A short film about men’s mental health problems, Alive (you are not alone), made without using a film studio, without subsidies or any particular spin, touched a nerve with many of the men who watched it.
Marc Nelson: “Out of 40 men in the room, about 10 came up to me afterwards,” Nelson says. “That tells you everything.”
The film Alive talks openly about suicidal thoughts
Men’s mental health is often discussed in policy papers, in campaigns and statistics, but far less often in rooms where people feel safe enough to speak. At a recent screening of the short film Alive, one such room filled, and then opened.
The premiere of Alive was not a red-carpet event or an industry showcase. It was a modest gathering of just over 80 people, held together by a shared willingness to watch something uncomfortable and then talk about it. By the end of the evening, around a quarter of the men in attendance had approached the filmmaker to disclose personal experiences with suicidal thoughts. Over £1,100 was raised for Andy’s Man Club, and the conversation continued long after the credits rolled.
Alive is written, directed and produced by Marc Nelson, a former IT business owner who retired at 45 and found himself struggling with something he had not anticipated: the loss of purpose. The film draws directly on that experience, exploring how outward success can coexist with internal collapse, and how silence can deepen it.
From early retirement to emotional freefall
Nelson’s story does not begin in crisis. He describes himself as someone who always looked forward rather than back, focused on what came next rather than what had already been achieved. After selling his business and retiring early, he initially tried to reflect on his life by writing an autobiography, not for publication, but as a private exercise in appreciation. That process quickly became emotionally taxing bringing him face to face with feelings he did not want to confront. What followed was a familiar but rarely articulated pattern. With friends still working, social contact dwindled. Golf, once a shared activity, became isolating. Nights were spent awake, walking the dog, thinking about worth and purpose. At his lowest point, Nelson describes thinking that at least he had provided financially for his family, even if he were no longer there.
The turning point came after watching a BBC documentary on male suicide, which prompted him to write a long Facebook post opening up about his mental health. That act of disclosure, he says, marked the beginning of healing. But it also left him with a question: what now?
Why Alive was made, and why it is restrained
Rather than returning to business, Nelson turned to writing. With no immediate need for income, he gave himself six months to explore filmmaking, something he had always enjoyed but never pursued seriously. He wrote multiple scripts across genres, worked with a professional script editor, and began pitching projects through industry platforms. Eventually, he decided to make something himself, not as a feature film, but as a short, manageable piece that could be produced independently. Alive emerged from that decision. At just five pages long, it was designed to be emotionally focused, logistically simple, and ethically careful.
One of the most deliberate choices was what not to show. Although the film deals with suicidal ideation, Nelson was clear that he did not want to shock viewers or sensationalise the subject. Instead of graphic imagery, the film relies on implication, a knocked-over chair, a charged silence, allowing the audience to understand without being overwhelmed. Music plays a central role. Nelson describes how scenes that felt flat in silence became emotionally powerful once music was added. The closing song, which speaks about finding a hero within oneself, was chosen to reinforce the film’s core message without spelling it out.
A premiere that became a conversation
The premiere itself was carefully constructed to be more than just a screening. It included live music, a Q&A, and space for people to stay and talk. Nelson stood at the back of the room during the film, watching reactions. As the credits rolled, the audience gave a standing ovation, a moment he describes as overwhelming. What followed mattered more.
During the Q&A and afterwards, people began not only asking questions just about filmmaking, but they talked about why they had not reached out earlier, why they had stayed silent, and what had stopped them from speaking. Several attendees became visibly emotional. One person was crying outside the room and needed support. Others shared that they had been in similar mental states only months earlier.
Out of roughly 40 men present, Nelson estimates that around 10 approached him privately to disclose suicidal thoughts at some point in their lives. For him, this confirmed the film’s purpose: not to provide answers, but to create permission.
Men open up when the space feels safe
A recurring theme in Nelson’s reflections is that men do talk, when conditions allow. He does not present himself as an expert or advocate with solutions. Instead, he positions the film as a tool that creates validation: the sense that opening up will not be met with judgement or consequence. This is reinforced by the partnership with Andy’s Man Club, a peer-support charity that runs informal groups for men. Nelson contacted the organisation via LinkedIn, having heard about it through friends. Representatives of Andy’s Man Club attended the premiere, explained their work, and the club benefited from the funds raised through ticket sales and donations.
The £1,100 raised will go towards practical costs such as venue hire, printed materials and outreach, small but essential elements that keep local groups running. For Nelson, the fundraising mattered less than the visibility: connecting people in the room with a real, accessible support network.
Social impact without institutional backing
What Alive notably lacks is institutional framing. There are no claims about economic impact, job creation, or sector growth. The film was shot on an iPhone, edited independently, and funded without public subsidy. Its impact is measured in conversations, not metrics. Since the premiere, Nelson has been contacted by NHS staff, mental health charities, and community organisations interested in using the film as part of their own events. A Manchester-based charity has discussed screening Alive as part of a fundraising evening, and conversations are ongoing with groups connected to universities and suicide-prevention initiatives.
Nelson is clear that the film is not aimed at schools or young people. He believes its resonance is strongest among men facing transitions, retirement, redundancy, or the abrupt loss of structure that once defined their identity. He also notes parallels with veterans leaving the armed forces, though he is careful not to claim experiences he has not lived.
Stories like this rarely appear in impact reports
There is a striking contrast between the way Alive operates and how success is usually discussed in the screen sector. This film would not register in official statistics. It creates no “full-time equivalent jobs”, generates no GVA, and fits none of the language used in cultural growth strategies. Yet the effects are tangible. People cried. People spoke. People donated. People left with contact details for support groups. These outcomes are harder to quantify, and easier to overlook.
Nelson himself is wary of becoming the face of a movement. He sees his role as supportive, not leading, offering the film to charities to use as they see fit, attending events where helpful, and continuing to speak openly about his own experience.
If it helps someone talk, it’s a success
As Alive continues to be shared online and screened at small events, its reach may grow quietly rather than explosively. Nelson is already working on his next film, returning to fiction while remaining open to using his work for social good. The success of Alive cannot be captured by a headline figure. It sits instead in the moments after the screen goes dark, when someone decides to speak, perhaps for the first time.
In a cultural landscape crowded with claims about growth and scale, Alive offers a reminder that sometimes the most important impact is simply making it possible for a room to tell the truth.
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