Late Shift Review (SXSW London 2025)

It’s no secret that health systems are on their knees. In the UK, there are endless reports of staff shortages, poor working conditions, and the strain medical labour puts on practitioners. Petra Biondina Volpe brings the issue into sharper focus with Late Shift, a snapshot of a single titular shift on a surgical ward.

The film begins in an industrial launderette. Scrubs are slowly making their way along a conveyor system, blue tabard upon blue tabard sliding across the screen. No humans are seen here – this is a mechanical process, one that runs without issue. When we first get into the hospital, it seems that it’s operating in the same way. Things are busy, but nurse Floria Lind (Leonie Benesch) is quickly briefed on the current patients by another nurse and snaps into action with a smile. Gradually, though, things on the understaffed ward become increasingly hectic, the two nurses and their shadowing student pulled in any number of directions at once.

Benesch is incredible as Floria. Despite the strengths of the film in all areas, the nuance she gives to this performance, the complete believability she provides to the role, takes it to the next level. Microexpressions give a depth to her character and tell a story in themselves of the enduring pressure she is under, and there’s a beauty to the fluidity of her movements, a practiced grace that speaks of Floria’s extensive experience – and Benesch’s extensive rehearsals. Without her, the film could be good. With her, it’s great.

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The pacing of Late Shift is equally well-executed, emphasising the endless list of tasks that accumulate during a nurse’s shift and the crises, big and small, that disrupt their completion. As the tension builds up, though, there are also moments of pause that allow us to connect with Floria and her patients on a personal level. The gentle care that Floria takes to ensure that those she cares for are comfortable is striking, and acts as a sharp juxtaposition to the harsh, clinical manner that she must take at other moments. One of her first tasks at the hospital is changing an elderly woman’s incontinence nappy, which she executes with cool efficiency. Later, she sings to the woman to calm her. As the two duet in a gentle harmony, the camera slowly pans away, a moment of pause in a space that is anything but peaceful.

The film does an excellent job of removing any sense of there being an antagonist in challenging situations, Volpe’s care not to ascribe blame, enhancing the urgent need for change. Each character’s reaction to what’s going on around them can be sympathised with – even the stereotypical ‘rich asshole’ character who demands special treatment and times, on his €40,000 watch, how long it takes for each of his requests to be met. Above all, everyone who comes into this space is afraid.

Whether it manifests as screams or rage, that fear is understandable. Yet the fact that it is so often taken out on those who work there, who are faced with the inconceivable responsibilities of others’ lives and health on a day-to-day basis, is undeniably unfair. Even those who appreciate Floria put a tremendous emotional burden on her; one woman wonders whether it’s worth going through chemotherapy again. Another worries about what will happen to his dog if he dies. It adds up, and it never ends. “Are you here tomorrow?” One patient asks. Floria smiles and assents.

Beyond being a brilliant piece of cinema, Late Shift is a stark reflection of the worldwide nursing shortage and the dire consequences that come of it. It’s an exhausting watch – the hospital taking over from kitchens as the cinematic stress-inducing work environment of choice – but one that is well worth engaging with. Devastating, touching and angering in equal measure.