Filmmaker Interview by Chris Olson Your film, Princess, has been selected for the BFI Future Film Festival. Why did you want to be a part of this event? EK: The opportunity to showcase princess alongside other young filmmakers - we’re only 16-25 for a while! I’ve also had a couple of friends screen their film at the festival. For those who don't know, how would you describe your film? EK: Princess - at its heart - is a story about a mother who will do absolutely anything to ensure her daughter has an unforgettable day. Why did you want to tell this story? EK: There’s a long lineage of the specific story ‘princess’ follows - to the point it feels folkloric. We felt that by re-contextualising this tale with black characters would be romantic in an almost idealistic way, simply because it hasn’t been done before. It’s maybe like taking the age-old Cinderella story and flipping it with characters that look like me... that’s inherently magical, right? What are you particularly proud of with this film? EK: I think the whole process, there was just something honest about how we went about it! Hanging around East London with the leads, street-casting, waiting on strangers' doorsteps mid-week to ask if we could use their flat to get a high-angle shot, and most importantly collaborating with friends. What were the challenges getting it made and/or getting it out there? NR: It's hard, when you've self-funded a film on what's basically a shoestring - without any big names backing you - to get people to really watch your short and take you seriously. Programmers at festivals are watching thousands of films at a time, and it's tough to cut through. I think what we always felt was that in that crowded field, we hoped we'd made something that would make people FEEL something - which I think is quite rare to do in under 10 minutes. When and where can people see your film? EK: Princess will be available to watch on BFI Player (18th Feb) as part of the festival. We’ll also be putting it online, soon. What's next for you after the festival? NR: We’re working on the next short film, and a longer-form project. EK: Exciting times ahead! Read our short film review of Princess. #ChrisOlson #BFIFutureFilmFestival

★★★★★ Written & Directed by: #OscarSimmons Starring: #DanielGoldfinchBetts and #JamieStewart Short Film Review by Taryll Baker A sex worker gets cold feet when his first client arrives at the door. Almost Blue, the new short from Oscar Simmons, is one of those small feats in intimate writing, where almost nothing is said, but so much is conveyed. The opening introduces us to Alik (Daniel Goldfinch Betts), a young first-time sex worker who waits with a worrying look for his first client. When the man (Jamie Richard-Stewart) arrives, there’s an obvious tension in the air. We soon realise this is because it’s also his first time, and the following moments in the scene play out quite beautifully. As in the title, the film has an almost entirely blue colour palette. The way in which this colour is brought into the frames is quite delightful in its delicate nature. Very soft yellows contrast this and the overall feel of the visual design is stunning. Giulia Bragiotto entices the eye to the performances within this small hotel room space, the subtle lighting only supporting rather than distracting. I admired the clothing, also using shades of blue to enunciate on that feeling of coldness. In terms of the visual — that includes the acting, location and cinematography — this is a truly brilliant achievement, and it’s yet another display of the fine talent coming from universities. The two performances from the leading men are fantastically stripped back. Not in the sense that they’re lifeless, but the way in which they play off that nervous itch, the unsureness stemming inside themselves. When the film comes to its close, it feels like a connection between the two was born and we as the viewer are left with the thought of what happened next. Two wonderfully restrained and aptly performed characters. As for the writing, most of the focus is placed on the visual. Body language speaks louder than words and when words are spoken, it’s very few. Featuring original music from Indiekid, o_sci_ and B£NJY, Almost Blue gets the final glossy touch it needed. There’s a lot of subtlety throughout the film, but when the credits kick in after that superb final scene, you can’t help but sense that feeling of fulfilment. If there’s one thing that could be a detriment to the otherwise solid work on this production, it would be the sound recording. A lot of the dialogue after the first couple minutes could use some ADR, which is expected from any film, especially on this scale. But otherwise, Almost Blue is a charming short, gleaming with alluring performances and soft visuals. Almost Blue screens as part of the BFI Future Film Festival from 18-21 February, free on BFI Player: https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-almost-blue-2020-online #TaryllBaker

★★★★ Directed by #LeeIsaacChung Written by #LeeIsaacChung Starring #SteveYeun #YeriHan #YuhjungYoun Film Review by Hope Madden Yes, I am a sucker for films containing devastatingly adorable little kids. Sue me. Minari fits that bill. Writer/director Lee Isaac Chung essentially recreates the story of his own family’s struggles to become farmers when he was 6. The character based on the filmmaker is played by Alan S. Kim (that little face!), and though Minari is not told exclusively from his perspective, his presence—and the innocence and chaos that represents—suits the effort. Jacob (Steven Yeun) and Monica (Yeri Han) were having problems before making the move to a tiny plot of Arkansas farmland. As Jacob struggles to turn their fortunes around, he brings his mother-in-law to live with them to make his wife happy. Lucky for us all Grandma (Youn Yuh-jung, a treat) is a stitch. The dynamic within the family is sweetly authentic, and the levity never overtakes a scene. There’s a tenderness here that, along with moments of joy, elevate the seriousness and even desperation of the family’s situation. Chung’s cinematic style quietly beguiles. There is enormous struggle in nearly every scene, but it’s told with gentleness and grace. It’s the rhythm to a song made up of so much more. Chung’s skill as a storyteller is immense, but he couldn’t have created such nuance without such a game cast. Yeun proves again the depths of his talent. If you missed his menacingly perfect turn in 2018’s Burning, you should definitely watch that right away. To the same degree that his character there was conniving and calculating, Minari’s Jacob is earnest and warm. You ache for him to succeed, and not just as a farmer. Likewise, Han hits no false note as an involuntary Arkansan. It would have been so easy to oversell the bitterness or disappointment—as it would have been for Yuh-jung to have gone bigger with her “crazy granny” character. But broad strokes are nowhere to be found in this delicate drama. Plus Alan Kim is just so damn cute. Minari offers a close look—optimistic, but not sentimental—at the American Dream. If you feel like that’s been done to death, that just means you haven’t seen this movie yet. #HopeMadden

★★★★ Directed by #RobinWright Written by #JesseChatham #ErinDignam Starring #RobinWright #DemianBishir Film Review by George Wolf After directing one short film and ten episodes of her House of Cards TV series, Robin Wright makes an assured feature debut with Land, mining one shattered life for graceful insight into healing. Wright also delivers a touching and understated performance as Edee, a woman who clings to grief as her closest connection to the husband and child she has lost, and who can no longer bear any expectations that she will “get better.” Moving alone to a remote cabin in the Wyoming wilderness, Edee ignores advice to at least keep a vehicle at her disposal and settles in, wanting nothing else to do with anything or anyone. No surprise, but Wyoming winters are harsh for the inexperienced. Eventually, it is only the aid of a passing hunter named Miguel (Demián Bichir, also terrific) that saves Edee’s life. Miguel is carrying emotional scars as well, and the two strike a deal. He will teach her the survival skills she needs, and when the lessons are done, she will never see him again. The screenplay from Jesse Chatham and Erin Dignam may not blaze any thematic trails, but it does resist following the roads most expected. Of course Edee begins to feel a human connection again, but this point isn’t exploited for a cheap and easy narrative out. The performances from Wright and Bichir make you care about pain even when you haven’t glimpsed it, giving director Wright a solid emotional base to lean on while deftly unveiling the different lives Edee and Miguel used to lead. Edee’s memories of her family are brought to the screen with a tenderness from Wright that is both touching and well-played. Woven through the beautifully framed and intimidating Wyoming landscapes are wonderful sketches of visual storytelling. Yes, we’ve heard Land‘s lessons before, but Wright’s feature debut behind the camera impresses through her fine instincts for subtle over showy, paring those lessons down to an essence as timeless as the majestic skyline. #GeorgeWolf

★★★ Directed by: #RenataLitvinova Written by: #RenataLitvinova Starring: #RenataLitvinova, #SofyaErnst,#AntonShagin Film Review by Lucy Clarke Director, actress and screenwriter Renata Litivinova’s latest film is caught up in curiosities. The production design breathes and sings with a fascination on old relics and unexplainable oddities. In few films you will see a spiralling mobile of hand mirrors; a drip fashioned out of wine bottles and a hat stand, and a mouse pulling a miniature carriage. This is a dark fairy-tale that might not end in happily ever after. Litvinova plays Margarita, the matriarch of the mysterious Northern Clan. With her marcel waves and red lipstick, she looks like a modern Jean Harlow. The glorious mansion that she calls her home is surrounded by thick snowdrifts and Siberian forests. Every year her extensive family comes together to welcome in the New Year. Stitched together over many years but always around Yuletide, the Northern Clan begins to dramatically fall apart. Margarita’s son Benedict (Anton Shagin) brings his new fiancée home for one New Years. Madly in love and seemingly destined to be together, all seems well. That is until his fiancée Fannie (Uliana Dobrovskaya) dies in a plane crash. With her death, Benedict is destined to be miserable instead, and the house and surrounding plains sink into decay. The outdoor bench oozes into a black pile of mould while the money they have carefully stored in the ice fields begins to rot. The North Wind creates a rich visual feast. The characters’ garb harks back to a bygone era, yet their costumes are strangely timeless. There are nods to steampunk and baroque opulence in the empty corridors and forgotten rooms. In the middle of their New Year’s Eve dining table, a huge hairy boar’s head rears up from the centre, while flowers are scattered around like still life blooms. This world isn’t a mere copy of other directors who are fond of fairy-tale motifs. Litvinova has created a refreshing new look. Beautifully unique, it’s easy to slip into the film as though you can stroll around these vine laden hallways for days. Maybe viewers will stumble upon the white reindeer that Margarita’s niece Ada brought in from the snow. It is a pity then, in this enchanting world that everything else does not glimmer as brightly. Margarita begins by telling a story. Her clan are not like mere mortals. They have an extra hour – the thirteenth – where they are stronger than death. Even though this is a fantastical way to introduce them, this magical hour proves to be nothing more than window dressing. While the story is fascinated with unstoppable decay as the house slowly disintegrates and the powerful clan falls on its knees, the thematic underbelly of this piece is neither as rich nor as engaging as the beautiful set design and the worldly costumes. Baroque and beautiful, The North Wind is worth watching for the sheer imagination in its visuals alone. However, it’s hardly as thematically rich as Del Torro’s Pan’s Labyrinth. Interesting avenues winking at possible depth are left unexplored. Yes, this might be style over substance, but what a style.

★★★★ Directed by: Rob Jabbaz Written by: Rob Jabbaz Starring: Berant Zhu, Regina Lei, Ying-Ru Chen, Tzu-Chiang Wang Film Review by: Jason Knight A virus outbreak is taking place in Taiwan, turning people into homicidal maniacs. Jim (Zhu) and Kat (Lei) are a young couple, living a happy life. There is a virus going around called Alvin virus, but it appears to be relatively harmless. Not long after Jim gives Kat a lift to work one day, chaos explodes everywhere. The virus is very dangerous after all, making infected individuals want to carry out the most violent acts imaginable. The city the couple live in quickly becomes overrun by deranged killers and Jim and Kat must find a way to reunite and escape. It should be pointed out that this ultra-violent horror film is not for the faint-hearted. The violence is extremely brutal and graphic and present almost throughout the entire film. The movie contains countless killings, where the infected mutilate their victims and there are buckets of gore, dead bodies everywhere, covered in blood and almost unwatchable slayings. Atrocities take place in various places such as streets, a train and a hospital. There are also disturbing scenes of sexual violence. The infected themselves are terrifying. When a person has been taken over by the virus, their eyes turn black and become the personification of evil. All they want to do is commit violent acts and they take great pleasure in killing and raping their victims. They are constantly grinning and laughing and enjoy taunting and torturing. They act by themselves or work in groups. Unlike zombies though, these infected do not rot and although they become pure evil, they maintain the same level of intelligence they had before and know how to think, using any kind of object as a weapon. They can still do things that they could do before, except do good. The screenplay consists of two storylines: the struggles of Jim and Kat as they attempt to get to each other and reach safety. Both protagonists witness many murders, kill in self-defense and try to save other people. Jabbaz does a great job as the director, creating wonderful establishing shots. His screenplay contains interesting characters, nail-biting situations and lots and lots of violence. His dark story offers an insight into the brutality mankind is capable of. The makeup work deserves a great deal of praise. The injuries look very realistic and the blood constantly splashes everywhere, indicating this is how it would look in real life. Zhu and Lei are convincing in their portrayals of everyday individuals who happened to get caught in the middle of the outbreak. They are decent people, who want to help others but when given no other option are forced to use violence in order to defend themselves. The actors who play infected do a great job in showing that they have become evil psychos, who only want to kill and torture and have forgotten what good is. This violent, blood-splattered horror film is a must-see for horror fans. Although there are a few silly scenes where people do not make a run for it when they have the chance, this is a rollercoaster ride of blood, edge-of-your-seat moments and massacres. #JasonKnight Trailer:

★★★★★ Directed by: #AmyBrandis Written by: #AmyBrandis Starring: #NadiaLamin, #MarkBrandis, #SueParkerNutley Film review by: Patrick Foley Death affects us all in different ways. How we handle it when someone close to us passes is a deeply personal and private process. Where some like to be alone, others rely on friends to work through their grief. But even the most sociable and open of us are unlikely to want to rely on the physical manifestation of death itself as our source of comfort at such a time. Unfortunately for Kay, protagonist of Screw the Pooch, she doesn’t seem to have a choice… Following the death of her mother in bizarre, bird-watching related circumstances, Kay (Nadia Lamin) finds herself perennially accompanied by a new scythe-carrying, skeletal acquaintance. Death (Mark Brandis) is there as she sits through forced condolences over zoom, walks her late-mum’s dog, even as she goes to the bathroom. His presence becomes an increasing source of frustration, and the ramifications of his actions drive a divide between the pair. But over time, Kay learns death might have his uses after all. Screw the Pooch is a surprisingly deep tragicomedy about coping with loss and navigating the often-uncomfortable grieving process. Director and writer Amy Brandis’ short is a creative and emotional story which manages to avoid worn-out clichés of the personification of death and instead uses the dynamic in an original way to represent all the anger and frustration we feel when someone close to us dies – and how the aftermath can be just as unpleasant. The black comedy of the film will certainly resonate with the audiences’ dark and cynical impulses. It is unlikely that all viewers will find the humour to their taste, but others will identify with the frustrations Kay faces and the well-meaning but cringe-inducing ways her colleagues and family offer their help, and find the farcical nature of her predicament and her bending Death’s abilities to her advantage as wickedly comic. Nadia Lamin’s Kay is appropriately weathered and solemn in a performance that anchors the film. Her world-weariness is on full display as she struggles to accept the cruel blow the universe has dealt her. The performance does lack some ‘bite’ at times where the script tries to bring wit to her character. But in the moments that the façade drops and she unveils her inner pain really stand out – a simple embrace of her mum’s coat or her angry tirade against Death as she finally snaps at him for all of the losses that he has caused wash away any humour from the scene, and make you feel all the guiltier when you are forced to laugh once again. Mark Brandis as Death gives a brilliant physical performance, and gives us a pitiful and lonely version of the reaper from under his mask. Screw the Pooch is a brilliant, dark comic short that manages to make you laugh, cry, cringe and gasp in little over 15 minutes. It is unconventional and niche, and requires a level of cynicism to fully embrace. But for that cynical audience, a laugh is more in need than ever after the year we have had. Especially if it is at Death’s expense.

★★★★★ Directed by: #DāvisSīmanis Written by: #TabitaRudzāte, #UldisTīrons, #DāvisSīmanis Starring: #PetrBuchta, #LaurisDzelzītis, #ĢirtsĶesteris Film Review by Lucy Clarke 1913. The fate of Europe is balanced on a knife-edge. It's a wobble away from the catastrophic violence that would mark the fate of the continent for the next fifty years. In Dāvis Sīmanis's latest film, glimpses of the future are everywhere, from the fighting between anarchist communists and fascists to characters who appear like ghostly apparitions of their historical counterparts. Our protagonist (Petr Buchta) shifts his name as often as violence explodes and fizzles out. Sometimes going by Hans, sometimes his name is Peter. He is a doorman in Riga until an anarchist robbery causes the hotel to go up in smoke. Mistaken for one of them, he is forced to go on an expansive quest across Europe, from Switzerland to London. He meets Sigmund Freud in his "Lebensreform" community at Monte Verita. He begins a romantic entanglement with Mata Hari, all while getting slowly eaten up by extremist values that dictate his murderous actions. Like Robert Egger's The Lighthouse, The Year Before the War borrows many filming techniques from silent cinema. In a scene where our protagonist ends up drunk, the other party-goers blur past him in a slightly faster, jauntier speed that's welcome in old silents. Crisp, beautiful cinematography haunts Hans as his father's funeral procession passes him by. Cloaked figures slip across white snow-covered hills, making for a dramatic image in black and white. At this moment before the chaos and death that would dominate the next four years, cinematographer Andrejs Rudzāts nods to famous European artworks. Hans's black coat standing out against a woodland backdrop is reminiscent of Caspar David Friedrich's The Wanderer Above the Sea. Through the framing and cinematography alone, we are reminded what Europe stands to lose. Death permeates each scene, every edit. Within the first minute, a Latvian ice farmer – convinced that the world will end – removes his hat and jumps into a freezing lake, never to be seen again. The idea that Hans might fall in love with a pretty girl whose braided hair smells of grass seems downright laughable. It is evident, like the aforementioned lighthouse keepers, that Hans has no choice but to go slightly insane and bloodthirsty. Europe here isn't fiercely delineated from country to country. Borders don't rein culture in, and languages transcend geography. French can be heard cut with German and Russian. Hans speaks many languages as fluently as his mother tongue. While this film is set in 1913, there are bleak nods to the future. The flexible nature of Europe is going to be shattered by a single bullet in Sarajevo. Anti-Semitism is a normalised part of the European landscape. Only Hans stands up for a young Jewish woman forced to give up her seat to sit in the train's cattle truck. It is a bleak yet needed reminder of where the road eventually takes us. Although The Year Before The War only covers a single 365-day snapshot, it is deeply embedded in the past and future of Europe's history. The viewer too slowly descends into madness as they realise, like Hans, that war, revolution and genocide are coming.

★★★★ Written & Directed by: #AlexWestfall Starring: #PollyCabrera Short Film Review by Taryll Baker Archival footage and reenactment evoke a moment in the life of young Imelda Marcos, the wife of Philippine dictator Ferdinand Marcos. The events here, based on a true story, take place a month before Ferdinand swept her into the sphere of politics and power. Fine beauty is often found in the most unlikely corners of cinema, and The Rose of Manila is that beauty. Though simply too short for my liking, there’s a lot to love within the runtime of the new documentary/reenactment from filmmaker Alex Westfall. The splendid sound design of this ravishing little film, alongside the beautiful 16mm and digital cinematography makes for a viewing experience full of splendour. The crisp colours and framing evoke the same wonderful feeling that was present in Portrait of a Lady on Fire; another stunning display of a tantalising treat for the eyes. Moises Zee and writer, director and editor Alex Westfall have shown true understanding of visual storytelling — their cinematography shows that strength in every second. There’s a small amount of music by Didier Lucceus threaded into the film, with a very moody but cautious vibe. Delicate string movements over the top of a droning sound bed, creating the ultimate ear pleasing experience. Running at only 10 minutes, Westfall’s cut is snappy but carefully handled. The content is full of life but unfortunately we’re only given a snapshot of it. As someone who knows nothing about the material adapted into this archival / reenacted film, it was difficult to enjoy the substance beyond the gracious technical achievement. Polly Cabrera leads with shining talent and the few times we do see her seemingly raw (such as the final moments), it’s a greatly engrossing performance — as if the technical aspects weren’t already, she carries the film. Westfall’s eye for details is something I always love to see shown in art pieces such as this. In some ways, The Rose of Manila comes across as the type of arthouse film that your small run-down but beloved cinema would screen, bringing in a smaller crowd, though well appreciated. This is a delightful piece of filmmaking. The Rose of Manila screens as part of the BFI Future Film Festival from 18-21 February, free on BFI Player: https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-the-rose-of-manila-2020-online #TaryllBaker

★★★★★ Directed by: #RoryWilson Written by: #RoryWilson, #ConnorBolton Starring: #AndrewSchofield, #ChloeHighamSmith Short Film Review by: Emily Davison After a tragic incident on the tracks, train driver Paul (Andrew Schofield) struggles with his trauma in this profound short drama. Loco (2020) is directed by British/Bermudian filmmaker Rory Wilson, who is currently based in Liverpool where the film was shot. His fifth short film, Loco has already garnered much attention from its screenings at multiple film festivals in the UK and has been selected for this month’s BFI Future Film Festival. In preparing for the making of his film, Wilson researched the topic of trauma and mental health in train drivers, revealing the shocking fact that support funding from the government has been cut to help people who have suffered with PTSD after witnessing horrific incidents during shifts. Loco is an immensely powerful, vivid film where every movie making element is perfectly aligned to capture the devastating, ‘untold truth’ of what it is really like to be a train driver. Wilson’s stunning cinematography is both immersive and seamless in its direction, with a series of successive shots quickly introducing us to Paul and his daily life, as well as incorporating smooth transition shots between Paul witnessing the tragedy and the aftermath of the harrowing event. The film emphasises the emotional impact of the train driver instead of glamorizing the tragic suicide, relying on the viewer’s imagination to fill in the gaps. Paul’s isolation is demonstrated through him often being framed alone, barely interacting with his colleagues and too traumatised to connect with another human being, making for some effectively hard hitting sequences. Andrew Schofield’s intense, heartfelt performance is one of the film’s greatest strengths in presenting a grounded, relatable and humane lead. The fragile complexion and nuanced sensitivity Schofield brings to the film is both captivating and heart-breaking as we watch his struggle with coming to terms with his oppressive emotions. His kindness and authenticity elevates the short, brought to fruition by the film’s hopeful ending which encapsulates the compassion of human beings and making for a touching climax to the intensity of what had come before. Wei Song Lim’s sound design and Jim Sanger’s musical score are also notable highlights of the film. Both complement each other perfectly, with ambient and oppressive pieces combined with the riveting sounds of train wheels screeching on tracks and the crushing silence of being underwater creating a truly stimulating experience. Paul’s inner trauma and difficulties with coping with everything is presented through a synchronous balance between sound and image, working together to result in a gripping viewing experience. Loco is an intensely powerful short with an insightful, revealing subject matter and benefits from a stunning performance from its lead and captivating filmmaking talent both on and behind the camera. This film is a must see! #EmilyDavison Loco screens as part of the BFI Future Film Festival from 18-21 February, free on BFI Player: https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-loco-2020-online

★★★★ Directed by: #WillPeppercorn Written by: #WillPeppercorn Starring: #DouglasClark, #RichardAddison, #VariSylvester Short Film Review by: Emily Davison On the morning of his father’s funeral, Marcus (Douglas Clark) goes to collect his grandfather, Alastair (Richard Addison) for the service, who has been hiding some dark skeletons in his closet in this poignant short film. Skeletons (2020), directed, written and edited by London based filmmaker Will Peppercorn is part of this month’s BFI Future Film Festival nominations for Best Writer. The film presents a bleak, yet honest and genuine dramatic story in its short ten minutes and made a very strong impression with its thought provoking themes and impeccable direction. The narrative is grounded in reality with its references to alcoholism and possible child abuse, contrasted with beautiful tranquil shots of the British countryside as the lead drives to find his grandfather after there is no answer at the door. Peppercorn’s direction is superb, with an admirable attention to detail through his choice to limit musical compositions to enhance naturalistic sounds like the car engine, as well as delicately composing precise shots to indicate more information about characters’ thoughts and feelings during the uncomfortable car drive. The film’s ambiguous ending through a cliff hanger only enhances the stirring drama of the piece and heightens the sense of intrigue as you are left whether the distant relationship between grandfather and grandson will ever be repaired. Both Clark and Addison deliver strong, emotionally impactful performances and are completely believable in their respective roles. Addison, who has had extensive experience in radio drama and as a voiceover in British advertisements, brought a reserved sincerity and anxiety to the grandfather who has something to hide and Clark played off of this well during the most emotionally driven scenes. EMI Productions produced the musical score for the short and, although minimalistic, melancholic piano pieces effectively amplify the emotion of the moment and the tranquility of the travelling shots. The natural, diegetic sound design is powerful in certain uses, where a car rushing past the pull in spot where Marcus has parked intensifies the tragedy of a relationship falling apart. Skeletons is a stirring short drama with impactful direction, a compelling story and intriguing performances – a very strong contender for the festival nominations! #EmilyDavison Skeletons (2020) screens as part of the BFI Future Film Festival from 18-21 February, free on BFI Player: https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-skeletons-2019-online

★★★★★ Directed by: #AmosMenin Written by: #AmosMenin Starring: #JohnFieldsend Film Review by: Isabelle Ryan Amos Menin’s Jude is a powerful documentary short narrated by his grandfather, John Fieldsend, who was sent to England along with his brother to escape the Holocaust. Having heard Fieldsend speak about the experience many times, Menin had him recount the story again, this time drawing on his childhood feelings. Along with the simple yet striking imagery, Menin has produced an affecting and memorable piece that deftly weaves the personal tragedy of a child torn from his parents, with the almost unimaginable horror of this period of history. As a young child, John Fieldsend lived in Dresden with his brother and their parents. He describes his father as quiet and thoughtful but loving, his mother as more gregarious and passionate about photography. This passion serves a purpose in the film, as we cycle through more than twenty photographs of the family. At first these are simply evocative snapshots of Fieldsend’s childhood, but as the film goes on we realise the tragic fact that of all the people pictured, only two survived. It serves as a powerful reminder of this inconceivable loss of life, and helps illustrate how important it is to have physical reminders of this tragedy. Another reminder, brutally conspicuous in this black and white film, is the yellow star that Fieldsend has kept. The antisemitism faced by Fieldsend and his family started small, but grew quickly. He recalls how other children attacked them, and how a doctor refused to stitch a cut on his head. Then, in the middle of the night, the family drove to Czechoslovakia. Sometime later, the boys were put on a train to England without their parents. Fieldsend was too young to fully understand the situation, and remembers that under the fear was excitement: seeing an army on the move, taking a trip with his brother; these moments emphasise how confusing an experience it must have been for a child, and allow us to imagine some small part of the horror and grief their parents must have felt, knowing that they would never see their children again. Menin decides for the most part to let his grandfather’s words speak for themselves, but underscores his story with snatches of evocative sounds: birdsong, children shouting, a military band, and finally the rumbling of a train on a track. Towards the end of the film, as we follow the inexorable progress of the train to its destination, Fieldsend reads a letter from his parents, wherein his mother explains that, over the course of a year, their friends and family have been taken: January, June, September, October, November; as the months move on, so does the train. This is a powerful motif. It perfectly captures the horrific speed and ease with which the Nazis were able to act, and also reminds us that, just as a train can stop at a station, there were opportunities to stop this. Jude is at once a look at the Holocaust through a child’s eyes, and a reminder of where bigotry can lead us if we will not stop it. In the letter to his children, Fieldsend’s father thanks “all the good people who have accepted you so nobly.” Menin’s film has allowed another survivor to tell his story, and while it is historical, it is also prescient. It demands that we take the good and noble stance and refuse to allow the current rise of fascism to reach the levels that destroyed so many lives so very recently. Jude screens as part of the BFI Future Film Festival from 18-21 February, free on BFI Player: https://player.bfi.org.uk/free/film/watch-jude-2020-online