Posted by Each month, the Indie Short Fest jury reviews a handpicked group of short scripts submitted from across the globe — stories distinguished by their originality, structure, and cinematic vision. These evaluations underscore the festival’s ongoing dedication to discovering exceptional storytelling at its very foundation: the script stage.
In this spirit, we are pleased to present the top five scripts of the December 2025 edition, recognized for their creativity, narrative craftsmanship, and unique authorial voice. The scripts appear below in ranked order (1 to 5) based on the jury’s overall assessment.
By Some Chance — Vincent Marano (USA)
Best Short Script
A tender, articulate, and emotionally precise drama about aging, regret, and the complicated endurance of first love. Set in the quiet routines and muted loneliness of an adult-care facility, the script gradually unfolds into an unexpected reunion between Victor and Serge, two men whose youthful connection was never fully allowed to exist in its time. What begins with awkward small talk slowly deepens into a layered confrontation: of memory, shame, unspoken longing, and the crushing weight of choices made to conform to past social norms. The dialogue is sharp, literate, and beautifully character-specific: Victor’s gentleness and wit counterpoint Serge’s cynicism and bravado, creating a dynamic that feels both decades old and freshly raw. The script excels in its use of silence, glances, and indirect confession — two older men circling their past like a wound they’re only now brave enough to touch. The final reveal, Victor’s terminal diagnosis, reframes the entire encounter with poignant urgency, leading to a restrained but powerful final image of them walking hand-in-hand back into the facility. It’s an intimate, mature short with exceptional emotional truth.
Strengths: Elegant, character-driven dialogue; strong emotional layering; nuanced exploration of regret, lost time, and late-life queerness; organic progression from tension to vulnerability; a subtle but resonant final twist.
Weaknesses: A few transitions feel abrupt; the middle section could benefit from slightly clearer geography and pacing; Serge’s late exposition (wife’s death, sexuality admission) comes rapid-fire and could use more modulation; limited external plot movement may challenge some viewers but fits the tone.
Comparable to: Supernova, God’s Own Country (late-life emotional restraint), The Father (facility setting), Call Me By Your Name (lost love aftermath).
Happy Father’s Day — Anzu Lawson (USA)
Outstanding Achievement Award
A vibrant, emotionally charged dramedy about lineage, abandonment, music, and the messy, cathartic possibility of late-in-life reconciliation. Anchored by a magnetic protagonist, Lina — a bruised, exhausted bar waitress and aspiring singer-songwriter — the script moves with confident tonal elasticity: sharp humor in the dive bar, raw pain in the family confrontations, and unexpected warmth in the chaotic, whiskey-fueled, one-night odyssey with her estranged father, Joe Baker, a fading country legend. The narrative flows with the rhythm of a country ballad: big personalities, buried regrets, generational wounds, and a final emotional verse that lands with clarity and resonance. The writing shines in its set pieces — Lina singing her unfinished song, Joe coaxing her into the spotlight, the brutal kitchen confrontation with Sera, the gentle hospital room confession — culminating in a satisfying final gesture (the gifted Martin guitar and Joe’s handwritten will) that redefines legacy not as wealth but as recognition. The script is cinematic, character-forward, deeply felt, and driven by authentic musicality.
Strengths: Strong emotional arc for Lina; rich character dynamics; vivid world-building blending Southern culture, music bars, and dysfunctional family tension; memorable dialogue.
Weaknesses: Script runs long for a short film; some secondary characters (Sera, Billy) verge on caricature and could gain subtlety; the bar sequence risks pacing drag; emotional resolution is impactful but slightly too convenient narratively.
Comparable to: Crazy Heart, Tender Mercies, Wild Rose.
Tiramisu — Fresna Shakur (USA)
Honorable Mention
A tender, emotionally articulate two-hander about grief, fractured co-parenting, and ritual. Set over the course of a single evening, the script follows Talia and her ex, Paul, as they attempt to honor their late daughter Evie’s birthday, a ritual symbolized by her beloved tiramisu. What begins as a sharp, tense exchange about forgotten responsibilities and unresolved resentment gradually softens into a shared journey through the subway and across old wounds. The writing is clean, restrained, and acutely character-driven, capturing the awkward rhythms of two people who once loved each other but no longer know how to stand in the same emotional space. The script shines in its pacing: small beats of humor (tic-tac-toe), the slow reveal of Paul’s new child, and the devastating discovery that Rae’s Bakery has closed all culminate in a beautifully understated final moment — the makeshift birthday ritual on the sidewalk, the urn, the wind blowing out the candle. It’s intimate, cinematic, and human.
Strengths: Strong emotional arc; excellent dialogue rhythm; naturalistic and truthful depiction of grief; strong chemistry between the two leads; powerful symbolic ending that ties the theme together without melodrama.
Weaknesses: Limited visual diversity due to heavy reliance on conversational staging; the subway-delay sequence risks feeling slightly prolonged; Talia’s emotional shifts could be modulated with a bit more internal nuance earlier.
Comparable to: Manchester by the Sea, Blue Valentine, If Anything Happens I Love You.
Void — John McCarney (USA)
Nominee
A tightly contained, atmospheric micro–noir that transforms a mundane curbside pickup into a moment of raw, unexpected human connection. The script excels in using sensory detail — stormlight, metal music, flickering lamps, heavy breathing, ink-like tears — to plunge us into Sofia’s fractured mental state before we understand why she is spiraling. The world is small but vividly textured: a parked car becomes both a trap and a cocoon. Jayden’s appearance is presented first as threat or target, then subverted into something infinitely more delicate. The script’s emotional power lies in the symmetry revealed in a single visual cue: two scars, two survivors, two strangers who recognize themselves in one another in the span of seconds. It’s a beautifully restrained narrative that trusts images and silence more than dialogue. The closing message card is direct but earned, reinforcing that for some, basic life tasks are battles, and compassion can be salvation. It’s a minimalist, effective short with festival appeal, especially in mental-health–oriented programming.
Strengths: Strong visual storytelling; atmospheric noir tone; powerful emotional reversal; excellent use of symbolism (ink tears, scars, in-memoriam card); efficient pacing; a resonant final beat; highly producible as an intimate two-hander.
Weaknesses: The PSA-style closing title card, while meaningful, may feel on-the-nose; Sofia’s internal journey is hinted at rather than explored, which fits the micro-short format but limits depth; Jayden’s shift from irritation to empathy is quick and could benefit from one more micro-beat of observation.
Comparable to: The Most Beautiful Thing, PSA-driven shorts with emotional punch; stylistically reminiscent of Denis Villeneuve’s early shorts and the intimate melancholy of Ghosts of Sugar Land.
Pop Up — Mark Espinola (USA)
Nominee
A warm, emotionally ambitious fantasy-drama about burnout, grief, rediscovery, and the unexpected guides who push us back toward ourselves. The script follows John — a once-promising writer crushed under caretaking, financial strain, and creative paralysis — who encounters Bill, a mysterious, whimsical drifter who oscillates between wise mentor, cosmic trickster, and wounded soul. What begins as a grounded drama about unemployment and caregiving gradually expands into a metaphysical journey: dreamlike portals, color-shifting worlds, a melancholy town restored by compassion, and a man learning to rekindle hope through the very stories he abandoned. The Bleaksville sequence is the script’s emotional centerpiece: allegorical, richly visual, and thematically clear, showing how one person’s renewed engagement can revive both self and community. Interwoven with this fantasy thread are grounded and tender moments between John and his mother, whose vulnerability, humor, and exhaustion anchor the film in reality. Bill’s late reveal — grief-stricken, fading, longing to rejoin the woman he lost — gives the story unexpected poignancy. The final beat, with John writing again as a bright star flickers above, is sincere, optimistic, and fully earned.
Strengths: Strong emotional arc; memorable mentor figure; ambitious, imaginative visual world-building; effective blending of magic realism with intimate domestic drama; thematically coherent exploration of purpose, burnout, and hope; moving secondary storyline about caregiving; satisfying, uplifting ending.
Weaknesses: Long for a short film; tone shifts (grounded drama – fantasy allegory) may feel uneven to some audiences; some monologues over-explain themes; pace could be tightened, especially in the Bleaksville montage; Bill’s magical mechanics remain vague, which works metaphorically but may raise practical questions in production.
Comparable to: A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (unexpected mentor healing emotional wounds), The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, The Fisher King.
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