Mixing dark humour with a topic that is hard to get right, Limbo opens a cupboard of emotions and lets them all out, freely mixing together to create a beautiful and, above all, human experience.

Clear and concise in its meaning, ‘limbo’ can often come across as a worn-out buzzword. Apart from being a popular party game that I never seemed to get the knack of, the term, ironically, finds itself trapped between two similar meanings: the spiritual land where souls wait between worlds or a situation that seems to not want to end.

Either way, the emphasis falls on the lack of change, the correlation between being both lost and stuck at the same time (which can also refer to the party game after brushing the bar accidently with my nose). Limbo certainly embodies every uncertain emotion as Sharrock traps himself between humour and hopelessness; knowing exactly how to go about it.

Damp, cold, and grey, Scotland is home to many lost souls seeking asylum; waiting for the priceless envelope that will confirm their status and allow them to work legally in the UK. Omar (Amir El-Masry), a young Syrian musician, lives day to day as he attends cultural lessons while updating his parents from a lone and antiquated telephone booth.

With his right hand in a cast, Omar carries his grandfather’s oud with him wherever he goes; the burden of a music-less musician weighing on his shoulders as he struggles for money, trying his hardest to live in the miserable limbo while barely surviving.

I know what it sounds like, but Limbo isn’t just a cross-section of suffering. Although the laughter is never light, comedy is found everywhere in Omar’s repetitive routine. Omar sits quietly in a classroom filled with other asylum seekers as a pair of Scots teach them crude British etiquette, their methods bizarre and ignorant yet never malicious.

As the pair show the class examples of consent with a provocative dance, Boris (Kenneth Collard) seizes the opportunity and gropes Helga (Sidse Babett Knudsen), leading to a firm but somewhat ineffective slap. The balance between the clear ignorance of the affair (assuming that these foreigners are base animals) and the absurdity of it as Boris toes the line mix together like a chip butty: an idea that may seem distasteful at first but soon begs for another bite.

That is what makes Limbo so interesting. Whether it is something as simple as speaking a bit slower to the unfortunate foreigners or outright using a slur with such benign confidence that the word is more surprising than horrific; Sharrock shows the world through the eyes of hopeful Omar. Inquisitive, polite, and reserved, Omar tries his best to be a part of the alien Scottish isles, rarely voicing his judgements but quietly learns in the hopes that he can, eventually, be accepted.

Waiting for the post… Amir El-Masry, Vikash Bhai, Ola Orebiyi, & Kwabena Ansah. Photo: MUBI

As Limbo settles into a repetitive routine, it is hard to not feel Omar’s restlessness. I admit, the hint of tedium that follows him around bled off the screen and began to turn my fascination into faltering interest, but even then was I kept enthralled by the stunning cinematography.

When Omar and his compatriots are together, they are distant, specks amidst the windy landscape that threatens to enclose around them; yet each of their single shots are close and intimate, their open eyes dominating the centre of the frame. Switching back and forth between them, it feels as if not even the visuals know what to do, stuck in their own apt cinematographic limbo.

As I watched Omar struggle with his self-imposed responsibility to his family, his friends, and his music, I didn’t even realise how anxious I felt. As the black columns squeeze the shot from either side (due to the tall aspect ratio), there is a constant sense of suffocation, waiting silently in the wings. I sat there, hands clenched as Omar’s journey becomes tougher with each passing step without noticing my own personal struggle.

The feeling grew invisibly only to unveil itself once Sharrock forced me to look inward, releasing the growing unease in a single fatal swoop. Just before the credits appear, the title appears once more because, no matter what happens or what changes, limbo is forever unmalleable and unending.