a short film for party girls

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a short film for party girls

what I learned from my first short film (& pls to god not last)

Jenny Gorelick

Apr 07, 2025

Transcript

Towards the slow drip ending of the pandemic, I made a short film about my pet betta fish, Karp. Three years later, my fish is dead (unrelated to making the movie — that would be tragic), and the short is finally out.

You’re thinking, the film is six minutes, why the hell did it take that long?

Spring 2021: My college bestie Ava and I wrote the script on a whim, feeling a little restless and wanting to collaborate with each other.

Winter 2022: I assembled the team, the locations, the props, the costumes, the original song (!) and went way over budget before ever saying “action.”

Spring 2022: We rescheduled the shoot when the director, Ellie, got Covid (Omicron! Vintage!).

Summer 2022: We shot for two days in the scorching July heat. Lucy, our Production Designer switched my costume from cargo pants to a skirt so that I wouldn’t die.

All of 2023: My boyfriend at the time edited the film at a colossally slow pace, understandably, because I was not paying him money, just the usual amount of sexual favors. He wasn’t even getting a sexual favors bonus.

Winter 2023: The edit was finally finished (!). Soon after, we broke up (unrelated to making the movie —that would be tragic).

All of 2024: It got rejected from pretty much every film festival and short film streaming site I applied to and that felt awesome :)

Spring 2025 aka RIGHT THIS MOMENT: Finally it’s available online and in your inbox (!!!).

Watching the short now, I feel a little regretful. I had delusionally high hopes for it, especially as my first film. It’s a sweet, beautifully shot six minutes of fun fluff with a really hot montage set to a catchy as hell “Cha Cha Slide”-style original song by Douglas Widick —but it’s missing that umph, that je ne sais quoi (whoops) to make it important enough or special enough to get into Tribeca or SXSW. You can tell from watching. You could probably tell on the page too, but I had to make it to know.

I think a lot about the quote from one of the Duplass Brothers (couldn’t tell you which), “keep making shitty short films until one of them doesn’t suck one day.” And I don’t think it sucks by any means, but unfortunately you have to make a first film to then make a second one.

If you’re thinking about making a comedy short film (this might not be relevant to the *auteurs* who subscribe to me —I know there are so many of you), here is my advice:

Don’t spend your own money. Don’t. It’s not worth it. Even the cheapest short costs a few thousand dollars. Karp, this silly short, cost almost $9k all-in. Make someone else pay for it.
If you are spending your own money, then make it as cheaply as possible. Use inexpensive equipment, vibe out with your friends who are willing to do favors, keep it a low-stakes production…then let someone else pay you to make your next one with real salaries.
Pay the editor CASH, not kisses. And if you’re not paying the editor, make sure he’s your husband and put the deadlines in your prenup.
Good lighting makes a low-budget film look expensive. That’s true for everything —your home, bars, your face (in warm, glowy light, you don’t need botox so you can save hundreds of dollars to then spend on vacations, not a short).
Lofty goals are overrated. The only goal should be to have fun and make art with your friends.

Look, I’m proud of the hard work put into it, and I’m thankful for the amazing team —everyone across all departments is so incredibly talented and worth so much more than I paid them —and it was a blast to make something with my friends. And “Tsunami Mami,” well it’s a bop.

But now I’m ready for the next one.

Thanks for watching and if you want to give it a rating on Shortverse, that would be really kind of you xo