The Youth-Directed Short-Film Debuts You Should Check Out At SGIFF

The power of a short film goes beyond its ability to pander to shrinking attention spans. As Thong Kay Wee, the programme director of the Singapore International Film Festival, explains, “the format is often more inclusive because of its lower production cost, giving space for niche stories and creative freedom to exist”, adding that “historically, short films have always been an integral feature of local cinema”. This year’s edition of the festival – considered the most illustrious film event on our cultural calendar – has doubled the number of programmes focusing on shorts from last year and will feature a total of 46 of them, 28 of which are from Singapore.

Thong expounds: “When we assess the health of local cinema, we have to look at the artistic output of Singaporean short films every year and, in a time when the future of cinema has been questioned yet again, I believe that Singaporean film‑makers deserve a boost of confidence and even more exposure.” Here, Kelly Janine spotlights four of such talents – aged between 23 and 31 – who will be debuting their shorts at the festival, which runs this Nov 26 to Dec 7, and ought to be on your must‑watch list.

BART SENG WEN LONG

Working primarily with moving images and photographic mediums, Seng is a London‑based artist, film‑maker and occasional curator at Kawaii Agency, whose practice spans performance, expanded cinema and digital arts. His presentation at the 2025 Singapore International Film Festival (SGIFF), Emergencies (2025), focuses on a Singapore man coming to grips with hazy memories of a former playmate and a colonial‑era propaganda film about insurgencies in rubber plantations, putting a cheeky spin on the history of the region’s rubber industry. Though it’s a departure from his earlier explorations of digital culture and yassified Gen Z aesthetics, Emergencies continues his interests in the political economy of desire as well as confrontations between reality and fantasy.

Having shown work at Bangkok’s video and performance art series and exhibition Ghost 2568: Wish We Were Here as well as London’s Queer East festival this year, the 29‑year‑old maintains that success is “being able to do something interesting with as many interested people as possible”. For now, he’s still working through materials collected during field research in the region, hinting that “it’ll spawn into an expansive multidisciplinary project”. Consider us strapped in.

WHAT KIND OF STORIES ARE YOU INTERESTED IN TELLING AND HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR STYLE?

“I want to tell intimate stories that get uneasily close to a character – exploring the delusions they indulge in, what desires create tensions, what mythology they’ve woven for themselves, and so on – all while connecting that to a wider scope of shared social and historical reality. I’m quite restless when it comes to storytelling and visual strategies. I experiment as much as possible to tease out unexpected layers of tensions and meanings. I don’t like boredom and I don’t feel certain about anything. This combo keeps me going.”

HOW DID EMERGENCIES COME ABOUT?

“I’m currently working with my partner on a creative research project about rubber and its presence in Southeast Asia. We did lots of archival and field research into different aspects of rubber: its industrial uses, colonial histories, fetishistic prowess, environmental impacts, et cetera. Early on, I was looking into old Western films shot on rubber plantations in Southeast Asia. Usually, they narrativise the crisis of violent uprisings by indentured workers as encountered by colonial powers … Meeting and interviewing an unconventional Singaporean who shared an inspiring memory sparked the idea for Emergencies.”

WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE SHORT‑FILM FORMAT?

“Emergencies was always meant to be a short because the narrative isn’t too complicated and I wanted it to feel impressionistic. The more I worked on it, the more the film formed and it became longer. Fifteen minutes felt like the limit for the story to transpire effectively and for the haze of recollections to blend into a vague space to dwell on certain characters.”

WHAT’S THE LAST NON‑FILM THING THAT INSPIRED YOU?

“Shout‑out to the Rubber Agroforestry for Sustainability Foundation and the Wanatex collective based in Hat Yai for giving me a life‑changing experience when I visited them for a week in January this year. They showed me hope and ingenuity – a break from the doomer suffocation we’re all living through lately.”

HOW DO YOU FIND THE CURRENT STATE OF SINGAPORE’S FILM SCENE AND WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MORE OF?

“The closures of (independent cinema) The Projector and (cinema chain) Cathay Cineplexes are heart‑breaking, symptomatic of a wider decline in cultural ecosystems around the world. For such a rich country, I hope new sustainable alternatives fill the gaps soon. Besides more distribution networks, producers and community support, I’d like to see encouragement to check out independent cinemas and spaces that foster sustained, profound interactions between the public and the film scene. It’s so much more rewarding than doomscrolling artificial intelligence slop.”

WHAT ARE YOU KEEPING AN EYE ON IN REGIONAL CINEMA?

“Film‑makers like Truong Minh Quy, Pham Thien An, Phan Thao Nguyen and Nguyen Trinh Thi”

WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR FAVOURITE FILMS?

“A must‑watch Singapore film is 15 (2003) by Royston Tan. Some enduring faves are Yi Yi (2000), Taxi (2015), A New Love in Tokyo (1994) and Life, and Nothing More (1992).”

NATALIE SIN

Delving into sociology as an undergraduate at the National University of Singapore has been a pivotal first step towards film‑making for this 23‑year‑old, who’s in her final year. Previously – as an International Baccalaureate student at the School of the Arts, Singapore – she specialised in theatre for four years before making the switch to film. Writing and directing were always her ambitions, but she’d thought she was too young then to start making movies. She also wanted to learn more about society to produce work that reflects sociological and anthropological thought, driven by the belief that cinema should be about life. Participating in the SGIFF’s Southeast Asian Short Film Competition this year, Sin’s The 4PLY Clandestine System (2025) traces a quirky tissue peddler’s interiority through the eyes of two video makers.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR STYLE AND INSPIRATIONS?

“It’s still early in my directing journey and every story warrants a different style. I’m interested in creating new forms of expression for each work. Anthropologist Mary Douglas and her seminal work Purity and Danger: An Analysis of the Concepts of Pollution and Taboo play a conceptual role in my interests. I like exploring ideas of dirt, cleanliness and purification, both metaphorically and literally. I have an ongoing toilet‑photo survey project called Bowels of a Nation, where I take photos of public toilets across Europe and Asia.”

WHY DID YOU OPT FOR THE SHORT‑FILM FORMAT?

“The 4PLY Clandestine System wouldn’t work as a feature because the story can’t sustain itself at full length. Because of the short‑film format, I had plenty of room to play and experiment with form. That’s the beauty of it: You have freedom to make it as playful as possible and take risks. The short runtime means that audiences won’t get overstimulated so easily too. Short films provide a gateway for aspiring film‑makers, since they’re feasible in scale and allow them to discover what they like or dislike.”

TELL US MORE ABOUT THE FILM’S NARRATIVE.

“The film follows a young documentary duo who try to make a profile video of Maryanne, an eccentric tissue‑peddler cartel leader with exquisite taste and style. We follow the duo as they become privy to her private life, unveiling Maryanne’s obsessive tendencies and yearning for connection … Three years ago, I was sniffling in a taxi and the driver handed me a packet of 4PLY O’Darling tissues with an anime girl on the packet. I was inspired and began weaving together the story of a tissue‑peddler cartel in 2022. I continued to rewrite after many breaks to develop Maryanne’s character.”

WHAT DO YOU HOPE THE FILM ADDS TO THE CONVERSATION ABOUT SINGAPORE’S HISTORY, IDENTITY OR COLLECTIVE MEMORY?

“My wish is that my film spotlights a forgotten group of elderly who reside in the margins of our national memory. A common discourse surrounding peddlers is that they’re beggars or helpless. But if you speak to these peddlers – or your grandparents – you’ll learn how they’re wise, eccentric and have their own aspirations. It’s convenient to neglect marginalised communities in a neoliberal society. I hope my film remembers our tissue peddlers and sparks discourse on remembering the invisible.”

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE THE CURRENT STATE OF SINGAPORE’S FILM SCENE?

“Starved and hungry. There’s an inexhaustible zest for creating and so many talented film‑makers need the support of fellow Singaporeans. With new crises, I feel optimistic because of ground‑up initiatives by people in our community. We’re desperate and determined!”

WHAT EXCITES YOU IN LOCAL AND/OR SOUTHEAST ASIAN FILM‑MAKING TODAY?

“I’m psyched about co‑productions and co‑operations between talented film‑makers across the region. Whether it’s working on a film together or film‑criticism projects like Exposure Print and MARG1N, we learn so much from one another. That challenges and enhances our artistry.”

WHAT’S THE LAST NON‑FILM THING THAT REALLY INSPIRED YOU?

“An Instagram Live of a man feeding a rather ugly handmade doll. It made me realise that all people really want is connection and intimacy. It was disturbing at first glance, but extremely human – and I empathised deeply.”

WHAT’S ONE SINGAPORE FILM EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH AND WHY?

“Shirkers (2018) by Sandi Tan. It’s captivating, personal and fun. I love seeing the recovered footage that showed how Singapore’s localities and landscape looked back in the 1990s. This film encapsulates how creative and special Singaporeans’ voices can be.”

WHAT’S YOUR LETTERBOXD TOP FOUR?

“The Gleaners and I (2000) by Agnes Varda; Memories of Murder (2003) by Bong Joon Ho; A Brighter Summer Day (1991) by Edward Yang; Moving (1993) by Shinji Somai.”

WHAT ELSE ARE YOU WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT?

“I’m working on a documentary short, weaving together personal autobiographical memory and national history and archives. I’m taking my time to research and explore the memories concerning my late detective grandfather as well as the purification of Singapore’s history of secret societies.”

CHRISTINE SEOW

Based in London, this 31‑year‑old Singapore film‑maker recently graduated with a master’s in directing documentary from the National Film and Television School (NFTS). Growing up with a passion for stories, she forayed into film‑making at Nanyang Technological University when she took the Global Cinema Studies module. It sparked her curiosity in the art form and led her to join the SGIFF’s Youth Jury in 2016. Citing it as a formative experience, she says her appreciation for the region deepened after watching Southeast Asian short films and discussing them with other young cinephiles. This prompted her to assist on films such as Anthony Chen’s Wet Season (2019) and to direct her own documentaries. At this year’s SGIFF, Seow will show Two Travelling Aunties (2025) – a documentary she describes as “Chloe Zhao’s Nomadland (2020) meets Jin Mo‑young’s My Love, Don’t Cross That River (2014)”.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR FILM‑MAKING STYLE? WHO ARE YOUR INSPIRATIONS?

“I’d say my style is collaborative. I enjoy exploring together with my team. I gravitate towards documentaries for how open the form is – stories often evolve in unexpected ways. I’m also drawn to films that blur the lines between fiction and non‑fiction, or are a little quirky with lots of heart. I take inspiration from everyday people rather than big names: those who quietly lead courageous and meaningful lives without needing accolades to show for it.”

WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE SHORT‑FILM FORMAT AND WHAT ARE THE ADVANTAGES?

“I’ve come to appreciate the format because it requires one to present a story in a focused way – like a snapshot of a larger picture. You don’t have to explain everything or resolve every thread; instead, you can capture an emotion or a glimpse into a world that invites curiosity. The strength of a short lies in its ability to leave audiences wanting more, and it’s a strong starting point for a feature‑length version.”

WHAT CAN AUDIENCES EXPECT FROM TWO TRAVELLING AUNTIES?

“It follows two spirited Singaporean women in their late fifties, Norah and Susie, who decide to leave behind the comfort and routine of city life to travel the world in a camper van. In Singapore, the term ‘auntie’ often connotes being old or outdated, but Norah and Susie are redefining it. Calling themselves the ‘Two Travelling Aunties’ on social media, they share their overlanding experiences and reclaim the term as something bold. It’s about courage and taking control of your life – especially at an age when society expects you to slow down or settle into convention. Norah and Susie are life partners, and their journey is one of quiet defiance. The film is full of heart, reminding us that it’s never too late to live life on your own terms.”

HOW DID THE STORY COME ABOUT?

“The film started as my graduation project in the UK. I was curious to explore an Asian story abroad. Around that time, there was discourse in Singapore about active ageing. A friend sent me an article about two women in their late fifties travelling the world in a van. Their story felt fresh and unexpected, especially coming from a small, conservative country like Singapore. I followed the duo on Instagram, we clicked on a call, and they were open to me joining them on their journey across South America. I’m grateful my school supported me to fly to Colombia to film them.”

HOW DO YOU PERSONALLY DEFINE SUCCESS AS A FILM‑MAKER?

“It’s a little bit of everything: participation in festivals, longevity and a community presence. Participation in festivals help build a track record and open doors. Through that, you build confidence and support for sustained work. My biggest success is when the people in my film have seen it and feel a positive impact. When subjects and contributors feel seen or understood through cinema – that’s the most meaningful.”

WHAT KIND OF INFRASTRUCTURE WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MORE OF IN SINGAPORE’S FILM SCENE?

“I’d love to see more labs – especially those catering to the documentary or hybrid formats. It’d also be great to have more screening venues focused on independent or alternative films – spaces that don’t always prioritise commercial success, but champion diverse voices and perspectives. It’d be amazing to have a festival specific to documentaries, where local and regional documentary film‑makers come together, share work and build community. I’d also love a stronger distribution network or various community groups, and film education for our youths and adults alike so that people can be exposed to a wider range of stories and learn to appreciate different forms of cinema.”

WHAT’S ONE SINGAPORE FILM EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH AND WHY?

“Eating Air (1999) by Kelvin Tong and Jasmine Ng. It’s fun and full of heart, and has a unique energy – there’s no other local film quite like it.”

WHAT ELSE ARE YOU WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT?

“I’m developing Two Travelling Aunties into a feature documentary and pitching it at international labs. The film will follow Norah and Susie on their most epic adventure yet: driving from Malaysia to Norway, overlanding from Asia into Europe. It’s early days yet, and it’ll take shape over the next couple of years. I’m also exploring a few new ideas and collaborating with other documentary film‑makers.”

IZZY OSMAN

At 25, Izzy’s film‑making sits somewhere between Sandi Tan’s Shirkers (2018) and Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird (2017). A leap of faith from music to film at the School of the Arts, Singapore (Sota) led to a Bachelor of Fine Arts in cinematography and film/video production from New York’s Pratt Institute. Next came the Gen Z dream: a full‑time job at the American independent entertainment company A24. Although working in the American film industry was eye‑opening, Izzy missed the hands‑on making her corporate role lacked. In pursuit of something more creatively fulfilling, she moved back to Singapore and left the 9‑to‑5 to focus on her own projects.

Now a freelance director, editor and colourist, she presents The Water is Blue in Tanjong Katong (2024) at the 2025 SGIFF – an examination of Malaysian composer P. Ramlee’s legacy and its place within Singapore’s Malay community. If you love film history and mood‑driven, atmospheric work, this will hit the sweet spot between nostalgia and discovery.

WHAT DOES FILM‑MAKING MEAN TO YOU AND HOW HAS THAT CHANGED WITH TIME?

“Film‑making is sociopolitical to me. My drive comes from wanting to tell under‑represented stories and represent communities that don’t appear on screen. At Sota, I saw film‑making as escapism; New York changed that. As a foreigner, my instinct was to observe. Studying with Ghanaian‑American film‑maker Akosua Adoma Owusu reframed how I thought about documentaries – there isn’t one right way to tell a true story. I fell in love with experimentation and mixing mediums, textures and formats. A24 gave me another education – teaching me about operations, agents, producers, directors, actors. The glamour can be blinding, and access is shaped by privilege. At times, I almost gave up when ‘making it’ felt distant. Stepping away, breathing and returning home reset me. Reconnecting with the community reminded me why I started making films.”

TELL US MORE ABOUT YOUR SHORT FILM.

“The Water is Blue in Tanjong Katong is an intimate reflection on memory, heritage and belonging. In it, I speak with my dad, plus friends and their families, about growing up with P. Ramlee’s movies and how his work still resonates. Through these conversations, the film looks at the once‑vibrant Malay entertainment industry in Singapore and what its decline says about the nation’s rapidly urbanising landscape – how progress can cost cultural memory.”

WHY MAKE THE FILM AND HOW DID NAVIGATING TWO MULTICULTURAL CITIES SHAPE IT?

“P. Ramlee’s movies were my introduction to cinema. Growing up, his films were always playing in my household … Talking to my father about them and hearing his memories gave me a chance to not only document something cultural, but also bridge generations. I got to understand my father’s world and through that, my own roots. The whole process was emotional and grounding. Imagine: Someone so prolific like P. Ramlee, who profoundly shaped Southeast Asian cinema, remains relatively unknown outside the region. His work during the golden age of Malay cinema in Singapore, from the late 1940s to the early ’70s, became a cornerstone of our collective memory.

I want to give others a window into the cultural impact he left on my community and honour the way his art lives on. Being surrounded by New Yorkers carrying their own struggles and defending their identities made me lean into my own perspective as a Malay‑Singaporean woman. Sometimes, people don’t fully understand the cultural nuances in my work and that’s okay! What matters is creating from a place of authenticity, even if that means explaining less and feeling more.”

WHY A SHORT AND WHAT ARE ITS ADVANTAGES?

“This film began as my thesis project at Pratt Institute, which meant it had to take the form of a short film. Besides that, I think The Water is Blue in Tanjong Katong lives perfectly as a short. Its 13:13 runtime feels deliberate – not a minute too long or too short. The brevity gives it a kind of emotional precision, offering a glimpse rather than an exhaustive deep dive into the themes I’m exploring: the parallel decline of Singapore’s golden age of cinema and the rapid urbanisation of the city. Both speak to the loss of cultural symbols and spaces that once defined who we are. With the film leaning into the experimental documentary genre, the short format allows the visuals to do most of the talking. It’s meant to evoke, not instruct.”

WHAT KEEPS YOU GOING AS A MALAY WOMAN IN THE FILM INDUSTRY?

“Growing up, I rarely saw the Malay‑Singaporean experience on screen; when it appeared, it was flattened or framed through someone else’s lens. So much lives in the everyday: gestures, sounds, rhythms. That’s what I want to preserve and celebrate.”

WHAT’S ONE SINGAPORE FILM EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH AND WHY?

“Tan Pin Pin’s To Singapore, with Love (2013). It’s essential not just for its subject, but also for what it represents about ‘home’. It’s deeply human, and invites us to confront national identity with empathy and nuance.”

WHAT ELSE ARE YOU WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT?

“An experimental‑documentary extension of The Water is Blue in Tanjong Katong, exploring urbanisation, cultural identity, and memory as both personal and collective. I’m also branching into fashion‑film collaborations.”

ALL INTERVIEWS HAVE BEEN EDITED FOR BREVITY AND CLARITY.

This article first appeared in Volume 4 of F ZINE.