2026 Hollyshorts Film Festival Review Roundup: Part 1

Hollyshorts Film Festival is consistently a highlight of the summer as it brings the very best short films together into one glamourous and glorious festival. We continue our coverage with three short films that have really caught our eye so far. See below to see some highlights from the fest:

Little Bug, dir. Matt Branston

Humans have too often exploited animals in attempts to “progress” society. Whether it's to test medicine, cosmetics or other consumer goods, I think most animal lovers would agree the cost of this exploitation outweighs the good. Little Bug launches right into this very idea and takes it to its literal extreme. It tells the heartbreaking true story of the Soviet Union in 1957 as they sent a dog named Laika into space as a way to test how life functions in a rocket ship. Laika is more affectionately known as “Little Bug” by her handlers.  

Shot with a 4:3 aspect ratio, from the first frame, Little Bug is immediately captivating and clever in the way it's shot by DoP Jake Duncan. The gaze of the camera and the angles are worked perfectly, as you don’t even need the forthcoming dialogue to realize you're seeing through the eyes of a dog. The short follows this perspective almost its entire run-time, and it works powerfully to build empathy. The close up shots are especially effective - you can almost see when the dog would be concentrating on a person’s face, in awe and wonder of what they're saying. 

Little Bug more specifically follows the life of Laika 24 hours before her flight into space, as she stays with a scientist (played by Martin Freeman) and his daughter (Alexandra Barredo). What makes this short succeed most is both actors completely selling the fact they are talking to a dog, not a camera. Everything from the direction they're looking in and the tone of their voices makes it believable that the dog is sitting right beside them. If you have ever owned a pet of any type, I am sure you have had conversations in the same way. They are ever-inviting listeners. Sometimes you talk directly to them, sometimes into the void, knowing their steadfast presence is taking in everything you have to say, even if it won’t be understood. Martin Freeman, as always, excels at showing every emotion on his face. From guilt to regret to pity, you can see it all. 

The flashes of archival footage seen throughout are a nice touch from the director and edited in perfectly to transition the viewer from one moment to the next. It almost feels like it's to make a scrapbook of Laika's life, mixing touching memories with the harsh reality of the competitive space race. 

Overall, Little Bug hits at the heart of humanity, and at times the lack thereof. It showcases the way humans use animals for gain, sometimes harmlessly, perhaps as a listening ear, to bring people closer, even to mend broken relationships. At other times, sometimes in the name of human "advancement", we actively hurt the animals we claim to love.

Review by: Brandon MacMurray

Living with a Visionary, dir. Stephen P. Neary

Back in 2021 the The New Yorker published an essay by the American poet John Matthias, under the title Living with a Visionary. The text was an ode to his late wife, Diana, who was suffering from Parkinson’s disease and their shared experience of living through it during the Covid-19 pandemic. It went on to become the title section of his memoir booklet under the same title, following the response of hundreds of readers who were touched by John’s text. Fast forward to 2026 and we are treated to writer / director Stephen Neary’s animated short film, which under the same moniker brings the text to life using pencil and watercolor crayon on vellum and paper, paired with voice over narration from academy award nominee James Cromwell.

The original text was sent by John Matthias in the form of a letter to friends and family, detailing not only the events leading up to his wife’s passing but also the circumstances which lead to his own commitment and ultimate release from a psych ward. In the post covid world we have today, it is easy to see how such an intimate story could resonate with so many.

John’s unique way of using his craft to describe not only his immense love for his wife of fifty years, but also his own shortcomings and struggles with taking care of her as the parkinson’s progressed is something that brings equal measure of warmth and despair to the viewers. There’s a sense of sincerity that comes from these texts that is elegantly matched by the voice acting of James Cromwell.

Diana’s medication caused vivid hallucinations, ranging from frightening to beautiful, often with parallels to art she saw during her career as a curator. These visions lend themselves to a stunning backdrop of the film, oftentimes favouring her view of reality over John’s through direct illustrations of the creatures she thought surrounded her.For anyone familiar with the hardships that tend to come with old age or heavy medication the film offers a recognisable safe haven in its depiction of our human imperfections, on the side of the sick as well as the people surrounding them. By letting all of the rough edges of the story, like running away from home or coping through self mediation, Stephen builds an honest and emotional depth that truly resonates even after mere minutes of runtime.

It is evident that this is a passion project from all parties involved, and as John told Stephen in their initial conversations; “I think it’s something Diana would have liked”.

Review by: Robin Hellgren

Aaron and His Dad Try to Find Closure & Lucy Celebrates Andie’s Birthday at Universal CityWalk Hollywood, dir. Brad Roelandt

In Brad Roelandt’s Aaron and His Dad Try to Find Closure & Lucy Celebrates Andie’s Birthday at Universal CityWalk Hollywood, two unrelated stories unfold simultaneously in one uninterrupted, wandering shot. Lucy arrives at Universal CityWalk expecting to surprise her friend Andie for her birthday, confidently calling to say she’s already there. At the same time, Aaron trails behind his father, who is determined to honor his late wife by secretly scattering her ashes somewhere inside Universal Studios Hollywood. As Lucy realizes the celebration may have gone on without her, she rushes across the busy plaza in an attempt to catch up with her friends. Nearby, Aaron’s father pauses to offer Lucy some unexpected life advice before casually revealing that he intends to leave his wife’s ashes on the Minion Mayhem ride, adding another layer of absurdity to the intersecting events.

The story is not really important—it’s all right there in the title, anyway—but the execution of Roelandt’s film is what’s exciting. This short is the third entry in a series of single-take bird’s-eye films (following the equally descriptively titled Terry Tries to Find a Christmas Gift for His Nephew & Lena Goes on a Bumble Date with Tom (2022) and Joey Earns Rewards Using the McDonald's Mobile App & Megh and Clev Discuss Their Future Together (2024)), each an impressive feat of technical ingenuity and choreography. With his wide-angle drone camera capturing the scene from high above, Roelandt treats both quests with equal seriousness, less concerned with resolution than with the way private acts of longing unfold unnoticed within the constant movement of public space.

The latest entry in Roelandt's ongoing series further develops his interest in the emotional residue of corporate environments. As in the earlier films, the drone's detached perspective observes fleeting personal encounters unfolding against landscapes designed for consumption rather than reflection. Roelandt pans and scans across the uninterrupted take, zooming from high above to direct viewers' attention to seemingly insignificant moments that gradually become emotionally meaningful. At this point in the series, the scale has broadened and the comic register becomes more pronounced. The escalating absurdity never undermines the emotional stakes, but instead it reveals the uneasy coexistence of grief, embarrassment, and humour within a space built to flatten experience into spectacle.

Universal CityWalk is presented as a place suspended outside ordinary time, although audiences leaving The Bad Guys 2 quietly anchor the film in the summer of 2025. Flashing artificial lights bathe the plaza in glowing pink hues while familiar pop songs fill the air, creating an environment where entertainment never pauses. The dance-cam continues scanning the crowd whether anyone participates or not, suggesting that spectacle persists independently of the people within it, and a reminder that we are always being watched—“this place is a goddamn surveillance state,” shouts Aaron’s dad.

Roelandt also extends his recurring interest in observation as a defining condition of contemporary public life. Observation here is inseparable from performance: the same technologies that monitor visitors also convert them into entertainment. Awkward encounters, emotional vulnerability, and accidental spectacles turn private experiences into a public display. Rather than treating this scrutiny as an external threat, the film suggests that it has become embedded within the architecture of leisure itself, and Roelandt’s guerrilla tactics, filming at Universal while Rihanna and Ke$ha blare from the park’s loudspeakers, function as a subtle act of resistance against the corporate control of public space.

Roelandt has also released a “WIDE CUT” of the film, where you can see everything at once and hear directing cues, giving a fascinating insight into his directing process, including quickly changing the film’s final moment as security approaches the actors. Ultimately, Aaron and His Dad Try to Find Closure & Lucy Celebrates Andie's Birthday at Universal CityWalk Hollywood transforms an apparently ridiculous premise into a surprisingly moving reflection on grief, loneliness, and the ways ordinary lives unfold unnoticed within spaces built for spectacle. By combining intricate choreography, a playful formal experiment, and a sharp awareness of surveillance and corporate architecture, Roelandt creates a film that is as emotionally resonant as it is technically impressive. Everyone becomes the background character in someone else's story, and from above, every private moment is just another passing movement through the crowd.

Review by: Joshua Hunt