: white sheet, black eyes; it’s reminiscent of the costuming in David Lowery’s ‘A Ghost Story’. Bobby expounds on his life story, describing how his parents died when he was young, leaving him with a (g)host of happy memories on holidays, but also regret that he didn’t know them better. His quest in the afterlife is to reconnect with his mum and dad, and he sets off into the world to find them.

The film is shot well, and there are some really great visuals in here. The film leans into cold blues in its colour grade, and the scenes of Bobby roaming the earth look appropriately melancholic. There’s a particularly haunting scene where Bobby looks into a house’s kitchen through a window, and in watching these strangers living their lives happily and ordinarily, there’s a real tangible sense of distance between the subjects in the frame. Besides some audio hiccups and some out of place murky shots later in the film, Bobby appears to be a well constructed short.

As alluded to earlier, the film unfortunately treads a rather awkward line around the subject of suicide, and possibly makes a case for it as a way to reconnect with lost loved ones. An early shot in the film shows Bobby’s method, a hanging noose, which comes across as insensitive and morbid. Suicide is already a difficult topic for many people, and showing on screen the image of a noose, as well as Bobby’s suicide note, is jarring. The audience can intuit the details without being shown the artifacts, and it ends up almost trivialising Bobby’s pain and hurt; in this moment, his life is distilled into its bleak end for maybe a little shock value or grim intrigue at best. The same can be said for the film’s denouement, where Bobby finds peace and all that he was looking for with his parents in the afterlife. I’m not arguing that the film needed to veer into a didactic ‘life is worth living’ narrative, but I do wonder what Summers is expressing in Bobby’s suicide effectively being the solution to his problems in life.

Bobby’s resolution left me cold. It’s difficult to look past the themes that the film explores, which is a shame because the short is a well made and largely sensitive portrayal of grief. Unfortunately, I found Bobby to be too heavy handed and awkward with regards to its protagonist; there’s little sense of an internal world in him, and his entire character is reduced to the last heartbreaking decision in his tragically short life.

Dead Air follows Julie (MarLee Candell), who has recently received a vintage radio as a birthday gift from her husband, Roger (Douglas Leal). She begins to hear mysterious coded messages on the radio and struggles to decipher their meaning, while her dismissive husband refuses to heed the ominous warnings. The short piece is an atmospheric experience as Julie attempts to reckon with the implications of the mysterious messages.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the piece is how the director, Brad Etter, clearly has a unique talent for building tension throughout the remainder of the runtime. Despite evident budget constraints, the one-location setting complements the experience with the narrative resting on the two central performances and technical aspects. While the brisk runtime unfortunately doesn't allow the script to flesh out Julie and Roger’s relationship, the filmmakers make the most of the limited material by delivering on the atmospheric experience. The screenplay balances the tonal shifts incredibly well and instantly thrusts the viewer into the lives of Julie and Roger. It consistently prompts the audience to question the purpose of the mysterious messages, while Roger’s dismissive attitude towards Julie heightens the growing tension between them.

One of the piece’s greatest strengths is its unique camerawork and editing choices. Brad Etter, serving as both the cinematographer and editor, seamlessly blends each sequence, creating a smooth and engaging flow throughout the film. Each editing choice feels precise, and the pacing flows wonderfully despite its brisk runtime. The piece opens with a jarring extreme close-up of the central character, Julie, and it instantly makes the experience incredibly unsettling throughout. The cinematography primarily relies on close-up shots of each character, occasionally shifting to wider framing to preserve the scene’s intimacy while gradually building tension. While the use of music is incredibly understated throughout, the eerie motifs complement the tone exceptionally well.

Although the suspense becomes somewhat repetitive during the first half of the narrative, the final third ultimately rewards the slow build-up despite its flaws. The mix of dramatic and brief joyful moments between Julie and Roger is memorable, keeping the narrative gripping throughout. Despite its lack of thematic depth, the film offers a unique experience, driven by the filmmakers’ inventive use of a confined setting and their skilful build-up of tension.

The performances collectively are compelling throughout, particularly MarLee Candell’s portrayal of Julie. She conveys the sheer isolation and struggle to decipher the coded messages while dealing with Roger’s dismissive attitude towards her. Douglas Leal delivers a memorable performance as Roger, convincingly portraying the character’s smugness while effectively conveying the escalating tension. Both performances are the driving force of the narrative, holding the experience together.

Despite the piece wrapping up somewhat abruptly, the ambiguity is welcome, making the experience rewarding to endure. While its lack of emotional resonance and heavy reliance on suspense may prevent it from leaving a lasting impression, the film concludes on a satisfying note.

Dead Air is a solid piece of indie filmmaking that excels at preserving its unsettling tone throughout. Assisted by two memorable central performances and an enticing narrative that keeps the audience guessing, Dead Air is a worthwhile ride despite its issues.

The Quiet Ocean follows Kansas (Juliette Crosbie), a receptionist at an Irish motel, in a future where individuals go to end their lives. One night, she meets a guest, Maria (Jennifer Zamparelli), and finds herself falling in love with her. The short piece is a dystopian tale of melancholy and regret, focusing on themes of queer love and gender roles.

One of the most astounding aspects of The Quiet Ocean is its visually striking production design. Despite evident budget constraints that ran counter to the filmmaker's vision, the piece is a staggering achievement in production values, with all the technical aspects firing on all cylinders. The titular motel is visually stunning, with neon lighting set against a gloomy fog. While the filmmakers intentionally don't expand the worldbuilding beyond the expository voice-over explaining how the motel operates, the ambiguity is welcome, allowing the audience to piece it together themselves. The low-key lighting in the exterior of the hotel is another commendable choice, giving the motel an eerie feel.

Serving as the film's cinematographer, Carol Tormey does a tremendous job of framing the titular motel and both central characters. The piece primarily consists of close-ups between Kansas and Maria to create a sense of intimacy and yearning, essentially assisting their already compelling chemistry. The shift to establishing shots of the motel is also a commendable choice, as it gives the audience a sense of the scale within the exterior sequences. These specific framing choices are complemented by the boxed-in 4:3 aspect ratio that gives the piece a sense of claustrophobia and intimacy. Seeing the grainy photography set against the gloomy fog makes the experience visually appealing throughout.

Katie McNeice, serving as the film's director, executes the themes of queer love and gender roles sincerely. It takes a steady pace to establish the relationship between the two central characters without ever putting a foot wrong. Despite the film's brisk runtime and lack of worldbuilding, every dramatic beat is executed profoundly thanks to the writing and direction from Katie McNeice. The way the filmmakers tackle the themes of regret and the inevitability of death in a bleak, dystopian future is an apt topic for this narrative, and it feels wholly singular and original. While the piece could have delved more into the relationship of Kansas and Maria, the short runtime feels welcoming.

Each interaction between Juliette Crosbie and Jennifer Zamparelli in their portrayals of Kansas and Maria, respectively, feels natural and nuanced. This is thanks to two committed central performances that bounce off one another to create a magnetic sense of chemistry. While the audience doesn't spend a substantial time with Kansas and Maria, both performances shine and convey the themes of longing convincingly.

The conclusion to the piece lands on a quiet and meditative note that may linger on viewers’ minds. Despite how abrupt it may be to certain viewers, the execution is undoubtedly moving and may leave audiences wanting more.

The Quiet Ocean is a deeply moving portrayal of queer love in a dystopian world. It's a beautiful and unique tale drenched in melancholy and longing. Despite its lack of characterisation, the piece is held together by two terrific performances, a subtle yet effective musical score and admirable editing choices.

The new short film by Daniel Florio, Swiped is very much a comedy told in two distinctive parts – each with its own style of heightened comedic tone. In the first, we witness a girls’ night transpiring with all its amusing social politics, one-upmanship and general awkwardness of a gathering of old friends. It’s an increasingly hilarious game of Whose life is better and Who has the biggest news to share, with the escalation of “new job” to “I’m pregnant” serving as some of the short’s funniest moments. The second half takes a turn into the crime genre with a development so unexpected, ridiculous yet spectatorially stimulating that you can’t help but admire the audacity of Florio’s screenplay. This latter section is more focussed on our protagonist’s boyfriend whom she’s been showing off during her girls’ night via social media pics, with the suggestion being that her Italian tinder-match is seemingly the only thing she has to brag about (I should note that characters’ superficial tendencies all play into the purposefully heightened tone of the piece).

Despite the general sense of absurdism present throughout the film, perhaps its most admirable characteristic is that it is utterly relatable. Maybe not the mafia stuff; but the simple idea of exaggerating one’s life so as to impress a group of snobby old acquaintances is such a clear yet potent dramatic weapon that can so easily lead to interesting places. You may argue that it’s a concept that’s been done before, and for the film’s first half, that would be true. However, my retort is twofold: firstly, the execution of this gathering is so snappy and well-performed that there’s nothing to complain about in the watching of it; and secondly, by the time you reach the halfway mark (at around six minutes), you understand that this is someone who wants to experiment with structure – and to effectively do that in an entertaining manner, and without alienating the audience, the filmmaker needs to deliver some conventional laughs and dramatic beats in this opening section.

To touch on the formal for a moment, the cinematography and sound are effective for their simplicity. Our two primary sequences are made up of very direct, central, tripod compositions which tend to place actors within an amusingly detached context – much like a Wes Anderson shot or even a shot from a Coen Brothers movie. The impact of this is subtle, especially since these are never the kinds of shots that deliver the wow-factor. But what’s intelligent about the direction and photography here is the awareness of that kind of stripped-down clarity suiting the form of an absurdist comedy perfectly. Arguably easier to praise is the practical use of lighting as well as the pointedly jazzy, sporadic nature of the music-track – implemented with great intentionality at points to match the playfulness of the filmmaking.

Swiped is a hilarious, inventively structured piece by Daniel Florio. Arguably indulgent, yet makes for a short film with a fresh tone and outrageous conceit. This is punchy work, and certainly entertaining to the casual viewer.

Time for a trip to Egypt. Filmed over the course of twenty days in Sinai, with a budget funded by the director, this short documentary was directed by Alice Rosano and it involves a film crew and highliners going to Egypt and filming themselves highlining.

Just explaining that highlining is a sport that involves a person walking on a narrow, flat rope (called a slackline) that is suspended high above the ground between high points such as mountains and cliffs.

Some of the dynamic individuals who decided to make this project a reality are the director, Alice Rosano, camera operator, Laura Heilanen, rope technician, Timo Elony and professional highliner, Giuseppe Di Bella. The result is a beautifully shot, fifteen-minute-long documentary that takes the viewer on a journey through Sinai. However, unlike what is usually seen in documentaries about Egypt, there are no pyramids or temples in view, (there are camels, though) instead this film visits various locations across Sinai, has a few locals share information about Egypt and themselves and, as expected, has plenty of highlining. Some of the locals include Sheikhs Saleh Abu Eid and Rabia Barakat and an elderly woman named Amreya Farag.

Thanks to Rosano's expert directing and hers and Heilanen's beautiful cinematography, viewers has the privilege of seeing the wonderful landscapes of Sinai and the atmospheric music adds to the sense of adventure. The creativity of Caterina Delli Carri and Chiara Mazzotta results in impressive illustrations that appear often, depicting maps that reveal the team's journey through Sinai. The whole film is of a high standard, however, special acknowledgement goes to the shots of highliners performing their sport.

This documentary offers to teach some things about Egypt and its people and become familiar with the sport of highlining. Moreover, it promotes the significance of pursuing a goal and having a passion, new discoveries and experiences. Through Amreya Farag, the film also explores feminism.

This project focuses on a lesser-known side of Egypt. It is a short and informative trip through parts of Egypt and it introduces the viewer to some inspiring individuals.

The Last Show is a documentary piece that follows the final London International Mime Festival and highlights its cultural significance to the theatre community. The festival featured miming, visual theatre, clowning, puppetry and dance from a wide variety of cultures from around the world. Primarily focusing on the artists who contributed to the festival, the documentary is a compelling portrait of theatre’s monumental impact.

One of the documentary's greatest strengths is its blend of archival footage and informative interviews based around many of the central figures. While the documentary maintains a brisk runtime, it never feels rushed, taking the time to explore the festival’s cultural impact and celebrate the many individuals who have devoted their lives to keeping theatre accessible. It's an inspiring and informative piece of art that has, sadly, been affected over the last decade by a lack of government funding and the pandemic. The documentary explores the artists impacted by this and how they cope with the lack of support. The filmmakers don't shy away from the profound pressure the arts council suffered from to gain funding, and it's engaging to see how many years the festival sustained its longevity despite its hardships.

It's a concise documentary that wastes no time, exploring the festival in depth while shining a spotlight on the inspiring artists whose passion and talent have helped shape its legacy. The film is a visually stunning portrait of the awe-inspiring aspects of theatre and its transformative power for audiences around the world. The material may encourage viewers to seek out more theatre productions due to how striking the archival footage is. While it may not resonate with viewers who have little interest in theatre, the filmmakers do a tremendous job of drawing audiences into the festival’s rich legacy and lasting cultural impact.

As the film’s cinematographer, Kie Cummings does a terrific job framing each interview, using intimate close-ups that foster a strong sense of connection with each subject. While the shift to archival footage may be jarring to some viewers, the blend of interviews keeps the material utterly engaging. One of the most surprising aspects of the documentary is its musical score. Though understated throughout, Jonny Pilcher’s score is imbued with melancholic motifs that perfectly complement the documentary’s tone and elevate its closing moments to impressive heights.

The documentary conveys a powerful message about the state of the arts in the UK and the importance of supporting a widespread art form such as theatre in the current post-Brexit climate. It also explores how theatres embraced virtual performances throughout the pandemic, aided by additional government funding that helped keep the arts accessible. Perhaps the most emotionally compelling aspect of the piece is the question asked about how future generations will champion this art form. It's a hopeful and awe-inspiring sentiment that comes with an anxiety about how long artists can sustain theatre. It may deeply resonate with viewers who have a connection to theatre and the festival itself.

The Last Show delivers an emotionally resonant portrait of the artists grappling with the loss of the London International Mime Festival, confronting their anxieties with honesty and compassion. It's an inspiring piece of work that shines a heavy light on the struggling theatre industry and the incredibly inspiring artists who poured their hearts and souls into it.

When Christopher Nolan took a look at the competition that his blockbuster Odyssey was likely to be compared with this summer, he will have no doubt circled Spider-Man, Moana or Toy Story as his greatest opposition. He probably didn’t account for a small, student-created microbudget project starring a cast of semen, but if you somehow stumble across The Odyssemen whilst looking for the ancient epic, you will find a bizarre, yet against-the-odds charmingly obscure short film.

After their cellular divisional split births them as meiosisters, Orchis (Clara McGough) and Semes (Daniel Adams) find themselves in the strange, barren land of Test, where the annual Testy Festy is well underway. This festival harkens the journey of the sperm to heaven, but a mysterious sister by the name of Seed (Lujane Yacoub) warns that the journey is a lie. An alternative path ahead is offered by ‘The Great Jac’ – an event that could lead to a civil war. But which side will the sisters fall on?

The Odyssemen is an upstart short film that manages to use the appearance of a gross-out comedy to explore much deeper questions about humanity, faith and belief. Whilst the absurdity of a cast of sperm in human form (dressed proudly in painter’s coveralls) or some fine use of word-play (the ‘phallus palace’ an obvious yet amusing example), the themes that are behind the inner and external conflicts that affect the characters are drive their motives and curiosities are much more salient. The struggle with going against ones most potent and sacred of beliefs, pushing back against values that have become corrupted or misguided, or defying the gods whose orders have always been followed would not look out of place in Nolan’s epic. And where there is ultimately a limit on how far director Minh Ngo can dig with this within timing and budget limitations, it is quite impressive how comfortably more serious concepts are able to be introduced to the world.

The film is spoken in a Shakespearian dialogue throughout its runtime, coupled with monolithic, monk-like chanting from the sperm hordes as they await ‘salvation’. The chanting in particular, coupled with the haunting red landscape gives an unnerving alien feel to events. Despite being set within the human body, there are distinct sci-fi flavours at play amidst the old-world overlays. Whilst the Olde English verbiage threatens to become trite in moments, it is nicely counter-weighted by these unearthly settings that place us in a timeless space, created uncertainty in the viewer as to what fate belies the sperm (even in those of us who have knowledge of the anatomy…).

There are moments in which the film loses its way. The characters or Orchis and Semes do not carry enough distinction to really stand out as unique or memorable – with the film instead relying on its absurd concept to stand out. Once one adjusts to this as normal, some of the problems with the plot’s ability to sustain the concept become clearer, and stronger storytelling would have benefitted the audience’s appreciation for the two paths ahead of the heroes. There is also an awful lot going on in the 20-minute runtime, and simplifying the events given the limitations at play may have meant the overall experience would land with more vigour from a story-perspective.

Yet when put against its $250-million namesake, there is a triumph in The Odyssemen, which no doubt is the result of an epic journey in its own right.