Experiencing For Someone, Somewhere, Who Isn't Us by Samm Henshaw

The short film For Someone, Somewhere, Who Isn't Us by Samm Henshaw dives into the emotional complexities that plague creative professionals; exhaustion, imposter syndrome and walking the tightrope between passion and pressure. Rooted in Henshaw's own experiences as a musician, the film opens a door into an incredibly personal meditation on the creative process and what it means to rediscover your muse after feeling irretrievably lost. It paints a gritty but uplifting portrait of creativity in our world today. 

The film opens with an introspective Henshaw slouched heavily into his sofa in a whispery voiceover, “What if I told you your gift isn't yours....all of us has something to give.” This moment of reflection is something all-too-relatable to those creative, and Henshaw uses his own experience as a metaphor for the battle anyone seeking success can face. Creativity isn't a straight easy path. It is an ever-evolving, often messy journey about growing and finding yourself.

For Someone, Somewhere, Who Isn't Us offers an insight into the madness that often accompanies creativity after one has checked off their list. Seen through this prism, it works as a cultural critique of the emerging discussion concerning creative burnout when so much is demanded of and expected from creators in an era where good enough is never enough. The film appears to criticize the creative industry, which has little patience for a recouping period or space for reflection when something instead must be produced. It’s every creative spirit stepping through the inevitable chaos and uncertainty that comes with attempting to make something spectacular.

In multiple quotes throughout the movie, Samm's friends and family tell their own stories, addressing that "someone" who may still be struggling to fit in. Businesswoman Amani Duncan is a good friend and has an interesting metaphor. “Mountaintops”, she says, “how small they are, the air thin, are a rented space. Part of climbing them is to be up there and take it in, then go back down". It was a good lesson to every creator: the work is not over when you hit your peak. No one can survive on one masterpiece. You climb, you bolt and then you go back to the bottom, ready to repeat. For whoever reached the top and rested on their laurels, she comforts as much as invites: you won it — now it is time to move on.

Sophie Sellu, a woodworker, says the key to her creative spirit is finding calm within the chaos. She is one of those who believe that your art is unique because of your personality. The nature of her handcrafted woodwork is unique and embracing that uniqueness is an important part for her. These are the words of Sophie, a reminder that creativity is not about rule-following or fitting in, it is about creating your own path through the clutter and producing something that feels authentic. She inspires anyone attempting to streamline the entropy of life with a burning impulse to create, to “embrace the weirdness.” It is, after all, your work's quirks that make it unique.

Singer-songwriter Kwaku Asante shares how his best friend's resilience, overcoming terminal cancer twice, deeply influenced his creativity. Standing by his side through the battle, Kwaku found inspiration in his friend's determination, which fueled his own musical journey. “Music is my life, and I’ll always give it 100%,” Kwaku says, acknowledging the profound impact of his friend's superhero-worthy strength. This bond, forged in adversity, has become a cornerstone of Kwaku’s creative spirit, illustrating the powerful link between life’s challenges and the art we create.

The film interlaces these conversations to you, the viewer — someone, somewhere who isnt us. It is a little nudge that creativity leans on diversity, in everyday challenges and broken resolves. It’s about breaking into the wild grinning journey, accepting every peak and valley, and allowing life itself to paint your work. The most guttural part of the film made me go from its verbal chatter to a silent coffee-shop moment. This is a visual narrative of what it would look like for a creative to go through burnout. A man can be seen sitting in a cafe eyeing the door full of anticipation waiting for someone to come. He squirms and twists in his seat, raises his hand to thumb the table, knocks over a coffee cup, holding the energy of what every artist—everyone searching for clarity already feels inside.

Set to a soft, melodic love song, the scene is an artful metaphor for the messy and exposing endeavor of making art. As the man waits nervously, fidgeting, a beautiful woman with golden hair and a flowing white dress enters. Her eventual arrival and this tender touch on his cheek that calms him down is not simply a form of easing pre-date jitters; it's a symbol of reconciliation every artist yearns for. The transformation from tumult to tranquility, doubt to determination. That is what I think makes this scene stand out and that it connects back to the movies’ main theme in an easy-answered way. Like Samm Henshaw, navigating the ebbs and flows of his career — this character eventually finds peace in the storm; as any creative would recover from their series of run-ins with creative burnout.

For Someone, Somewhere, Who Isn't Us ends on a more hopeful note which is very encouraging to see. A journey through creative self-doubt is a testament to human will. The film is a love letter to all creatives, visual and through interviews of raw emotion, it pushes all who create to lean into the moments of doubt and know in the end there is beauty in both.