Our Finishing Funds Winner for the 2025 Spring Season of our Short Film Fund is THE TRUTH ABOUT SPACE, written and directed by Jeremiah Towolawi. The story follows a young man who is released from prison and must face up to the lie that his estranged daughter has been led to believe—that he was in space.
Tell us a little about your short. What is it about and what inspired you to write it?
THE TRUTH ABOUT SPACE is about a young man released from prison who must confront the lie he told his daughter – that he was in space. It’s a film about rehabilitation, forgiveness, and facing the truth when it’s most uncomfortable, when the lie seems so much more enticing. The inspiration came one day when I was heading to church. As I left the house, I heard a bang, ran outside, and saw a car crash. A young man had driven into some people on the street. The crowd was chasing him, already excited about his punishment, frothing at the mouth about him going to prison. At church, I couldn’t stop thinking about his life. What happens after? He looked dressed for a party, not intending for this to happen. I think he was intoxicated. His parents didn’t expect this. He has people who love him, but how do you move forward from something that everyone knows about and reminds you of? I wanted to write a story about that, and THE TRUTH ABOUT SPACE was born.
I love using genre to explore societal issues that could more easily be explored in a grounded way. In particular, prison and life after are so often depicted in not just grounded but gritty ways within film, and I wanted to push against that stereotype. I also noticed that Black men and women aren’t often depicted within space in sci-fi films, and I wanted to change that visual. I drew inspiration from Interstellar and Arrival, using a big, juicy metaphor to tell this story, all while centring it on a father-daughter relationship that’s truly the beating heart of this film. That’s how THE TRUTH ABOUT SPACE came to life.
What motivated you to enter the Short Film Fund? How did you feel when you found out that you won?
We entered the Short Film Fund because we believed in the film and hoped others would too. We knew we were telling a story bigger than ourselves. If you’ve had an absent father, a loved one behind bars, or simply struggled to tell the truth, you’ll resonate with it. From looking at the previous grant recipients, I believed Shore Scripts would get that. When I found out we won, I was elated, I immediately thought, “No way!” But part of me was also like, “Of course!” We’ve worked so hard and with a number of people along the way who have really believed in us and this story. I’m not just excited about the monetary support, but also the logistical and festival support to move the film forward and myself as a writer-director. I’m thrilled to discover what these next steps might bring.
This script placed more than once in previous seasons of the Short Film Fund for the production grant. Do you recall major rewrites between those seasons? What motivated you to continue submitting? Any words of wisdom/advice for filmmakers who are submitting their own projects to similar opportunities?
Yes, there were rewrites; many, many, many rewrites, and some happened, some didn’t. One big question early on was the gender of the main character. There was a suggestion to make it a woman to explore how women experience prison, but I pushed back because it wasn’t the story I wanted to tell, and it would’ve changed it too much. The other major rewrite was about how to start the film. I wrestled with how much of the lie to reveal to the audience, how to make them question what’s happening, whether it’s a lie or the truth, and how much of their beliefs to suspend. I explored leaning hard into sci-fi, making it seem like he’s in space, or going the opposite way, hinting at prison but keeping it ambiguous. There were so many versions. The image slider became a pivotal part of the story, more than I initially planned. I originally included it because I liked the idea, it leaned into the childlike quality I wanted for Obi, to soften him to the audience. It ended up shaping the story and the sound design in a deep way.
Despite the acceptances I got, I also got plenty of rejections from the very first drafts with people saying, “This film’s not for us.” I switched producers, moving to Emily (Radakovic), and faced more rejections. But I have always thought I have to tell this story at all costs, I’d come too far. Friends and my industry community I trust read the script and urged me to keep going. In film and art, you have the chance to prove that what you believe in can get made. There’s so much noise about how tough the industry is, how little money there is, but I wanted to show that where there is a will, there is always another way. My producer, Emily, was key because when we got rejections, she’d say, “No worries, we keep going.” Having a community that treats “no” as a “not yet” helps. There were times I thought, “Let’s scrape together £1,000 and make it.” But Emily was like, “No, Jeremiah, this story deserves more.” I treated the film like a child that deserves a good upbringing, so I couldn’t accept ‘no’ and give up.
My advice for filmmakers would be to remember why you want to tell your story; it’s sometimes the only thing that keeps you going. Keep watching work that inspires you, where you want to be and how good you want to be. I watched Daughters with We Are Parable, a documentary about the daddy-daughter dance for incarcerated fathers in the American prison system. It hit me hard and reminded me why I’m making THE TRUTH ABOUT SPACE. I wanted to grab a camera and shoot that night. Stay inspired by work similar to yours, it gives you a new lease of life and motivation. Your film alone might not always be enough motivation, so find it wherever you can.
How did you and producer Emily Radakovic come together on this project? Had you worked together before? What made you want to work together on this specific film?
Emily and I met on my previous film, Pepper Soup, post-Covid. She was brought on by my lead actress and producer, Peace, who highly recommended her. I didn’t know Emily, but I saw how talented she was. We stayed in touch, time passed. I had another producer for THE TRUTH ABOUT SPACE, but it didn’t work out. I reached out to Emily, sent her the script, and she was like, “Yes, I’m in!” Since then, she’s been by my side, giving notes, dragging me when I needed it. We worked together because we saw the talent in each other. I saw her skill, focus and determination on Pepper Soup. She saw something in me too, and we’ve both grown a lot through this process.
How did you crew up for your project, what did you shoot on, and where did you shoot?
Both Emily and I are huge admirers of DoP Olan Collardy, and it was our dream for him to shoot the film from day one. After emailing him my script for a year, he finally read it, agreed to meet with me and from there signed on not just as DoP but also as an Executive Producer. Once we had Olan and our dates locked down, everything else began to fall into place. We reached out to people we had worked with before, those that we had admired from afar, and also connected with people that were brand new to us. I had so many Zoom calls with potential editors, costume designers, and so on, but ultimately, when you know, you know. I’d talk to someone and feel, “I’ll work well with you, or you will teach me something and elevate this project.” People brought their own teams, and a family was born. It was a great set.
We shot at a community café in Walthamstow, the perfect location. We had scouted so many places, but this one had so much space and resonated with the film’s community theme. They run a community film club so we might even screen the film there someday. The film was shot on an Alexa Mini and Olan and his team worked their magic and to make even the picture on the monitors look like crisp film. We’ve continued to hone the colour since, and it truly is beautiful.
What was your casting process? Did you hold auditions or offer the main roles to talent you were already familiar with?
The casting process was the longest part for me. We worked with the brilliant casting director Fran Cattaneo, who was amazing, from the start. I’d share the vibe I wanted for Obi, Tola and Ife, and she’d continuously send updated lists of names. We’d request tapes or judge based on tangibles and intangibles. For Obi, it came down to one-on-one meetings, and Jordan Kouamé was just the guy — his mannerisms, the way he connected to the story, just everything. I’m not obsessed with actors hitting my script’s beats exactly in castings; I care about the things they bring that I didn’t write, how they challenge me as a writer and a director, and Jordan did that. For Tola, Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn was perfect. We cast her first, and since I was firm about a dark-skinned family for representation, we built around her. Jordan fit as the father, and then we needed a dark-skinned daughter.
Casting the daughter was the best part for me. We did an open call on social media and then hosted a workshop to get to know our potential Ife’s better. We got them to draw space-themed pictures, played games, and just chatted about the story with them. It was wild to see how many of them completely got it. We then did a mini read with each of the girls after we had made sure they were comfortable, and from the get-go Olivia-Rose Colliard, who ended up as our Ife, was tremendous. During the final casting session, she got emotional, and I thought she was upset about missing a beat. But she told her mum it was because she couldn’t understand why Obi would leave his daughter. She could feel how sad Ife must have been and felt it herself too. That raw connection to the character on a human level sealed it. Our family was complete.
How many days did you shoot for? Were you able to stay on schedule? Did you get everything you hoped to capture?
We shot for three days. Did we stay on schedule? No. Short films never do! Day one was slow; so many things went wrong. Day two, we picked up the pace, and day three was quieter without the full cast. But we got everything we hoped to capture, there were no missing scenes, we got all the coverage we needed. We even experimented with a scene on day three, which was great. It was crazy seeing the assembly edit and how close we already were to having the film, just based on what we had shot. It’s come on leaps and bounds since then.
Were there any last-minute changes that happened during production? Any changes to the story resulting from practicalities or obstacles that came up during the shoot?
There were definitely a few last-minute changes. In the opening shot, Obi crosses the road, but we didn’t have permits to stop traffic, so we had to do it quickly with just a couple of takes. People kept stopping to look at us; a camera crew and a Black man dressed up as an astronaut on an East London high street. Another change was in the café scenes. Originally, there wasn’t much movement, but after talking with Olan, I realised that Ife and Obi needed to move through the space as the story progressed. We added a second table for the main chunk of the film, with characters moving between the two. At the end, Obi was supposed to take the helmet under the table and put it on, but someone pointed out it looked clunky. Jordan’s a big guy, and it was uncomfortable. I decided he should approach the scene without gimmicks, so the helmet stayed on the table. That choice shaped the final scene beautifully. We were lucky with the amount of space we had in the café location, but it was still tight quarters, with people making as much use of the space as they could. The microwave was one floor above the main set so the art department, led by Jade Adeyemi, had to run up and down to manage props like the puff-puff and ice cream for continuity. Shout-out to Jade and Chloe Littlewood, they handled a prop-heavy set with tons of movement effortlessly.
We love hearing serendipitous stories. Did anything happen during production that was initially a “problem” or obstacle that ended up being the best possible thing for the project?
Jordan struggling to fit under the table at the end was a happy accident. The spacesuit was a hotbox, and he got sweaty, which added to the scene’s intensity, reflecting his character’s anxiety. We were worried about the helmet steaming up, so we used motorcyclist spray to prevent this. But the real magic was the table issue. Originally, Obi was meant to sit cross-legged under the table with Ife, wearing the helmet. The table was too small, and he couldn’t fit comfortably. So, he sat outside the table, helmet off, which became a beautiful metaphor for him trying to re-enter his daughter’s world without gimmicks, offering himself holistically. It humanised him, made him childlike, and was the best possible thing for the project.
Where are you in post-production? What are your next steps?
We’re finishing up the grade and sound design. We’ve been working with colour whizz Andi Chu and Emmy-nominated sound designer Chad Orororo. Sound is so important to this film, so we want to make sure we get it right. Then, we’ll strategize festivals, posters, trailers, and BTS content. We have cool ideas for rolling the film out slowly, and I’m excited to discuss with Olan, Tobi Kyeremateng (another executive producer), and Emily.
What are your aspirations for the short once it’s completed?
I spoke with Tobi, one of our execs, on the final shoot day, and she said, “This film’s going to win things.” I’d love for it to win awards and get shown internationally but beyond that, I want it to impact the community it was written for. Rehabilitation is such a vital topic in an unforgiving world. I’d love for the film to have a therapeutic or community role, not just live on a website somewhere. I’m also slowly working on turning it into a feature. Above all, I want people to enjoy it and take something from it.
Do you have any advice for filmmakers embarking on their first short film?
Just embark on it. Don’t treat your first short like it’s your only or last film, where you have to say everything you’ve ever wanted to say. Be present with the process. My first short was embarrassing, but I didn’t overthink it like I do now. Use your first film to make mistakes, your taste won’t likely be met, so just make it your first, not your last. Enjoy the chaos and the things that go wrong as much as the things that go right. They build your toolbox for the next project. Things will always go wrong, so believe in yourself and know it’s the first step of your journey, not the last. You’ll probably look back and cringe, but it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be yours. Be confident in your decisions, even if others don’t get it. Listen to everyone because a great idea can come from anyone, your mum, the production designer, or a stranger on a bus. Let it all feed into you but remember it’s ultimately your film.
Jeremiah Towolawi is a bold British-Nigerian filmmaker and playwright. Having started his career as a videographer, after studying advertising for three years at The University of West London, he quickly transitioned into pursuing filmmaking as a writer-director. He has written and/or directed five short films to date.
His most recent film, PEPPER SOUP, premiered in 2020 as part of the Women of The Lens Film Festival and has subsequently been selected by West African Film Festival, LAHFF and Black Film Festival of New Orleans Online Edition. His earlier film release of 2020, MISSED, was produced by FullyFocused UK and it was screened at S.O.U.L Fest via the BFI iPlayer.
Last year, Jeremiah began engaging in creating theatrical work with Orisun Productions, and his first full-length stage play entitled THIS IS NOT A DRILL was shortlisted for the Edinburgh Untapped Award by Underbelly, New Diorama Theatre and Oberon Books. Jeremiah is currently working with Endor Productions to develop the play into a limited TV series.
