‘Masc’ review: A raw, unguarded performance from Joshua Griffin powers sensitive London-set study of masculinity

Dir/scr: Bertil Nilsson. UK. 2026. 83mins

A neurodiverse gay man navigates the challenges of sexuality, identity and relationships in this intriguing, experimental debut from London-based Swedish visual artist Bertil Nilsson. Featuring a raw, absorbing performance from Joshua Griffin as a young man attempting to find his place in a confusing world, this Toronto Platform premiere should attract further festival attention (it will next play London) and could be a title of interest for distributors looking for authentic LGBTQ+ stories, particularly on home soil.

Small, everyday moments slowly build into a study of a life

Shot over a year and told in five distinct chapters – although chronology is fluid, with certain scenes being replayed – the film follows Robin (Griffin) in his interactions with several different men. First of them is Seth (Ed White), the impassive, mildly condescending job centre employee who role-plays an awkward job interview with a nervous Robin, then invites feedback from a trio of other jobseekers. “Smile more,” says one. “Don’t be forgettable.” But that’s the problem. As a gay, autistic, biracial man, Robin doesn’t really know who he is, let alone how he should present himself.

It is an astonishing, vulnerable and unguarded performance from Griffin, previously seen in shorts including Nilsson’s 2023 Repair and Phil Dunn’s multiple award-winning The Stupid Boy (2022). The actor draws on his own life experiences, internalising much of Robin’s pain and frustration and always holding himself with deliberate care – this is not a performance of big revelations but small, everyday moments which slowly build into a study of a life. The actor works in close tandem with writer/director Nilsson to keep things subtle and grounded; nothing about Robin’s autism, sexuality or race is overplayed. He is not defined by those parts of himself, nor is he a broad representation of them, even if others attempt to use them as markers from which they draw their own prescriptive assumptions.

As Robin flits from job to job – a hospital, a science lab, a builder’s lacky, all entirely familiar and unassuming – he observes the men he works with, from terminally ill former dancer Sonny (Hi Ching) to non-binary LARP-er Cam (Robbie Bellekom) and gym bunny Benji (Tega Alexander). Often recording their voices on a dictaphone, he learns from their behaviours, adapting his looks, his mannerisms, even his own voice to emulate each particular form of masculinity. (That gives the film its title, along with the neurodivergent trait of ‘masking’ to copy neurotypical behaviours).

Throughout, Robin is a softly-spoken, quiet observer; even when with queer best friend Sky (Reece King) or on a challenging Welsh hike with his father (Lincoln Conway) – people for whom he has an obvious affection – he is set slightly apart. We only really get glimpses of his true self through moments of spontaneous dance, Robin creating abstract, expressive movements to the stirring soundtrack in his head.

This desire to dance acts as a throughline through the narrative, a consistent part of the character even as he changes himself, chameleon-like, to fit in with each environment. Nimble editing from Anna Meller (who also did superb work on recent Venice Critics Week title Our Share Of Sand) plays a crucial role here, creating a compelling mosaic from Robin’s different experiences. Disorienting sharp cuts echo Robin’s confusion and the film occasionally jumps back and forth in time, further muddying the psychological waters.

A final segment sees Robin take part in a group therapy session, in which most of the other participants are characters from the film, and finally find the confidence to share the innermost parts of himself. It’s a bold creative move but, like the rest of the film, works thanks to the strength of the emotional honesty on display.