Girl Girl Girl
2026 · 2m
Directed by Amélia Savaric
Tones: humorous, melancholic, tender
Cléo wakes after a date to find the man she slept with gone. Her flatmates rush in for details, then try, each in her own very different way, to console the sad Cléo as she questions her worth.
Picked by Zoe
The scouts
Girl Girl Girl does the obvious thing—sad girl, concerned friends, soft lessons learned—and somehow I'm bored before the title card. There's no risk here, no premise that makes me actually pause; just well-meaning flatmates playing support roles in a script that reads like a dozen other intimacy-hangover shorts.
Savaric demonstrates formal control in how she stages the flatmates' interventions—each consolation strategy a distinct register, almost a triptych of modes—and there's real lineage to draw here: the tradition of female ensemble pieces wrestling with vulnerability. The tenderness lands because the composition earns it.
What lifts this is the sound design in the transition moments—the way ambient dread bleeds into each flatmate's entrance, and then abruptly cuts to their warmth—that single sonic choice does more work than the dialogue ever could to map Cléo's internal state. That's the decision that made me believe in the whole thing.