Film Review: It's the Hope that Kills You

It's Christmas Eve. In a bleak hospital corridor, two couples wait in silence. They exchange a quick glance, then an even briefer smile before returning to their magazines. Unhurried footsteps echo through the stillness. A nurse ushers one couple away for their appointment, and the quiet takes hold again. Chris turns to Sarah: 'It's funny, isn't it? We're all here for the same thing and no one ever speaks.'

'It's the Hope that Kills You' is a poignant short drama exploring the complex emotional reality of IVF through the often overlooked male perspective. Written and directed by Tim Royle – a freelance director known for his work on major UK soaps including Coronation Street, Emmerdale and EastEnders – the 13-minute film is informed by his own experience of assisted reproduction, and has received multiple accolades since its 2025 release, including Best Drama at the Blackburn Film Festival and the Judges' Choice Award at the White Rose International Film Festival. Rather than relying on melodrama or clinical exposition, it adopts a stripped-back approach that foregrounds the psychological strain of repeated, often unsuccessful treatment cycles.

At the start, we are introduced to Chris and Sarah – played by Callum Sim and Paula Lane – awaiting their tenth embryo transfer at St Mary's Hospital in Manchester. Sarah is completely engrossed in her phone, while Chris sits beside her, restless and visibly anxious. 'It's funny, isn't it? We're all here for the same thing and no one ever speaks,' he repeats. From the outset, the short film establishes a pronounced sense of emotional disconnection and fragility between the couple, revealed through their contrasting responses to the pressures of IVF. In doing so, it highlights how assisted reproduction can generate feelings of isolation even within relationships defined by shared circumstances and goals. The remainder of the film subsequently follows Chris and Sarah as they reflect on their journey.

What stands out most is the film's refusal to sensationalise IVF. Instead, it presents an honest portrayal of its mundanity, capturing a brief snapshot of a much longer experience shaped by anticipation, uncertainty and limbo. Chris encapsulates this concept perfectly: 'It feels like we've pressed pause on the last five years… We don't plan anything anymore. It's all we think about.' The phrase 'Groundhog Day' comes to mind, reflecting the somewhat repetitive and all-consuming nature of assisted reproduction.

The decision to focus on Chris' perspective is a relatively underexplored but valuable angle, as medical and social attitudes surrounding IVF predominantly centre on the female experience. According to the World Health Organisation, women in heterosexual relationships are disproportionately assumed to be responsible for infertility.

This is further reflected in clinical practice, where men frequently report feeling marginalised during fertility treatment. Several examples of this gender imbalance appear throughout the film – only Sarah is addressed by the nurse despite Chris' presence, and she later acknowledges having 'gained so much support.' In this way, the film contributes to wider discussions in reproductive medicine around male underrepresentation and emotional invisibility, while also engaging with similar themes in other works, such as The Easy Bit (see BioNews 1050). Importantly, It's the Hope that Kills You avoids framing IVF through a hierarchy of suffering, and never diminishes or displaces Sarah's psychological and physical experience.

Despite an early sense of emotional separation between Chris and Sarah, their dynamic gradually shifts as they discuss the possibility of another unsuccessful transfer and consider an alternative future, culminating in the mutual reassurance that they have 'always been enough together.' This renewed closeness is reinforced in a brief but significant moment – the nurse addresses Sarah, prompting her to firmly add, 'and Chris.' The gesture is quietly moving, accentuating her instinct to reassert their unity within a system that risks overlooking him.

In my opinion, the film's ambiguous ending is its most powerful moment. Rather than offering resolution, it leaves the viewer in a state of uncertainty that mirrors the lived reality of IVF. Visual motifs throughout the film evoke a sense of fragile hope – most notably the hanging rainbow on the hospital notice board. However, this is complicated by Sarah's tearful reaction to the pregnancy test. Was it happiness and relief, sadness or grief? Either way, I cried with her.

This short drama ultimately succeeds in placing those navigating IVF at the centre of its narrative, allowing their experiences to be seen and understood. As discussed in a recent episode of Unspoken: The Fertility Network Podcast, Royle intended to offer hope and reassurance regardless of outcome, and the film achieves this not through straightforward optimism, but through its emphasis on partnership and resilience. On a personal level, it deepened my understanding of the emotional endurance involved in IVF.

It's the Hope that Kills You gives voice to experiences that are often privately carried and rarely articulated, and therefore acts as a powerful conversation-starter for those affected by IVF, their families and friends, and fertility professionals. I would recommend it to all of the above, and would urge anyone interested to watch it for themselves.