Latest Short Film Reviews

Surfing is a superb, tightly constructed drama. Set in Birmingham in 1969 (effectively the vague backdrop to our story since the action only takes place in one room), a down-on-his-luck musician finds himself sleeping on a friend’s sofa when he receives a phone call about a potential gig. This gig isn’t for him, however, but meant for the person whose sofa he’s crashing on. Our protagonist Pete, played by Harry Clarke in a performance which the whole film hinges on, feels like a British reimagining of the similarly ill-fated, self-sabotaging character of Llewyn Davis in the 2013 Coen Brothers masterpiece.

Clarke (who is also the film’s writer-producer) delivers a great performance which is both effectively comedic and holds pathos. And in terms of the technical side of the production, director Duane Adamoli is also the film’s cinematographer and editor. Whilst this is a small-scale production, Adamoli and Clarke have formed a strong collaborative team – with one in charge of story and performance, the other in charge of aesthetics and assembly. Both demonstrate an impressive level of craft in their respective areas, making Surfing a near-faultless cinematic expression.

It’s not easy to find anything of note to complain about with regards to this short. The only possible flaw I can find has more to do with the very nature of current short-filmmaking than it does with the movie itself... By deciding to tell a story based around a series of phone calls – set, as I’ve mentioned, in one room – you’re bound to have a critic or two say that the filmmakers have limited themselves in terms of creative scope. While watching, I personally do not find this to be the case. And yet, you can’t help but be reminded that this is what a great proportion of short films are these days. It makes sense since it saves time and money; and out of all the shorts this critic has seen recently that fall into said category, this resides in the very top tier in terms of quality.

The cinematography and design of this project appeals to me greatly on a personal and artistic level. What follows is a quote provided in the submission notes for Surfing:

“Our aim was to create a character study reminiscent of early 1970s cinema and, through unorthodox methods, such as placing a pair of tights over the lens and make the film feel as though it had genuinely been shot in that period.”

For those who maybe aren’t filmmakers or who have little interest in low-budget cinematography techniques, this may even sound gimmicky. But when you see just how well these shots work, and how authentic the grain and the haze feels, it’s incredibly exciting for a fanatic like myself. The very specific period of low-light, low-contrast, murky and desaturated image-making – exemplified through Vilmos Zsigmond’s collaborations with Altman on The Long Goodbye and McCabe & Mrs. Miller (the greatest cinematographer-director combo there ever was or will be) – is the most fun aesthetic to be inspired by and attempt to recreate, even digitally. And why it works is because Surfing is not just trying to resemble film stock, but evoking the messy, textural, rebellious visual experiments of that era.

A short documentary about immigrants and refugees working in the French tailoring industry, directed by Anabelle Marshall.

The main focus is an atelier in Paris. Just taking the opportunity to explain that an ''atelier'' is a French term for an artist's studio or workshop. This one in particular is named Espero and it serves as a workplace for a number of refugees who are given the opportunity to train as tailors and create clothing and accessories for well-known brands. On the eve of haute couture week (''haute couture'' meaning high dressmaking or high sewing in French and refers to the development of exceptional high-fashion garments), the fashion world of Paris gathers at the Musee D'Orsay for a special show which is a unique collection created by the staff of Espero and viewers get to see some of their creations in this documentary.

So who is associated to Espero? First, there is Maya Persaud, the co-founder and director of Espero. Then, there is Catherine Brickhill, a mentor at Espero and Cynthia Molasso, a pattern teacher. These supportive individuals, along with others, teach the refugees and immigrants how to be creative and achieve their goals. Through the introduction to several of the refugees, this film not only acknowledges their work at Espero, but it also examines their dramatic stories, how they left their home countries in the hope of finding better lives. Some of these dynamic individuals include Suad Ahmed Ziad from Eritrea, Sumaiya Ahmadi from Afghanistan and Ibrahim Barry from Guinea. Viewers also get the privilege of becoming familiar with Sylvain Amic, the President of the Musee D'Orsay.

This film provides an insight into the Parisian fashion industry and also serves as a commentary about immigration and refugeeism. In its centre though, it proves the power of determination, it shows people's great efforts to pursue a promising future and what can be accomplished with unity, support and creativity.

By viewing this documentary, people will be introduced to a group of inspiring and creative individuals

working towards their goals. Simultaneously, they will be accompanied by Johnny Yates's beautiful music.

Fabric will screen at the 2026 Raindance Film Festival.

The North American gold-rush of the 1860s is catnip to filmmakers due to lawlessness, anarchy and a free-for-all scramble for power and riches that lends itself to tales of morality and betrayal. English Beasts is a more unconventional take on the period, a haunting and eery short that contemplates the nature of man over money.

Deep in the Canadian wilderness in 1862, two Englishmen have committed to a quest to find the fabled Cariboo gold fields. But rather than a Road to El Dorado, they are pushed to their limits by an unforgiving mountain tundra that stands in their way of glory. As nature holds its ground, ruthless and ambitious Arthur (Paul Dewdney) begins to turn on his partner Thomas (Edmund Fargher) as man’s own nature emerges.

Atmospheric short thriller English Beasts identifies a darkness in the soul of its protagonists and summons it with a combination of a classic desire for power and the brutality of nature. Director Nikolas Harris has a great sense of the atmosphere he wants to conjure, and crafts this by reducing the film’s vibrant light to the bare minimum – isolating his subjects and freezing both them and the viewer to the core with an overlay of fog effects on the screen. Filmed in Snowdonia, it is impressive how unearthly the film feels – the landscape of the mountain transformed into borderline-alien terrain that conspires against its inhabitants. The idea that these men could go crazy seems less like a possibility, and more like an inevitability.

The characters make for an intriguing pair of co-leads, with enough mystery surrounding them to leave viewers intrigued as to how their natures have been formed. Paul Dewdney’s Arthur’s turn won’t come as an enormous surprise given his ruthless disposition from the outset, and Edmund Fargher’s Thomas feels like an inevitable foil given the wisdom he seems to possess that flies in the face of Arthur’s ambition. The pair’s journey throughout the film doesn’t take the predictable path, and the tension that begins to grow on the mountain allows Dewdney and Fargher to explore their characters visceral nature in opposition to one another. However, given that the story told is one that has been explored on screen before in films like The Grey, the conclusion feels a little underwhelming and leaves some of the film’s themes incomplete.

English Beasts is a visual spectacle that brilliantly recognises man’s helplessness against nature. You’d be forgiven for believing that Nikolas Harris had managed to open a portal to the 1860s and shoot his short in the year itself such is the authenticity, and given the smaller budget (and requirement for Wales to stand in for the majestic Canadian wilderness) it is a really impressive triumph. The story and exploration of ambition and greed is strong if a little imitative, but audiences will embrace the ambience and atmosphere. The filmmakers mention that this film is both its own story as well as a blueprint for their next feature, and if they can capture the same magical combination of atmosphere and theme, it will share in English Beasts’ success.

The Marina is a short documentary that follows producer Kieran Sullivan as he explores the significance of The Marina Market to the people of Cork City, Ireland. While the documentary is incredibly brisk and simplistic in its exploration of The Marina Market, it is evidently crafted with its heart in the right place, displaying a clear love and understanding for the material.

As the documentary opens, the viewer is immediately thrust into the experience with a somewhat jarring introduction to the central figure, Kieran Sullivan. While the material isn't anything groundbreaking in documentary filmmaking, its simplicity is welcoming and easily accessible to any viewer. It's an insightful and entertaining experience as the central figure delves into the significance of The Marina Market by interviewing many local individuals. The interviews are engaging thanks to the endearing and welcoming approach the central figure employs when asking a wide range of questions of many of the local individuals in Ireland. The Marina Market itself feels incredibly welcoming and may prompt the viewer to explore the area for themselves and learn more about what it provides.

Seán Leahy, serving as the director and the cinematographer, keeps the framing exceptionally engaging, as it mostly consists of wide shots that track the central figure in the exterior sequences. The camerawork is consistently engaging as you never lose sight of the narrative focus on The Marina Market. Another surprisingly impactful aspect of the piece is the infrequent use of needle drops that feel apt within establishing shots of the surrounding area of Cork City. The pacing throughout is also incredibly fluid, as the documentary's primary focus is straight to the point and it rarely overstays its welcome thanks to its brisk runtime.

Despite the strength of its formal craftsmanship, the documentary’s editing can at times be abrupt, shifting too quickly from establishing shots into dialogue-driven interviews. This issue is also apparent in the documentary's opening, which has no context for the central figure’s investigation. Another minor issue is the occasional soft focus in the camerawork, which becomes somewhat distracting during one of the extended interview segments. While much of the runtime is dedicated to interviewing a plethora of local individuals, towards the end of the piece, it loses some momentum as it focuses heavily on a prolonged conversation. That said, the documentary remains informative and reasonably engaging due to the depth of its coverage of the community.

Despite the piece losing some momentum towards the conclusion, the central figure's commitment to interviewing a wide range of individuals is commendable, and it feels rewarding due to the in-depth nature of his exploration of The Marina Market. While it may struggle to linger in viewers' minds after the credits roll due to its length, its exploration of The Marina Market is thoughtful and remains engaging throughout.

The Marina is an endearing and enjoyable experience, crafted with care and nuance for the significance of The Marina Market in Ireland. Despite its jarring editing at times, the documentary is a heartfelt and informative piece of filmmaking made by a group of inspiring young filmmakers.

As the debut short-film of 21 year old Vietnamese director Minh Ngô, this film is perhaps one of the most unique projects produced in recent memory. This film was created in an attempt to create a brand new “Neo-Mythical” genre, defined by its absurdist, high energy, and historically-inspired (emphasis on inspired) characteristics. But does ‘The Applecalypse’ succeed in this pursuit?

Ngô claims he is making an ‘active effort to ensure that his works will be unlike anything the audience have ever seen before, on both a conceptual and emotional level’. However it could be argued that what makes this project so unprecedented is how it utilises a mix of familiar forms of media in order to create something fresh. In this piece the creative team emulates classic silent films, with a lack of dialogue and monochromatic visuals, but it begins to stylistically differ early on in the narrative as it introduces colour isolation creating a striking image of a bright red apple against the colourless backdrop. There is also a metatextual aspect to the style as later on; the protagonists actually see the dialogue cards and wield them as physical objects to battle with.

The plot itself seems to follow a humorous blend of real life, biblical, and cultural events – mixing the story of Adam and Eve with a comical rivalry between Steve Jobs and Sir Isaac Newton, both of whom have strong historical ties to an apple.

With a silent film, a lot of the entertainment value rides on the music that is laid on top of it. Flint Steppenrock does a fantastic job of scoring this piece, always tailoring each track to the beats of the unfolding farce, and crescendoing in an epic piece befitting of the battle taking place. Although not the typical style for a silent film, this divergence from tradition works in the film’s favour.

With minimal set and costume design, one might think that this would limit the craft, but for a surreal project like this it lends itself very well to the aesthetic. However, I feel there are some unusual moments that take the audience out of the experience, such as a moment mid-way through the film set in the clouds against a green screen backdrop. Given the hands-on approach to the rest of the film, this feels jarringly out of place and could easily have benefitted from a practical set.

Ultimately, with its focus on absurdism, humorous tone, and charming melodramatic performances – The Applecalypse is a refreshing change of pace and truly succeeds in establishing a unique style. Minh Ngô is an artist worth keeping an eye on, and I cannot wait to see what he creates next.

Executive produced by award-winning football journalist and historian, Jean Williams, this short sports drama was directed by Klara Kaliger, written by Ella Dorman-Gajic and starring herself, Maureen Casey, Lucy Jane Rae, Muki Zubis and Emmy-nominated Tom Goodman-Hill.

The story follows Maya (Dorman-Gajic), a youngster who is a dedicated footballer and lives with her grandmother, Maggie (Casey). One day, she and her teammates are informed by their coach, Sam (Zubis) that a scout will be attending their next game and some of them might get picked for trials. Excited by the news, Maya works hard in order to get ready for the big day, while simultaneously trying to take good care of granny.

In certain ways, this film has two storylines: as Maya struggles to balance her athletic aspirations with her home life, the narrative develops two plots, each with its own conflicts. On the football field, Maya's trainer is frustrated by her constant lateness at training sessions, while at home, Maya maintains a loving relationship with her grandmother, who appears to be suffering from dementia, and tries hard to look after her, yet, even there she is unable to be punctual, much to the dissatisfaction of her sister, Connie (Rae), who works as a carer. On top of all this, poor Maya also has an unreliable father (Goodman-Hill). Plenty of drama and conflict take place, along with a tense climax.

As expected, since this is a story that involves football, there are plenty of scenes of characters engaging in this sport and they are well-filmed, especially during the montage sequences. The music stands out, with composer Dominic Roocroft creating interesting melodies that include sounds resembling clapping.

Dorman-Gajic leads the film well and her role goes through significant character development. Maya is a well-meaning person dreams of becoming a professional footballer and she finds herself torn between achieving that and being loyal to supporting her family. Both Sam and Connie have roles that are quite similar, as each of them plays a character that tries to encourage Maya to be more responsible, whether as a strict instructor or as an overworked sibling. Casey is quite dramatic as an elderly woman and former footballer who is probably suffering from dementia and has a mental health that is gradually deteriorating.

Having a passion plays a key part in this story, having a passion for football and a passion for sports in general. The screenplay also acknowldges the significance of support and understanding priorities and responsibilities. Maya's dad represents negligence, a self-centered and irresposible man who refuses to acknowledge other people's needs. The film ends with an inspirational quote by English professional footballer, Leah Williamson and with this in mind and the fact that the main character is a young woman attempting to make it big in football, a sport populated primarily by men, it could be argued that this film promotes feminism. Furthermore, it could be said that this story is anti-male to a degree, as Maya's father is the sole male character and the only one who is presented as having only negative features, most notably irresponsibility.

A sports drama and a family drama. A moving film that encourages people to pursue aspirations and be reliable and supportive.

A young boy tries to do something for his mum, but everything that he tries ends in disaster.

Dear Mum opens with a young boy getting out of bed with his ugly little scratchy-haired dog companion sticking by his side. Mum is already downstairs working from home on her laptop, with her headphones on and microphone wrapped around her head, unable to offer her son the time and attention that he seems to need.

First of all, he tries to grab the pen that his mum has been using, only for her to pull it back off him and tell him, ‘No’. Then he goes out to the garden to get something off one of the bushes, trailing mud back in behind him all over the floor, and then finally he’s into one of the top cupboards where he spills pasta all over the place after reaching too far. All the while his little four-legged friend watches him going to-and-fro, unable to understand, much like us, just what on earth is going on during this fateful morning.

At just over a minute-and-a-half long, Dear Mum is trying to tell its story and send its message in a very short space of time. There’s no dialogue to hear of in the short, and Mum’s ‘No’ is only mouthed for us to see while a whiny indie tune repeating the same four words, ‘You Are The Reason’, is played over the top of the images. There are no credits to the film and there’s no real indication as to what the whole thing was for in the first place.

Obviously, everything comes good in the end, and the mother figures out what the boy was up to all along, as they hug and share their love for each other. This gives the short film the feeling of an advertisement, with its extremely short runtime and overbearing song playing into this stylising of the video, offering us nothing other than a schmalzy single window into an otherwise unknown set of circumstances.

Seemingly aiming for something like the John Lewis Christmas adverts, Dear Mum tells its story and wraps things up within the space of a song, trying to give us all the feels without hinting at anything else in the outside world. Unfortunately, the dizzy heights of John Lewis are never reached, and even though we’re basically expecting some company or product name to be emblazoned across the screen at the end of the film, we’re left with a banal aphorism and a lack of understanding about what it was all for.

Dear Mum ends up not being a real film, but an advert for something that isn’t even made clear. It doesn’t have the emotional level of some of the adverts that we see on telly every day, and when it can’t even reach that level, we understand that it’s just a clichéd situation, repeated a million times before, designed to tug at the heart-strings and pull on our base emotions. Really this is a marketing production, which in fairness is well filmed and produced, but which lacks a product or a message. Yes, we should all love and appreciate our mothers, but do we really need an advert to tell us that?

Pointless.

“Deja Reve” is best described as the profound sensation that a current waking experience mirrors a memory that one has already lived. The film ‘Aberration: Deja Reve’ follows a young scientist, Chase, on the verge of a breakthrough in creating a medication that allows you to relive old memories in this bold science-fiction fever dream by Rocko Paolo.

The opening sequence features frantic camera movements, instantly instilling a sense of unease. This feeling is further emphasised by Chase, played by actress Rachel Stone, and her unrestful physicality. Commendations should be given to Stone for carrying the majority of this film’s runtime on her back single handedly, delivering an energetic performance as her character spirals into an addiction instigated madness. However, the acting in this piece is at its peak when she is joined by scene partner Rocko Paulo. The two constantly interrupt and talk over each other, giving their conversation an earnest sense of reality which really adds to the immersion of the performances. It is a great creative decision then, that cinematographer Alexander Joseph allows the camera to linger on the performances for long periods of time rather than cutting to other angles, in a mature and understated choice that elevates the material.

From a writing perspective the story releases its exposition slowly, drip feeding the audience information over its sixteen minute runtime, keeping the audience engaged as we get our head around the fantastical concept.

In the dream sequences of this film, Paulo utilises a very obvious green screen. Where this might be out of place and distracting in any other piece of media – in this case it perfectly adds a sense of uncanny valley to these montages that really lends to the core dreamlike conceit of the film.

Despite its imaginative concept, this piece is not without its flaws. The distracting colour grading and often-times overwhelming sound design certainly causes a disconnect with the narrative, with shots that seem carelessly composed in post-production and sound that is either too quiet or abrasive in any given moment. Due to this, audiences may find it difficult to suspend their disbelief. Thematically the story initially seems to set out to tell a fascinating tale about the dangers of obsessive nostalgia, but is then watered down when Miles implies the existence of parallel universes which further confuses the commentary.

With a fascinating concept at its core, ‘Aberration: Deja Reve’ features hints of genius in its storytelling, performances and cinematography but is bogged down by a lack of narrative focus and need for a sharper edit.

Concerto for Humanity is a maximalist piece of archival documentary filmmaking. Directed with an unwavering social confidence by Stacey Stone (who is also the film’s editor – a logical dual-role since this project is almost purely a work of editorial contexts working in tandem with music and the spoken word). The setup is an immediately transfixing one: what if we placed 16mm footage from the 1930s alongside contemporary digital imagery; or, as the voiceover puts it, what if this individual with the black-and-white camera woke up in today’s world? What kind of world would he see? This movie answers that question through unrelenting means and to an unambiguously grim result. It’s a work of the avant-garde, made by an artist who refuses to let the audience off easy. We’re made to sit through some horrific things during the twelve-minute runtime. Although it leaves one with some questions regarding the project’s overall statement – not in terms of what it’s showing us and the very obvious implications of the editing, but more whether these images will continue to engage the mind of the viewer after the film is over. How open-ended and explorative actually is this piece of video-journalism?

From beginning to end, what the audience is exposed to is deeply powerful. And the entire experiment is, in many ways, a success when you consider the fact that the images gather further meaning – often more upsetting meaning – when positioned in conjunction with this lovely 30s footage – even when the 30s footage is also depicting something negative. In terms of the modern, the AI content is utterly stomach-turning in a manner which is intentional and confrontational, and it doesn’t get more harrowing than captured moments of police brutality and war. What unfortunately lets these visual aspects down, though, is the decision to include expository voiceover in the film. That’s by no means an indictment of the vocal performance by Colin Cassidy (which is strong), but more an observation that the images would hold a great deal more potency if they were left to their own wordless faculties.

Thus, to answer the question I posed earlier in this review: explorative – very. Open-ended – absolutely not. The individuals who produced this movie surely meant for the messaging’s solidity. And the intention to depict our world in all its ugly detail is always an admirable one (and something that the moving image does better than any other form of media). However, the fact remains that these ideas perhaps lack nuance; the implicit and purely visual quality that would elevate Concerto for Humanity to the artistically transcendent heights that the title may lead the viewer to anticipate. But it’s a documentary that evokes such masterworks as Koyaanisqatsi – especially when you realise that the music featured was written specifically for the film (by Larry Tuttle), much like Philip Glass’ instantly iconic compositions for the 1982 experimental classic. To witness something so unashamedly provocative is always an exciting experience for a critic. And despite my misgivings, the editorial and political ambition makes this a positive contribution to both the documentary and art film scene.

The writer of this review recently had the privilege of reviewing a music video by British band Blooming Cellar, which was titled Tuesday and was a pleasant viewing. This one is even better.

Like the Tuesday video, Lennington Evening consists of black-and-white animation accompanied by a song.

Let's begin with the visuals. Viewing this music video feels almost like experiencing a slide show or reading a comic book. From start to finish a series of cartoon-style drawings are shown one after the other and they more or less tell a story about being a writer. What is seen in the drawings then? Well, first, there is a main character, a young writer and he is shown working hard on his typewriter, papers everywhere and he seems to be struggling with alcohol. Evidently, he meets a nice, young woman. The setting? Judging from the buildings, this seems to be New York City. Maybe the nineteen-fifties. Tall buildings. Airplanes. Civilisation. Reality appears to blend with imagination as flowers (gigantic flowers) emerge from the roads and take over buildings and countless of typewriter papers turn into paper planes, flying over nature and through space. There is brief animation that includes colours, which consists of images that resemble nineteen-fifties postcards.

And now the audio, or should we say ''the song'', which was written in 1996, in London. Superb vocals, dynamic guitars and tense drums create a sort of rock song that is a joy to listen to. The melodies and words generate emotions concerning nostalgia, hardship and romance.

So what is this about then? What messages are communicated here? As mentioned above (and as the drawings demonstrate) this is a project about being a writer, the struggles of being a writer, dealing with alcohol addiction and finding a partner. Moreover, the enormous flowers breaking through the ground and covering buildings might represent nature taking over civilisation, nature reclaiming its territory.

Viewers can appreciate this four-minute-long music video via a number of ways, be it the impressive animation, the enjoyable song or the themes. Or, maybe all these together, why not? Overall, this short takes people on a dramatic, romantic and fantastical journey.