It opens with birdsong in the dark. It ends with brightly lit blank screen. In between, we look out from a helicopter, flying across London before arriving at the destination we know we have come to see, yet dread seeing, the burnt corpse of Grenfell Tower, around which the camera circles, again and again.
Steve McQueen’s new short film Grenfell is more memorial than documentary. There are no people in it and no words. Its heart is the building, blackened, blistered, mute and obscene.
