Latest Short Film Reviews

Citroen, written by Rick Vosse and directed by Bastiaan Rook, is a humorous mockumentary short-film following a charismatic cult leader. The twist? He doesn’t want to be a cult leader. But, with his disciples dead set on following him no matter what, he finds himself in a desperate position.

Rook and Vosse employ a documentary style to great effect, utilising quick zoom ins/ outs and dirtying the frame with bushes and other obstacles to give the impression that there is a camera operator improvising every movement behind the scenes. Which, of course, there is. But the ability to make something meticulously planned feel improvised is a feat that director of photography Stijn Jonkhart rises to with (what looks like) ease. Jonkhart also utilises natural light in exterior scenes to great effect, elevating this piece beyond the visuals you would expect from a “documentary”. The interior scenes are also lit beautifully by Kenny Nagelkerke to emulate natural light to the point where one cannot be sure how much is real and how much is artificial. Spectacular work from the cinematography and lighting team!

The first character the audience is introduced to is Danny, who produces a bottle of poisonous fluid from his bag. Immediately viewers will clock on to this as an example of "Chekhov's gun” (Anton Chekhov’s principle that “one must never place a loaded rifle on the stage if it isn't going to go off”.) This creates a humorous tension, giving the story a ticking clock feeling – a bomb under the table that could go off at any moment.

The central concept of the piece is a brilliant idea, depicting something as absurd as a cult and flipping it on its head. We follow Jonah who, to little success, continually attempts to convince his followers to abandon him in increasingly obvious and comical ways.

The story drags in the middle somewhat as the structure becomes glaringly obvious: Jonah tries something in an attempt to scare the cultists off, it doesn’t work, then he heads back to the drawing board. However, the conclusion of all this hooks the viewer right back in as the aforementioned Chekhov's bottle comes back into play, in an ironic twist of fate that is equally funny as it is deeply tragic.

Overall Citroen is an amusing short that, while predictable, is sure to entertain its audience and anyone else who comes across it.

Sheep is a compelling short film illustrative of uncertainty and chaos.

The key to this piece is mystery- we never get to see what the threat is. Without dialogue and with visually compelling composition and cinematography, it portrays a complete state of emergency, and the chaotic nature of being human. This is reflected in the extreme close-up framing and moving shots which are adeptly showcased.

The woodland setting and the fact the story unfolds at night-time heightens the sense of quite extreme vulnerability- and the characters don't seem fully conscious of the situation until an urgent escape is the only option. We only hear their heavy breathing and witness their expressions, but turns of panic, effort and sheer shock.

In particular, it poses the question faced by all humans in a crisis or conflict- whether to make our own way or come together to survive. Is there any trust left?

The choice of name here is also interesting. A sheep evokes helplessness and need for guidance, but also groupthink and crowd behaviour- a brilliantly nuanced proposition of a title.

The graphics used for the title are in the curvy and colour saturated style of the 1980s- the decade from which stem many of the films where humanity is portrayed facing or about to face chaos and breakdown, so they are a well- thought-out creative choice.

Is there any trust left? Who is leading and who is threatening? Powerful question posed in a 3-minute piece which is skilful story-telling.

During Kat’s and Anwar's romantic getaway, Kat anticipates her nightmarish period. What is supposed to be an intimate holiday turns into a spiral of discomfort, dread, and ultimately tests their bond.

We follow a young couple looking to take a breather in the countryside. Kat (Holly Freeman) wakes up in a groggy state after experiencing a vivid nightmare only to realise her period has abruptly ruined her time for relaxing. Feeling ashamed, Kat tries to conceal this fact at first and suffers through the pain. Anwar (Antonio Aakeel) comes across as an unhelpful boyfriend who isn’t having his needs met, which puts Kat under pressure in mind and body.

The constant use of symbolism is interesting in this short, especially as Kat’s perspective evolves. We go from terrifying imagery, borderline folklore, as she experiences excruciating pain and humiliation. To eventually acceptance with the use of Mother Nature being at the forefront. It plays on her self-esteem and overall, it’s great to help inform young girls that this is part of life and it’s not something that is disgraceful. The same can be said towards a male audience, getting to grips with what women have to suffer with every month.

The cinematography and editing capture Kat’s point of view well. Different points in her cycle are referenced through her thoughts and feelings as she tries a variety of methods to help ease the process. A process which is all too relatable for a female audience, the horror of leaking, the unbearable cramps, the mood swings, and fluctuating hormones. All while trying to remain composed and happy to all those around. Even her experience with Anwar, the oblivious bystander who will never truly understand, makes unnecessary remarks.

‘Let it Flow’ is the perfect title for use in a physical but also metaphorical sense. It’s a natural state, just like Mother Nature and her roots. Kat begins to accept and nurture her body, letting her embarrassment dissipate and the stigma behind it. This helps her relationships bloom as she accepts support and reassurance. Freeman is convincing in her role and speaks for all women during this distressing time of the month. Both actors help to portray the ups and downs of a relationship; it’s harder to gel with Aakeel as Anwar, but that seems purposeful given the focal point is Kat.

Overall, this film could have been longer and potentially darker; however, it establishes and executes the topic effectively. It hits home the fragility of a woman’s body while trying to remain a strong foundation in society as a proactive human being.

Among many other nominations and wins, as of 2026 it has been shortlisted for Best Supporting Actor and longlisted for Best English Short, Best Sound Design at The British Short Film Awards.

This short film offers a snapshot of the lives of two French poets living in very poor conditions in London. The two poets are Arthur Rimbaud (James Craven) and Paul Verlaine (Jordan Luke Gage), two well-known French poets. They are lovers in a volatile relationship, often under the influence of alcohol and hashish. The year is 1793, a very important year, as Arthur Rimbaud created A Season in Hell, for which he is best known. It's a collection of prose poems, including Alchemy of the Word.

I wasn't aware of these poets before watching this film. Although audiences will enjoy this without knowing the poets involved, I still recommend reading up on their lives and watching again to make the most of it. They both lived extraordinary lives and achieved a great deal at such a young age.

The setting is well chosen and really represents the squalor in which the two men live. This is a small space, although they do have the luxury of a bath. The lack of space makes everything feel claustrophobic, which brings the volatility and sexual tension right up close and personal. The director has described the film as a “lockdown film”. This is a very good description, and the audience will appreciate the struggle of being trapped at home. If you add alcohol and drugs into the mix, you have what is clearly a very difficult situation. The two men are also trying to be creative, and it is clear that one is struggling more than the other.

A lot is packed into the 14 minutes, and the director successfully conveys both men's personalities and a relationship full of excess. The best scenes are those where you see the poet’s descent into madness. The scenes are very trippy, and the use of colour is very effective. The camera work creates a strong visual effect and feels disorienting at times, which helps to convey the mental state of both men. This is powerful cinema, thanks to the direction and the lead actors' performances. Historians may argue that the set and costumes aren’t historically accurate for the period, and the director addresses this by explaining that she believes these are the kind of men who would dress dandy, even indoors. The costumes certainly reflect their creativity and their larger-than-life characters. It is staggering to see a young man who is only 19 achieving and experiencing more than most would at that age, particularly by modern standards.

The musical score is chaotic, mixing slow drum beats with orchestral strings. The music builds tension, especially when the characters show aggression. The score effectively represents the poet’s mental confusion. The audience cannot relax as the sounds build throughout the scenes. The musical score is crucial for conveying emotion, and in this case, the choice of music is perfect.

The actors skillfully move between scenes, which can change from pure sexual pleasure to physical aggression and then move into peace and tranquillity. The chemistry between the two leads is clear, and they bring realism to what appears to be an intense relationship. At times, it feels like the two poets are engaging in a dance as they move around the room. I thought this was very effective direction and added a great deal to the trippy scenes. The script was well written and delivered perfectly. I could certainly see this film developed into a successful stage play.

This is a very enjoyable film and educates the audience about two poets they may not have known before. The director clearly has a passion for the works of Arthur Rimbaud and successfully brings the poet to life. The leads achieve high standards and really bring the audience up close and personal. The audience will be fully immersed and will want to learn more about the men being portrayed. This is an intense love story which takes place in what appears to be a prison created by themselves.

A short Icelandic documentary directed by Freyja Kristinsdottir. This twenty-minute-long film won the Grand Jury Award for Best Documentary Short Film at the Edmonton International Film Festival.

The subject is Kristinn, an ageing Icelander who decided to travel solo and on foot through the Santiago de Compostela in March 2016 and, while doing so, to write a postcard to his wife, Stella everyday, for each year that they shared together, totalling forty-six postcards.

Via family footage, photographs, animation, gentle music and Kristinn's voice-over, this documentary covers his loving relationship with his partner, beginning with how they first met in the early nineteen-seventies, married, travelled and raised a family, Stella's time living in a care home with Alzheimer's and Kristinn meeting someone special. The main focus is the life that Kristinn and Stella created together, all the wonderful memories that they developed and it is quite heart-warming.

The creativity is high standards, with particular attention towards the editing and the constant appearance of years in numbers made out of postcards.

Kristinn himself comes across as a likeable person and his words make it very clear how much he cherishes his happy experiences with his loved ones and the content also presents Stella as a wonderful person.

During its short duration, this documentary manages to cover very deep subjects. To a degree, it explores some of the hardships of life, including grief and Alzheimer's, however, it mainly concentraters on good things, such as being in love, having children, cherishing loved ones and meeting someone special late in life. And it places a great deal of significance on reminiscing the past and making good memories.

A moving story about a man's wonderful relationship with his wife. A beautiful viewing that encourages people to appreciate life and those around them.

“The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.” (Orson Welles)

Any creative endeavour, whether art, music, writing or dance, is no mean feat. Filmmaking is especially demanding, a medium that throws up obstacles without needing an invitation.

Yet as Welles understood, art sometimes needs boundaries. Limitations can be exactly what makes something unique, and what allows it to thrive.

Writer/director Finn O’Toole and his team have embraced that idea with their short film Monster. Conceived as “an exercise in creative restraint”, Monster shows that even when you box yourself in, getting the fundamentals right will often produce the most effective results.

In the film itself, our unnamed protagonist arrives home clearly perturbed, with something evidently not as it should be. As they try to sleep and escape their worries, a haunting figure looms nearby. But what appears to be yet another ghost story soon reveals itself as a poignant study of mental health struggles and self-acceptance.

O’Toole and his team set themselves a challenge: five minutes, a three-page script, one actor, one location and absolutely no dialogue whatsoever. No problem.

There are a few elements worth shouting out. Firstly, three pages isn’t a lot to work with, but O’Toole achieves exactly what he sets out to do on every one. If there’s one criticism, it’s that those self-imposed limits inevitably leave you wondering what more could have been done. But as already mentioned, that isn’t the exercise here, and it’s powerful while it lasts. At no point are you left alone to figure out what’s happening or what the film is trying to say, which is damned impressive without the running time or set-up other films get the luxury of.

The film initially plays out as a tense horror, and the way it builds that tension, and honestly a bit of fear, is so, so clever. The effects team deserve some of the biggest kudos here, backed by some masterful cinematography. Even more impressive is how effortlessly it then switches tone, never jarringly, turning into something else entirely but no less effective, and landing a hefty emotional punch at the end.

Final plaudits go to Christina’s solid solo performance. She captures the essence of every moment, making sure that, in the absence of dialogue, everything is said through her actions. It’s show, don’t tell at its finest.

Self-restrained it may have been, but Monster is a noteworthy example of how getting the basics right can take you a long way.

Magan’s Fare (2025) is a drama short film with the majority of it being set in the protagonist Magan’s car. The narrative, as you may expect, follows taxi driver Magan (played by Barkhad Adbi) and a journey he has with a lonely elderly woman named Jorani (played by Alexis Rhee). Jorani has lost her place at her nursing home; she mourns the house she nurtured and the people she used to live there with who have passed.

After refusing to leave Magan’s car, he takes her under his wing and together they continue his day of work and learn more about each other. She supports him when he has a health issue and he gives an open ear to her trauma. Towards the end, after suggesting a hospital visit, Magan takes her to his home, the ultimate heartwarming and satisfying ending.

This film was a beautiful embodiment of human connection and the gratitude we should all feel for our loved ones. The popular cast helped to bring the characters to life and their interactions throughout were exceptionally delightful to watch.

I originally thought the constant phone calls protagonist Magan received from his Mum and wife were unnecessary and I failed to see their significance. This was until it dawned on me that here is someone frustrated by their nagging family, versus a woman who has no one to annoy them because she has no one at all. I hope audiences can have the same revelation and ponder what they may take for granted in their own lives.

Despite this film being of a high production value, following a well-rounded story with strong performances, some more character background would have heightened the emotional elements. We do not truly see the pain of Jorani, nor do we see her family through photographs or memories. When she enters her old home and discusses the garden she grew, we do not see this garden. I think some flashbacks or even sound effects may help viewers reminisce about the character’s past alongside her. Then we will empathise more after we understand what she is missing.

Magan’s character contains small details that do not come to fruition. He mentions studying for an exam and we also learn he is diabetic, but these traits do not seem to have any relevance. When his blood sugar is low, Jorani helps him and this illustrates their increased connection. This could have been represented in other ways, however.

As a protagonist, Magan is a kind character who can hopefully inspire audiences to be as giving. He is constantly pondering how far he should go to help someone before deciding that Jorani deserves a warm place to sleep tonight. He also represents a valuable lesson that he (and hopefully the audience) learns: the treatment of older people is sometimes flawed and needs to be reviewed.

Kafkaesque and wholly unnerving, short film Infection channels the soulless corporate experience of workers through a prism of horror filmmaking. 

Directed by James Kicklighter, the movie stars 

Isabel Adele Brown as Jane - a promising worker whose reputation for exceeding expectations could see her land a promotion if she can impress the new owners with a kickass presentation. However, she is torn between career advancement and being around her boss (Daniel Williams Lopez), whose sickness threatens to infect her too. 

The mise-en-scene of Infection is terrifically nightmarish; it has a corporate America feel with hellish undertones, creating the perfect setting for this story to play out in. Couple this with a macabre sound design, and the atmosphere created for the audience is simply spine-chilling. There are some excellent examples of body horror going on during the 9-minute-long movie, including a particularly harrowing scene where Jane’s mother, who is laid up in hospital, experiences a grisly infection herself. 

Isabel Adele Brown puts in a formidable performance in the leading role, excelling when it comes to showcasing her character’s distressed state (such as rebuking a doctor when offered financial aid for her mother, or determinedly coping with the elongated presentation she has to prepare that, to us as the viewer, looks like a bunch of hieroglyphics). Daniel Williams Lopez is also striking as the walking corpse of a boss, whose sacrifices to the ideals of our society have rendered his character ravaged. 

Movies that point the finger at Western corporate values are often compelling to a Western audience. With Infection, we are presented with a similarly bleak and riveting tone to movies like Fight Club, The Matrix, or Parasite, and fans of those films will feel in great company here. Jane’s almost surreal experience in her office job will feel relevant to a lot of people watching, and the horror-genre tropes at play create a masterful connection between your 9-5 and slowly becoming a corporate zombie. 

Having seen short films from James Kicklighter before (such as the wonderful Angel of Anywhere), it came as no surprise that the quality on show here was of a superior standard. The piece would act as an impressive proof of concept for a feature version, but also as a powerful short film exploring compelling themes in a very cinematic way. Aside from perhaps shortchanging the viewer in the running time and the edit, this is a must-see short film for 2026. 

Door-to-door knockers can be annoying at the best of times. Nobody likes their peace to be unsolicitedly interrupted. But I suppose they (usually) aren’t serial killers, unlike the unwelcome visitor at the centre of Adolfo Vico’s exciting yet frustrating short film Pleased to Kill You.

Described as a psychological horror film, Pleased to Kill You is perhaps better defined as a compact chamber thriller. When we are introduced to Dominic Quinn's character, he is fluidly maneuvering through an array of aliases — answering to Darren, Robert, Charlie, etc. — swapping out work uniforms to smoothly gain entry into unsuspecting residential homes. What happens once inside is left largely to the imagination, although we later learn that he ominously 'likes to take his time'. He is on top of the world, seemingly getting away with his murder spree, and nobody can stand in his way. Except, perhaps, Bill (Tino Orsini). We quickly learn that Bill is not like the rest of those gullible homeowners because Bill has a moniker: ‘The Skinner’, an infamous serial killer who hasn’t been seen in years. When the two men collide, a tense exchange begins, of which only one can make it out alive.

The film has little meat on its bones, which is not necessarily a bad thing. The psychology of serial killers, both real and fictional, has been analysed to death. So it shows admirable restraint that such analysis is not on screenwriters Vico and Shaun Grimsley’s minds; they are more interested in artful conversation. The problem is that the central dialogue is not quite deft enough to justify this stripped-back approach. Without meaningful psychological exploration, the script has little to sustain the tension, and it fails to replace it with an equally compelling alternative. This isn’t to suggest such a conversation can’t be compelling on its own terms. To make an unfair comparison, the horror of “Silence of the Lambs” is built largely around dialogue; the description of acts done plays in your head in grizzlier detail than the camera could ever convey. Here, however, the exchange remains frustratingly superficial, amounting to little more than two men sharing a cup of tea and discussing their mutual adoration for murder.

At least the tone is light, with humour as much a part of the movie’s DNA as its suspense. The film never takes itself too seriously, and its audience would be wise to do the same. The performances help in delivering this tonal tightrope. Quinn is ceaselessly charismatic as a slimy but charming killer, delivering every line with a twinkle in his eye. Orsini is more grounded, adding gravitas and calculated menace to Bill that lends the danger both men face the necessary credibility. Where Quinn is an excitable puppy, Orsini is the weathered wolf, patiently waiting for prey to mistakenly fall into his open jaws. Both performances are excellent, and much of the film's success is owed to them.

But Pleased to Kill You is not without its stylistic charms. Vico demonstrates a confident command of visual composition, using static blocking and atmospheric lighting effectively, such as when Bill answers the door and a shard of light splits his face, revealing a keen eye before his true identity is revealed. It is unfortunate, then, that the script can not live up to such on- and off-screen talent. So while Pleased to Kill You will surely entertain, it never quite delivers the savage blow it so clearly intends.

Drama Queen, starring Catarina Carvalho and David E. Texieria, is a dark dive into a love that goes awry right from the start. Told like a fairy tale, we are introduced to a young woman who straight away falls in love with a man. However, her feelings for this man isn’t reciprocated. So she bakes him a pie, in which she adds a love potion. But the love potion doesn’t work. Sadly, it turns out this man is gay.

For the rest of this film, the woman is seen getting ready and talking to her cat. She is relating her tale to her kitten. Then, to the audience’s shock, we see her love interest, and blood is pouring from his wound. It looks like this woman had used a hammer to hurt him. When he tries to escape, she strikes him repeatedly with the hammer, determined to finish the job. She sits his corpse down at the dinner table for some “revenge pie,” and the film ends there.

The shots in this short were very vivid and clear. The cinematographer obviously is very talented. Close-up shots of the actors’ faces as well as the objects around the house give this film an intimate and personal feel, while shots of the bloody hammer and the blood pouring from Texieria’s character’s wounds give the scene an especially violent and gory vibe. However, there was a shot where it looked like there was some overexposure to sunlight, and it was slightly darker when Carvalho’s character catches Texieria’s character trying to escape. Editing this out might make this pivotal scene flow better.

Perfect for the spooky season, this tale of love and revenge only begins to touch the surface of what could be a more involved horror-related drama. For instance, for the majority of Act III: Once Upon a Dream, Carvalho’s character is seen laughing manically and dancing around the apartment to eerily show how crazy she is. That’s basically all she does. A lot more could be explored here, like maybe a flashback to how the protagonist and her love interest meet. A deeper dive into the past could tie into the present and make the film feel overall more dynamic.

However, the film ends shortly after that. Which was a bit of a letdown. I felt the ending could be fleshed out more to make the Oscar Wilde quote in the beginning (“I hate people who are serious about meals. It is so shallow of them”) come full circle. Yet there are so many loose ends. And since this is a fairy tale, where’s the happy ending? Even a dark happy ending would look good here.

Carvalho does a good job of portraying an unhinged character. Her memorably performance adds a touch of comedic flair and charm to a character, who doesn’t have a lot going for her. But Carvalho’s depiction feels spot-on. However, Texieria’s character functions more like a corpse, until he tries to get away. There’s not much to say about his performance, although by the end of the film, we’re led to believe Carvalho’s character, “the Drama Queen” wasn’t the hero of the story.

Toward the credits, the real tell is when Director David E. Texieria is cited as “the Real Queen.” It explains a lot and seems to be a fun add-on.

Despite its failings, Drama Queen definitely packs in the drama. From beginning to end, the histrionics are on high. If that’s something you can’t live without, then Drama Queen is for you.