★★★ Directed by: #CheHung-i, #MuniWei Written by: #CheHung-i, #MuniWei, #RemmySung Starring: #PuffKuo, #AggieHsieh Film Review by: Alex Matraxia ‘The new rebels might be the ones willing to risk … accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Credulity.’ David Foster Wallace wrote those words in response to a culture of self-defeating irony. Instead, he proposed a culture of new sincerity, where radicalism could be reconciled with sentimentality and melodrama. Chen Hung-i and Muni Wei’s As We Like It (2021) is abundant, over-ripe with such sincerity. Their film is a new cinematic take on the Shakespeare play, recently screened as part of the International Film Festival Rotterdam. Like SimCity meets Shakespeare, the film is unique in its blend of digital metropolitan life with old-fashioned romcom storytelling. The romantic duo of Rosalind and Orlando are brought to life by Puff Kuo and Aggie Hsieh, their teenage-like smiles brimming with innocence and mischief. Rosalind transforms herself into ‘Roosevelt’, a male counterpart, in order to befriend Orlando and find out whether Orlando’s love is true. Given that women weren’t allowed to act on the stage during Shakespeare’s time, this film seeks justice and dedication to the women and actresses who have been stifled by the patriarchy; as a result, both Rosalind and Orlando are played by female actresses, one of whom plays a young man, and the other plays a woman pretending to be a man. Let the comedy commence. The forrest of Arden, in Shakespeare, was a pastoral paradise of mischief and mistaken identity; here it's re-invented into the bustling city of Taipei where there’s no internet, no rudeness, and people live for each other’s full attention. It’s a paradise of sorts, somewhat utopian. Art director Liang Shuo Lin has done a remarkable job making a self-contained world that feels like magic-realism, channeling all of the energy from the original play and building it into splendid interiors and city designs. The film also brings in elements of manga-like animation (a boxing scene has video-game life-bars above the fighters’ heads). As We Like It is more refreshing than most Shakespearean adaptions. At times it feels theatrical (after all, co-director Muni Wei started off in the theatre). Orlando is prone to breaking the fourth wall, turning to the viewer and delivering a side-remark or soliloquy. Such moments draw us further into the world of the film, a film that acknowledges what it owes to theatre. However there are times where it’s hard to fight back an impulse to cringe, the sweet sincerity bordering on cheesy; but the whimsical performances and designs can easily cover up these shortcomings. The film could also benefit from firmer direction and control on the DP’s part. The camera-work often feels haphazard, as if it’s just been placed anywhere; if the camera was itself telling the story, a participant rather than a detractor, the film would garner higher praise. Nevertheless, As We Like It is a fun and splendid adaption. I’m not sure if nuance would enhance the film’s sincerity or dampen the fun, but it’s totally one-of-a-kind, a queer utopia, a screwy gender-swapping spectacle of the madness caused by love, love which is ‘an accident waiting to happen’.

★★★ Directed by #JordanGraham Written by #JordanGraham Starring #GabrielNicholson #JunePeterson #MichaelDaniel Film Review by Hope Madden There are a lot of films that can be considered a passion project. Sator fits the category, that passion coming from writer/director/producer/cinematographer/composer Jordan Graham. Graham essentially did everything besides act, and it gives the film a specific vision that’s clearly undiluted by collaboration. That is in the film’s win column, but it’s also a bit of a loss. Graham’s vision is one of isolation, dysfunction, paranoia, and mental illness—or it’s about the presence of a supernatural being with bad intentions concerning Adam (Gabriel Nicholson) and his family. The sound design here is as impressive as the way Graham guides us visually. The filmmaker shifts slowly between different aspect ratios, as well as from black and white to color and back. The movement is so gradual as to almost hypnotize. Meanwhile, somewhere in the background Nani (June Peterson)—Adam’s grandmother—talks on and on. The voice is pre-recorded, and she’s talking about, and sometimes talking for, a presence. Graham slides in an out of the audio, which often mismatches the visual although all of it blends into a dreamlike horror. The film resembles a nightmare, but it may also simply resemble a form of mental illness that is itself a bit of a nightmare. Graham’s slow burn unveils trauma as it wallows in its aftermath, and the thick fog of delusion hangs everywhere. But films like this sometimes paint themselves into a corner because there are no real answers, and the audience investment needs to be repaid somehow. Here’s where Sator comes up slightly short. Though the sudden punctuation of violence startles you from the dream of the film and provides a reasonable and horrific cap to the picture, it’s hard to shake the feeling that the whole adventure took too long. Act 2 feels too often like a slog, and the entirely unresolved images peppered here and there wind up feeling less like spooky ambiguity and more like points of frustration. It’s not nearly enough to sink this Herculean effort. Graham’s film possesses an artistry that can’t be denied, and it succeeds more than it fails. #HopeMadden

★★★ Directed and written by: #QueenaLi Starring: #LeahDou, #KailangHe Film Review by: Alex Matraxia At times, a trip; at other times, a road movie. Queena Li’s Bipolar is slick and crisp, but perhaps a little vacuous. Screening at International Film Festival Rotterdam, it stands out for its dynamic, velvet-smooth visuals (curtesy of Ke Yuming) but it depends on its visuals like a crutch to carry itself through the full expanse of its misdirection. It offers so much, but it’s hard to discern what’s actually delivered. Taking the myth of Orpheus as a template, a young woman (Leah Dou) arrives in Lhasa (Tibet), a self-made pilgrim, who journeys to Hell and back again. Her journey is motivated, on the surface, by a lobster. A lobster she finds in a restaurant aquarium. The waiters insist that it’s holy, truly belonging to the light of the Ming Island lighthouse. The girl takes it upon herself to steal the lobster and return it to the light. An inventive concept, especially as the lobster is defined by its rainbow shell (something withheld from the viewer by the film’s monochrome). But occasionally, colour slices through the film, revealing the rich vibrancy of the lobster’s shell. Reminiscent of Francis Ford Coppola’s Rumble Fish (1983), the liberation of the lobster equates to a liberation of colour - of spontaneity and life. A series of traumatic flashbacks are scattered along the journey, in which our protagonist is bobbing in an indoor swimming pool. Through these lucid flashbacks, it’s revealed that our protagonist was once in love with a boy (Kailang He); a boy who complains that he feels stuck with her in the swimming pool, like an animal in a tank. His subsequent suicide is pretty much expected, as is the running metaphor of the swimming pool/ lobster tank. Clearly, her desire to free the lobster is a desire to free herself from the memories of her past. Queena Li beautifully undermines this objective by having her protganost search for a freedom that’s constantly evading itself. The film asks, what does freedom really look like? Do we really know what we want or are we just pretending? This sense of uncertainty is baked into every character, all of whom are curiously nameless. Our protagonist is simply credited as ‘Girl’ and other characters are credited by their occupations; this is a world where people are in a constant search for identity, where their identities are collapsed into whatever defines them on a surface level. But the script seems unable to accommodate this evasiveness; instead, it falls apart at times, the road movie seemingly going nowhere (and if that’s the point, it’s crucial that an artist at least make plotlessness engaging, insightful, something perhaps promised but never realised). The editing doesn’t help, occasionally scattered, messily compiled, even for a film preoccupied with memories. And the traumatic flashbacks of suicide are a little mishandled, razor blades caressed in hands oh so gratuitously. Nonetheless Bipolar is worth watching; it’s an odd-ball, intriguing film; hopefully one which offers more on a second viewing.

★★★★★ Directed by: #BarişSarhan Written by: #BarişSarhan Starring: #OzanÇelik, #NesrinCavadzade Film Review by Alex Matraxia Not since The King of Comedy (1982) has there been an anti-hero whose haplessness is part of his charm, and part of his lunacy. Bariş Sarhan’s debut feature, The Cemil Show is a blazing, 60s-smeared trip into Turkish B-movies. Cemil (Ozan Çelik) is a mall-cop with a dream to become an actor, a dream that nobody can deter him from. But when he selects 60s film villain Turgay Göral to be his role-model and acting guru, things take a turn for the worst; insanely funny, and totally unexpected, Sarhan’s film is one of the best features currently screening in the International Film Festival Rotterdam. Ozan Çelik is remarkably suited for the role of the deluded, dream-chasing Cemil; he brings to the character a hyperactive insanity and lost-puppy woebegone face. Cemil is clearly cracking under the pressure of a job that bores him, with co-workers who misunderstand him (one of whom mistakes ambiance and ambulance). When alone in the surveillance room, rather than monitoring crime around the mall, Cemil is rewatching his favourite movies, transfixed by the smiling malevolent face of Turgay. But life and film soon begin to lose their distinction, their contours overlapping. After coming across Turgay’s real-life daughter (Nesrin Cavadzade), Cemil's life and the life of Turgay Göral become increasingly interchangeable. Cemil imitates everything from these 60s exploitation sleeze-fests. How to hold a gun, how to smoke a cigarette - even how to live his life. There’s a stunning sequence in which Cemil, waking up after a concussion, makes his way to a film audition; he seems blissfully unaware that his appearance may be off-putting: drenched in blood, decked out in a tomato-red suit like his favourite actor, carrying a framed portrait of a young Turgay Göral along a cliffside; absurdity and melodrama come together in a way that’s captivating and truly interesting. For a debut feature, Bariş Sarhan seems incredibly confident behind the camera; there’s a maturity and energy to the storytelling that distinguishes The Cemil Show from other narrative films in the IFFR. And technicalities aside, the script is insidiously clever; though Nesrin Cavadzade’s character is never really the love interest of the egomaniacal Cemil, he occasionally treats her as such while imitating his favourite movies. The film plays with genre and expectation, creating the illusion of a love interest who really isn’t there, who isn’t really loved. Behind the energy, humour and style, The Cemil Show is strikingly poignant. Its central character is helplessly dependent on becoming another character. To rob him of his delusion would be to rob him of himself. Sarhan’s film is essentially unnerving, highlighting a universal dilemma at the core of human identity.

★★★ Stars Directed by: #GlendynIvin Written by: #ShaunGrant, #HarryCripps Starring: #NaomiWatts, #GriffinMurrayJohnston, #AndrewLincoln, #FelixCameron, #JackiWeaver Film Review by: Alicia Moore “A family takes in an injured Magpie that makes a profound difference in their lives.” Based on a true story and a book sharing the same name, the Netflix film presents the story of Sam Bloom (Naomi Watts) whose life is completely changed after an accident that leaves her paralysed from the waist down. As Sam and the rest of her family struggle to adapt to this new approach to life, Sam’s son discovers an injured magpie that they name Penguin after its black and white colouring. The bird's arrival into the household is a welcomed distraction for the Bloom family, and Penguin eventually makes a profound difference on Sam’s outlook on life. Penguin Bloom stands as an interesting watch to say the least. To focus on the writing itself (Shaun Grant, Harry Cripps,) it sways in limbo throughout the film — between being something distinguished and something very disarrayed. It isn’t as simple as ‘at times the writing excels and at times it doesn’t.’ The film doesn’t actually have a primary focus, even with its title giving it a very focused subject. The characters are incredibly underdeveloped by the end of the film due to this lack of a core in writing and the ability to follow sequence. However, I found myself emotionally invested and on the brink of tears at many moments throughout; this is what indicates the ‘limbo effect.’ Even without true emotional connections to the characters, strong emotion is somehow still evoked. This may be because of the nature of the heartfelt story overall but personally I would never feel my emotions be triggered if a focal point in a film is not established, making this a rare occurrence. The film would have held my attention a lot more if it was structured in a way that investigated the characters and their relationship with worry, grief and sadness though, as well as their relationship with Penguin as even that didn’t have much growth altogether. Following on from this through a guided spotlight, I want to praise the specific sets of writing in relation to Noah Bloom (Griffin Murray-Johnston) who is one of Sam’s sons. Noah’s appearances in the film are one of the only aspects that have a sense of sequence and flow present. Noah is seen to record and edit together a video that voices his thoughts and feelings after his mother’s accident. These recordings are expertly weaved into the storyline from start to finish, possibly making Noah the best developed character of each introduced. His voiceovers in these videos project all of the emotions that he has harboured overtime, displaying joyful clips of the Bloom family before the accident which contrast with painfully saddening expressions as Noah recites how he blames himself for his mother’s injuries. Griffin Murray-Johnston’s acting is phenomenal; he has a natural approach to the role and easily fits with his character comfortably within the plot. Without a doubt the most commendable element of Penguin Bloom is the music used in its duration. The music, by Marcelo Zarvos, matches the atmosphere of the film flawlessly with its delicate piano playing that soothes the heart as it takes a beating from the story of the Blooms. The construction of instruments used also manage to imitate the squawking of Penguin the magpie in a musical sense; higher notes pair with lighter, subdued ones to present a warming family of sound, almost mimicking that of the Bloom family through the tracks — two parents and three sons blend together in harmony while a welcomed magpie merges with them in its own way. Penguin Bloom isn’t necessarily a highly recommended film for those who enjoy more in depth storylines, but it can be an enjoyable watch for those who thrive on films that simply tug on their heartstrings either in a positive or negative sense. Regardless, the Academy Award nominated Naomi Watts never fails to bring great energy to any type of film — one is guaranteed to enjoy her onscreen presence in Penguin Bloom over anything else.

★★★★ Directed by: #DanteAubain Written by: #MallyCorrigan Starring: #MallyCorrigan, #KatrinaDiehm, #AaronLattaMorissette, #JessieMac, #NiguelQuinn, #MichaelTaveira, #DanielVictor Film Review by Taryll Baker The Alpines is a psychological thriller that follows seven friends coming together for a weekend getaway after several years of little to no contact. They've grown apart. They've moved on with their lives. But the secrets of their past have come back to haunt them. This time with a very real threat ready to expose every last one. Opening sombre with a moody tone and the main lead, Zach (Aaron Latte-Morissette), The Alpines settles the viewer in for a physiologically charged experience. Shot in a confined location across 13 days with a small crew, this strangely inviting drama from Dante Aubain is the exhilarating flick I’ve been needing of late. The constantly escalating screenplay written by Mally Corrigan is playfully cliche but totally welcome in its execution. There’s a great sense of building tension from the first 20 minutes and then on from scene to scene, it never really lets up. I was particularly impressed with the solid performances from the cast. Each character has their own traits and the actors play off these well. This is a surprisingly well-tackled ambient trill ride — the characters are developed well, using the seven sins as foundations for each. The cast is fantastic, with key scenes that grant them a chance to excel their performances and by the hour mark, you feel fairly attached to the interconnecting relationships and how certain characters interact around others. Although I must say; just how big is this cabin? Towards the end, there are some intense, loud arguments and it’s like no one else even hears them. The drama is exciting, though. The climatic finale really kicks it up a notch and it’s quite a grim display of clashing evils. Not entirely satisfying but entertaining nonetheless; the ending brings it all together. There’s a spooky, eerie score (both library and additional by Sebastian Goodridge) that helps the mystery unfold throughout. Though the visuals can feel unloved at times, the cinematography is fairly great and captures the interiors of the cabin nicely and there are some lovely external location shots too. One scene that jumped out to me was the campfire scene. There were some shining moments in the performances with some really intense dialogue, feeling like at any second someone could snap. I loved the conflicts featured in this film - if I were to take anything away from The Alpines, it’s the genuine care to keep a viewer invested in the unfolding drama. The team did a really good job of that. The Alpines is the kind of film that you would see whilst scrolling through Netflix. The type of medium budget thriller that pulls you in and keeps you entertained until the end. It’s not perfect, but it’s a fun ride. Watch the trailer for The Alpines below. #TaryllBaker

★★★★★ Directed by: #DavidVerbeek Written by: #DavidVerbeek Starring:#GijsBlom, #AviisZhong Film Review by Alex Matraxia David Verbeek’s latest feature, Dead and Beautiful, is a remarkably conceived, remarkably realised vampire-yuppie odyssey into the night. Primarily centred around five mega-rich friends (whose net-worth appears on screen as they enter the frame), Verbeek’s film becomes an intense interrogation of wealth, youth, and lost innocence; all set against glamorous urban backdrops that are made all the more beautiful by the cinematography of Jasper Wolf. The film involves an insidious set of plot twists, each one writhing into something else entirely unforeseen. After the five friends spend the night camping on some land once owned by an indigenous tribe (who were kicked out under Dutch colonial rule), they find themselves taking ayahuasca-like offerings from a mysterious shaman - they black out. On awaking, they realise that they all have a brand new set of fangs. Panic-stricken, they are now forced to reconcile with the irrational, and decide whether or not their new monstrous identities are something to fight or wilfully embrace. Some of the friends leap at the chance to be a real-life movie-monster, such as Alexander (Yen Tsao) who muddles movie vampire with Heath Ledger’s Joker. But others a more reticent, reluctant to kill for food, such as Lulu (Gijs Blom) and Mason (Aviis Zhong). It becomes clear to each of them that perhaps, in some way, they were always destined to be monsters. Children of billionaires who stole miles and miles of indigenous land in the name of profit, Verbeek’s film presents vampires and billionaires as families cut from the same cloth; both clans hunt together. Dead and Beautiful, beyond monstrous melodrama and urban fantasy, is a telling and relevant insight into the responsibilities of power. The film has all the makings of a cult-classic. Visually opulent, with performances that at first might seem a little bland, then morph into pristine camp, enriching the whole film with an element of self-awareness. The five friends even reassure themselves that ‘We’re not in a movie’, and yet so much of the film is preoccupied with cinema, with nods to the vampire films that have preceded it, and even with hilarious film-within-film elements; one friend makes an online vampire-diary charting his experience coming-out as a vampire. Another friend uses her instagram stories to explain her new identity to her friends. Embracing the twenty-first century as an eerie, sterile, neon-gothic landscape, Dead and Beautiful is a highlight from the IFFR, and a gem in the history of vampire films.

★★★★★ Directed by: #JoãoDallStella Written by: #MarinaKatoHoag Starring: #TonyGarcia, #IsaacOrdonez, #CaelPeterCross, #CamilaOlivera, #HectorAtreyuRuiz Short Film Review by Taryll Baker After an immigration raid in their apartment building, a group of boys help an undocumented girl get to the beach to reunite with her family, unaware of that their new friend has a magical secret that will change their lives forever. There’s only one word that comes to mind; wondrous. After having watched João Dall’Stella’s stunning Día de las Carpas, I feel nothing but its everlasting beauty. Utilising current world topics with a fairytale twist, this exquisite story penned by Marina Kato Hoag is expertly brought to life with some delightful filmmaking. This film is a wild but respectfully quaint piece. Its lively characters pull us into this realistic world that directly reflects ours, but withholds some secrecy that isn’t shared until the final moments. A touching and important story is at the core, and all the external features surrounding it create a luscious atmosphere that you just wish you could dive into. Día de las Carpas swoons with technical brilliance, with superb editing by Yufei Skylar Zhang. Her eye for visual storytelling is simply fantastic. In her interview with us, she mentions wishing to someday work with director Noah Baumbach, and I can see that being a possibility, since the projects she’s worked on thus far each seem to radiate the rich energy that his films ooze. Her understanding of characters, movement, and timing is simply great. Accompanying the swift cut and vibrant colour palette is a dreamy, adventurous score by Carlos Felipe Silva; adding a wonderful amount of texture to the film, veering close to the likeness of Thomas Newman’s charming style. The stunning cinematography by Bethany Michalski wraps these fantastic elements together and it holds well. Every frame is a treat for the eyes. The performances from the young cast is solid; one of the strongest bonds between child actors I’ve seen in a short film. The film closely follows the young talent as they run around, their performances exploding with life and energy. Each character feels whole, and the exuding aura between the group really sells the story. As the short comes to its mysterious but extremely pleasant end, every beat that came before reaches its resolution, making for a very satisfying finale. Día de las Carpas takes us on a whole journey of discovery, wonder and experience. A story I surely won’t forget any time soon, and, since it’s now being developed into a feature film (under the mentorship of the Russo Brothers no less), it’s one I very much look forward to returning to. Dall’Stella’s skilful direction paired with Hoag’s incredible script makes this quite the watch. Watch the trailer for Día de las Carpas below. #TaryllBaker

★★★★ Directed by #FilippoMeneghetti Written by #MalysoneBovorasmy #FilippoMeneghetti #FlorenceVignon Starring #BarbaraSukowa #MartineChevallier Film Review by George Wolf The plan was to sell each of their neighboring French flats and move to Rome. After decades of living in secret, Nina and Madeleine (“Mado”) would enjoy their twilight years loving each other without hiding. But after promising to finally come out to her grown son and daughter, Mado (Martine Chevallier) hesitates. Nina (Barbara Sukowa) is furious, and the entire plan is up in the air when fate intervenes. A sudden stroke leaves Mado unable to speak, which makes Nina an outsider in the world of her longtime love. The debut feature from director/co-writer Filippo Meneghetti, Two of Us cuts deep with its quiet, well-constructed observations. As Mado’s family and a hired caregiver populate Mado’s apartment, Meneghetti returns often to a tiny peephole in the door, silently amplifying the distance separating the lovers, along with Nina’s yearning to conquer it. The two leads – no doubt relishing the chance to craft complex, aging females – are simply wonderful. When we meet them, Nina is the proud free spirit, and Mado the reserved, closeted mother and grandmother. The stroke reverses their roles, giving each actor room to redefine their characters, and deepen our connection to them. Though restrained by silence, you can practically hear Mado screaming for Nina, and Meneghetti’s frequent tight shots give Chevallier to chance to break our hearts without saying a word. Sukowa’s arc is even better, and she makes Nina’s desperation not only palpable, but the understandable product of a love that is simply part of her very being. It is Nina who now must learn to lie, as her only hope for getting close to Mado becomes making up stories that might placate Mado’s slightly suspicious daughter (Léa Drucker). One of those schemes runs Nina afoul of the caregiver’s adult son, leading to a well-worn and utterly predictable plot device that brings a surprise dent to Meneghetti’s gentle tone. But by the time Nina and Mado are framed in the sweetest of final shots, all is forgiven. More than a welcome reminder that love is love at any age, Two of Us is a touching testament to how much stronger togetherness can make us. #GeorgeWolf

★★★ Directed by: #MattCheck Written by: Matt Check Film Review by: Bruna Foletto Lucas Born from Matt Check’s imagination after a difficult incident, Mammoth is a sunflower that in the short Mammoth: Primal Thirst roams in the desert to quench his thirst and keep alive. The short starts with a bleak song as Mammoth walks through the desert showered by the scorching sun. We see Mammoth walking and falling as the soundtrack composed of strings enforces the feeling of hopelessness. Soon Mammoth finds a watering can and crawls to it with the aim of finding water and, moreover, life. The search, however, is futile and the hopelessness soon turns to rage, which, then, turns to resourcefulness. The song suddenly changes its tune to a more upbeat rhythm, and soon Mammoth takes action into his own hands (or leaves) and the weather seems to change in his favour. But things do not go as planned and the song slows down and taps into hopelessness again as the tumbleweeds are pushed by the desert air and Mammoth, once again, falls down in despair. The soundtrack seems to drive us, and Mammoth, through his journey – through his many ups and downs, through moments of happiness and moments filled with longing and hopelessness. Mammoth’s hope of getting water or his vision of a love interest disintegrate in front of him as he is about to conquer them, but the 3-minute short leaves us with a positive feeling as things start to look up for Mammoth when he least expects it. "Mammoth: Primal Thirst" looks like a simple endeavour at first, but if we look further we can see many layers to this project. As mentioned before, born in a moment of sadness, Mammoth allows the artist to go through a process of catharsis, to use this character as a metaphor for the pain of the loss of a loved one, and for hope of bright things ahead. Matt Check explains that Mammoth is in fact real, of course, not a walking flower, but a real sunflower that presented Check with a choice – whether to continue or to stop, and Check chose the former. The flower, then, symbolising hope not only for the viewers of the short movie, but also for Check as well, and Mammoth’s “primal thirst” means thirst for life itself.

Filmmaker Interview by Chris Olson UK Film Review interview, Miles Blacket – Hovering Between Us Your film, Hovering Between Us, has been selected for the BFI Future Film Festival. Why did you want to be a part of this event? The way the festival’s geared towards showcasing and connecting young filmmakers, and growing up in London myself, meant it’s a festival that’s been on my radar for a while. I feel like festivals are as much about the sense of community and the opportunity to make connections, as they are the films – so it’s definitely cool to be a part of one focused on people at a similar point in their journey and who will be coming to it with similar sorts of perspectives. For those who don't know, how would you describe your film? “Hovering Between Us” follows a night in the life of a young (almost) couple. Taking unexpected turns across one night, the disjunction between the online and real-life relationship reveals the connection between these two people is more complex and strained under the surface. Why did you want to tell this story? Dealing with depression for a number of years, I’d been interested in semi-compulsive online behaviour, the experience of being isolated and feeling unable to connect with others…these were things I’d been thinking of before this story existed. And when the Barbican announced their Life Rewired competition where they commissioned twelve short films to commemorate the anniversary of the internet; it felt like the best opportunity I was going to have to make that first short and draw from the things I’d been thinking over for a while. What are you particularly proud of with this film? One of my favourite aspects of this film still is the chemistry and performances of Maria and Alex (Nenda Neurer and Alfie Stewart), I think they help make the two characters relationship feel very natural. And the visual style aided by the incredible work of the cinematographer Spike Morris also helps the observed feeling. But given the practical realities, the limitations we had to work with, all the nitty-gritty stuff; I’m JUST proud we made it, and I can take everything I learnt about filmmaking and myself into the future. What were the challenges getting it made and/or getting it out there? Everyone always says keep it simple with short films, especially when you’re starting. And with the number of locations and the limited budget, this was certainly a challenge. Harriet Salmon (the producer) worked hard to get everything together and pulled off a series of miracles, including a club scene. Actually yeah…shooting in a live nightclub is a stress I never want to repeat. When and where can people see your film? People can watch Hovering Between Us for free on BFI Player as part of the BFI Future Film Festival from 18-21 February. What's next for you after the festival? I’ve been working on another narrative short, which I’m hoping to shoot this year, as well as developing a couple of short doc projects. It’s been a pretty hard time to be establishing yourself, this last year, but I’ve tried to make the most out of the quiet period and enforced moments of self-reflection, to think more about the kinds of stories I want to tell and doing the necessary research and groundwork. Hovering Between Us 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-hovering-between-us-2019-online #ChrisOlson #FilmmakerInterview

★★★ Written and Directed by: #SushrutBhowmik Starring: #BidishaBhowmik and #AmritaPaul Short film review by: Brian Penn Ever inquisitive, I did some research into the word ‘Bhuyo’ before watching this short feature by Sushrut Bhowmik, particularly in relation to anything that might be considered fake. In Sanskrit Bhuyo means ‘again’ or to attain a level of understanding requiring no further explanation; one’s knowledge is therefore complete. Well I’m paraphrasing a tad here but hope I’ve captured the essence and origins of the phrase. So the film itself is a curiosity with a deeply abstract narrative. However, there’s more than enough going on here to hold the interest. It begins with a middle aged woman gaining entry to the flat of a mysterious young woman. The pretence for entry is to allow the former to make a call enabling her husband to collect her. This is where the abstract nature of the piece comes to the fore. It’s never entirely clear when, if or how often the story enters analepsis mode or even drops into prolepsis. The chronology if indeed there is one is both confusing and challenging. Apparent dream sequences are broken by random dialogue that continually alters the characters’ motivation. A lugubrious cab driver occasionally appears plying his trade through the night. But where he actually fitted within the narrative continually escaped me. It is this deficiency of logic that generates more than a passing interest. However, the story’s ambiguity often threatens to ruin the piece. The subtitles aren’t particularly helpful as they often lack grammatical sense and make it even more difficult to follow. But the film is ultimately saved by moments of genuine suspense and an almost creepy sense of anticipation. The lighting and colourisation provide a vivid hue as sequences blend with each other. The second half of the film's title does however suggest something of a curve ball. Is this story really fake and a complete invention of our imagination. Maybe the intention is to leave us wondering whether ‘Bhuyo’ has been achieved. Go figure?