The film Skiff focuses on Malou, a young rower who navigates the confusing waters of adolescence while balancing family disruption, self-expression and an unexpected crush. In this story, the protagonist faces fallout from a parental separation, struggles with their gender identity and endures pressure from peers. The narrative tightens when Malou’s attraction to their brother’s girlfriend surfaces, forcing both intimate and familial tensions into the open. The film’s quieter moments ask viewers to sit with unresolved feelings rather than rush to tidy conclusions, inviting attention to the messy, lived experience of growing up.
The director, Cecilia Verheyden, explains that her intent was to create visibility for voices too rarely centred on screen: specifically, narratives about lesbian and non-binary people. She observed that queer cinema often skews toward stories about gay men and wanted to offer an alternative perspective. The film also aims to portray intersectionality — characters who occupy multiple minority positions — so their inner lives are not flattened into single-issue tropes. Above all, Verheyden sought to open a conversation about empathy and the value of the unresolved, the so-called grey zone where identity and desire are still being defined.
Origins and personal memory
Verheyden’s idea for Skiff is rooted in an adolescent memory: growing up as the only girl among three brothers, she remembers the nervousness of answering the door when one of her brother’s girlfriends arrived. At the time she had not yet fully understood her sexual orientation, but those encounters left an impression. That autobiographical what if — imagining falling for a sibling’s partner — served as the narrative springboard. Rather than a literal retelling, the film translates those sensations into Malou’s world: the small gestures, the distracted silences, and the ripple effects a secret crush can have on family dynamics.
From private feeling to public story
Making the film required Verheyden to repeatedly foreground her own history in front of others. She began the project in her thirties, already having come to terms with being a lesbian, yet the process unmasked lingering vulnerabilities. Pitching the project to funders and committees felt akin to repeatedly coming out, a cycle that revealed residual shame and fear of judgment. Each presentation demanded a new articulation of her personal truth and, in turn, helped her become more self-assured. Through that labor she learned that public storytelling can be an act of resilience, transforming private doubt into a claim for space on screen.
Themes, influences and representation
Skiff deliberately foregrounds themes of representation and care. Verheyden cites the work of filmmakers who made space for lesbian perspectives, noting how that example proved such stories have an eager audience. The film champions patience with individual journeys, suggesting that everyone moves at their own pace when it comes to identity. It also pushes back against binary thinking, reflecting a belief that art can model empathy in polarized cultural moments. Embracing nuance, the film asks viewers to accept ambiguity rather than demand categorical answers about who people are or who they love.
Why festivals and visibility endure
Verheyden stresses that platforms like BFI Flare are essential for sustaining queer cinematic life. As rights and public attitudes shift unpredictably around the world, these festivals create concentrated moments of visibility and community. The 40th BFI Flare: London LGBTQIA+ Film Festival takes place 18 – 29 March at BFI Southbank, and Skiff premieres at BFI Flare on 22 March. Verheyden argues that cultural work—films, festivals and conversations—becomes a form of defense: an assertion that these lives will remain present and audible. Film can be a tool to fight back with imagination, empathy and art, even when political winds turn harsh.
Legacy and looking forward
For Verheyden, the hope is twofold: that audiences who identify with Malou feel recognised and that broader viewers learn to value the slow, sometimes messy paths of self-discovery. She would welcome sitting next to directors who have inspired her—filmmakers who showed that lesbian-led stories deserve space—and to thank them for paving the way. Ultimately, Skiff aims to be both mirror and invitation: a mirror for people who need to see themselves, and an invitation to others to sit with complexity. Through intimate storytelling, the film contributes to a continuing project of representation and cultural memory.