Some short films keep things small and simple. Two characters, one flat, one conflict. Done and dusted. But Mia, Alex and Dean Make a Movie doesn’t play that game. Instead, it throws every creative idea at the screen in just seven minutes and somehow makes it all stick. This is filmmaking with fizz, a comedy that’s fast, meta, chaotic, and incredibly well executed.
Written and directed by Declan Smith, the short begins in a café with three friends — Mia (Georgie McGuigan), Alex (Megan Dunnico), and Dean (Giuseppe Manzione) — debating over who is the real main character in their story. The argument quickly breaks the fourth wall, turning the audience into the jury, as each character presents their case with visual flair, scene-stealing transitions, and rapid location changes. What follows is a joyfully unhinged narrative battle where each character grabs control of the story and sends it in wildly different directions.
Mia fades to black and attempts to end the first scene. Dean rewinds the fade-out to reclaim his moment. Alex hijacks the setting entirely, turning the café into a misty woodland scene complete with vampire teeth and a new colour grade, before initiating a chase across a graffiti-splashed bridge. It is quick, clever, and packed with visual energy.
The script is sharp and funny, riffing on cinematic conventions without ever coming across as smug. It has the same sort of kinetic irreverence that makes shows like Peep Show or films like Deadpool so engaging. Yet despite the constant stylistic shifts, the short always keeps the characters grounded and the humour accessible.
Technically, the film is on point. Todd Franklin’s cinematography handles the tonal changes with confidence, while Leonardo Faruggia’s score hits the right balance between playful and polished. The edit by Moult Samuel is the glue that keeps the pace tight and the transitions inventive. His visual effects, combined with solid production design and clean audio by Liz Ng and Luca Pitrolino, lift this into a tier far above many of its low-budget peers.
What is most impressive, though, is the ambition. In just seven minutes, Smith’s film zips through a remarkable number of settings: café, woods, cinema entrance, train carriage, apartment, and more. Most short films play it safe with limited cast and locked locations. Here, the filmmakers have clearly gone the extra mile, and that effort is felt in every shot. From a spontaneous chess match to a still-life drawing session involving bedsheets and bickering, to a surprise body-swap gag, the short never stops finding new ways to keep us entertained.
Each of the three leads deserves credit for making the chaos so enjoyable. Dunnico as Alex is confident and cheeky, Manzione as Dean brings the sort of wide-eyed mischief that sells the comedy, and McGuigan’s Mia is equal parts deadpan and dryly self-aware. The chemistry between them is believable and holds the whole thing together.
The body swap sequence, in particular, could have easily fallen into crass or lazy humour, but instead it plays like the final punchline of a sketch that has earned its absurdity. Dean’s delight at suddenly being in Mia’s body is met with the perfect level of comedic discomfort, and the film wisely pulls back before overplaying the joke.
Behind the scenes, the crew deserves a lot of praise. Producers Ben Fletcher, Simone Wiles, Charles Clueit, Valery Akpojiyovwi, and Smith himself have shepherded something genuinely slick here. Rufus Wilson’s gaffing, Emmanuel Benjamin’s colour grading, and Ciaran Shea’s assistant direction all contribute to a short that looks, sounds, and feels far more expensive than it probably was.
If there is any criticism to be made, it is that some viewers may find the rapid-fire pace a little overwhelming. There is no time to dwell, no space for slow scenes or subtle emotional arcs. But that’s clearly by design. This is a short film built for energy and laughs, not brooding monologues or quiet drama.
In the end, Mia, Alex and Dean Make a Movie is a celebration of creativity. It is a self-aware, self-deprecating, and joyfully anarchic spin on storytelling, made by people who clearly love what they do. For a film so focused on asking who the main character is, the real answer might be: the filmmakers. Because they’re the ones who steal the show.
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