Two Short Nights Collaborations

Published February 13, 2025

Each year Two Short Nights invites a handful of individuals to collaborate with the festival by submitting a piece of work in relation to the programme. Contributions can be anything from a review to illustrations, podcasts to video essays. Anything goes!

This year we have partnered with Exeter College to give students an opportunity to engage with the festival by creating content, reviewing, or supporting things behind the scenes. Below are a selection of works that the cohort produced!

Overflow

Intimations of Maturity in ‘Malkom-Core’ and ‘Overflow’.
A review of Malkom-Core and Overflow
by Clay Colman

‘Malkom-Core’ by Carl Axel Eduard and ‘Overflow’ by Nahal Dashti are two richly evocative pieces of film that both consider the nuanced nature of maturity and interrogate the fabric of ‘growing up’. Whether that be the inner struggle of defending youthful glee or the forceful extraction of unripe adult temperament, each contribute to the artistic discussion of what it means to carry the weight of human responsibility for yourself and for those around you.

In ‘Malkom-Core’, the filmmakers have mastered the balance of artistry with haunting familiarity. The vast landscape of the lake solemnly echos the emptiness of immaturity without the joy of reciprocated delight; paired with its cold and stonewashed palette, the film evokes a visceral disappointment that many of us experience in the transient period of adolescence’s end. The freedom of irresponsibility that shines in all boisterous teens and curious kids has wilted, and what we’re left with is a meek attempt at ignoring the boundless immensity of adult liability. The scene of the boys attempting to play a once exhilarating drinking game is now a depressing picture- it is dominated by the icy, silent and lifeless winter environment, framing their work-centered conversation as insubstantial in the eyes of our main character, who is struggling to accept his friend’s maturity. He longs for the bygone era of thrilling sensual discovery and the unearthing of life’s vicissitudes. The final slow, reducing zoom reveals how small he is: sat on a rickety deck chair facing the enormity of the lake utterly encapsulates the helpless aimlessness of not being ready to ‘grow up’.

‘Overflow’ is an enthralling depiction of a little girl charged with mediating and traversing the dichotomy of her parents. To survive, she adapts to repress childlike wonder and excitement, thus resorting to a numb yet innocent and fragile creature. This feeling of suppressed immaturity is beautifully captured by the abstract set design elements and the decision to cast a fully grown woman in the place of a child. The non-existent ceiling of the family house reveals a cosmic sky, reminiscent of the distorted lens the child views her world through- a garish mixture of clashing colours in an ungrounded home, where she is witness to the oddly comforting presence of the abyss. The surreal moments of warped reality are extremely impactful; the father asking for a fork, to which his wife flings it directly to her daughter, piercing her neck in an uncomfortably deadened fashion speak volumes of the voiceless pain many children are forced to endure in a broken home. Her silent, benumbed reaction tragically illustrates the suppression of healthy immaturity and juvenile feeling.

I was deeply impacted by these two films, as they reminded me of the incredible power our upbringings hold when shaping our mental, physical and psychological pathways. Both explore a conflict with the protagonist and their inescapable embrace with maturity: ‘Malkom-Core’s’ outlook on puerility as a eroding shield from adult responsibility, and ‘Overflow’s’ fear of immaturity as a weakness in a splintered family. To me, they both prompted the question: when should we ‘grow up’?

Clay is studying Film at Exeter College. 

'Malkom-Core' and 'Overflow' were part of Shorts #5: Who Raised You? 

(Image: Overflow)

Shorts 1 Animation Strand

 An excellent example of how animation can be brought to life.
A review of Myth of the Cave
By Katie

Myth of the cave is an amazing short animation, keeping you on the edge of your seat, wondering what is going to happen next? How did she get into this situation? And will she make it out? This is a must watch short film, with a gripping plot. The small details in the background help set the scene, catching your attention so you don't miss anything, with a creative plot that helps to draw the viewers in.

It brings the timeless themes of perception, freedom, and the nature of reality, to life, making them relevant to today's audience. The aspect of being trapped in a cave with nothing but your shadow, fighting off problems, helps bring reality to the animation. The environment inside the cave feels suffocating, and overwhelming, yet the light at the entrance helps to make escape seem achievable. The light is also a symbol for enlightenment and the vastness of truth waiting behind the chains of illusion.

While short, this animation leaves a lasting impression, encouraging viewers to question their reality that they inhabit and to challenge the limitations they have accepted. It is an excellent example of how animation can be brought to life

Katie is studying Film at Exeter College. 

'Myth of the Cave' was part of Shorts #1: Animations Strand

Fathom

Fathom: A tense, slow build. 
A review of Fathon
By Quinn

Fathom follows Avery (Phoebe Cresswell), a former reef diver who is interviewing for a much more sinister job. Tensions slowly build over the course of the five-minute short, leaving viewers on the edge of their seats. From the opening scenes, we are treated to a masterclass from writer/director Holly Holdsworth in how to unsettle an audience, all while still creating an intriguing enough narrative to not rely on well-worn tropes.

From the get-go, it is clear we will not be in for a calm and relaxing experience. The choice to initially have no visuals to accompany a muffled, waterlogged audio immediately signals that something isn’t quite right. Cutting off one of the senses throws everything off-balance, instantly creating that tension that leaves viewers wanting to find out more. What’s happening? Why are we underwater? When we do get visuals to accompany this sound, it is of rushing water, giving us the impression of someone rapidly raising to the top. The following scene does not resolve these questions, and in fact jump back in time to Cresswell’s character waiting for her interview. But this is no peaceful, tranquil wait. She is listening to an audio about the inherent value of a person’s work (“nothing” is given to us as the answer to this), which adds to the tense atmosphere established in the opening sequence. Throughout this are interspersed clips of Avery coming up from under water, looking worse for wear. These continue to be shown over the course of the film, adding an extra source of tension by showing us long before, and whilst, the audience learns more about what exactly is unfolding in front of them. Once called upon for her interview, we enter an almost completely bare room, spare for an office desk and chairs, as well as some boxes in the background. This creates an eeriness throughout the interview, as it signals to us that whoever is occupying this space does not plan on sticking around for too long afterwards. The interview itself follows in a similarly sinister fashion, with an extra sense of urgency from interviewer Indiana (Maya Yenn) doing nothing to help settle things down. By the time we hear the crackling of a geiger counter for the first time, the atmosphere could be cut with a knife. When it looks like Avery may well get turned down for this job, things somehow manage to get even more tense, reaching a crescendo as the audio is reduced to a high-pitched ringing and the character’s breathing. It is the first time we truly see her panic, as we learn how much hinges on this job for her. While this tension recedes slightly as we watch her successfully convince Indiana to give her the job, it never truly resolves, and we close with that same tension we started with. 

The closing and opening of Fathom being similar allows us some sort of closure, as it lets the audience feel like we have come full circle in this sequence of events. But it also seems to serve another use— to leave us with a final sense of unsettlement, reminding us that the causes of all of our unease throughout the film have not been truly resolved, only explained. 

Quinn is studying Film at Exeter College. 

'Fathon' was part of Shorts #3: South West Talent

Two Short Nights Sting
By Steve, Delphine, Noah, Jack, Ethan and Amelia