Hayley Jorja buddies up for her review of short film My Friend, Kev.
What’s happened to our young men? As increasing numbers become drawn towards extreme political ideologies, this is the question at the heart of My Friend, Kev. Winner of the 2026 Galway Film Fleadh’s Best Short Documentary award, the film offers an intimate portrait of one man’s journey towards radicalisation.
Director Colin Peppard reconnects with his old friend Kev, who has become obsessed with the American MAGA movement, adopting much of their neo-nationalist views. Focusing on its central character and his world – his beliefs, his daily routine, his hopes for the future, this exploration brings up some compelling ideas. However, Peppard isn’t interested in dissecting Kev; rather he delivers a surprisingly restrained look at this polarising ideology.
Opening with a nonchalant voice note from a mutual friend, the personal connection Peppard has to this story gives the first moments weight. The friend lays out the inciting incident for this story while we see old clips of Kev and friends. The clips are impromptu, shaky, taken from social media posts of nights out, which are then contrasted with Kev’s more recent tweets, which show a rather stark ideological turn. Kev's rhetoric is anti-EU, climate-denialist, and perhaps most importantly, pro-Trump. This is Kev now, but he wasn’t always like this.
Peppard introduces us to Kev: his job working on a golf course in Doonbeg, his family farm, how he plays GAA, and likes to swim. Yet none of these offer a clear explanation for the indoctrination to becoming this right-wing ideologue: the man who believes that his liberties are being encroached on by big government and that his community is being imminently threatened by foreigners. The dissonance between Kev and the world around him is fascinating, and the film becomes a candid portrait of a reality that is becoming increasingly familiar.
While Kev is at the centre of the narrative, the director and his relationship to Kev orbit it. Peppard and Kev reminisce about their shared past: tattoos they gave each other, the people they both know. The rapport between director and subject allows for some incredibly honest moments. Kev chats about his beliefs freely, his off-hand remarks being the most revealing about his thought process. Peppard’s non-combative approach allows Kev to speak freely, leaving the audience to interpret his words for themselves.
The region is painted beautifully in this documentary, the strongest, most definitively observed element in the whole film. There’s obvious reverence for the landscape, which is shot wide: cool, grey, and empty. The interiors, by contrast, are warm, dark, and eclectically decorated. This photography gives the setting a character of its own. The West Clare we’re shown is vast, beautiful, but is also lonely, is unchanging, and stagnant.
Accompanying the visuals is a strikingly tense score by Mark Bergin, whose sharp strings underline the film with a sense of unease. While Kev’s ideas are never directly challenged or investigated, Peppard's presentation of the score, editing, and stark landscapes communicate what the interviews leave unsaid: there is something deeply unsettling about the person Kev has become. My Friend, Kev embraces documentary in its most nuanced of form and details a reality that is becoming increasingly common, even in the most unexpected of places.
My Friend, Kev premiered at the Galway Film Fleadh and was the Winner of the 2026 Galway Film Fleadh’s Best Short Documentary Award.
