2026 Hollyshorts Review Roundup: Part 3

Hollyshorts has become one of the most influential film festivals in the short film circuit. This is especially evident in their award ceremony in which many nominees and winners move on to the Oscar shortlists. Congrats to Oscar-qualifying winners Vultures (which we previously reviewed in our Tribeca roundups), With Tapes and Toasts in the Car and Pale Sun (which were both featured in our Early Oscar contenders article/podcast) and The Time my Grandma Was Held Hostage by Bank Robbers which brings us a new contender in the documentary short category.

In our last roundup of the fest our writers review 4 more gems we found along the way. See our thoughts below.

Drifting, South, dir. Di Zhang

Drifting, South opens with a muted, observational sequence: an ostrich chirping outside a window while the camera glides through the space instead of cutting between shots, this fluid movement immediately establishing a contemplative rhythm. The story takes place on Xiaobei Road in Guangzhou, China, referred to as "Little Africa," a neighborhood known for its multicultural population, particularly its African and Muslim communities, where the maze-like alleyways create a vibrant yet intimate setting where people constantly cross paths. We are introduced to everyday people: a beauty salon worker struggling after being abandoned by her husband, a dancer pursuing gender transition and hoping to become a woman, a migrant boy searching for a better future, and the ordinary moments that reveal the characters' routines.

Heavy rain is forecast over Guangzhou. Over the course of a single day, three socially marginalized strangers briefly intersect. Although their encounters are fleeting, they are ultimately connected through a fireworks display, illustrating how people's lives influence one another in unexpected ways. Rather than focusing on grand events, the film portrays silent moments of loneliness, resilience, and hope; Zhang has described the work as "a triptych on one reincarnation, one death, and one exile." The rough texture of the 16mm film complements these lives, and rather than appearing polished, the grain mirrors the hardship and uncertainty experienced by the characters. Themes of divorce, gender transition, immigration, and displacement are introduced subtly through observation instead of exposition, and the film captures the atmosphere through small details rather than dramatic events. Drifting, South ends with fireworks that are heard but not shown directly, leaving the audience with an open-ended yet hopeful conclusion.

Drifting, South becomes a poetic portrait of fleeting human connections, exploring themes of loss, transformation, migration, identity, and the universal desire to belong. Its expressionistic style emerged in an unusual way during post-production. Editor Dai Yuntong played an essential creative role beyond conventional editing, as during production, two important narrative scenes were never filmed due to budget limitations. Reshooting would have required rebuilding locations, rehiring actors, and significantly increasing production costs. Using montage, she reconstructed the missing narrative by weaving emotional moments from the dancer's and migrant boy's storylines into the beauty salon worker's arc. Rather than hiding the missing footage, the editing creates new emotional connections between the characters, strengthening the overall structure.

This approach demonstrates how post-production narrative reconstruction can solve storytelling problems without expensive reshoots. It highlights editing not simply as technical assembly, but as a powerful storytelling tool capable of reshaping the film itself.  Drifting, South is a quiet yet emotionally resonant film that finds beauty in overlooked lives and fleeting encounters. Its observational cinematography, textured 16mm aesthetic, and interconnected narrative create a compassionate portrait of people living on society's margins. Beyond its moving story, the film also demonstrates how imaginative editing can reshape a narrative and transform production limitations into artistic strengths, making its achievements both emotionally and technically compelling.

Review by: Joshua Hunt

Midnight Drop, dir. Ricky Staffieri

On November 9, 2004, thousands of stores across North America held midnight releases for Halo 2. At the time, the sequel to Microsoft’s genre-defining sci-fi shooter was the most pre-ordered game of all time, and after an enormous release, would go on to enjoy widespread critical acclaim and a consistent spot on “Greatest Video Game of All Time” lists. 

Midnight Drop, directed by Ricky Staffieri, dramatizes one midnight release at a Gamestop – sorry, “Gamespot” – from the perspective of the employees as an already tense night spirals out of control. 

Midnight Drop starts with a high-energy montage establishing the time period and the scale of the Halo 2 release. Live news footage covering midnight lineups is spliced together with clips from Jimmy Kimmel, Live! and excerpts from behind-the-scenes featurettes. Also mixed in: C-SPAN footage of George W. Bush talking about the War on Terror. Staffieri drives home that in 2004, nothing was bigger than Halo 2, not even war. In a way, maybe Halo 2 was a way for an entire generation to engage with the war, or be distracted from it. A treat to keep the people at home satisfied while someone else, far away, deals with whatever the big international conflict was about. 

Through strategic use of Martin O’Donnel and Michael Salvatori’s iconic video game score, Staffieri further cements Halo 2 as something of a religious object. The fervor around the event is fanatical, sounds overlapping to the point of incomprehensibility, but never obscuring the thundering guitar theme of the game. 

It’s into this chaos that the film introduces Craig (Gunner Willis) and Carmen (Kim Sonifay), two Gamespot employees scheduled to work the midnight drop. With ten minutes before doors open, Craig is freaking out over who will wear the Master Chief costume, while Carmen is annoyed that she’s the only one working. With the exception of Carmen, not even the employees are immune from the hype of such a major release. Security guard Junior (Jessie Prez) is outside putting on a tough guy act, but every now and then the mask slips and he joins in the collective excitement. Outside, Adam (Jackson Kelly) and Tony (Nathan Xia) take their places in line. While Adam films, documenting what is sure to be the biggest night of his life, Tony reveals that he didn’t pre-order, and therefore isn’t eligible to grab a copy tonight. It’s fine, though, he’ll figure something out.

Midnight Drop is well-cast, featuring excellent performances from Willis, Prez, Kelly, and Xia. Sonifay stands out as a straight-man character, seemingly the only person who doesn’t worship at the altar of Master Chief. Another highlight is Jonathan R. Freeman, who plays Sheriff Maple, the law enforcement officer called in once the night goes fully off the rails. Maple is more concerned with the office of sheriff than the duties – and is in the middle of a re-election campaign. He’s effective at keeping the camera on his right side, but not as effective at keeping his men’s guns in their holsters. 

Most of the events of the short play out with slick cinematography – maybe even too slick. But the visual highlight of the film is the use of contemporary cameras to achieve footage that looks ripped from 2004. Staffieri’s decision to have Adam filming the night allows him to seamlessly switch between looks. The mixture of  “old” and new footage gives Midnight Drop an almost documentary feel in moments, and rapid editing between styles further feeds into the chaotic nature of the evening. Staffieri even sneakily works the introductions of Adam and Tony into the opening montage. One would be forgiven for initially thinking these characters were just archival footage from ancient YouTube. 

Anyone who has been to a midnight release of a game or movie will recognize a little bit of themselves in Midnight Drop. The excitement, the fanaticism, the pushing and shoving in the middle of the line, even the disappointment of the people at the end of the line. Through clever writing, Staffieri also presents the full-scale absurdities of a culture so heavily emphasizing escapism through media. Midnight Drop perfectly captures the energy and chaos of a type of event that’s increasingly rare as game distributors prioritize digital over physical releases, yet still feels relevant in 2026.

Review by: Jeff Bulmer

Anyone Lived in a Pretty How Town, dir. Daniel Kreizberg

Daniel Kreizberg made his directorial debut with his celebrated animated short Tahlequah the Whale: A Dance of Grief back in 2023. We are now treated to the next step in his directorial career with Anyone Lived in a Pretty How Town, based on the famous poem by American Poet E. E. Cummings (1894-1962).

The poem centers around a man named “anyone” and a woman named “noone”, who finds love in their quaint and monotonous home town, which is governed by routines and expectations. The poem originally appeared under the title “No. 29” in a collection of 50 poems by the writer, and it is read out in its entirety by the late great Jane Goodall who served not only as narrator but helped produce the short. The project ended up being amongst Jane’s last collaborations before her passing in October 1st 2025, a mere month before the premiere at SCAD Savannah Film Festival on October 31st. 

We find equal weight and magnitude on the film's score, where Daniel’s father and renowned conductor Yakov Kreizberg recording of The Lark Ascending (originally by Ralph Vaughan Williams) was used throughout. This stitching of great pieces from world renowned names echoes the story’s themes of individuality and expression.Visually a painted watercolor look of 2D animation mirrors the more literal interpretation of the poem's words, showing us the love story spark, evolve and eventually perish as the seasons and years go by. The illustrations themselves were based on further work by Cummings, using his impressionistic paintings of lush landscapes as a source of inspiration.

This is clearly a project that stems from a lot of love and admiration, and that significance is not lost on Daniel. The film's credits feature a dedication to his father who passed away in 2011, alongside credits for the original poem. Furthermore the premiere was dedicated to Jane Goodall posthumously. It is no easy feat to build upon this level of greatness, but the resulting piece is a work of art in its own right, importantly without feeling like it is taking anything away from the original sources and their respective creators. With two strong directorial efforts I am excited to see what Daniel Kreizberg takes on next.

Review by: Robin Hellgren

Celeste in the Summer, dir. Hobby Holmes

In Celeste in the Summer by Hobby Holmes, the reality lies in a blurry line. At first, it is clear: a man (Freddy Carter) and a woman (Alice McMillan) run in a vineyard. The setting is romantic and idealistic, yet the utterly perfect scenario rings false: something is wrong. However, as the film unfolds, the director presents to us a farce: that relationship is a scientific experiment, which is run back to back to back to back. The repetition is the procedure for making it better, the reality more convincing, and the relationship ideal. 

In just a few minutes, Celeste in the Summer discusses the patterns of the ideal relationship. As a result, the film plays with the notion of dream and actuality. In this context, Carter and McMillan perform as the perfect couple, living a heaven-like experience. Yet, is that interaction truthful? Even if it feels timely, the short seems like an episode of Black Mirror, at least, that idea of the 2010s sci-fi that utilized technology as a metaphor to comment on the current obsessions of society. In a current world where people idealize romantic interactions, especially due to the influence of social media, there is a stronger sense of isolation and naivety surrounding the rite of finding a partner. 

For the couple, what is typically known as a conventional demonstration of affection in honeymoons and photoshoots, running around the vineyard is the peak act of romance. The film corrupts the conventions of what constitutes a demonstration of love - the necessity of spending a weekend drinking wine and having futile conversations. In one of those talks,  the woman realizes something is wrong; indeed, she is a part of the man's experiment with idealizations. Narratively, the twist feels abrupt; still, it makes us reflect on its intentionality. 

In the rewatch, which is a welcome experience to better comprehend the ideas, Holmes attempts to expand his commentaries.  The film feels more deliberate in how it constructs the destruction of the romance and the notion of the experiment. The director creates a film that plays with the experiment, although it goes into an explicative lane in its ending. Instead of letting the uncertainty hang in the air, it explains it in the final moments through the expository dialogue that is didactic enough to lay its thesis. Visually, it uses the artificial well enough to accommodate the aesthetics of this empty, shallow relationship.  

Overall, Celeste in the Summer’s social commentary tied to technological debate is timely for our societal situation. Hobby Holmes explains his thesis out loud; the core is fascinating enough to immerse the audience in that universe. Hence, the film works well to comment on the idealistic relationship, gender differences in a heterosexual couple, and the experimentation of reality.

Review by: Pedro Lima