ONE SHOT with Ed Sheeran

The Unbearable Lightness of Being Ed

There is a moment early in *ONE SHOT with Ed Sheeran* that accidentally betrays the film’s entire thesis. The camera, tethered to Sheeran like a loyal golden retriever, follows him as he attempts to hail a New York City taxi. He misses the first one. The second pulls over immediately. The driver, seemingly unfazed by the lens or the global superstar sliding into his backseat, simply drives. It is a crack in the façade of "spontaneity"—a reminder that while the take may be continuous, the reality is curated.

Directed by Philip Barantini, a filmmaker who has made the "oner" his signature weapon (most notably in the anxiety-inducing *Boiling Point* and the searing drama *Adolescence*), this 2025 experiment attempts to apply the language of high-tension cinema to the breeziest man in pop music. The result is a fascinating, if occasionally dissonant, collision of form and subject. Barantini’s camera is designed to capture pressure, suffocation, and the ticking clock of catastrophe. Yet, Sheeran is a vacuum of tension. He absorbs the chaos of Manhattan and refracts it into acoustic pleasantries.



Visually, the film is a technical marvel, even if it feels like using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut. Barantini and cinematographer Nyk Allen execute a fluid, floating dance through the arteries of the city. The camera passes from handheld operators to drones and back again with a seamlessness that recalls the backstage mazes of *Birdman*. But where Iñárritu used the technique to expose the crumbling ego of an artist, Barantini uses it to document a victory lap.

The "plot," such as it is, follows Sheeran in real-time from a soundcheck to his evening gig at the Hammerstein Ballroom. Along the way, Manhattan becomes a soundstage. The visual landscape creates a suffocating sense of reality that the script (or lack thereof) struggles to match. We watch Sheeran navigate the High Line to serenade a marriage proposal, crash a rooftop birthday party, and busk on a subway platform. The cinematography elevates these moments, lending a cinematic grandeur to what is essentially a series of high-budget viral TikToks.



However, the film’s heart—or perhaps its hollow center—is best exemplified in the "chance" encounter with Camila Cabello. Sheeran, needing a lift, stumbles upon Cabello in traffic. The dialogue is wooden, the surprise feigned. They launch into a duet of "Photograph" that feels less like an organic jam session and more like a *Carpool Karaoke* segment that got lost on its way to YouTube. It is here that the narrative collapses under its own ambition. The "one shot" gimmick demands we believe in the uninterrupted flow of time, but the celebrity cameos demand we suspend our disbelief in coincidence.

Yet, despite the artifice, Sheeran’s relentless amiability is almost a superpower. There is a scene in an elevator—a rare moment of silence—where he stands next to a baffled businessman. For a few seconds, the smile drops, and we see the weariness of a man who is constantly "on." It is the most honest moment in the film. But the doors open, the guitar comes up, and the show goes on.



Ultimately, *ONE SHOT* is a paradox. It is a film obsessed with the "real"—real time, real streets, real people—starring an artist whose brand is built on an approachable, yet impenetrable, polish. Barantini proves once again that he is a master of logistics and tension, even if he has to manufacture the latter. As a piece of cinema, it is a technical exercise in search of a conflict. As a portrait of Ed Sheeran, it is exactly as deep, catchy, and harmless as a pop song.