Latest Short Film Reviews

A marching drumbeat sets the tone for the opening scene as an unidentified prisoner is being dragged into the frame. Two soldiers salute their commanding officer, who is sharply dressed in a beret and shiny black boots. After the screaming prisoner is led outside to be tortured, Jacob Kay and Aiden Clark, who both play the anonymous soldiers, enter a conversation about everything under the sun – from the mechanics of their salute just moments earlier to the pros and cons of becoming vegetarian, and whether pigs can even have depression. Most of this conversation happens while the second soldier is playing a game on his phone, which further enhances the farce-like and satirical tone.

Everything about Smile, Smile, Smile! is mysterious. From the secret facility where this operation is held, which looks like an abandoned warehouse, to the unnamed soldiers and the organization, an enigmatic layer surrounds this short. We are pretty much left in the dark about these things, and as the short continues, we realize that it’s not necessary to have everything spelled out to us in order to enjoy the film.

As we are kept in the dark figuratively, this short is actually literally filmed in near-total darkness. This made it difficult to tell one actor from another and which character was speaking. Better lighting in general could help give the film a better sense of direction, since mostly all the actors were dressed in dark clothes, and this made differentiating them in the dim lighting hard. But if the dimness was there to keep the film mysterious, viewers might be able to see that this could be a directorial choice and let it pass.

Since this short was pretty much entirely filmed in what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse, audience members might chalk it up to the acoustics of such a venue lending to the reverb that could be heard throughout the film. However, this became rather distracting over time. Due to the excessive reverb, the syncing of the movement of the actors’ lips with the dialogue was slightly delayed. For better immersion purposes, perhaps editing out the reverb would be a good choice.

A clever technique that the director Oliver Griffiths employs is utilizing the sound effects to serve the film’s purpose better. For the most part, the prisoner is tortured off-screen, or outside the warehouse where we can’t see him. Sound effects of buzzing jigsaws and screams effectively convey that the prisoner is being brutalized. This technique is used more than once over the course of the film. And it demonstrates Griffiths’s good directorial instincts in keeping the violence and gore to a tasteful minimum so as not to alienate general audiences and keep the film accessible.

Griffiths even makes a cameo appearance in the film as Dave, a fellow soldier in a bloody hazmat suit. Dave is instrumental to the scene where the main characters are performing a card trick. He is asked to bring over a bag, from which Kay’s character produces the card that Clark’s character had drawn previously, right out of said bag. The comedy continues when, as Dave wheels out the latest prisoner casualty, Kay’s character requests a coffee. Clark’s character even asks for one (“No sugars in mine”), further offsetting the dark humor of this moment.

For the most part, the short is filmed in one single unbroken shot, with the two unnamed soldiers shooting the breeze, while all this dark stuff is happening around them. The irony couldn’t be missed on viewers, as the deadpan humor both in the written dialogue and the action creates some very much-needed comedic relief in this bleak setting. With that being said, the script is very clever. Lines bordering on black humor and philosophical outtakes punctuate the script and create lasting impressions on the viewer. Written by Jacob Kay and Josef Duncan in 2019, Smile, Smile, Smile! was the semi-finalist for Best Short Comedy at the 2025 Lit Laughs International Comedy Festival. Sadly, Duncan passed away in late 2019. Kay and Director Oliver Griffiths collaborated together and made the film in dedication to Duncan.

At times, mixing dark humor with situational comedy, the short successfully delivers as a black satire with themes of real human interactions and camaraderie. Viewers will be pleasantly surprised to find it is a 14-minute philosophical romp through comedic territory, offering thought-provoking insights based off the actors’ on-point performances and impeccable comedic timing. Centered around two soldiers and their casual conversation as they stand guard inside a secret facility, at its core, this is a film about human connections. Have you ever imagined what could possibly pass off as small talk between two soldiers during a special-ops mission? Smile, Smile, Smile! satisfies your curiosity and so much more.

It’s Not What It Looks Like (2026) is a British black comedy written by Suman Hanif and Nasim Akhtar, and directed by Ganesh Sharma. This short film is currently in post-production and runs 16 minutes. 

The film centres around a 19-year-old woman named Asma Ali Hussain, played by Ayushi Jain. Asma is an actress who has honed her career by creating satirical self-tapes on YouTube, where she plays an extremist. These videos have been brought to the attention of two small-town cops, Bob and Patrick, who before doing any research into Asma or anything else at all it seems, mistake her persona as a genuine threat and conduct a shambolic police interview in order to gather the evidence they need to convict Asma in court.  

This comedy is set in the current era of the 2020s, a time when extremism and terrorism are a huge topic of conversation, particularly in politics. Polarising individuals such as Nigel Farage have committed themselves to perpetuating the idea that the threat of terrorism comes from the migration of individuals across borders, causing fear-mongering amongst the less educated. 

This misinformation leads to severe cases of racism, seen in the case of Tommy Robinson’s popularity, as more and more people are swayed by prejudiced arguments rather than researching important political topics and history. 

It’s Not What It Looks Like plays well on this reality of far-right political mindsets, as it is clear that Bob and Patrick have no curiosity about Asma’s life. They do not investigate the reasons she may have made these videos, and lack any critical thinking. They do not even lend Asma the courtesy of listening to her; they simply make their assumptions and ignore anything to the contrary.

Fans of The Drama (2026), directed by Kristoffer Borgli, will appreciate the dark humour at play here. Whilst Asma is, of course, not a terrorist, the character she plays online is playing into the stereotype of one. The tone is completely satirical throughout the film, similarly to The Drama which remains comedic despite dealing with dark topics. However, both films importantly keep their entertainment without making light of the key issue at hand. Asma is not a victim of radical grooming; however, the influence of far-right speech on the internet is an extremely prevalent one. 

Public figures like Andrew Tate’s gaining a platform have a strong, non-coincidental correlation with the rise of incel culture and violence committed by young men. This film, like the drama, importantly raises awareness of the nonsensical discourse surrounding these issues, such as through the police jumping to conclusions, and incorporates a microcosmic example of cancel culture, without taking away from the seriousness of terrorism.

All of the performances in the film are worth noting. Ayushi Jain brilliantly conveys the frustration of being a racially profiled woman, stuck between two ignorant men who refuse to hear her voice. Bob and Patrick make comedically wild assumptions about her daily activities, often mistaking one thing for something completely different- for instance, they believe her camping trip to the Lake District was in fact in Syria, and they think a pregnancy test is a COVID test. These obvious, gruelling mistakes demonstrate not only Asma's struggles of being a victim of racism, but also of misogyny, and of being subject to a corrupt authority.

It’s Not What It Looks Like (2026) is an entertaining and important short film. Whilst a vital plot twist towards the end of the third act provides some optimism towards UK authorities, it is nowhere near enough, keeping attention on the police force’s constant failures. Bob and Patrick are the main antagonists of the film; however, they are still good fun to watch as the chaos unfolds in the interview room. This film is an excellent example of how to present political messaging whilst maintaining itself as engaging. Viewers will find themselves excited about Ganesh Sharma’s platform as they continue to grow as a filmmaker. 

Calamity Wayne is a short piece set in 1960s Belfast and follows a young boy, Wayne (Seamus Brady), named after Western star John Wayne, as he struggles to fit in at school. To win the affection of his crush Annette (Zoe Gribbon), he must confront his bully in a High Noon movie-theatre showdown.

Calamity Wayne is a love letter to the writer/director Carleton Rodgers’ grandmother, Annette, and that personal lens resonates deeply. The film's depiction of childhood imagination and nostalgia is personal, instantly transporting the audience back to the 1960s with its distinct feel for the era. It's an inventive formal experience; the filmmakers use 1960s Belfast as a backdrop, making the film feel incredibly lived-in. Despite its brisk runtime, the narrative introduces the central characters seamlessly so it never feels rushed. That said, better characterisation of supporting characters like Annette and Tim would have made the experience more engaging overall. It's an emotionally charged experience that depicts an outsider struggling to fit in at school and makes the audience sympathise with Wayne’s identity struggles.

One of the most profound aspects of Wayne’s characterisation is how he uses his love of the western genre to cope with his pain, which plays perfectly into the childhood-wonder lens. Its uplifting tone and 1960s western throwback are a delight, and it's easy to see why any film fanatic would appreciate its nostalgic look at that era. Despite the film's budget constraints, the filmmakers’ creativity in framing and staging each sequence never falters. The production design is wonderful, weaving the grounded and outlandish depictions of imagination together perfectly. Another understated strength is its whimsical musical score, which elevates the emotional nuance.

The most surprising and impressive aspects of Calamity Wayne are its technical offerings. Writer/director Carleton Rodgers also serves as the editor of the film and does a terrific job seamlessly cutting between each sequence. The quick-paced editing works profoundly in the sequences of conflict that depict Wayne’s imagination from the point of view of a quick draw between him and his friends Annette and Tim. It's a wonderful sequence that pays homage to American Western films of the era while feeling deeply original in the context of the film's narrative. Carl Quinn serves as the film’s director of photography and does a splendid job framing each sequence. The mix of establishing shots and wider framing in the scenes that take place in Wayne’s imagination is jaw-dropping to witness.

All three central performances from Seamus Brady, Zoe Gribbon and Memphis Oniru in their portrayals of Wayne, Annette and Tim, respectively, are incredibly moving. It's easily three of the most memorable child performances in recent memory. Despite Memphis Oniru and Zoe Gribbon’s brief screen time, they breathe so much energy and heart into the material. The trio’s chemistry sings and is the heart and soul of the film's narrative.

Calamity Wayne is a whimsical and uplifting depiction of childhood nostalgia that wears its influences on its sleeve. The film is a profound and personal experience held together by its wonderful trio and formal prowess.

A short comedy drama written and directed by Ken Abalos, Ash Meshkati and starring Ewan Guthrie, Kelsey Cooke and Paul Casar.

Shot over a period of two days in East London, this film follows teenager Jack (Guthrie), who has his birthday and his father (Casar), who is separated from his son's mother, has a surprise for him: he is taking him to a brotherl so he can lose his virginity. There, they are introduced to Megan (Cooke), a sex worker who will be showing Jack a good time, while his dad has his own fun with another one. However, once Jack and Megan are alone in a room and on a bed, Jack panics when the big moment arrives, leading to a meeting that goes very differently than planned.

A father-and-son story and an encounter for intercourse that unexpectedly turns into something more meaningful and life-changing. There are laughs and there is serious drama as Jack and Megan develop a rapport about his issues, his struggles with romantic relationships and his relationship with his father and involving Megan's view regarding her life.

Guthrie delivers the most entertaining performance as an insecure, nervous and virginal teen who evidently need help in comprehending himself and those around him. Casar's character comes across as confident and knowledgeable man, although it is later revealed that he too has insecurities and worries. Cooke plays a rather interesting part, that of a sex worker who turns out to be a rather wise individual who possesses a deep understanding about how the world works and ends up acting as a sort of mentor for Jack.

From one perspective, this short explores the world of sex workers and via Guthrie's character, it recognises the significance of support, of understanding others and helping them with their problems. This film is supported by Progressive Masculinity, which is an organisation that reshapes the understanding of masculinity to boys and men and the themes involving masculinity are primarily associated with the Jack character, those being self-esteem, self-reflection and intercourse. Through Casar's character, the film also examines parenting.

An encounter that ends up changing people's lives for the better. An uplifting story that also offers some good laughs.

This is a short film set in post-Civil War America. The Story follows Henry Sullivan (Jacob Kay), a bounty hunter and former Civil War soldier wandering across America. He is on a mission to track down a wanted man by the name of Sylvester Reed (Johnathan Butler). As he travels on this personal errand, we hear the voice of his sister, Jessica Sullivan (Felicity Donnelly), reading aloud the letters that she has sent him since his return from the war. The audience hears about their estranged relationship and how he has battled to come to terms with his war experience. Henry’s work as a bounty hunter has taken him away from his family and into a life of solitude.

The fact that the budget for this film was only £250 makes the finished product even more impressive, especially since it was filmed in only 3 days. The aesthetics of the piece are well polished and make for good viewing, and the musical score adds a great deal to the action. The music is able to convey sadness and solitude as Henry goes in search of this outlaw. The locations are well chosen and give the viewer the idea that Henry is travelling through American western civilisation.

The writer and director Oliver Griffiths clearly has an interest in this period of American history, having made the film Enemies prior to making this. That too concentrated on the time of the American Civil War. This knowledge adds to the visuals of the film, with a good use of locations and costumes to represent the period. This is not a dialogue-heavy script, which is expected considering a large part of the film centres on Henry being on his own. The use of a voice-over from his sister throughout is very effective and gives background to what has occurred before Henry’s travels. The director uses the camera to really encapsulate the landscapes and to convey the great wilderness. He clearly has an eye for picturesque scenery and the sounds of the wild.

Jacob Ray holds the screen well, an accomplishment given the lack of dialogue and action for the most part. The camera focuses on the small details of what Henry is doing, and we, the audience, can see his thoughts in the expression on his face. When there is dialogue, Jacob Ray uses his voice to convey the pain he is feeling to great effect. Johnathan Butler adds menace to his scenes and portrays the cold emotion of his character. The scenes between the two characters stand out and are realistic. The British actors successfully take on the American accent throughout.

Overall, this is a really good short film, well written and directed. The actors bring their characters to life, and the landscape is stunning. The story will hold the audience’s interest, and there is enough action despite the film being only 17 minutes long. The plot is well thought out, and the ending pieces everything together. Fans of the western genre will get the most out of this, but it’s not essential to have prior knowledge of the period.

The film was selected for numerous film festivals throughout 2022 and 2023, including being screened in competition at the 2022 Almería Western Film Festival.

An orphaned refugee sets out in search of her mother. We see this from a child’s perspective as she imagines her mum to be a mermaid, lost at sea. A fairytale version of love, loss, and the devastating lives of refugees.

This short follows Roya (Layla Badat), a young refugee living in an orphanage. After the loss of her mother (Burcin B. Kilic), she can’t quite comprehend the realities of her situation and lets her imagination run wild. She tells the tale to her friends of the past, when she and her mother were together roaming the ocean as mermaids and how they will inevitably find their way back to each other. It’s this very idea that never dulls Roya’s spark.

It sets out to discuss a somber and very relevant topic that’s only progressively worsening. The star of the show is Roya; she portrays the innocence of a young mind trying to get a handle on real-world problems, that life is unjust and unfair. All of the young performers in this hold their own; from a variety of backgrounds, they come together and unite in their friendship. They build a boat in their childlike naivety to show their support of Roya, an act that feels touching and heartfelt in their attempt.

The visual storytelling throughout is stunning, most notably the underwater shots. We feel a sense of freedom as we see life in the ocean, one that Roya and her mother have never had the privilege of experiencing, only through imagination. This film does a great job of hitting home a tragedy in a more digestible format. A format that shows the vulnerabilities of a child losing her mother and the horrors of travelling overseas dangerously for a better life. Roya still holds hope in her heart, and so do we, even though we are aware of the inevitable disappointment. We want to believe there’s a happy ending, but their lives only add to the ever-growing statistics. As of 2026, there are more than 39,000 people missing or never made it to shore, many of whom are children.

Wherever you may be in the world watching this short, the compassion and awareness of this topic are so important. Raphaela Wagner, the director, compacts so much into a short runtime. From the artistic choices to the writing, we experience a film crafted from love and empathy. The cast takes a compelling story and transforms it into an unforgettable, emotional experience from start to finish.

Winner of Shore Scripts 2024 Spring Short Film Fund, recipient of Hessen Film & Medien Short Film Grant and Verein Südkultur Prize, supported by Emmy-winner Karina Michel and ARRI Rentals.

One of Jonathan Wilhelmsson’s most recent projects, Spooky Encounters of the Sad Kind (2025), follows a not-so-spooky encounter with a friendly ghoul in London, despite its creation under the Swedish filmmaker. Throughout the span of 12 minutes, our protagonist, Liz (Karen Olrich-White), forms a rather sudden bond with the resident ghost, rhythmically named Toast (Tom Lorcan), attempting to document his story and uncover the truth of his death behind his back. However, this investigation creates tension, allowing for both characters to learn an important lesson along the way.

The short takes a welcoming stature to lure the audience in, eventually unpacking existential themes such as loneliness and the human need for endorsement. A mockumentary style from the creation of Liz takes a comedic spin on the “Blair Witch” supernatural format and enhances our personal attachment to these characters with whom we spend so little time. The in-universe “phase filters” serve as an adequate and easy explanation as to how Liz is able to communicate with Toast, who’s awkward and polite personality does not match his own antics at all, or how you may picture a soul beyond this life. As Toast discovers his human companion’s research into his life, the relationship between these two reaches a boiling point - this spawns a very open and honest conversation regarding their interest. The revelation that Liz and Toast both find themselves completely isolated, despite constantly seeking the validation of others, displays how no matter how much we seek approval, it does not matter if we have no meaningful relationships to share our victories with (even in death). It is recommended that you watch the film to discover for yourself if the two can reconcile and find this comfort within each other, or potentially in others?

Jonathan Wilhelmsson headed direction and writing of the film, with Wilhelm film primarily producing the venture in association with Film I Dalarna and Wänga. Currently, the film has only been screened at festivals, but is soon to be released publicly on the director’s YouTube channel on the 20th October 2026. Spooky Encounters of the Sad Kind deservingly won the Cinequest Film & Creativity Festival’s “Best Narrative Short” award, for it’s charming and offbeat nature.

This short film is a prime example of how such a small twist on previously established genre norms can flip expectations of a typical ghostly encounter into a novel, friendly depiction. Ironically, whilst Toast may not be flesh and blood as we meet him, his character is used to explore such raw human behaviours such as an over-compensation of sociability to deter the truth of forlornness. Liz’s fictional documentation of this spooky encounter is a recommended watch of anybody who is in need of a laugh and drawn in by the comfortable appeal, which masks a deeper intent.

A man plays a song for a small crowd at a local open mic night.

In 2017, short filmmaker Joseph McGovern made a small film called All Over Again. It centred around the Bus Stop Music Café in Pitman, New Jersey, where an aging guitarist who had lost his mojo was encouraged to find his voice once again. This short film ran at about eighteen minutes long and seems to have been just as simple as it sounds.

Seven years later, McGovern decided to have another crack at the small film that seems to have made his name, and in the interests of re-promoting his work, hacked up bits of his already short film, or lifted clippings from the cutting room floor, and used these snippets to highlight the final song of the piece. At now only four minutes long we now have the music video for All Over Again, which seems to be taking on an ironic overtone to its title with this new production.

For the first forty-five seconds of the video all we get is setup, as the café comes into view, certain members of the crowd are picked out, and the MC (McGovern) introduces Gregory (Fuoco) to us as he comes up to play his one song. For those of us who have never seen the short film, or know who any of the characters are that are being shown to us, this is all extraneous and unnecessary, as there is no real narrative to follow during the playing of the song.

While Gregory plays his little two-minute ditty, composed by Fuoco and with lyrics penned by McGovern, we get a quick rehashing of the film, where characters are exposed to us doing mundane things, or simply just being there, which means absolutely nothing when we have nothing else to go on. A quick flash of a young couple clutching the girl’s belly tells us that at some point there was a baby on the way, but after that nothing is clear as to what we’re supposed to be witnessing in the visuals accompanying the song.

As a music video the audience is also let down by the audio, which was recorded live at the café complete with jerky chord changes, almost forgotten lyrics, and a sound like it was played in a tin-can. This is not a polished, studio version of a song that has had a video created for it, but a live recording of a guy singing in a local watering hole, while disparate shots of unnamed import are tacked on all around it. It begs the question if this is really a music video at all, or just another rehash at making a short film.

After the song has finished, there’s nearly another minute-and-a-half of credits to go through, accompanied by an instrumental version of a song that sounds quite similar to the one we’re supposed to be here for. In fact, in the entire runtime of the short film, we spend more time on build-up and credits than we do on the actual song we’re supposed to be listening to. Thankfully, it’s quite a nice song, in a folky, Neil Young kind of way, and Fuoco does his best to bang it out to the small crowd around him, while McGovern does his best work behind the camera to find the shots and the lighting he needs to film the performance.

Unfortunately, this version of All Over Again doesn’t work as a music video or as another short film. The song itself is just too short to take much notice of, and when it is couched in between a sandwich of filler that lasts longer than the meat of the video itself, it means that something is very wrong with what’s being presented. For what is, admittedly, a nice little song, what’s been attempted in the accompanying video adds nothing to the ‘experience’, and perhaps even takes away from the original short film, as it tries to bypass the need for spending the time to get actual involvement or connection from the audience.

A gender-swapped Me Too story of power, intimacy, and manipulation, the short film Backstage is as tense as it is poignant. Directed by Emile V. Schlesser (see Kowalsky), who co-writes here with Jonas Brand, the film explores the difficulty of intimacy in professional settings, as well as the emotional loopholes it leaves for predators who use their position and power to influence and control people.

Jonathan Joél Albrecht plays Lukas, a budding actor whose journey to opening night becomes fraught with vulnerability when his director, Cosima (Sascha Ley), uses her position to place Lukas in delicate and inappropriate situations.

It's a film made in the little moments, like Cosima not fully opening the door for him, or Lukas checking his breath before entering her hotel room. These subtle moments of manipulation and control manifest in an anxiety-ridden actor. The age gap creates an immediate tension for the audience, and we see Cosima employ numerous communicative and physical tactics to steer Lukas where she wants him. As an actor used to being directed, the boy sadly doesn’t refuse until it’s too late.

Backstage is smartly filmed and edited to reflect Lukas’s growing instability; the camera intimately frames him in tender moments of angst, and struggles to keep up with him when he’s looking to confront Cosima. A show-stopping scene where the sound drops out is perhaps one of the most memorable moments in a short film I have seen in 2026. The lighting keeps a warmish glow throughout, allowing the “heat” of the relationships onscreen to cook and slowly ramp up towards the looming performance.

Phenomenally acted, the intense chemistry and hostility between the characters of Lukas and Cosima are brilliantly rendered by Jonathan Joél Albrecht and Sascha Ley. It’s the latter’s subtlety and finesse in creating a shadowy yet believable predator that feels most impressive. The supporting cast of actors and theatre crew members cement the piece as a high-quality, impactful drama.

Short films with themes of sexual harassment in the workplace have a duty of care to avoid undermining the sensitive topics they explore. Emile V. Schlesser shows himself to be more than up to the task with Backstage. This is affecting storytelling with an execution that will long outlast its running time and give audiences a powerful insight into the (tragically) simple ways professional human relationships can navigate into dark corners, leaving their victims with few places to turn without help from others.

Everybody has that one piece of clothing. The one that feels wholly, and sometimes inexplicably, part of yourself. It could be an old T-shirt from your dad, a pair of jeans that just fit perfectly, or, as in Mayizar Khatam’s hilarious and quietly poignant short film The Sweater, a gaudy mushroom sweater which may or may not have been passed down from your grandma. So imagine our unnamed protagonist’s despair when his beloved sweater ends up in a donation bin after some considerable persuasion from his fed-up girlfriend (Anya Chirkova). But Khatam (who plays triple duty here as the writer, director, and lead) soon regrets it, and after a beer-induced suggestion from his friends (Dylan Ray Hatton and Jake Shannon), he goes on a one-man mission to bring his special fungi-decorated sweater home.

The Sweater plays like a relic of early 2010s YouTube sketch comedy, with a grainy home-video quality. Imagine The Odyssey made by Connor O’Malley: instead of immortal witches and six-headed sea monsters, Khatam must battle lazy secondhand-shop security guards and the simple act of running. Like so many great short comedies, the conceit is simple, but the execution is where the film really shines.

Khatam is utterly endearing as the film’s anxious but determined lead, imbuing his character with just the right mix of charisma and neurosis. Richard Dang’s voyeuristic camera wisely focuses on Khatam’s face and reactions throughout, keeping the other characters largely faceless. At times, it is hard to tell who is actually part of the film, as some interactions feel too genuine to be scripted. Is that person an actor? A member of the public subjected to Khatam’s whimsy? This immersive, vérité quality not only adds to the film's humour, but allows for true spontaneity and surprise throughout its brief runtime. Eva Jankowski’s score also deserves a shout-out here, adding to this zippy cocktail with its heartbeat-like rhythm and triumphant blasts of eclectic jazz.

The Sweater is not a laugh riot throughout its brief runtime (although it mostly is). There is an interesting dramatic turn in its final stretch as the film takes a Homeric moment to reflect on what a simple quest for a sweater means, and what the journey has meant for our lead’s relationship with those around him. But before you know it, Weezer’s Undone (The Sweater Song) kicks in, and this hilarious but bittersweet short film is over. In all likelihood, you have had a great time watching it, hopefully in your own favourite sweater.