You’ve got 10 minutes. Maybe 15, if you’re feeling bold. That’s your canvas. And in that tiny window, your opening scene has to punch through the noise. It’s not just about grabbing attention — it’s about earning the next minute. The first 60 seconds are your handshake, your smirk, your “Hey, sit down. You’re gonna want to see this.” But let’s be real: writing an opening that grips without screaming or stumbling is harder than it looks. You’ve probably rewritten that first page 17 times and still feel like it’s missing something.
We get it. The cursor blinks. You’ve burned through your favourite inspo music playlist. And still, nothing feels right. But that’s where a little structure can help. These six tips aren’t carved in stone, and they won’t chain you to a formula. They’re more like creative nudges — stuff to consider when you’re building that make-or-break first impression. Some might resonate, some might not. But at least one might crack something open for you. Ready to spark the story? Let’s go!
1. Start with a strong Concept
Let’s be real — no opening scene can save a weak story idea. You could write the slickest, sharpest first 30 seconds, but if the core concept is thin, your story will stall before it ever takes off. A good concept does heavy lifting. It gives your characters direction, your visuals weight, and your tension something to orbit around. You don’t need a giant idea or mind-bending twist—you just need a clear and compelling “what if?”
What is the ‘what if” of the story? For example, what if a girl had only twenty hours to speak before losing her voice forever? What if Ghana never attained independence? You can explore this abstract possibility in one area of Ghanaian life, e.g., cultural, political, social, or economic. But also ask yourself, can my story be effectively told in 15 minutes or less? Will it make sense to my audience?
Look at “Tsotsi” (South Africa, 2005) by Gavin Hood. The concept? A hardened young gang member steals a car, only to find a baby in the back seat. That premise alone hits you with emotional contradiction and stakes. It’s simple, but it slices deep. The first scene builds tension fast because there’s already a bold “what if?” baked into the DNA of the story. The filmmakers didn’t need gimmicks; they had a concept that begged to be followed.
So, before stressing over your opening shot, ask yourself: Does my story idea already raise questions? Does it spark emotion or curiosity before the first line is even written? If not, tweak it. Push it. Challenge it. Because a gripping opening grows out of a gripping premise—one that already knows where it’s going and why it matters.
2. Start after something just happened
No one likes being eased into a story with a scenic drive and small talk. Drop us after the match has already been lit. It creates an instant pulse. Viewers want to catch up, not be spoon-fed. This tactic builds momentum without a backstory dragging things down. When a character bursts in with their shirt bloodied or whispers, “It’s done,” our brains instantly start asking questions.
In “Vaya” (South Africa, 2016), directed by Akin Omotoso, we meet Zanele on a train to Johannesburg. She’s carrying secrets, and the energy is tense even before we know why. By the time she steps off the train, you already feel that something’s gone wrong—or is about to. There’s no exposition. Just movement, tension, and a deep pull into the story.
So, instead of slowly winding up your story, try yanking the engine into motion. Let the audience land mid-chaos, and trust they’ll follow. If you’re feeling unsure, remember: life doesn’t give us clean openings either—we’re always stepping into things already in motion.
3. Give us tension without explaining it (yet)
You don’t need explosions to build suspense — just unanswered questions. Instead of info-dumping, let the audience wonder: Why does she keep looking over her shoulder? Why won’t he open that envelope? Suspense lives in what we don’t know. It’s okay to withhold answers as long as you’re feeding the curiosity.
Take The Burial of Kojo (Ghana, 2018) by Blitz Bazawule. The film opens with a haunting voiceover and surreal imagery—floating over dreamlike water, a child narrating loss before we even know who Kojo is. You feel the grief, the urgency, and the magic all at once, and your brain is working overtime trying to make sense of it. It’s mesmerizing and unsettling—and that’s the point.
The trick is to build a little narrative tension like winding a rubber band. Don’t snap it just yet—let it stretch. Audiences love feeling like detectives. Make them work a little, and you’ll have them hooked long before the plot even kicks in.
3. Let your characters be doing something oddly specific
Generic actions lead to generic impressions. When a character is doing something weirdly specific—scratching lotto tickets, counting the ridges on a bottle cap, painting their toenails with a matchstick—we remember them. That’s how characters come alive fast. The audience might not understand the “why” yet, but they see that this person is real.
In Rafiki (Kenya, 2018), Kena’s introduction is subtle but striking. She’s skateboarding through the neighborhood—not something you see often in Nairobi settings. It’s a silent rebellion, a little detail that instantly shows us she doesn’t quite fit in. No need for a monologue—just a moment that tells us everything about her spirit.
So next time you’re writing that opening shot, ditch the vague and aim for the weirdly personal. Give your character a tic, a ritual, a thing they do when no one’s watching. Those little human moments? That’s the stuff we remember long after the plot fades.
4. Cut your first line of dialogue in half (then half again)
We often overwrite our intros—especially dialogue. That first line? It’s not the time for exposition or poetic declarations. Make it sharp, strange, or emotional. Think of it like a spark: quick, bright, and impossible to ignore. The fewer the words, the louder they land.
In Eyimofe (This Is My Desire) (Nigeria, 2020), the opening isn’t packed with dialogue at all. We follow Mofe as he works through a power outage at his job. When words finally come, they’re functional and clipped—“The generator’s down.” It’s not flashy. But in that silence, we’ve already learned so much about his world: under-resourced, heavy, real.
So give your dialogue a diet. Trust the visuals to do the heavy lifting at the start. If you only had one sentence to introduce your film, make it count—and make sure it cuts.
5. Treat your opening like a promise
The tone you start with is your handshake. Don’t fake it. Audiences can sense when a story switches personalities midstream. If you open with surrealism, keep some magic in the DNA. If you open with dread, make sure there’s follow-through. It’s about trust—setting a mood and sticking with it.
Look at Atlantics (Senegal, 2019) by Mati Diop. The film opens in a quiet construction site where workers haven’t been paid. It’s bleak, grounded, and then slowly, the supernatural starts to bleed in. And yet, it doesn’t feel like a genre switch. It works because the emotional tone—longing, injustice, grief—never wavers. The opening scene whispers the film’s soul from the start.
So be clear with your audience. Even if you’re mysterious, be emotionally honest. Your opening scene is a pact. Nail the tone, and people will stick around — even if they don’t fully “get it” yet.
Pulling it Together
When it comes down to it, a gripping short film opening isn’t about expensive gear or flashy tricks—it’s about intentionality. A strong concept gives you a story worth telling. Opening late, in the thick of the action, pulls us into the moment without wasting time. Using images instead of exposition invites curiosity. Starting with tension lets us feel the pulse of what’s at stake. Hinting at the wider world gives your story texture, and character-specific action anchors everything in emotion. It’s not about cramming all six into your first thirty seconds — it’s about understanding how they work together to set your story on fire.
One film that nails all of this is The Letter Reader by Sibusiso Khuzwayo (South Africa, 2019). It starts with a “what if” that’s full of heart: What if a young boy, sent away from the city, discovers the power of love and language through reading letters for others? The opening is simple but loaded; no fluff, just a strong image and a quiet tension. It pulls us in through character, setting, and intrigue. The world feels lived in, the visuals speak volumes, and the emotional stakes creep in naturally. Every choice is deliberate, every frame meaningful. That’s how you do it. Don’t just open strong — open true.