Steeped in tension yet tender in its empathy, An Advert for One Night thrusts two strangers into the charged confines of a hotel room, where unspoken trauma surfaces under flickering light. The film’s writer‑director, Graham Birch—whose lockdown‑era plunge into filmmaking has already yielded both features and shorts—merges psychological realism with a dream‑like visual palette to probe loneliness, abuse, and the fragile paths toward healing. In this conversation, Birch unpacks the cautionary roots of the story, the emotive lighting crafted with cinematographer Ross Yeandle, and the collaborative care required to portray raw experiences responsibly. What follows is a candid Q&A that illuminates the film’s intimate power—and offers urgent words of support to anyone living through similar pain.
Patrick Roy, UniversalCinema Magazine (UM): What drew you to tell this particular story—two women meeting under unusual circumstances and revealing such raw, painful truths?
Graham Birch (GB): For the first, I wanted to tell a story of caution: people aren’t what they seem, and you must be aware at all times. Don’t leave your friends. Don’t go against your judgment. The second one is based on a friend who suffered terribly in a relationship. Both are stories that need highlighting.
(UM): You’ve described the film as being “lit in a way that is unique to highlight key emotions.” Can you talk more about your approach to lighting and how it helped express the characters’ inner worlds?
(GB): Yes, I was lucky enough to work with Ross Yeandle, who is a DoP of the highest calibre. His lighting experience allowed me to set the lighting based on whether the characters felt nervous, angry, or more peaceful. It was supposed to be like a dream state at times. In a film so based on emotions, I wanted to visually draw the audience in. Whether that happens is up to each viewer!
(UM): The film delicately navigates themes of abuse, trauma, and healing. How did you approach directing these emotionally intense scenes with your cast?
(GB): The cast were superb, and I gave them the freedom to try some of the more powerful words in different ways. I trusted my cast to deliver—and, in my opinion, they did. I also asked their opinion on the words in the script to make sure that they fit the mindset of each cast member. There were challenging moments, but the whole crew worked very hard to deliver.
(UM): How did you ensure a safe and supportive environment for your actors, especially when portraying scenes involving past or ongoing abuse?
(GB): We shot over a longer period so that the cast could take their time. If it got too much, they could call a break at any point. There was no pressure to rush scenes, and I had spoken to everyone before filming.
(UM): The setting—a hotel room—feels intimate and almost theatrical. What did that confined space allow you to explore cinematically and emotionally?
(GB): It allowed us to create different settings within a small space and move the emotion around the room. The bed was a safe space; the floor, not so much. The bathroom was a danger area, but with moments of peace. It also made the film about the story, not the setting.
(UM): As someone who began directing during the COVID lockdown, how has your journey as a filmmaker influenced the emotional depth or themes of this film?
(GB): It wasn’t so much starting during COVID that drove the themes; rather, COVID gave me the time to start. I have huge concerns over women’s mental health (well, all mental health, as men’s and women’s mental health are intrinsically linked). I found a study from 2016 in the UK that said 26% of women aged 18–40 have a “minor depressive episode” requiring chemical intervention. Anyone who has experienced depression (sadly a large number of people) knows that it is not “minor.” I wanted to start looking at reasons why, in the UK, women’s mental health is deteriorating so quickly.
(UM): Did you draw on any personal experiences or stories shared with you when writing this script? How personal did this film become during production?
(GB): I very much drew on experiences that friends went through. I want people to really consider situations like these, and if one person spots it because of the film, then job done—worth it.
(UM): You’ve made both features and shorts—how does the format affect your storytelling, especially for emotionally driven narratives like this one?
(GB): You have to get to the key points faster in a short. You can’t build a story base; you have to go straight to the main elements. There is talk of turning this into a feature, and there is a plan to.
(UM): This story leaves audiences asking what Lisa and Sarah will do next. How important was ambiguity or open‑endedness in shaping the film’s final message?
(GB): Great question—very. It keeps all the elements of the film in the hotel room and focuses on the journey they took there. It does allow the audience to imagine what happens next, but it doesn’t detract from the key message.
(UM): What would you say to someone currently in an abusive relationship who watches this film and sees a reflection of their own experience?
(GB): Act now and get out. It destroyed my friend—they are only just back to their old self and still have regular PTSD. It will be extremely hard. Don’t believe the threats—just go to friends or family. Cut off all contact completely. If you feel threatened, don’t even tell them—just go. Your friends and family will help. If you are alone and they’ve cut you off from your friends and family, then reach out to anyone you see—if you want, reach out to me, and my friends and family will help. Don’t stay in the relationship out of fear.
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