Ben Krieger's ‘The Short Game' Trailer Swings Big with a Quiet Punch
There's something about sports movies that promises transformation—underdogs rising, rivals reconciling, families healing. But every once in a while, one comes along that doesn't just promise that arc—it dares to break it. The Short Game might just be one of those.
Directed by stuntman-turned-storyteller Frank Sanza, The Short Game debuts its first official trailer—and it's not here to impress with flash. It's here to make you feel something uncomfortable, necessary, and deeply human. The film is set for a limited U.S. theatrical release on July 25th, 2025, via Abramorama. That date matters—because this is a film about choosing what matters, and doing it on the record.
A Brother's Burden, a Golfer's Gift
Ben Krieger plays Jeremy Avery, a high school golf prodigy with a full ride hanging in the balance. He's driven, focused, maybe even selfish—and that's kind of the point. His brother Ethan, played by newcomer Owen Himfar, is autistic and inconvenient. Until he isn't.
The trailer sets it all up with deliberate beats: Jeremy training, his mother recovering from cancer, his coach pushing him toward State glory, and Ethan? Quiet. Watching. Waiting. The pivot comes hard and fast: Jeremy's forced to step into the role of caregiver, and—ironically—it's his brother who ends up carrying him back to his game. Or, more truthfully, back to himself.
The Happy Gilmore Hangover
Let's address the inevitable. Yes, this shares a title with the 2013 documentary. And no, it's not Happy Gilmore 2. This is golf without the parody—think The Way Back meets Atypical, with less beer and more quiet resilience. It doesn't look like it's trying to be cool. It's trying to be kind.
That may not sound cinematic—but it is. The cinematography pops with early-morning tee shots and dusky, guilt-ridden dinners. Glenn Morshower brings grizzled gravitas, Mackenzie Astin and Katherine Cunningham round out a family dynamic that feels lived-in, not acted.
And here's the kicker: Ethan isn't a burden or a plot device. At least not in this trailer. He's a co-lead, a wildcard, a mirror. Himfar—who is reportedly neurodiverse himself—gives the kind of first-time performance that could make awards bodies sit up straight.
Who Wins When Winning Changes?
The final seconds of the trailer echo a quiet ultimatum. A scholarship, or a brother. A trophy, or a life. The cliché would be to say Jeremy chooses both. But The Short Game doesn't look like it traffics in clichés.
What it does traffic in? Consequences. That's rare in sports dramas where comebacks are expected. Sanza's decision to frame Jeremy's choice as irreversible—not one that can be smoothed over in a post-game hug—is brave. Maybe too brave for box office success. But brave nonetheless.
Will this film find an audience? Maybe. If there's justice in the festival-to-theater pipeline (The Short Game did premiere at multiple fests in the last year, though exact names haven't been disclosed), it'll earn one. And if not? At least it took the swing.
Because sometimes, the short game is the only one that matters.
