Why Short Films Still Need Proper Crews

Short films are often seen as the place where corners can be cut.

Because they’re short, the assumption is that they’re simple. Because they’re self-funded or low budget, there’s a belief that a reduced crew is not only acceptable, but somehow part of the creative process. “It’s only a short” is a phrase I’ve heard many times over the years.

In reality, short films are often where craft is most exposed.

Unlike features or television drama, shorts don’t have scale, spectacle or duration to hide behind. There is nowhere for weak performances, poor coverage, continuity problems or compromised sound to go. Every decision is visible. Every mistake is amplified. If anything, a short film demands more precision, not less.

Shorts are not simpler — they are tighter.

Most shorts are dialogue-driven. They live or die on performance, rhythm and clarity. Coverage is limited, editorial options are fewer, and there is rarely the luxury of “finding the film in the edit.”

When you’re telling a story in ten or fifteen minutes, continuity matters enormously. Performance matching matters. Sound matters. Eye lines, pacing and structure matter. Remove too many of the people whose job it is to protect those things, and the film starts accumulating problems that no amount of goodwill can fix later.

On the set of the, “Changing Tune,” a well crewed Short that went on to a great festival run. Directed by Nick Fuller.

The false economy of cutting crew.

The most common justification for reducing crew is cost. But what’s often overlooked is that cutting crew doesn’t remove cost — it simply moves it elsewhere.

A missing role on set usually reappears later as:

• lost time

• compromised footage

• editorial difficulties

• reshoots

• or, in the worst cases, a film that is never finished

For example, removing a script supervisor on a narrative short might save money on the day, but it creates serious risk in post-production. Editors rely on continuity notes, performance tracking and detailed logs to build a coherent film. Without them, dialogue scenes become far harder to assemble, especially when coverage is limited.

Similarly, removing proper camera or lighting support doesn’t make the shoot more “agile.” It spreads key responsibilities too thinly. The DOP ends up firefighting, focus suffers, lighting becomes rushed, and the overall quality of the work drops — not because of lack of skill, but because of lack of bandwidth.

“But people shoot shorts on phones…”

Yes, they do. And sometimes that works — particularly when the concept is built around that limitation from the very beginning.

But most narrative shorts are not experimental exercises. They are actor-led dramas with emotional beats, subtext and precision blocking. Treating those films as if they can be captured casually, without the appropriate crew, is rarely a creative decision. It’s usually a logistical gamble.

When those gambles fail, the cost isn’t just financial. Crew goodwill is lost. Confidence is shaken. And the director is left carrying the weight of a project that didn’t become what it should have been.

What successful shorts tend to have in common

The short films I’ve been involved with that have gone on to have strong festival runs all share similar traits:

• clear preparation

• rehearsed performances

• realistic schedules

• and properly crewed departments

None of them were lavish. All of them were carefully considered.

In every case, the filmmakers understood that the crew wasn’t a luxury — they were the infrastructure that allowed the film to exist in a finished, professional form.

A better way to think about it

If a short film budget feels too tight, the answer is rarely to remove key crew roles. More often, it’s to rethink:

• scope

• locations

• page count

• or shooting schedule

Reducing ambition in the script is far less damaging than reducing the people whose job it is to protect the work.

Short films are often stepping stones — for directors, writers, actors and crew alike. Treating them seriously isn’t indulgent; it’s practical. A well-made short has a long life. A compromised one often doesn’t make it out of post.

In the end, the goal isn’t just to shoot a short film. It’s to finish it — and to be proud of it.

Mark