SKATER UKTIS (2025)
Short documentary filmmaking occupies a peculiar corner of cinema. Too brief to demand the commitment of a feature, too considered to be dismissed as mere footage, the short doc lives or dies by the clarity of its central idea. At its best, the format can distill something essential about a community or a moment in a way that two hours simply cannot. Skater Uktis (2025) arrives with a premise that is, on the surface, cheerfully specific: a group of Muslim girls and women in England who skate, and the global sisterhood they have found through doing so. But as with the best short non-fiction work, the specificity is something of a Trojan horse. Skateboarding itself has always carried a countercultural charge, a sport that emerged from Californian surf culture in the 1950s and 1960s before spreading worldwide into something genuinely classless and borderless. The image of the skateboarder as white, male, and vaguely rebellious is one that the sport has been quietly dismantling for years, and a film like this sits comfortably within that broader, ongoing conversation.
The film is the work of director Mehek Azmathulla, an independent filmmaker whose background in short-form work is evident in the confidence with which she handles a tight runtime. Produced without the backing of a major studio, Skater Uktis screened at the Muslim International Film Festival before finding its way to a wider audience, which is precisely the kind of grassroots journey that suits its subject matter. There is something fitting about a film celebrating community and peer-to-peer connection making its rounds through festival circuits and personal recommendations rather than algorithmic promotion. The film's four central figures, Yasmin Sundi, Saara Grillo, Amna Masoud, and Mallikah Khan, are not professional performers but real participants in the UKTIS (United Kingdom Team of Inspirational Skaters) community, and their presence gives the film the kind of unforced warmth that no casting director could manufacture. For anyone who has spent time with short documentaries that prioritise access over artifice, the approach will feel familiar in the best possible sense, not unlike the observational honesty that runs through something as stripped-back as Listen to Britain or the intimate community focus of Dr. Ben.
What makes the film worth seeking out, beyond its warm subject matter, is the reach it quietly implies within its seven-minute frame. The UKTIS collective connects skaters across more than twenty countries, from the United States to Nigeria, and Azmathulla gestures at this global spread without letting the film become a geography lesson. It is a remarkably economical piece of filmmaking, the kind of short that trusts its audience to draw their own conclusions rather than spelling everything out. At a time when documentary filmmaking can sometimes feel burdened by its own earnestness, that restraint is genuinely welcome.
I missed this at the Muslim International Film Festival so I was thrilled when Mehek Azmathulla sent me this to watch.
I’ve grown up with the sound of wheels on concrete, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about skate culture, it’s that the board doesn’t care who you are. That’s exactly why Mehek Azmathulla’s 2025 short documentary SKATER UKTIS struck such a genuine chord with me. It’s a beautifully simple, seven-minute snapshot of young Muslim women in England picking up skateboards, but it manages to capture something truly universal.
Seeing them connect with skaters across the globe (from the USA to Nigeria, and I read 20+ countries total) is a cracking reminder of how a simple plank of wood with wheels can completely bypass cultural and geographical barriers.
As someone who has spent decades watching this subculture evolve, it is truly refreshing to see it embraced by people from all walks of life. Azmathulla doesn’t overcomplicate the narrative with heavy-handed exposition or forced dramatic arcs. Instead, she just lets the joy of the sport speak for itself. There’s a brilliant, infectious energy in the way these women support one another, trading tips and sharing the sheer thrill of landing a trick. It’s the kind of pure, unadulterated positivity that you don’t see nearly enough of in modern documentary filmmaking.
Now, at roughly seven minutes long, you might wonder if there’s enough meat on the bone here to justify calling it a film. Honestly, it’s exactly the right length. Azmathulla knows precisely when to cut, delivering a tightly edited burst of inspiration without overstaying its welcome. It doesn't need to be a feature-length epic to make its point. The film’s brevity actually works in its favour, leaving you with a lingering sense of warmth rather than dragging the premise out until it loses its spark. It made me smile, plain and simple, which is frankly all a short film of this nature needs to achieve.
SKATER UKTIS is a wonderful, positive piece of cinema that punches well above its modest runtime. It carries a quietly powerful message: if you want to take up a hobby, don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t for you, and always uplift the people rolling alongside you.
Mehek Azmathulla has crafted a brilliant, heartwarming little gem that I genuinely hope finds a wide audience. It’s a lovely reminder of the unifying power of sport.
A short film that leaves you smiling and reaches further than its runtime has any right to is no small achievement, and Skater Uktis manages exactly that. It is polished but unpretentious, modest in scope but generous in spirit, and it sits alongside other recent short-form work reviewed here, such as What Goes Up.... and America, as a reminder that brevity and impact are not mutually exclusive. Azmathulla has made something that functions equally well as a portrait of faith, friendship, and sport, and if the film finds the wider audience it deserves, it will be because word of mouth is still the most reliable wheel in the business.
Rating: ★★★½ | Year: 2025 | Watched: 2026-07-13
