Work | BAFTA-Nominated Short Film by Aneil Karia | Film Review and Analysis

 

I watched Work and found it to be a quiet but powerful look at what it means to survive in a world full of small humiliations and unending expectations. The film follows Jasmine, as she moves through her day doing normal things: riding the bus, sitting at meetings, or nodding along in office lunches. But small moments like being ignored in a meeting or replying with a tight smile reveal deeper tensions. Through her eyes, I felt the constant pressure of microaggressions and the burden of always appearing okay.

Jasmine’s performance stood out to me. The actress doesn’t say much, but everything she does speaks volumes. In one scene, her bus arrives, and she hesitates, maybe she’s tired, maybe she’s preparing herself for another long day. In an office lunch, when her boss asks, “Do you even give a fuck?”, the moment is so raw and real that my heart tightened. She barely reacts, but I could feel how she absorbs that question, how she learns not to let it break her.

The camera in Work doesn’t rush. It watches Jasmine from a distance in some scenes, and in others, it gets close to her face or body language. By keeping the camera steady, the film lets us settle into her world—it feels like we’re walking alongside her, seeing what she sees. The colours are muted, mainly gray and soft lighting, highlighting the dullness of everyday office life but also giving space for emotional moments to matter.

Sound is quiet but meaningful. I heard the hum of the air conditioner, muffled office chatter, and the thud of footsteps. These background sounds made silence feel weighty. In one scene, what wasn’t said mattered more—her quiet breath, a slight glance, as if she was managing internal panic. Without music or dramatic effects, those small sounds shaped the mood.

Overall, Work left a lasting impression. I didn’t just watch a film about a day at the office, I watched a story about resilience, about how people carry stress and emotional weight, even when nobody sees it. It exceeded my expectations by showing how everyday life itself can be loud and painful if you know where to listen.

I’d recommend this film to anyone who cares about stories with subtle emotional depth. It’s a reminder to notice the unnoticed, to imagine what people carry behind their quiet smiles, and to remember that strength often hides in silence.

In Work, it follows Jess (played by Jasmine Breinburg), a teenage dancer in London whose day is marked by a series of oppressive encounters. As the protagonist, Jess's goal is to maintain her dignity and sense of self despite the unfairness she experiences. She wants to feel safe and moving in control of her body and her path even though the world around her tries to tell her otherwise 

The antagonist is the persistent injustice and harassment Jess faces: brusque bus drivers, judgmental table-service staff who grill her about her appearance (“any other shaved items?”), and street-level microaggressions and leers. These interactions reveal a principle that says, “You’re on display, your body isn’t yours, and you must accommodate others’ discomfort.”

Jess’s struggle unfolds through these encounters, both small and jarring. Every interaction chips away at her—emotionally and physically. As viewers, we’re placed right there with her through the tense close-ups and handheld camerawork that make us feel the weight of each injustice happening in real time.

The climax arrives when Jess finally lets her passion surface. In an intimate sequence whether it’s rehearsal or performance, we watch her step into her power. She dances with purpose, using movement as a way to reclaim space and dignity. It's her response to the world: instead of shrinking, she expands.

By the end, nothing in her environment has changed—the injustices are still there—but Jess has changed. With every step she takes, she’s reminding the world she exists beyond its expectations. Her personal triumph is in continuing her dance, not for anyone else, but for herself. Through movement, she resists being defined by pain—and in doing so, finds her own quiet strength.

Link to the film: https://youtu.be/nkqgjsMDYho?si=nLVlBR1EUdip8ADF

Published by: Ebenezer Amankwah Kwaning, Group 6

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