BFI Flare is celebrating a milestone this year: four decades of queer cinema. The London festival’s 40th edition mixes world and festival premieres with restored classics, live events and a programme designed to put queer stories — in all their tones — at the centre of the screen. Curators have grouped films into thematic strands such as HEARTS, BODIES and MINDS, plus a TREASURES strand devoted to archival restorations that reconnect contemporary work to its cinematic lineage.
At the festival’s shorts programme, the When the Rainbow is Enuf strand introduced Amy Leonard’s rom-com short Notice Me. Produced by Lena Dunham and starring Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, Daisy Bevan and Amy Spalding, the film premiered at BFI Flare on 22 March and immediately positioned itself as an example of a newer impulse in queer filmmaking: stories that foreground everyday joy and awkward, small-scale intimacy rather than trauma.
Notice Me follows Em, who moves to East London after losing her radio-presenter job and falls for a neighbour, AJ. Leonard said she set out to make the kind of film she wished she’d seen growing up — light, personable and rooted in the textures of queer life in the city. She leans on familiar rom-com signposts — confessional humour, cosy locales, voiceover wryness — but twists those conventions so the experience feels specific to queer desire rather than generic. The result is a film that aims to be both warmly familiar and quietly particular: slightly awkward, often tender, and deliberately celebratory.
That tonal choice is intentional. Leonard wanted warmth over melodrama, comedy over coded tragedy. She referenced the comfort of British rom-com rhythms while allowing candid, lived-in moments to steer the performances. Behind the camera she prioritised queer authorship: writers, crew and cast were recruited with an eye toward on-screen authenticity. Leonard describes the shoot as a kind of personal excavation — an attempt to peel back protective layers many queer people learn to adopt — and argues that who makes a film matters as much as what it shows.
Festival programmers and early critics picked up on those decisions. At the screening, viewers praised Notice Me’s intimacy and tone — a mood-driven piece that trades spectacle for the fluttery specifics of attraction. Producers say they’ll watch audience reaction closely as they plan future festival appearances and possible distribution. For now, the short’s premiere on 22 March remains its most recent public showing, with more festivals expected to follow.
BFI Flare’s wider programme reflects a similar balance between celebration and critical context. Dozens of features and shorts sit alongside restored landmarks, so audiences can see new voices in conversation with the films that shaped queer cinematic histories. The TREASURES strand in particular pairs archival restorations with contemporary work, inviting viewers to trace continuities and ruptures across forty years of queer filmmaking.
Beyond screenings, the festival lays on talks, archival presentations and director-led conversations that aim to nurture careers as well as spark debate. Panels and industry sessions offer pathways for commissioning, collaboration and mentorship; public events create communal spaces where filmmakers, critics and audiences can compare notes about craft, context and representation. Leonard herself spoke about the festival’s role as a communal site — a place to celebrate, to advocate, and to let those who’ve long supported queer work feel the energy of that recognition, even if they can’t be at every screening in person.
There’s a practical strand to these choices, too. Visibility at a festival like BFI Flare matters for funding, distribution and future commissions. Festival response — audience reactions, critic attention, industry buzz — often shapes what comes next for short films and emerging directors. Organisers say programming that foregrounds lighter, playful queer narratives is a deliberate attempt to broaden audiences and reframe what queer cinema can look like, so that romantic comedy, humour and small pleasures sit alongside more overtly political and historical work.
Notice Me’s creative strategy — blending nostalgia, humour and candid awkwardness — illustrates that approach. By refusing to reduce queer stories to a single register, Leonard and the festival seek to expand the emotional and narrative possibilities of queer representation. That, organisers hope, will open space for more filmmakers to be seen and for audiences to imagine different kinds of futures for queer characters on screen.
In short: BFI Flare at 40 is both a look back and a push forward. It honors archival treasures while spotlighting fresh voices like Amy Leonard’s, whose Notice Me offers a tender, playful reminder that queer films can make room for the light, messy, joyous moments of everyday life. Festival organisers are monitoring reactions and planning further screenings; meanwhile, the festival’s mix of premieres, restorations and community events keeps that forty-year conversation alive and evolving.