Why ‘Freddie’ Is the Must-Watch Chess Film of the Year

Freddie has a simple setup, and that’s exactly why it hits. Freddie is a young man chasing a very specific goal: prove himself as a professional chess player in honor of his recently passed mother. It’s a familiar emotional pressure cooker, but the film treats it with real care and sharp focus.

The story is the strongest thing here. The movie never feels vague about what Freddie wants or why it matters, and that clarity gives every scene purpose. There’s a montage that does a ton of heavy lifting, not just showing Freddie improving on the board, but showing him changing as a person. You can feel his confidence building, you can see relationships shifting, and you get that rare montage effect where it actually advances character, not just time.

Chess isn’t treated like a flashy sports-movie centerpiece, and that choice works. It’s more of a memorial than a spectacle. Freddie played with his mom, and now the game becomes the way he keeps reaching for her, even as he tries to grow into his own identity. The film understands that grief doesn’t always look like sobbing in a hallway. Sometimes it looks like obsessive practice, like trying to perfect something because you cannot fix the one thing that matters most.

There’s also a pivotal moment involving Freddie and finding his mother that you can see coming on paper, but the execution is brutal in the best way. It’s performed so well that “expected” turns into “devastating.” That’s the difference between a movie that’s trying to make you cry and a movie that earns it.

What really impressed me, though, is how polished the whole thing feels. It’s tight, efficient, and confident in its own length. No wasted beats, no wandering side plots, no padding. It just aims straight at the emotional target and gets there with control.

If you like short films that feel complete, and dramas that understand grief without over-explaining it, Freddie is worth your time. It’s the kind of story that leaves you a little quiet after it ends, not because it’s loud, but because it’s honest.