Internationally recognised art and literary critic, writer and cultural producer. Published in ELLE, Glamour, Esquire and Cosmopolitan; member of the Union of Writers.
Every October, the machinery of the BFI London Film Festival whirs into life. There are the gala screenings, the red carpets, the managed buzz of an industry presenting its finished, polished products to the world. But deep within the festival’s engine room, something far more fundamental is taking place. It’s here, in the quiet intensity of the BFI NETWORK@LFF programme, that the future of British filmmaking is being sketched out. This is not about celebrating what has already been made, but about nurturing what is yet to come.
This year, fifteen writers, directors, and producers have been selected to take part. To call them the ‘brightest’ or ‘boldest’ is to resort to the hollow language of press releases. It’s more accurate to see them as cartographers, each tasked with mapping a new corner of our cultural and emotional landscape. Their selection is not merely an accolade; it is a statement of intent from the industry itself, a bet on where the compelling stories of tomorrow will be found. Looking at the assembled cohort, the map they are collectively drawing reveals a British cinema that is less centralised, more formally daring, and more attuned to the complex textures of contemporary life than ever before.
This programme is, in a sense, the BFI’s most crucial investment. While premieres create headlines, talent labs create careers. The alumni list reads like a roll call of filmmakers who have defined the last half-decade of British film: Aleem Khan’s BAFTA-winning After Love, the Cannes success of Harry Lighton’s Pillion and Akinola Davies Jr.’s My Father’s Shadow, and Sandhya Suri’s BIFA-winning Santosh. These are not coincidences; they are the result of a deliberate, focused process of identifying and supporting singular voices before the wider industry takes notice. The programme acts like a greenhouse, providing the specific conditions for rare talent to flourish.
An Unravelling of the Metropolis
For decades, the gravity of British film has pulled inexorably towards London. This year’s cohort suggests a significant, and welcome, recalibration. There is a palpable sense of filmmakers drawing strength and specificity from their roots, telling stories that are deeply embedded in place.
From Northern Ireland, writer Shannon Welby, fresh from the writers’ room of the acclaimed BBC drama Blue Lights, brings a voice honed by the unique cadences and complexities of the North West of Ireland. Her stated mantra of ‘good collaboration, good manners, and good craic’ is not just a charming aphorism; it points to a method of storytelling grounded in community and authenticity. In Glasgow, director Hannah Currie and producer Sophie Chater are forging a distinctively Scottish narrative identity. Currie’s work on sensitive human stories, such as her BAFTA-winning short That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore, and Chater’s production of Blackwool, the first Scottish short to premiere at Tribeca, signals a maturity and confidence in the nation’s filmmaking scene.
Further south, in the Midlands, Chloe Culpin’s journey from Nottingham to Sundance and back demonstrates a commitment to building a career outside the capital. Her work, spanning writing, directing, and producing, is a testament to the resilience and resourcefulness of regional filmmaking. From Wales, producer Ray Wilson actively champions queer stories through their company Panad Productions, using genre as a lens to explore social issues. Their work, supported by Ffilm Cymru, is creating a vital space for narratives that have long been pushed to the margins. This is not regional filmmaking as a novelty, but as a source of narrative power.
Reality, Re-Imagined
Perhaps the most striking feature of the 2025 cohort is the strength of its documentary strand, supported by the BFI Doc Society Fund. In an age saturated with fleeting, disposable content, there is a clear and growing hunger for sustained, thoughtful engagement with the real world. These filmmakers are not simply reporters; they are interpreters, finding myth and meaning in the fabric of everyday life.
Anna Snowball, a Screen International Star of Tomorrow, exemplifies this approach. Her award-winning short Iranian Yellow Pages takes what could be a simple cultural artefact and uses it as a prism through which to explore themes of diaspora, memory, and identity. It’s a work of immense creative intelligence. Jessica Bishopp’s fascination with subcultures and our connection to place has produced a body of work that is both specific and universal. Her films, featured everywhere from SXSW to The New Yorker, reveal the hidden worlds that exist all around us, waiting to be seen.
Meanwhile, Hansel Rodrigues, working across both documentary and fiction, focuses on crafting accessible, cinematic stories that embrace the messy, multi-tonal nature of real life. His approach rejects easy categorisation, finding hope and nuance in complex situations. This new wave of documentary is less interested in delivering objective truth than in exploring subjective experience, using the full arsenal of cinematic language to do so. They are proving that non-fiction can be as formally inventive and emotionally resonant as any scripted drama.
The Architects of Form
Beyond specific themes or regions, a number of the selected filmmakers are distinguished by their command of cinematic language itself. They are formalists, in the best sense of the word, using visual storytelling to create visceral, unforgettable experiences.
Matty Crawford, a British Filipino writer-director, creates films that, in his own words, “burrow under your skin.” His success at festivals like TIFF and SXSW is a result of his ability to blend unflinching emotion with a bold, often unsettling, visual style. In a similar vein, Brighton-based Jesse Lewis-Reece moves between BAFTA-nominated shorts and high-concept commercial work, his projects unified by a blend of emotional intimacy and formal invention. His upcoming feature, The Tallest Hotel in Tokyo, described as a “time-splitting romantic drama,” suggests an ambition to push the boundaries of narrative structure.
Elham Ehsas, an actor turned writer-director, brings an emotionally grounded but politically resonant perspective, focusing on underrepresented voices. His Oscar-shortlisted short Yellow demonstrates a rare ability to tackle huge themes with a delicate, human touch. From animation, Josephine Lohoar Self has transitioned to live-action with a distinct visual sensibility. Her BFI NETWORK-funded short Daddy’s Girl and upcoming feature The Wall Dogs point to a filmmaker who thinks deeply about every frame. These are not just storytellers, but world-builders.
Forging the Industry’s Future
Rounding out the cohort are producers and writers who are the essential architects of any film, shaping projects from the ground up. London-based producer Cheri Darbon, through her company June & Stella Productions, has a clear mission: to champion distinctive, underrepresented stories, with a focus on subcultures and identity. Her work on the BIFA-winning Festival Of Slaps and her association with Michaela Coel and A24 mark her as a producer with an impeccable eye for talent.
Producer Hannah Tookey, based in the North, combines genre and issue-led stories with impact campaigns, demonstrating a modern understanding of a film’s life beyond the cinema. Her development of the supernatural thriller Arkadia alongside her documentary work shows a versatility that is crucial for career longevity. Finally, writer-director Courteney Tan operates at the intersection of prestige television and independent film. Having a pilot mentored by Jed Mercurio while also developing a BFI-funded feature shows a command of both commercial and auteur-driven storytelling.
To look at these fifteen individuals is to see not a random assortment of talent, but a coherent vision of the future. The BFI NETWORK@LFF programme is more than just a training lab; it is an act of curation. It is selecting the voices and perspectives that will prevent British cinema from becoming a stagnant heritage industry. These filmmakers are proof that the most exciting stories are often found far from the centre, in the specificities of place, the nuances of identity, and the daring reinvention of form. The work they do over the next decade will not just entertain; it will define how we see ourselves.
