Latest Short Film Reviews

Having garnered many awards across the USA and Europe, Love You Forever is not for the faint of heart. Writer/Director and Star of the piece Alexandrea Meyer tackles themes of motherhood, trauma and grief head-on in this bold tale that follows a mother, Shannon, who attempts to continue about her daily routine while continuing to conceal an unknown invisible pain…

In the opening moments, two glaringly contrasting settings are intercut together. The glaring comparison shown between the recorded footage sequence, which utilises a somewhat dreamlike quality, and the harsh unglamorous reality of the modern day setting immediately captures the audience’s attention. Jarringly cutting to scenes of the baby crying and our protagonist assembling a baby’s chair, the contrast is instantly effective in putting the viewer into Shannon’s uneasy headspace.

The tone of the film is what can only be described as a ‘mundane horror’ in which the eeriness of Shannon’s routine incites an uncomfortable anticipation, though just what that builds to is only made clear in the final few minutes of runtime, in a twist that is shocking and gasp-worthy whilst at the same time feeling desperately inevitable.

There are many commendations owed to the wickedly talented cast/ crew of this project, chief among them belonging to Meyer’s contemplative, slow, yet striking storytelling. Not a lot of directors would be comfortable using up a whole minute and a half of runtime on the main character sitting on the stairs eating from a jar, or allowing the camera to linger on the protagonist in an extended shot of them in the bath… But Meyer, assured in the direction and tone of the story, does exactly that, lending to the uncanny effect the film has set out to achieve. There is also some really gorgeous cinematography from Olivia Kimmel, backed up with beautiful colouring by Elodie Ichter. Final plaudits however, must go to Meyer’s masterful execution of the central role, turning in a subtle, considered, and heartbreaking depiction of grief.

Ultimately Love You Forever is a devastating tale of a bereaved mother who is struggling to come to terms with her reality. With such a heavy subject matter, Meyer and her team navigate this tricky discussion with sensitivity, delicateness and compassion – creating a viewing experience that is sure to stick in the hearts and minds of all who see it. Simply impeccable work on display.

Each morning, Sam wakes up, and every day is the same, the emptiness stretching before him. One day, he picks up a call from an unknown number. From there, his life spirals out of control. At first, he is given a simple task: to put a glass of water in front of the windowsill. Slowly, each task becomes even deadlier and more harrowing than the last.

You might be wondering why Sam complies. The Caller dangles the possibility that he might see his family again. And that hope compels Sam to pick up the calls and follow the Caller’s orders.

The Caller revolves entirely around one character, a man who is grappling with the loss of his wife and daughter, and desperately tries to find a reason to keep on going. Every day, we see him waking up and the first thing he does is drink a glass of water and read a note that is eventually revealed. It reads: “You are Sam. You have a reason to live.”

As the film continues, we see him wrestling with himself. His demons come to the surface as he carries out these horrendous acts that the Caller forces upon him. His mental state is obviously in decline. Eventually, he realizes he is his own worst enemy. Sam spirals to the point where he loses touch with reality. Things take on a surreal turn when he realizes he has been pitted against his own self this whole time. Ultimately, it becomes too much for him, and he decides to end his agony once and for all. But as he reflects on his family, he couldn’t go through with it.

Each sequence is separated by quotes that act like chapter headings. Quotes like “Take time to sit with your thoughts. They hold the answers you seek” and “Never make assumptions until you know the whole truth” add a sense of transition and closure between segments. This was an interesting way to segue between a series of scenes.

With that being said, the cinematography of this film is really spectacular. The vivid shots convey the actor’s emotions clearly. Close-up shots of the characters’ faces, as well as some unconventional camera angles, provide realistic footage for the more emotional scenes. However, not all the shots are emotional. Sometimes they are filmed via drones and show an aerial or landscape shot. This happens to be an interesting choice. Instead of focusing on the characters’ faces too much, the camera pans out and films the entire scenery with Sam in the background. The odd camera angles also give this film an edgy and eerie vibe, leaving you on the edge of your seat, heart palpitating the entire time.

The music and sound design also tie the film together. Each segment fluidly flows into the next.

Another interesting aspect about this particular short is that it is an entirely one-man production. It is filmed, directed, and acted by Andy Blithe. Pretty much, Blithe is the one handling everything.

Blithe not only plays Sam but also takes on the role of the Caller and the victims. He does an awesome job portraying these characters. There is one particular scene where Sam is smothering a victim with a pillow. A trick Blithe uses is to film this particular scene through the reflection of the balcony glass. A lot of the violence and gore is filtered out, and though viewers can directly sense the visceralness of the scene, it isn’t as in-your-face.

Director/writer/actor Andy Blithe’s honest and uncanny portrayal of a man dealing with the loss of his family shows us that appearances can be deceiving and to not make any rash judgments. This is a multi-faceted film, heavily nuanced, and deserves multiple viewings just to unravel its many intricate layers. The only thing was that some of the characters came across as archetypal and melodramatic. Perhaps dialing down the histrionics can offer more the film more breathing room in general. All in all, it is no easy feat to act, produce, write, and direct your own film. Andy Blithe has done a good job handling all of the above.

Note: This review is on the 24:52 minute version of a longer feature film.

It's always thrilling to check out small, independent films and see genuine talent and passion on display, and discover filmmakers who clearly have lots of potential and who you'd like to see go on to do bigger things. That will likely be the viewer's experience with I Must Go On, a very small and very independent short film directed by Mart van den Heuvel (his first short film) and starring Glenn Tordeurs as the film's only character. This seven-minute film was inspired by the director's own experiences with OCD and the “call of the void”, and he stated that “the element of frustration plays a crucial part in it”.

The film’s narrative is limited and simple, and it doesn’t really do anything particularly unexpected. With that said, I Must Go On is undeniably engaging throughout its very short runtime. The whole thing moves along at a solid, confident pace and the technical elements are pretty outstanding for a film of this size. It’s shot well, and the lighting, colour grading, sound design and editing are all very solid. It’s all done skilfully, and it makes you want to see what this crew could do with bigger, longer films. Additionally, although the film doesn’t require an awful lot of him overall, Glenn Tordeurs is strong as the film’s single character.

Crucially, Van den Heuvel has crafted a film that does a great job of shining a light on OCD and the frustrations that come with it. The film puts you in the shoes of its character and allows you to see things through his eyes, and it conveys his struggles with an impressive amount of clarity. Admirably, the film is able to make an important point about mental health in just seven minutes - that’s an achievement that can’t be ignored.

I Must Go On is a very small and stripped-down short film, but it’s technically strong, skilfully made, and decently powerful. Van den Heuvel succeeded in creating something that looks at this particular topic in an effective way, and it’s the type of film that could be used to raise awareness about it. At the same time, it’s a display of impressive work from people who were clearly passionate about what they were creating, and that’s always wonderful to see in a film that’s this small and independent. Everyone involved brought their A-game, and if Van den Heuvel’s intention was to create something that allows the viewer to see things through its character’s eyes and clearly present these struggles in a way that allows the audience to understand them the best they can, then he did an undeniably solid job.

Mr Flippers: A Duckumentary is a 40-minute documentary, written and directed by Alexander Davidowski, following Joey Larson, a man who takes in an injured duck. Joey is an animal lover who lives alone on a ranch- Lumiraria Ranch to be specific- in the countryside. After finding a wild duck with a limp, Joe adopts him as his pet, caring for him, feeding him, and providing him with a pen. The two seem to have a genuinely close relationship, and Joe comically names the duck ‘Mr. Flippers’.

The narrator, ‘Zimmer Wernzog ’, acts as an additional character, played by Tommy Miller. Wernzog is a curious, German man with his own journey of discovery, which is played out in the documentary. Wernzog intriguingly relates his own psyche to the narrative of the documentary, comparing his reasons for looking into Larson’s case to Larson’s for taking in Mr Flippers, becoming a subject in himself. Viewers will find Wernzog’s narrative style similar to that of German filmmaker Werner Herzog's, narrator and director of Grizzly Man (2005). The character of Wernzog adopts Herzog’s romantic style and approach of applying his own views and perspective on the subject, through the lens of the natural world being full of chaos. Duckumentary is also thematically similar to Grizzly Man, with a subject obsessed with and attached to a particular species, ending in tragedy. The name Wernzog, as well as his narrative style, is likely a nod to Herzog’s monumental work.

There is something almost satirical in the way that Duckumenory mimics Grizzly Man. Unlike a bear, Mr Flippers is a defenceless duck, and Joey is not risking his life to carry out observational research; he is simply a man with an unorthodox pet. Whilst there is some humour in this comparison, Duckumentary has a strangely alluring sincerity, keeping viewers’ focus away from the bizarreness of its subject matter, and rather invested in Joey Larson’s story.

Mr Flippers poses no threat to Joey Larson physically; rather, his vulnerability comes in the form of his attachment to the animal. Joey’s bond with the duck is what ends up hurting him ultimately, and leading him down a spiral of despair. Joey’s love for animals, particularly those who are injured and are in need of help, spreads beyond the duck species when he begins to take care of a raccoon who shares the area with Mr Flippers. Raccoons, according to the perspective that this documentary provides, have a deadly killer instinct. It is not clear whether this is driven by some form of emotional jealousy against species who are appreciated by humankind, or whether it is purely a pleasure to kill that cannot be reasoned in any other form than it being in their nature. Regardless, it is this violence that begins a huge turmoil in Joey, who begins to lose his sanity through his hatred of raccoons due to their killing habits.

There is a beautifully cinematic style to Duckumentary. The use of slow-motion footage and a chapter-based structure conveys the genre of poetry. Viewers may find themselves reminded of the epic poems, such as The Odyssey and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, through the way the documentary highlights the wrath of nature, as well as the way that choices made by humans, which may appear insignificant at first, can have a huge impact on the world around them. 

The documentary highlights the relevance of religion, and how often the result of an obsession is one dedicating their lives to a particular cause in the same way one does when enamoured with a God. As Timothy Treadwell’s love for bears led to his own destruction, in a way that he himself described as just and fair due to his adoration for the species, Larson’s affections for Mr. Flippers led him to his own spiral of despair, a rampage which will define his life from then on. 

A short drama directed by Nora Arnezeder, written by Arnezeder and Caitlin Keats and starring Kim Higelin.

Agnes (Higelin) is a young French woman who has recently moved to Los Angeles. The story begins with her babysitting two children in her apartment, playing games with them. Soon, their mother arrives to collect them and invites Agnes to a pool party. After they leave, Agnes proceeds to make a cake, before deciding to walk to the local supermarket to purchase one instead. There, she will find herself in a life-and-death situation.

This film begins as a simple drama about a woman starting a new life in the United States. The narrative follows her as she takes care of the children and prepares a cake in her kitchen, while receiving instructions by her mother over the phone. It is approximately two-thirds through that things take a sharp right turn, with chaos and desperation filling the air as an unknown assailant starts shooting up the place. In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere changes entirely, turning the story into a survival drama.

There is no non-diegetic music (except during the closing credits), creating a sense of realism and the handheld camera develops an uneven setting.

As the titular character, Agnes is a youngster who is working towards a new life in the U.S., as indicated by a piece of paper with information regarding an immigration lawyer. Her selflessness and bravery are evident when she saves an ant, when she assists an elderly woman and primarily during her heroic actions in the supermarket.

This is a story about beginning a new life and having aspirations. And it briefly addresses Hollywood stardom and American politics by referencing Marilyn Monroe and Barack Obama. From a different perspective, it serves as a commentary about gun violence in the United States and mass shootings. Crucially, the perpetrator (or perpetrators) is never shown. Who and why is not revealed, instead the focus is on the devastation caused by such events, people losing their life, people being terrorised, however, amidst all this, this short acknowledges bravery, selflessness and hope and seems to be carrying the message that insignificant things can provide some level of comfort during the darkest times.

This is a very dramatic film that definetely hits hard.

Following the Me-Too movement in 2017, intimacy coordinators became an industry standard within entertainment, having previously been an informal role. Their duty is to protect and advocate for the actors on set if they are to film scenes of a sexual nature, including (but not limited to) being nude, simulating sex, and similarly sexualised sequences. So what would happen if a person in this delicate yet essential post is a sex addict themselves?

This is the setup for the incredible short film The Intimacy Coordinator from filmmaker Louisa Connolly-Burnham, who writes, directs, and stars in the leading role of Kate. 

Presented as a dark thriller, we see Kate as she operates as a seemingly professional intimacy coordinator on a new project. As she helps the film’s main actors (played by Kieron Moore and Sophie Simnett) navigate the intimate scenes needed for the shoot, it becomes clear that Kate has a secret dark side. This manifests in inappropriate requests of the actors, exploiting a sex addiction help group, and engaging in wild and violent behaviour. This intimacy coordinator is the villain and, sardonically, the reason why her job is so necessary.

The short film goes even further, though. Whilst Kate is most definitely monstrous, culminating in a fantastic final scene with actor Max (Moore), we also see glimpses of how flawed she is: exposing herself to dangerous encounters with strangers and having a particularly unhelpful exchange with her mother on the phone about getting help for sex addiction. It’s a thought-provoking watch, as the female character is both a predatory villain abusing her position and power over vulnerable people, but also a victim of addiction.

There is a plethora of wonderful performances in The Intimacy Coordinator, not least Louisa Connolly-Burnham as Kate. She is ferocious to watch, peppering the drama with lascivious intensity. The sound design also accentuates the character’s turpitude. Keiron Moore is suitably impressive as the vulnerable actor, unable to communicate his discomfort with Kate’s behaviour.

To have offered this kind of story with a male character would be fascinating to measure the audience reaction. A brilliant film that comes to mind is Shame, starring Michael Fassbender, or the short film Backstage that also deals with abuses of power by women within the entertainment industry. 

With The Intimacy Coordinator, the writer has created and delivered a formidable tale more than worthy of entry into the "Sex Addiction" genre, one that pays respect to the sensitive issues whilst also being powerfully entertaining.

One of the best short films of 2026.

A successful young woman finds her relationship with her best friend deteriorating because of the way she feels about her own self-image, and instead of confronting her friend and her insecurities about it, decides to take it all out on her (newest) therapist.

Areum (Chang) is a horrible, disgusting, ugly human being. Much like Mrs Twit, she has been turned ugly by the thoughts that she has running around her head like a freight train, which have absolutely no checks and balances, and which are free to destroy any semblance of the beautiful person she could have been. Having lived with these violent, aggressive, and blameful thoughts for most of her life, Areum has been seeing a long line of therapists in order to get them out in the open. Her latest therapist, Helen (Walsh), just doesn’t cut the mustard though, being a white woman who, in Areum’s eyes, has no idea about the pressures of beauty standards on Korean women.

Being monolidded, which is Areum’s own description and expression of herself, her eyelids don’t have the crease in them that other women around the world do that allows their eyes to open fully and be seen as ‘big’. Areum has been thinking about surgery; a common practice in Korea, although she lives in the US; because she still hates herself when she looks in the mirror and talks bad to herself at every opportunity about how she compares with others, who may be Korean, White, or anything else. At all points Areum can’t see how her embedded stance is only harming herself, while she blames everyone and everything else, including the old-world order, and American GI’s who took their new wives home to the US with them after the Korean War, rather than taking a good, long, hard look at who she is on the inside.

The fact that Areum is only too eager to take the lazy route of blaming, “racism – that’s always the answer,” for her own feelings of self-inadequacy, tells you everything you need to know about her as a character. She is arrogant, unmoving, and so insistent on being right in how she feels, that she fails to see the person that she’s become. When she is given the direction and help that she needs from her therapist, it is met with aggression, steadfast defiance, and dismissal, because of course, how could a white woman know anything about being held to beauty standards?

Once Aleum is faced with a difficult situation in the bar that she owns, where a drunk Korean man wants her friend, Jieun/Jane’s (Lee) number and not hers, she finally realises that she may have to confront her own fears, and the insecurities she has surrounding her friend, before she ruins things completely and irrevocably. While this does lead to some catharsis, and relieving of tension, and eventually a kinder relationship between each other and with herself, no retraction or recompense is ever made about the statements Aleum has made about who she blames for her situation. While she does become set on a more positive track (after doing the things her therapist had been suggesting all along), we never see or hear Aleum being regretful or taking ownership for the odious things she has spouted during the film, casting doubt on whether she has actually changed at all from the horrible, ugly person we are introduced to.

All throughout writer/director Hanah Chang’s short film, I Wish I Were Pretty, the scripting shifts from deliberate, nasty, point scoring, to complete mundanity at turns. Even the point about the American GI’s is undermined in her own script, when Aleum in one of her tirades admits that American guys would actually see her as more attractive than Korean men would, totally contradicting the idea that racism is to blame. It is this shifting of the goalposts, and the lack of consistency and integrity to Aleum’s statements that makes I Wish I Were Pretty a very difficult watch, and really hard to like.

Chang has decided to make a film that is important to her and close to her life experiences, seemingly so that she can air a long list of grievances that she has held for goodness knows how long. She uses Aleum as a mouthpiece for her views on Korean beauty standards and about how that has made her feel about herself. There is startlingly little self-reflection going on in Aleum’s story, and even the therapy of making this film to air these grievances, seems to have done little for Chang’s own point of view. In an ironic turn, I Wish I Were Pretty is nowhere near as eye-opening as its filmmakers and producers would like it to be.

Encalminée, translation ‘Becalmed’ is a short film by film student, Mathieu Jobard. It follows Jade, who is a carer for her bedridden mother whilst studying at the same time. Taking on this responsibility proves difficult for Jade as she juggles uncertainty and feels it’s putting her life on hold.

Hopeful that her mother may get better at some point, Jade (Nina Azouzi) has to provide day-in, day-out care for her mother. It’s taking its toll on Jade as she has to see her mother decline and meet her daily needs. She goes through the process of grief, isolation, and anger whilst yearning for freedom. Rather than watching her mother slowly lose herself, Jade flees to feel some type of peace and to get away from it all.

This is an incredible feat for a film student creating an impactful and visually appealing short. At only 10 minutes, it manages to capture such a secluded, sombre tone throughout the environments and acting. Credits to Nina Azouzi for the emotional range she provides, displaying that grief is not just one size fits all. You can be grieving for the loss of a person that once was, full of life, and one that was originally your caregiver, parent, mother. It tackles the sense of guilt caregivers experience, in this case, Jade, as she wants to accomplish her goals in life.

Overall, the short hits home the right emotional chords, but it does lack depth within the writing. The short run time could have been lengthened, and therefore, deeper connections to characters could have been formed. Bonding with the characters would have allowed for more moving moments and left a lingering impression. Becalmed provides a great insight into caregiving and the mental cost it takes. Along with brilliant performances, cinematography, and editing, it radiates a professional energy. Jobard is an up-and-coming talent with a variety of works and one to look out for.

Becalmed was featured in the International Festival of Red Cross and Health Films. It was nominated/finalised in script categories, including a nominee for Best Script at the Newham Film Festival.

There are some things that money can not buy, much to the chagrin of the mega-wealthy. They, like us, remain bound by the same mortal constraints — all life must end, right? Enter Cassie Wezniak’s heady sci-fi Cryonic, named after the pseudoscientific Hail Mary of freezing body parts (most importantly, the head) in hopes that future scientists will find a way to bring them back. This morbid aspiration has become increasingly popular in recent years, with hundreds of frozen heads now stored in facilities across the world. But how will these people return? What will the disembodied heads be attached to? Well, Wezniak may have an answer, one that does not bode well for the future of bodily autonomy.

The Black Mirror-esque short opens with Lilah (Emma Parks) telling a group of young women, all dressed in black tracksuits and enclosed in a minimalist, prison-like cell, that ‘the new trainee uniforms are blue’. Her comrade Rory (Sophie Rossman) notes the unfairness of their uniform’s lack of colour, and the irony of the colourway changing just as the group is about to leave. Today, after all, is their Choosing Ceremony, in which three graduates will be selected by a Woken (I’ll let you guess what this means) to become the next Vessels of Greatness. The Ceremony’s precise purpose remains unclear, as does the fate of those chosen to be Vessels and those who aren’t. Whatever the outcome, it hardly sounds promising.

Lilah and Rory have markedly different reactions to being Chosen. For Lilah it is an honour: the culmination of a lifetime of training and expectation finally realised. She doesn't know what it means, but she trusts the system enough to accept whatever it needs of her. Rory feels a little less convinced, releasing a guttural wail into a soundproof locker room to relieve the tension. For her, the unknowing is not a pleasurable anticipation; it is a deep dread. What do ‘these people’ want from her, and why did she have to unzip her jacket before she was selected? Parks and Rossman each embody these perspectives well — when Rossman later shares her trepidation, smiling stress ball in hand and fear in her eyes, Parks responds with all the right words but a far-off gaze, already imagining what the future may hold.

As with all great sci-fi conceits, the technology is merely a vessel for examining what humanity is willing to sacrifice in the name of progress, and wealth. In other words, what is lost to gain something ‘great’. Cryonic’s nimble script explores this question through Rory, who intuits that something is wrong but can’t quite put her finger on how that foreboding feeling will materialise. Yet the film is not without its thrills. Its brisk pace gives the story enough momentum to strike that careful balance between thematic introspection and sci-fi suspense. That balance occasionally falters, however, due to some unnatural editing, at times disrupting the action's spatial continuity and momentarily pulling the viewer out of the film's carefully constructed world.

The world itself is well realised, thanks to stark, convincing set design full of furniture equally at home in an apocalyptic future society as a high-end concept store. The soundscape is similarly immersive, if typical for the genre, although occasional mixing issues renders some of the dialogue almost Nolan-esque in its indecipherability. Nonetheless, Cryonic is an exciting debut from Wezniak, who demonstrates a clear knack for thoughtful storytelling and instinct for the unsettling.

Crease is an incisive and hard-hitting Russian short film about power, empathy and the human urge to navigate social structures.

Written and directed by Demitri Zujew, the story centres on two boys, Petya and Maxim.

Petya, a student with special educational needs who has won a national maths competition, is fiercely bullied at school, on the day that his Principal, who has also won a national award, is being interviewed about this and her school.

The film narrates deception and hypocrisy in an inspired way. As the two scenes unfold and we cut from one to the other.

While Petya is horrifically bullied, Maxim at first refuses to join in, but he gives into fierce peer pressure, a key aspect of Russian social culture according to the film's director.

Crease is brilliant in the way it illuminates the school, in the director's words, 'as a microcosm and metaphor of the entire society'. It looks at the deeply uncomfortable truth that children are as capable of cruelty (and envy) as adults. The root cause of why 'child's play' without true socialisation becomes international conflict. This in particular has never been more evident, just one look at current geopolitics will leave you without question in this regard.

Visually the film is deeply compelling, with a 4:30 aspect ratio, expressive points of view and a blue-grey colour palette.

The performance meanwhile are flawless- with particular credit to the child actors whose skill in accessing emotions and the story is superb.

Crease, whose title refers to the 'creases' that life impresses on every human being, even contains a fairly stunning plot twist at the end, which heightens the emotionality of the film. A great piece of cinema.