London Short Film Festival 2021
Kickstarting our festival tour of 2021 was London Short Film Festival, taking place online for the first time ever, it boasted 59 short films from around the world as well as some brilliant Industry talk events including Lynne Ramsey. Our writing team focused on the UK Awards selection and shared their thoughts on some of the female directed films featured.
Scrubber (2020, dir. Sophia Di Martino)
Scrubber is, for the most part, a film about looking. Our protagonist, played by Derry Girls’ Siobhán McSweeney, watches her new neighbour from her kitchen window while she does the washing up – she watches, but what she really wants is to be looked at, smiled at; she’s infatuated. It’s a playful film, beginning with the tongue-in-cheek wordplay of the title. There’s a scene with a bouquet of flowers, where she rubs one against her skin – it’s tangible, sensual, and she gets lost in the moment. When she snaps out of it, she seems uncomfortable – as much as this is a film about desire (and, specifically, queer desire) it’s also a film about loneliness and shame, and McSweeney’s performance walks the line between humour and poignancy with confidence and ease.
Written by Emily Garbutt
The Name I Call Myself (2020, dir. Rhea Dillon)
The Name I Call Myself is a portrait of Black, queer Britain, a visually gorgeous collage of intimate moments. Choreographed sequences of fluid, hypnotic dance are contrasted with more naturalistic scenes – a group of friends laughing and sharing food; a mother and daughter playing together. There’s no dialogue – the soundscape of the film is a collage, too, combining music and audio clips of speeches and poetry. Otherwise quiet, peaceful scenes are sometimes punctuated by sirens, too, to stop us getting complacent – we are watching Black, queer joy situated in Black, queer reality. But it’s the joy that stands out in this film. Already a touching watch, these snapshots of togetherness take on a new poignancy in the context of lockdowns and isolation.
Written by Emily Garbutt
Jamie (2020, dir. Esme Creed-Miles)
Esme Creed-Miles directed, wrote, and stars in Jamie. It’s an intense, heavy film from the outset – the title character has bulimia and a difficult relationship with her mother, and she’s planning to kill herself. However, on the way to visit her terminally ill grandmother, something happens that triggers a moment of clarity for Jamie. She gets off the train and stands amidst rolling hills and greenery, away from the harsh artificial light of her mum’s house. You can almost feel the fresh air on her face. It’s a quiet, unflinching film, but it’s hard to watch at times. There were moments when it seemed it could have said more with less, but Creed-Miles gives a powerful and impressive performance.
Written by Emily Garbutt
Sisters (2020, dir. Tanya Ronder)
Sisters is an extremely relevant slice of life short film in which three sisters discuss their mother over a video call. Many people who watch this will be able to relate in one way or another, whether to the tense relationship between the siblings, the stress of having to care for an elderly mother or just the current situation we’re in where Zoom and Facetime seem to be the setting for even the most serious discussions. As we pry into this family’s dilemmas, we are reminded that we are not alone. We will all experience strains within our families, and we are all living in a time where we cannot see each other face to face. It’s simple, but the naturalistic acting and relatability make this a weirdly comforting short film.
Written by Beth Lindsay
A Sudden Light (2020, dir. Sophie Littman)
A Sudden Light, directed by Sophie Littman, is a tense and unnerving story of a landscape that begins to turn against two sisters. As they embark on a seemingly normal walk through a vast landscape of fields, their grief towards their ill father begins to manifest into the hills around them as they struggle to find their way out. Beautifully shot, with a booming soundtrack that puts the viewer on the edge of their seat, this short film is an effective psychological journey with underlying meanings that leave us wanting more. From the cryptic imagery of insect covered raw meat, to the ambiguous man seemingly always in the distance, A Sudden Light makes for a very tense and enjoyable watch.
Written by Beth Lindsay
Here's the Imagination of the Black Radical ( 2020, dir. Rhea Storr)
Rhea Storr creates a compelling case regarding the connection between Afrofuturism and the Junkanoo (Bahamas) carnival in her short film Here’s the Imagination of the Black Radical. The yearly festival was originally celebrated by slaves who had only Christmas and Boxing day off and is now celebrated as a form of remembrance and resistance if you will. Not only can we see flashes of the carnival, but we also see the craft behind it all, as we follow the ‘Shell Saxon Superstars’, a 1500-large group, divided internally in smaller circles in order to take care of as many preparation aspects as possible, as they prepare for the celebration. Storr shows an almost cyclic side of the festival, where crafts are passed down through generations alongside national pride. In this Afrofuturistic instance, the concept of the archive is questioned by the director: Who’s archiving Junkanoo for future generations? In doing so, Rhea Storr simultaneously asks and answers the question herself. The brilliant use of 16mm for film and broken beat/samples soundtrack combined with interviews with the Saxons only strengthens the director's point of view and emphasises the most important aspect, which remains the cultural aesthetic of futurism that in this instance found expression through the Junkanoo carnival. (See also Junkanoo Talk (2017) where the artist reflects on the language of celebration through carnival using the same example.)
Written by Desiree Balma
O’ Pierrot (2020, dir. Tanoa Sasraku)
O’ Pierrot is the theatrical representation of Tanoa’s life, growing up in Devon and feeling like a fish out of water, looking for her British identity but from a mixed raced and lesbian point of view. The director herself is playing Pierrot, a sad clown figure that we all can recognise, that interacts with Harlequin Jack, a crazed black man in whiteface who lost his mind while looking for his own British acceptance. This pantomime-like drama takes place in a magical forest, in which the constantly different backgrounds create a sort of a dream-like atmosphere. Despite the lack of dialogue, the director’s point of view is quite self-assertive. We get transported into a dream while we can almost experience the sexual frustration, the anger and the confusion that the director was feeling in her early years while living in a rural Devon and questing for better and clearer days.
Written by Desiree Balma
O’ Black Hole (2020, dir. Renee Zhan)
This stop motion musical will make you rethink your life almost immediately after watching it. A woman who can’t stand the passing of time anymore turns herself into a black hole, dragging her loved ones with her at first, and then seasons and eventually the entire solar system (again, very relatable). A thousand years pass and finally a Singularity wakes up inside of her (the black hole) trying desperately to reverse what happened. Renee Zhan’s project is very ambitious and ultimately is a success on all levels. Every animation and stop-motion is gently crafted and even the musical soundtrack accompanies every scene and event in the short. It’s a harsh and delicate story at the same time, one that deals with sadness, denial, and darkness but still finds a way to emerge on the other side of the tunnel.
Written by Desiree Balma
The Shift (2020, dir. Laura Carreira)
Laura Carreira’s The Shift is an insightful snippet into job instability and financial worries in modern-day Britain. The short begins with Anna (Anna Russell-Martin), walking her dog (Pan), and heading towards the supermarket on a typical cold, dreary British morning. Tying the dog to a post outside, Anna begins her shop. Initially, she seems nervous, peeking over the shelves at the staff and other customers, perhaps feeling shame, perhaps weighing up whether it is worth trying to steal what she cannot afford.
Scouring the aisles for the cheapest basic essentials, Anna finds herself crouched at the reduced section; averting her gaze from the other shoppers, as they push and grab at the produce, the close shots seemingly penning her in, she takes what she can and moves on. Arriving at the till, Anna’s phone rings, the call from the agency she works at; though we don’t hear the callers end of the conversation, Russell-Martin’s subtle yet effective performance accompanied with the sound of the checkout beeping faster and faster, the inaudible choir of voices, and the use of depth of field builds an undeniable sense of rising panic and desperation.
Despite the script not having much dialogue, the writing is convincing and emotive, and in this case, less really is more. Anna’s actions and expressions show her worry as she quietly goes about her shopping, searching through packed shelves of bread for the lowest price, to her pleading and a distressing phone call at the checkout, after which she must make an impossible decision.
The Shift captures the anxiety of job insecurity, zero-hour contracts and living paycheck to paycheck, often not knowing where your next meal or money for rent is coming from. I won’t ruin the ending (fair warning it was heart-wrenching!), but although set in a pre-COVID19 world, the themes and powerful message still ring true to so many and hold relevance in our current world.
Written by Larissa Hird
You can read more about the London Short Film Festival on their website.
Article edited by Maddy Sinclair
