Latest Short Film Reviews

The writer-director James Ormrod has drawn inspiration from his real-life experiences of working hard thriving each day every day to come up with this idea of incorporating it as a movie. Andrew Johnston, Ryan Lock, and David Rees along with the supporting cast combine their comic timing to enhance the subject matter and increase the degree of audience engagement with the film’s content.

The plot of Three Main Men revolves around three actors all desperate to make a mark in the industry, looking for their first professional role.

Three Main Men opens with a combination of a long shot followed by a mid-shot of Ryan going through the details of an audition, while Andy and Dave are playing various games that help them boost skills that can assist the duo to hopefully crack the opportunities that come their way. The set design, black and white colour pallet, natural lighting, camera angles, dialogues, costume, hair, makeup, and props complement the storyline thus maintaining the continuity to ensure the element of realism and relatability.

In terms of performance, Andrew Johnston plays Andy who wants to learn skills to boost his acting to taste success by putting in the hard work but also knows the value of friendships and therefore stands with them in times of need. Johnston showcases a range of emotions as well as reactions to different situations through his body language, voice modulation, style of dialogue delivery, facial expressions, and eyes.

Ryan Lock plays Ryan who is trying to overcome a small mishap that occurred years ago but gets reminded of every time he auditions for a new role. Lock with his performance makes the character arc realistic and relatable for the audience.

David Rees plays the role of Dave who follows a different approach of getting into the industry through an agent because he comes in with experience. Rees has fantastic comic timing to add humour in certain serious scenes without losing the actual gist of the same.

Julia Nelson plays Mabel a tiny part of the team taking auditions for aspiring actors assisting them to take initial steps in direction of a bigger dream. The actress has limited screen space but manages to make a mark in the storyline by adding the drama along with spot -on comic timing in her dialogue delivery and voice modulation.

The Three Main Men talks about prioritising friendship above internal competition standing up for each other in times of need. The short film reiterates that one should concentrate on the present instead of remembering what happened in the past and ruining the chances of success in the present moment. The dramatic piece tells us to celebrate even the small achievements. It motivates people to keep working hard. The creative piece highlights that unity is the key to thriving together in the journey towards the common goal, taking care of happiness therefore mental health is less likely to be affected. The dramatic piece provides viewers a reality check regarding the workings of the film/television industry and theatre making them realise that talent is only the starting point.

When his visiting son Jackson (Latimer) sits down with him in the local pub, hesitantly moving towards a grand revelation, closeted dad Rich (Hodgson) begins to fear that Jackson might be about to reveal himself as queer also, so hatches the perfect plan to show Jackson just what it means to be a real man; by rigging the pub raffle and snaffling the grand prize of a Christmas turkey for themselves.

Armstrong’s contained and concise short Meat Raffle is as absurd as it is entertaining, filled with plenty of heart and poignancy to boot. Its singular location is used to complete effect, evoking all the right looks, sounds and very nearly smells familiar to public houses up and down the country, not to mention packed, as these kinds of places that always seem too small for the amount of frequenters they get often are, with exactly the types of patrons you would expect, the whole thing making you feel like you’ve just walked in, ordered a pint and are now stood leaning on the bar watching the entire crazy saga unfold.

It’s the perfect backdrop for the kind of wild story that sounds like any tall tale you might have heard coming out of your own local. How Rich believes his ingenious plot will inform his poor progeny on what it means to be a “real man” exactly is unclear, but what is clear is that Rich isn’t exactly one for thinking things through.

After a poor attempt at bribery to rig the raffle for the prize bird in his favour falls flat, Rich, it transpires, is not above a bit of petty poultry larceny. But even the best laid plans go awry, and the whole series of events plays out as quite the farce, but Armstrong has enough skill in their storytelling that the loveable silliness of the piece never gets in the way of the deeper ideas lying underneath.

Because at the core of it all and outside of the craziness, lies a heartfelt story about self-acceptance, played out through this complex relationship between a father and a son, one that is strained under great expectation not just of each other but themselves, especially Rich, your quintessential Northern man seemingly the very epitome of gruff masculinity expected of working class men, who through Armstrong’s cleverly written subtleties and a deft and touching performance from Hodgson, we begin to understand has a much softer, sadder side, their words and actions towards Jackson not driven out of prejudice, but of fear, of not wanting his son to endure the life of a lie as he has, a man unable to admit to anyone, especially himself, who he truly is.

In only fifteen minutes, our time in this world is briefer than we might like, but with some commanding performances and a smart blend of humour and heart, one must certainly raise a glass to Armstrong’s Meat Raffle and look forward to them getting more rounds in in the future.

“It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the expression: ‘As pretty as an airport.’” This Douglas Adams quotation opens The Untranslatable Forest – a two-minute animation about language in which we’re taken through rooms and spaces within a psychedelic, abstractly presented airport; each space merging the natural world with artifice.

The animation itself, speaking of its technical construction, is three-dimensional computer-generated animation. Pleasant colours and textures displayed in what one could point to as a kind of ‘videogame’ aesthetic (just to give you an idea of its appearance). It looks wonderful and is artfully done. This is partly to do with what the animation is depicting and the complex, thought-provoking design elements at play. There’s a sensory aspect to the filmmaking, an immersive journey through locations, feelings, sounds and ideas which – ironically enough – might be difficult to describe with conventional language. But that’s part of the beauty of it.

To name a couple of examples: brown leaves are dispensed through the ticket machines and float down to the ground; branches and bushes are being scanned through security in glass boxes; and the plane itself is filled with grass in the aisle and a river above. It’s really a gorgeous thing to witness, like a provocative art installation which utilises collage and bright contrasting colours to both disrupt the spectator’s perception as well as appeal to the eye.

In the space of less than three minutes, an audience will find themselves simultaneously calmed and transfixed by what they witness onscreen. Directors Ivan Miguel and Andy Camou have done an intelligent thing by taking this Douglas Adams statement and running with it in the most expressive, unusual manner possible – but outside of form, it’s also a most socially direct piece. The film draws our attention to how languages are being lost over time, almost as if it’s a living organism which – like the natural world and the impact of global warming – is being damaged irreparably bit by bit. This subconscious, visual parallel between words and greenery makes us care deeply for the languages we’re reading onscreen and hearing through the soundtrack.

A word should also be spared for said soundtrack of the film – both in the awe-inspiring score and the pleasing audio design. It’s as if the sounds of nature, grass swaying and leaves falling have never felt so satisfying. To combine the natural and technological, in the most careful and structured way, scratches a certain itch in the brain.

In The Untranslatable Forest, the filmmakers do indeed manage to make an airport setting appear almost overwhelmingly “pretty” (as their opening mission statement establishes). Through the use of slick, textural animation, the viewer is fixed to the screen as we glide omnisciently through the world of the film. We’re then hypnotised by the experimentation on show in the form of these juxtaposing textural concepts elegantly becoming one. But it’s the overarching message which leaves one deep in contemplation once the credits have finished rolling. An outstanding micro-short, filled with depth and innovation.

Bursting at the seams with powerful imagery, evocative music and an ethereal narration, filmmaker Starry Venus’s 90-second short film Starborn is an arresting piece of cinema. With the goal of creating an immersive cinematic experience, Venus ensures audiences are challenged on multiple fronts by a quickfire story that contains deep thematic ponderings.

The synopsis of the film sees a forgotten goddess (Andrew Wright) wandering the desert in what appears to be a void bereft of life and hope. It quickly becomes clear, however, that she’s not alone and that there are others in this world to connect to.

Whilst being short on plot, Starborn has the benefit of being a piece of cinema that’s open to multiple layers of interpretation. The inclusion of a goddess on Earth immediately secures a challenge to the viewer’s faith - where do they stand on such aspects of their own life, and how do they interpret the character that is being shown? The narration includes numerous intriguing phrases and words that may be triggering to an audience, such as “grief” or “pulled me back from the brink”. And the coalescing of elements within the filmmaking - sound, dialogue, connection between characters - creates a sensory conclusion befitting of such an artistic piece.

The short film utilises the setting really well. The desert is a staple of American cinema, providing not just dramatic scenery but also evoking a sense of isolation and anonymity, which is crucial with this story of a wandering goddess. The desert has also symbolised a new frontier in both American history and cinema (i.e. Westerns) where it is possible for a “rebirth” to take place for a character or civilisation, which again links brilliantly to the plot here if you consider the idea of being “pulled back from the brink”. There are also connotations of “survival” at play here, with some stark imagery in the opening of the piece which take place against the harsh desert backdrop.

As with any piece of artistic cinema, the effect on the audience is going to vary massively. We aren’t dealing with a slot A into slot B structure here and it is unlikely a 90-second short film is going to secure a wide, mainstream audience. Which is not the point of Starborn at all, it feels more elevated than that. It’s an immersive experience that, should you be lucky enough to stumble upon it, perhaps at a film festival, you will likely fall under its cosmic spell (if only for a short time), where you might ponder the entirety of existence.

Watch my Video Film Review of Starborn on TikTok.

The director, Kundan Das along with his writers, Abhijeet Kamble and Samaksh Sudi creates content that focuses on intricate storytelling engaging the audience fully and having a long-lasting impact on them. Samaksh Sudi, Gauri Batra, and Megha Ray deliver the dramatic quotient effectively, understanding the nuances of their character arc which allows the film to stay with the viewers even after they have finished watching it.

The plot of The Masterpiece revolves around Rohan a portrait photographer who strives to capture two crucial expressions from his girlfriend for a prestigious contest risking their bond and his sanity.

The Masterpiece begins with Rohan’s portfolio artistic display of his pictures and his achievements with a soulful melody playing in the background to grip the audience’s attention towards the subject matter of the film. An extreme close-up shot of a woman doing makeup followed by her shadow is a good way to build a little mystery around her character arc. Rohan being preoccupied with work while Ankita trying to talk to him showcases the tension in their relationship from the very start and therefore helps in making the content engaging for the audience. The set design, black and white colour palette with slight hint of a red and yellow, combination of natural as well as the studio lighting, camera angles, dialogues, costume, hair, makeup, and props complement and uplift the pace of the movie.

In terms of Performance, Samaksh Sudi plays Rohan a passionate photographer who stands at the threshold of winning the most reputed photography challenge and wants to excel in whatever his profession demands of him but fails to take care of the emotional needs of his girlfriend Ankita. Sudi brilliantly portrays every shade of Rohan as a person gradually making the audience fearful, disgusted with him as the story progresses.

Gauri Batra plays Ankita a loving girlfriend who gets ready to help Rohan despite having an important meeting scheduled. Batra depicts the innocence, unconditional love, and vulnerabilities she showcases in front of Rohan who doesn’t care just using her as a replacement for a professional model. The young actress quickly switches from innocence in the first half to helplessness in the second half as per the demand of the script.

Megha Ray plays the role of Sambhavi a strong independent girl who stands for people in need of any kind of help selflessly. Ray’s screen space is limited but she leaves a lasting impression on the viewer’s mind. Megha Ray as Shambhavi has qualities that make her realistic and relatable.

The Masterpiece warns the viewers to stay aware of their surroundings prioritising security of self and people around them. The short film communicates a strong message of women standing up for each other in tough times. The dramatic piece highlights that being passionate about work is a beautiful feeling it drives people to do their best in the chosen field but it should not prove harmful to others in any way. The cinematic piece reiterates that love is important but respect should accompany it for a healthy relationship to flourish. The Masterpiece talks about the requirement of considering every aspect of a romantic relationship before saying yes as getting out of the same can become laborious and painful if it turns out to be physically as well as emotionally draining taking away the happiness in the long term.

In Victorian London, another body of a slain girl has landed on the slab of a famous surgeon, who has also enlisted the help of two others to help him get to the bottom of the recent spate of killings in the city.

Whitechapel, 1888 – and there’s only one thing on the mind of most Londoners of the time; the frightful, horrifying, and truly macabre Ripper murders. To this day, the sensationalism of these gruesome killings still holds a deep fascination for many, due in no small part to the fact that the murderer was never caught, and that ‘Jack the Ripper’ never faced justice or revealed his identity to the world. There have been many subsequent novels, documentaries, academic treatises, films, plays, and television series which have deigned to put their spin on the whole affair, yet still, no-one has come up with a cast-iron proof of who the killer might have been.

Here, in Leviathan, from writer Bradley Harper, and based on his book A Knife In The Fog, we get another look at what may have transpired had three famous faces of the time come together to pool their respective talents. We are introduced, in turn, to Margaret Harkness (Cornelius), a journalist and author who has a special interest in the squalid lives of those living on the streets of the city; Arthur Conan Doyle (Bird), the famous author and creator of Sherlock Holmes, who obviously has a vested interest in deductive reasoning; and Professor Joseph Bell (Lloyd Davies), the renowned Edinburgh surgeon who was the basis and inspiration for Sherlock Holmes, whose eye for detail, impressive logical mind, and meticulous method of working, saw him become a useful consultant for police forces of the time.

Down at the local coroner’s court, these three heavyweights get together to pore over the body of a newly slain victim, to see what they can glean from the mode of her demise. Really though, the body takes second place to the exposition of the three main characters, as they stand around the slab and have it out over their own ideas and deductions on the case. The two gentlemen are rather stuck in their old-fashioned Victorian ways, and are of course portrayed as needing the fresh, new perspective and approach offered by the tenacious young woman in their midst. Harkness then bulldozes in and takes control of the proceedings, so that misogynistic prejudices don’t cloud the judgement of the men during the autopsy, and that only proper deductions are reasoned out.

Unfortunately, this means that Miss Harkness is portrayed as an irascible, obtuse, antagonistic and aggressive version of some sort of proto-feminist. Everything that comes out of her mouth is full of venom and scorn and she barely says a word that does not demean, diminish or berate the men whom she has been welcomed by to help. For the entire fifteen-minutes of screen-time, she takes the bit between her teeth and casts a shadow of indignance over the whole proceedings. It is very difficult to watch this performance from Lauren Cornelius because it makes her character out to be extremely difficult to like, when not a single word, glance, action or motivation is elicited that does not show a deep-seated hatred for men, outlining her as a ridiculously overplayed stereotype.

The story, then, also goes nowhere, as once Miss Harkness has said her piece, the film is over. Leviathan plays as an introductory act, or more specifically a pre-credits sequence to a television series, where the characters are introduced, the motivations are realised, and the notion revealed that the chase is on. Sadly, this is as far as we go, and we have to wonder if Bradley Harper’s book also stops there, or if he actually has a story to tell which will apparently get given to us when the rights are bought and a full series or feature can be developed.

Thankfully, the period costume, lighting, photography, and direction are all spot-on, with this one-room chamber piece giving the feel of a dark, dangerous London outside its door. Director, James Mansell, brings everything together expertly and boasts a clarity of vision which emanates Victorian London all over the screen. The titles and credits fill in the gaps we don’t see, floating etchings of street scenes in front of us by candlelight, while Mat Hamilton’s string heavy score drowns us in the misery and darkness surrounding the characters and themes of this tale. As a production, Leviathan is very well handled, and it would stand-up alongside other big budget Victorian London enterprises from the BBC or any streaming service, in the look and feel it provides.

With these three characters coming together, Leviathan should genuinely be a great introduction to an enthralling story which could run and run. As it is though, it lands as an average beast, which needs to round out its characters and understand better how they relate to one another, so that the audience is invested in how they work together to chase down one of the most intriguing cases in all of modern history.

"The GDR is an outpost of peace and socialism"

Whispers of Freedom, written and directed by Brandon Ashplant, delicately dramatises one of the most significant individual stories from one of history’s most important periods.

Starting back in July 1985, post-WWII Germany had now been split into two for the best part of forty years, the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) in the west and the German/Deutsche Democratic Republic (GDR) in the east, where the film’s story based on true events is set. And that story is one of Chris Gueffroy (played here by Cameron Ashplant), who in 1989 was the last person to be shot while attempting an escape over the dividing Berlin Wall.

As was the case for many East Germans throughout this time, Gueffroy’s disillusionment towards the occupying regime and its oppression on freedoms grew as he did, but his ongoing resistance to toe the party line and generally do his duty, would lead to a life of great difficulty, prospects of education, employment and general living conditions would be limited, if not completely withheld, and while leaving was not impossible, it was almost always unimaginable. His ideals and his convictions in them would also mean hardships not just for himself but for friends and family, specifically his mother Karin (Makkena), herself wishing to just be content with their lot, knowing it could easily be so much worse.

Yet while Whispers of Freedom uses Gueffroy’s fascinating specific narrative as its focus, the film is also painting a bigger and more encompassing picture of what living under this “socialist dream” truly meant for East Germans, many like Chris, desperate for change, but many others also like Karin, desperate just to keep their heads down and be thankful. It moves between a historical drama and a character driven one touching on the major points along the way but ultimately delivers on both, and the films harsh grays, low lighting and overall minimalist mise-en-scène, all combine effectively to instantly transport its audience back in time forty years to evoke a palpable sense of what such a life might have been like in a country divided by Cold War tensions.

And to somehow portray every nuance of something so significant through such a contained, particular human story, in under twenty-five minutes no less, speaks volumes to Ashplant’s abilities as a screenwriter, fully demonstrating how important this point in human history truly was, something that perhaps might not have been truly grasped going in but surely will be going out.

In the filmmakers words, Whispers of Freedom looks to ultimately “serve as a timely reminder to audiences the world over about those who are fleeing oppression in search of genuine political freedom”, which is something still so incredibly pertinent today, meaning Whispers of Freedom isn’t just a highly accomplished piece of filmmaking, but also a critical piece of work we should all pay attention to, and ideally, learn from.

Now watch Chris Buick's Video Film Review on our YouTube channel of Whispers of Freedom.

The writer-director Samuel T MCNally along with cinematographer Trace Robbins decide to keep the font of the film’s name blinking in addition to an eerier streaky sound to establish the horror element initially and add in the thrill part of it as the narrative progresses. Richard Adam Deary, Josh Sinclair Evans, and Leah Rogers understand the director’s vision, balancing between the two genres to keep the viewers hooked on to the content throughout the film’s running time.

The plot of Do Not Open revolves around three friends who drive out to a lonely country side house for a big weekend away only to realise far too late that the house has a fourth guest stalking them throughout their trip, a creature that can only be seen when it wants to be.

Do Not Open begins with a series of mid-shots of a car ride toward the countryside followed by long shots to capture the beauty of the location as well as the excitement of three friends enjoying the trip. The director of photography Trace Robbins utilises the disorientation of the camera and the constant presence of the monster is depicted by scratching celluloid with a knife as well as the magnifying glass to give a sense of fright therefore enhancing the degree of audience engagement. The set design, lighting, sound, camera angles, dialogues, costume, hair, makeup, and props are kept natural to elevate elements of mystery, realism, and relatability in the storyline. The makers include internal jokes in the conversation between friends to keep the approach to climax light hearted but not lose the impact for the same.

In terms of performance, Adam Deary plays Richard Laura’s boyfriend who seems to be the most adventurous yet protective of his friends. He wants to make the best use of time out of the monotonous routine. Deary’s reaction to a particular situation in several subplots or emotions is aptly conveyed to gradually build a emotional connection with the viewers.

Josh Sinclair Evans plays David an explorer and starts to record everything when they reach the lonely house in the country side. David is a happy soul but the changes in his character arc surprises the audiences. The young actor effortlessly switches the tone in terms of body language, voice modulation, style of dialogue delivery, and facial expressions.

Leah Rogers plays the role of Lauren (Richard’s girlfriend) who has come on this mini holiday to make memories spend quality time with the two boys. Rogers with her acting skills makes Lauren very relatable with the viewers.

Do Not Open warns us about being private regarding certain things because it can cause trouble that is uncalled for. The short film reiterates the importance of having friends who would stand with him/her in both good times as well as bad times. The cinematic piece points at the unpredictable nature of life so we should make sure of spending as much time as we can with our loved ones. The creative piece highlights that taking care of ones physical or mental health is their responsibility.

Stammering hasn’t received an awful lot of serious attention from filmmakers – apart from when it is happening to monarchs. Voiceless is a much more grounded and relatable short film about a sufferer who experiences discrimination and irritation from others thanks to his condition, and carries an important message about community and support.

Joe (Matt Hansen) is an aspiring performer who suffers from a serious stammer. Friends Catie (Martina Zucconelli) and Eloise (Cari Griffiths) encourage him to face his condition head on and provide him with a trusty Walkman to practice his public speaking, but he still faces discrimination from the likes of fellow performer Ben (Laurence Hezili Perry). Joe suffers a crisis of confidence when one of Catie and Eloise’s ideas goes wrong, but their own personal story helps him find his own strength when he decides to stand up on his own.

Voiceless is a really powerful, moving short film about differences that are (quite literally in Joe’s case) difficult to communicate. Joe’s struggles with his stammer are not always met with kindness, even when he takes precautions through the form of cards that explain his condition. His encounter with Ben is a powerful reminder that people are so often caught up in their own lives that they refuse to take account of what those around them are experiencing. The character of Ben is presented as a heartless antagonist at first, but the film reveals his thoughtlessness isn’t exactly as it seems. The film argues that awareness, and a little more consideration go a long way, and that most people will act supportive when they understand differences.

Matt Hansen excels as Joe, the anxiety-ridden protagonist whose confidence is at an all-time low. His dreams of performing in front of a crowd take a serious knock after his encounter with Ben, and Hansen’s exasperation suggests this is not a new experience for the character. He finds a solace in friends Catie and Eloise, a couple who attend his classes who have their own experience with explaining differences to people. Catie’s coming-out story helps her relate to Joe, and provides powerful motivation for him to put his true self out into the world. The dynamic between Matt Hansen and Martina Zucconelli is a beautiful portrayal of friendship and support – both triumphantly empathetic.

Director Thomas Schubert brings us closely into Joe’s world and captures his experience of living with a stammer brilliantly. Viewers experience the same anxiety as Joe does thanks to the use of overwhelming lighting and intense sound design that adds intense pressure onto scenes where his inability to verbalise puts him in difficult positions. We are closed in tight to his face whilst his jaw quivers, internally cheering him on as he tries to spit out the words we already know from his recorder. A lot of films are described as moving, but Voiceless truly takes hold of its audiences’ emotions and directs them to places where its protagonist lives.

Voiceless has a voice, and uses it to preach tolerance and respect for those different to us. A great leading performance, impressive production and a simple, moving script (written by lead Matt Hansen) mean this message is delivered loud and clear.

When Tomas (Barea) wakes up, the first thing he sees is a note, handwritten by the bed simply stating, “Today is my day”. However, it takes a minute and a call from his far-flung daughter for him to realise that today is indeed his day, it’s his birthday.

How old? Tomas can’t remember, however, he does feel the need for celebration. But while looking to round up a headcount for a party that afternoon, it becomes clear that when it comes to a man of Tomas’ age, time and life have almost fully caught up with them, and finding party guests isn’t as simple as it used to be.

Tomas's birthday, as the title suggests, is on one of the rarest days in the calendar, and writer/director Diego Fandos’ beautifully poignant Spanish short film 29 de Febrero is an equally rare blend of emotion and drama through adroit storytelling that stays with you long after the fact. Beginning with the possibility of witnessing a jubilant celebration of life, we soon discover that Tomas’ has become one of obvious and perpetual loneliness; the man and his faculties are no longer what they once were. Names come back to him slowly, if at all, and those he does remember have now passed on. It’s a sobering depiction of the harshness of growing well past your best years.

But what allows the film to balance itself with a countering sense of hope and belief is that we also get to enjoy the moments where we can see that there is life in the old dog yet, glimmers of the man Tomas was in his prime, and while there are certain things he struggles to grasp, there are others that will stay with him until the day he dies, such as his long standing feud with Arturo (Equileor), who is the only one to visit on his special day, neither of them remembering the reason for their anamosity, but unwilling to let it go all the same.

It’s a deftly written piece that can make you smile and break your heart simultaneously, with the deeply saddening frailty imbued into Tomas from the lead Ramón Barea right at the heart of it, and while completely captivating to watch on their own, the introduction of Eguileor’s Arturo makes for an enthralling back-and-forth between two stubborn mules in the films second half, before ending with a brilliantly sorrowful but touching conclusion.

Increíble. Fantastico. Hermosa. All of these words are fitting for a film of 29 de Febrero’s calibre, a tale about the harsh realities of age mixed with the idea of still being in charge of one’s destiny until the very end.