Latest Short Film Reviews

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.

Breaking and Entering and Humping is a new short, written and directed by Jeremy Sless. Now, you might not think that a film with such a crude (though not uninteresting) title would hold the kind of quality I’m about to suggest, but this 25-minute absurdist burglar comedy is about as tightly constructed as any other humour-based movie of its kind. It tells an amusing, twisty narrative centered around two burglars who are stuck in a cupboard while the two inhabitants have sex in the bedroom. As a setup, this concept is relatively standard. And yet, it’s the way in which the scenario is established, and then the subsequent diversions of expectations that makes Breaking and Entering and Humping a successful and highly entertaining work.

Where better to begin than with the outstanding opening shot; the technical peak of the film. What begins as a slow pan around this picturesque cabin suddenly becomes erratic and handheld when the two lovers enter through the doorway. In most dynamic and formally inventive fashion, the camera follows them into the bedroom via the hallway. The shot concludes as the shot moves away from the main subjects and serendipitously lands on the cupboard. It’s quite Hitchcockian for its slick use of visual language to establish a conceit; or you could maybe argue it’s slightly more De Palma for its focus on the lurid and self-reflexive whilst implementing the semiotics of Hitchcock. I mean it as no backhanded compliment to say that this introduction is the highlight of the picture; the rest of the film is well put-together and funny as hell – but this shot demonstrates a level of cinematic ability far above even that.

There’s a lot to love about the gags in this film. As a storyteller, Sless clearly has a strong ability and crafting an overall setup and payoff – and then additional, mini setup and payoffs within the space of a scene. A strong rhythm can be found in the joke-making, and each laugh is cleverly built into the development of the plot. This is a movie which understands that a plot-twist can be inherently funny and thus has a great deal of fun throwing its audience for a loop. It should also be said that, whilst 25 minutes is an uncommon runtime for a short vying for festival success, the runtime couldn’t be more perfect in this instance. This is a flawlessly paced piece.

The style of Breaking and Entering and Humping is just so much fun, and there’s no denying that. If there are any complaints to be found, it’s that one or two jokes don’t entirely land (although that’s obviously subjective), and that the title – though provocative as it is – may limit just how much attention the project receives in an arena of fast, unkind critical appraisal. As a counter though, once you’ve seen the movie, the title couldn’t be more apt and thematically succinct. There’s little doubt that audiences looking for genre-based comedy will be pleased by Sless’ latest.

A short romantic drama written and directed by Darius Shu and starring Hiroki Berrecloth and Frank Kauer.

Vinnie (Berrecloth) is a youth who works in a launderette, apparently by himself. One day, another youngster named Ryan (Kauer) begins frequenting the place and gradually, the two of them become friendly and eventually, they proceed to build a romantic relationship. However, due to insecurities, their romantic bond will struggle to advance.

Being more character-driven than story-driven, this slow burner that contains a fair amount of tender moments and an equal amount of painful ones. The main focus is the rapport that develops between the two homosexual young men, with the film slowly and carefully observing how it grows from playful chit-chat into something much more meaningful.

Shu grabs the opportunity to show his filmmaking skills, creating wonderful shots that are supported by his cinematography. The strengths of his creativity are highlighted during a series of sequences that involve dancing inside the laundrette, a camcorder, a character being underwater and what appears to be a fish bowl (containing fish) that is inside a washing machine. This short has the privilege of having the bittersweet and beautiful music by Benjamin Doherty and the addition of the songs A Little Respect by Erasure and Friends by Billy Cullum is a plus.

The story is told primarily through Vinnie's perspective and Berrecloth is dramatic as a quiet, sensitive, reserved and insecure guy, whose issues become evident when he confronts a man (Aldous Ciokajlo-Squire) who takes an interest in Ryan and when he refuses to get intimate with Ryan. Ryan's character differs from Vinnie's. Kauer portrays a confident and sociable person, one who seems to know what he wants.

On the surface, this is a loves story, one that explores the world of homosexual romance, relationship complications and self-reflection. The main drama comes from inner struggles, particularly people's inability to express themselves and connect with others.

A gay romantic story that looks into the commitments involving romance. A dramatic and beautiful viewing.

A story of identity and sexuality opens out into one of depression and substance abuse, as a woman living in assisted accommodation tries to live out every day of her life without knowing who she really is.

Shae (Gemma) tells us right from the start that she doesn’t know who she is. She just wants to be normal, like the rest of us, and not have to deal with the rest of the bulls*** that comes with the daily existence of having to put a face on for the outside world. This mental distress has been piling on Shae since high school, and she has turned to alcohol and drugs to block out the constant thoughts that plague her every waking moment. One afternoon, a drug deal goes wrong, and Shae ends up getting stabbed in a bust up in a tunnel, seeing her spiral into a maelstrom of self-pity and soul-searching from which there may be no salvation.

Throwing a lifeline into this wild and crazy storm, however, is Amber (Stewart), the pretty blonde barmaid with a heart of gold. She sees through Shae’s charade and wants to get to know the person underneath. Now that there’s a chance of understanding and acceptance, Shae must take a look at herself and make some choices about who she wants to be in the future.

Based on the life of Rozelle Gemma, who stars as Shae, Behind The Reflection tries to get as close as possible to the truth of the situation in telling her story. With Gemma on board as co-writer and star, there’s a rawness and power that comes from the performance that completely pulls you into the life that she has lived. Playing two characters convincingly on screen is more than enough for most actors, but when you realise that the real performance was all the time, every day, for years, it adds an extra level to what we get to see on screen.

The production, too, keeps things concrete and real and close to the streets, and not just for budgetary reasons either. It’s obvious that the filmmakers grew up around, and have an understanding of, the places where the film is set. The interiors are grimy, and bare, and real, and really help lend Shae’s story another layer of authenticity, as we experience the pressures of life on welfare, in places and around people that are there to grind you down.

The soundtrack to these desolate spaces is very well chosen to reflect the atmosphere and the feeling of Shae’s experience within them, and with Velton J Lishke’s direction, the whole of Shae’s world is pulled together into frame in a visually seamless narrative. The lighting and the camerawork, however, along with a lot of the sound, are what show up the budgetary restrictions the most, and while capturing these elements naturally can sometimes add to authenticity, here we’re just left wanting more than tinny toilet conversations and sitting under downlights.

For what is a very cheap indie movie, crowdfunded, and built almost as a community project, Behind The Reflection has the benefit of having a f***load of heart and integrity behind it. Rozelle Gemma is a force of nature, who has an important story to tell, and who is able to tell it with all the passion, and desperation, and heartache that she experienced first-hand as she just tried to live her life. For the twenty-four minutes we are invited to share in Shae’s life, we see and hear and feel a lot with her, some of it uncomfortably, but in the sharing of the story we are lifted, almost as a form of therapy, as we benefit from her journey. For anyone suffering alone, looking Behind The Reflection, could be just the perspective they need, to think a little differently from now on.

Jujuman follows a South London gang leader, Mani (Caleb Obediah), as he is forced to rethink his attitudes when a mysterious vigilante witch doctor confronts him. The witch doctor has appeared to have placed a curse on him, intended to put his mother’s life in danger. The narrative is based on a true story and is dedicated to the life of Tobi Animashaun.

Jujuman possesses an intriguing premise that blends a fairly grounded narrative set around South London with a fantasy archetype. While the piece can feel disjointed at times, with the mix of comedic and dramatic beats not entirely landing, the fantasy elements are astounding, despite the film's budget constraints. The film's ideas are thematically rich, with the discussions of power and religion present throughout much of the runtime. In particular, the dialogue involving the discussions of the power of Juju is effective, giving the narrative a deeper subtext. Despite the film exploring these absorbing ideas of religion and the power of Juju, it never truly reaches its full potential by not analysing them beyond their surface level. The screenplay rarely explores Mani’s inner turmoil, and it's a detrimental aspect to the film's central themes of guilt.

The camerawork is mostly engaging, as Mani is framed from an overhead perspective, which is an incredibly unique approach to convey his guilt-ridden personality. The switch to handheld camerawork during sequences of conflict is mostly apt and gritty in its depiction of gang rivalry in South London. During a chase sequence, however, the editing is unfortunately choppy, with a jarring number of cuts, making these moments rather incomprehensible at times. The musical score occasionally feels upbeat, but it doesn't align tonally with the film during moments of conflict. That being said, the film, for the most part, retains its gritty and uncompromising vision of South London.

The performances across the board are incredibly raw and nuanced, particularly Caleb Obediah’s portrayal of Mani. He conveys a great level of empathy and care for his mother, and despite his flaws, he tries his best to protect her. Golda John, in her portrayal of Funmi, is also commendable, as she tries to understand Mani’s lifestyle while feeling at odds with the choices he makes despite her love for him. The chemistry between the gang members is also engaging as it perfectly blends the humour and severity of the situation.

Unfortunately, the pacing of the piece is fairly stagnant throughout and really takes its time to kick into gear. While the film does pick up dramatically once conflict arises, it never quite finds its stride and flows in a rather meandering fashion. Despite its incredibly brisk runtime, the duration feels prolonged due to these pacing issues. If the narrative had delved more into the crime aspects of Mani’s gang, his characterisation could have been more fleshed out as to why he fell into that lifestyle.

Jujuman is a frustrating experience as the ideas presented are incredibly engrossing; however, the piece rarely explores the implications of Mani’s characterisation enough. While it is well-acted and blends a grounded premise with some effective fantasy elements, it never quite explores its themes in depth, given their integral role in the film’s central ideas.