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With Lady, director Samuel Abrahams brings a sharp and surprisingly tender mockumentary to life, blending surreal comedy with an unsettling portrait of narcissism. Premiering at the 2025 BFI London Film Festival, the film marks Abrahams’ first foray into feature-length directing, and gives Sian Clifford a captivating, offbeat role that lingers well after the credits roll.
A mockumentary with a surreal twist
Set in the grandeur of Suffolk’s Somerleyton Hall — already familiar to fans of The Crown — Lady centers on Lady Isabella, played with wild, tragic charm by Sian Clifford. A fading aristocrat desperate for recognition, Isabella tricks an amateur filmmaker, Sam (Laurie Kynaston), into believing he’s working on a Netflix documentary. The subject? Herself, of course, as she prepares for a local talent show staged on her crumbling country estate.
It’s here that the film takes a brilliant detour into the absurd: Isabella starts turning invisible. Literally. It’s unexpected, yes, but also deeply symbolic — the satire suddenly takes on a poignant weight. That longing to be noticed, to be relevant, is no longer just Isabella’s flaw; it’s what consumes her.
Lady plays with tone in a way I really admire. It’s sometimes hilarious, sometimes deeply uncomfortable. That blurring of laughter and sadness reminded me of the trembling vulnerability of characters in Charlie Kaufman films, or the social awkwardness from early British mockumentaries like The Office. Abrahams and Clifford find that same tension here. To read Charlize Theron and Taron Egerton face off in 2026’s Apex trailer
A strange bond at the heart of it
There’s an emotional clumsiness running through the film’s heart, namely in the slow, oddly tender relationship between Isabella and Sam. She’s deluded, obsessive, unaware of her privilege, but she starts seeing him. And maybe for the first time, he starts seeing her too — as something more than just a character to film.
Samuel Abrahams, who co-wrote the script with Miranda Campbell Bowling, said something that stuck with me: “They bring out the darkest and the most beautiful qualities in each other.” That really shows on screen. This isn’t a film about redemption. It’s about fragile connection in a world where everyone’s screaming to be seen.
Sian Clifford, in particular, is extraordinary. Best known for her breakout in Fleabag, she brings that same skill of holding both comedy and crushing sadness in one look. Of Lady Isabella, she says: “She’s so fun and so bonkers… I adore her.” And you can feel that affection in every scene.
An idea born from the internet’s loneliest corners
The original spark for Lady came from an unusual place: a real-life influencer with no audience. Abrahams became fascinated by a YouTube personality whose videos were full of energy, polish, and empty views. He compared her efforts to “a YouTube version of The Room” — a glorious failure that’s also strangely meaningful.
Out of this came the idea for Isabella: a woman trying to fill an invisible gap with spectacle and performance, unanchored from reality, desperate for applause. Abrahams, who comes from a background in advertising and earned a BAFTA nomination for his short film Connect, seemed especially drawn to how identity and performance blur. To read Ranking Shyamalan’s Hits: Which Film Defines His Legacy?
Key influences:
- Satirical comedies of the 1990s, like Groundhog Day and Being John Malkovich
- YouTube “micro-celebrities” struggling for relevance
- The loneliness behind digital self-promotion
- Visual storytelling that leans into surrealism and awkward intimacy
A mirror for the social media age
Lady isn’t just poking fun at the upper class or at failed artists. There’s something broader here, something about identity in the age of Instagram and endless scrolling. Clifford, who often avoids social media in real life, pointed out how the film touches on self-worth and comparison, not just for the Isabellas of the world, but especially for younger generations.
In her words: “The film is about that relationship we have with our self-worth and how we’re measuring that with what we’re seeing from other people online and drawing comparisons.” That hits hard — and true.
What impressed me most about Lady is how it never turns cruel. Yes, it satirizes. Yes, it mocks absurdity. But at its core, it’s also trying hard to understand. It laughs, but it feels too. And that, to me, is more rare than it should be in comedy today.
