Forced into homelessness after her release from prison, Chrissie searches for love and connection in places where neither is freely offered. Set on the forgotten edges of British society, Love Me, Hold Me, Always is an unflinching 15-minute short exploring poverty, loneliness, and unconditional love with rare honesty.
The film marks a significant step for director Hardy Speight, who spent years working in the industry as an assistant director before launching his own production company. Speaking with Susanda Wolf, he reflects on his career, the real-life stories that shaped his filmmaking, and why he continues to tell stories from the margins.
The Spark Behind Love Me, Hold Me, Always
Susanda: How did this short film come to life?
Hardy: I’ve always been drawn to people on the fringes, stories of survival. You walk past someone homeless, and you know there’s a whole life in that person. I wanted to understand what leads someone there, how they become forgotten by society.
It had been bubbling around in my head for years. I kept returning to this idea about kids from the care system and the need for family, for being reunited with something lost. I started writing small fragments, sketching characters, but it didn’t really take shape until I met this boy called Shay.
Shay was in the care system, and I was completely fascinated by him. He was young, maybe eleven or twelve. My family and I were having a picnic one day, and this boy just appeared. He stood there watching us, absolutely still, completely transfixed by us as a family. It was as if he was looking at something he longed for but couldn’t quite reach. We called him over, started talking to him.
He told me bits of his life — how he didn’t know where his mum was, how he didn’t know where his dad was. He told a tiny story that stayed with me: one day he hurt his knee, and his dad carried him home on his back. That was the last time he saw him. Just small, fragile fragments like that — but they were full of meaning.
Meeting Shay lit something in me. I’d see another kid on the street later and think, that’s Shay, four years older. My imagination started connecting these people, building a life out of the fragments. I began writing a story about a boy who comes out of prison and tries, against all odds, to bring his family back together.
I’ve always loved characters like that — people who are almost delusional in their hope, who make you want to scream at the screen, “It’s never going to work,” but they keep trying anyway. Shay’s only dream was to have a normal family. That was all he wanted.
I wrote pieces of that story for years, roughly at first. Then I came across Iona Champain, who had just graduated from the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. I found her showreel online. It was one of those moments that stop you. She barely spoke, but there was something sublime about her presence, something deeply original in her features. She has this slightly androgynous look, short hair, a kind of rough-and-tumble quality. She often plays male roles, and I could instantly see her inhabiting that same world I’d been writing about.
I reached out, and she was really open. We met, talked, and I got to know her voice and her energy. Then I went back to the script. It was the first time I’d ever written for a voice I actually knew, and it changed everything. The writing almost flowed by itself after that.
In the original version, Shay was the abandoned boy. But when Iona came into the picture, I began to see the story through her, through a young woman’s vulnerability and determination. The film became more tender, more emotional. That’s when Chrissie was born.
From there, the idea of the phone appeared: this single lifeline connecting her to her mother. It became like an umbilical cord: fragile, vital, full of longing. The story evolved into one about unconditional love in a loveless world.
Early Pathways
Susanda: Hardy, how did you first find your way into working in film?
Hardy: It’s always been the ambition of mine to be a feature filmmaker, but you get taken off in different tangents. I had kids, while working in the drama industry as an assistant director. That was the route I thought I’d take to eventually direct.
I grew up just south of London in a working-class area. By the time I was twenty, I’d lost friends to prison and worse. I was stuck in a cycle—factory jobs, low pay, getting pulled back into the same life.
My gran gave me £200, my mum gave me £200, and I packed a black bin liner of clothes and went to London. That was my Trainspotting moment. I managed to survive long enough for life to start shifting.
A few years later I met someone who helped me get onto a six-month digital media course for young people from difficult backgrounds. It was in Kentish Town. It wasn’t really about learning craft—it was about self-belief. I realised I could go on to study, maybe even make a life in this industry. That course changed everything.
When I finished my degree, I already had my first child, so there was a real urgency to get work. Back then, assistant directing was seen as a recognised route to directing. It’s not like that anymore. But then came another child, and another, and another.
I ended up with four kids and was still working as an AD, doing thirteen-hour days, six-day weeks. When you’re second AD, you’re doing prosthetics and prep in the morning, so there’s no space or time. It’s exhausting. I’d come home after six-day weeks, spend a day with the kids, and go off again. That was my life for eight or nine years.
Eventually I moved into advertising, which was a big break. I made a few films, came through the other side, and now have a production company with my partner Marcus Thomas. We run Black Lab Films, doing commercials but also developing shorts, features, and dramas. That’s been the career journey so far.
Influences and Film Culture
Susanda: In what ways did your time as an AD prepare you to direct your own films?
Hardy: It taught me discipline. On set you see everything — pressure, teamwork, exhaustion — but also creativity under limits. I learned how productions function, but it consumed me. With four kids and those hours, there was no room for my own creativity.
Moving into advertising helped. It gave me shorter projects and more control. That’s when I started directing again. From there, Love Me, Hold Me, Always became the point where I said, “Right, I’m making something of my own now.
Susanda: Were there particular films that shaped your sensibility?
Hardy: I’ve always loved social, gritty films — maybe because they reflect my own life. I remember watching Cathy Come Home when I was a kid, and it really hit me. My mum told me, “Your granny lived there,” meaning the tenement in the film, and that stayed with me.
Later I discovered the Dardenne brothers. Rosetta absolutely floored me. It’s such a powerful story — a girl just struggling to survive, trying to hold on to her dignity while the world keeps pushing her down. Those films are heavy, even depressing, but I love that. Other people might find them uncomfortable, but to me that’s brilliant. I want to be taken to those places. I want to feel something deeply. I don’t always want to be entertained; I want to experience something real.
Festival Circuit and Reception
Susanda: The film premiered at Edinburgh. How has the response been since?
Hardy: Edinburgh was brilliant. Because they wanted it as a premiere, we had to withdraw from other festivals, but most have invited us to resubmit next year. Next up is Bolton, which looks amazing—over five hundred shorts screening.
We’ll keep submitting, but this short also works as a proof of concept for the feature version. It’s not a commercial project; it’s about integrity—integrity in story, subject, and tone.
Looking Forward
Susanda: What’s next for you and for Love Me, Hold Me, Always?
Hardy: We’re developing the feature version now. We’ll be looking for funding, maybe through the BFI, but if it doesn’t happen, we’ll just make it ourselves. That’s the great thing about digital filmmaking. There’s really no excuse not to do it anymore.
You think about Werner Herzog, hauling ships over mountains to make a film. He just found a way. We’ve got digital cameras and editing gear at home. All you need now is the spirit, the will to do it, and maybe a little bit of madness.
Susanda: What do you hope audiences take from Love Me, Hold Me, Always?
Hardy: Humanity. It’s not a story about hopelessness. It’s about someone who still believes love exists, even in the darkest corners.
For me, making this film proved that stories from society’s edges can connect with anyone. You don’t need a huge budget or a massive crew. You just need spirit. If you’ve got that, the film will find its life.