Petra Volpe’s medical drama Late Shift starts in a dry cleaning factory of sorts, where a line of royal-blue scrubs slides through a puttering conveyor belt. Here, the film’s Swiss title card emerges: Heldin, or as translated, ‘heroine’. It’s a striking juxtaposition Volpe adopts right before the story even begins: the slew of identical scrubs—which we later see the protagonist, a surgical ward nurse, wear—connote the cultural sameness that healthcare workers face; the uniform, a means of deprivation, where a nurse’s identity is merely stripped down to their potential and skill that service others in need.

Film and television have long explored the healthcare industry in their ways, shaping the medical genre as a stage for dramatic operations helmed by potent figures of authority. Yet, what Late Shift seeks to revitalise is that behind each doctor or surgeon in the spotlight are often a well-oiled team of nurses—or in this case, a nurse—who patients see every moment, and who usually face the brunt of whatever emotional stimuli each day brings. Wholly inspired by German nurse and author Madeline Calvelage’s Unser Beruf ist nicht das Problem: Es sind die Umstände (Our Profession is Not the Problem: It’s the Circumstances), Volpe re-imagines the unfair reality in which nurses have become so overshadowed in our society, honouring them as the heroine of their story.

The film follows Floria Lind (Leonie Benesch), a surgical ward nurse whose empathy and dedication aptly carries an understaffed, yet overwhelmed surgical ward. From the start, she readily helps a colleague change an elderly woman’s diaper, reasoning that “[he’d] do the same for [her],” but before she could even partake in the handover process, she’s shouldering the added responsibility of a nursing student in-training. We quickly realise how Floria’s presence in the hospital room becomes somewhat of a commodity in the ward—her time with patients repeatedly interrupted, or re-directed, to much more pressing needs (though trivial matters, like requesting a cup of tea, often fall under the same category). As frustrating as it may seem, there’s realistic moments of weaknesses from Floria suffused in the film: a hesitant beat when the call bell rings through the halls, an inscrutable expression when a woman insists for her mother’s misplaced reading glasses, and much later on, when everything comes to a boiling point, a designer watch thrown through the windows. Late Shift is less about medical realism, but more on the sensitive heartbeat that powers these rooms.

Benesch is a steady force that grounds the film, with her resume (The Teachers’ Lounge) as evidence, she’s no stranger to representing unsung figures pressured by circumstances. Here, however, her performance is more restrained than it is charismatic; tightly-lipped smiles and fine lines deepening as the film progresses, accentuating how healthcare professionals endure systemic deficiencies until exhaustion bleeds them dry. It’s realistic, immersive, and admittedly much more powerful.

Late Shift adopts an almost real-time structure, not just by its narrative, but through cinematographer Judith Kaufmann’s long-takes and minimal shot changes. It steers away from common tropes in the medical genre, where emergencies are dealt with frantic urgency and accentuated by fast-paced camera work. Rather, Kaufmann’s hand forces you to exist within the hospital borders and endure unrelenting exigencies one after the other, intensified by Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch’s densely cadent score, until it quietly suffocates. The 90-minute runtime feels deceiving when you’re left feeling exhausted as the credits roll.

The lack of mental support for healthcare professionals is undoubtedly a worldwide crisis. Last year, Job and Skills Australia’s Occupation Shortage List revealed that nursing roles across all states are experiencing a shortage, highlighting our struggle in addressing the needs of those who take care of us. Volpe punctuates this issue right before the credits roll in Late Shift, warning that ‘the WHO estimates a shortage of 13 million nurses by the year 2030’. Noah Wyle, actor of medical drama The Pitt, via his USA Today opinion piece puts it simply: ‘Without a supported, protected and fairly treated workforce, there is no patient care.’ The state of healthcare is alarming, and Late Shift is a reminder that we should appreciate our nurses more.

Late Shift screened as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival (MIFF)’s 73rd program on the 13th, 19th, and 24th of August.