🎥 How to Start Filmmaking with No Budget Because great stories don’t need expensive equipments. Have you ever dreamed of making a film but thought, “I can’t—I don’t have the money or gear for that”? Well, guess what? You totally can. Almost every famous filmmaker started small — with zero budget, basic tools, and a huge amount of creativity. The truth is, filmmaking isn’t about money; it’s about storytelling. Let’s talk about how you can start making films right now, with what you already have. 1. Forget the Gear, Focus on the Story Here’s a secret: most viewers don’t care what camera you used they care about your story. Start with a simple idea that can be filmed easily. One or two characters. One location. One conflict. You don’t need explosions or big sets just a clear emotion and a creative approach. Having the beginning, the middle and the end. 🎬 Example: A short film about someone trying to deliver a message before their phone battery dies can be filmed anywhere — but st...
“Nursery Rhymes” (2018): A Silent Scream in a Gentle Song Written by -Klutse Godwill
Sometimes, it’s the quiet films that leave the deepest cuts. Nursery Rhymes, a short film directed by Tom Noakes and written by Will Good fellow, is only five minutes long, but it runs deep. It doesn’t shout . It doesn’t explain. It simply exists — raw, unapologetic, and heartbreaking. And leaves you somewhat trembling.
The film opens with a man standing shirtless on a quiet country road of some sort. His body is tattooed. His voice is shaking. And he’s singing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” At first, the scene feels bizarre — almost comical. But the longer the camera lingers, the more it aches to watch. His voice isn’t joyful. It’s desperate. The rhyme is not entertainment — it’s protection.
What unfolds is a slow, painstaking unraveling of a tragedy we are never clearly told. A single continuous shot — meticulously paced — withholds information just long enough to build suspense, and then heartbreak. With no cuts, no dialogue, and no music, Nursery Rhymes forces us to sit in the moment. We see a woman collapsed on the ground. A child trapped in a car. Blood. Brokenness. A world that’s just come undone — held together by one man’s shaking voice.
That man, played with staggering vulnerability by Toby Wallace, is the soul of the film. Without a name, without a backstory, he becomes every person who’s had to be strong for someone else in the worst moment of their life. His performance is a perfect example of restraint. No tears, no grand monologues — just a man using a children’s song like a shield to keep a child from fully seeing the horror before them.
The cinematography mirrors this quiet bravery. The use of a single take means there is no escape for the audience, just as there is none for the characters. The muted, gray-blue color palette amplifies the coldness of the world we’re dropped into. There is no dramatic score to guide your feelings — only silence and wind. Even silence carries sound.
What makes Nursery Rhymes so extraordinary is its emotional clarity. It doesn’t try to intellectualize trauma. It simply shows the moment after everything goes wrong. It’s a film about human instinct, about choosing presence over panic, about how even the smallest acts — like singing — can become heroic in the right context.
This is not a film you “enjoy.” It’s a film you experience. And when it ends, you don’t move right away. You sit there, the weight of it pressing on your chest, realizing how much you just saw without being told anything at all.
Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Especially for those who love films that speak without without having to say anything. The film shows the power of image and emotion over plot and exposition. Nursery Rhymes is a poetic reminder that sometimes, the most powerful people are those who stand firm in the face of adversity.
Because that's the bravest thing a person can do.
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