Whimsical but fascinating - 2025 animation shorts

This is the category that has most frequently had the entry or entries that simply didn't measure up. When we were walking into last year's showing, my friend, Brian, said to me: "I'm pretty sure there's one you're going to absolutely hate." He was right. Consequently, this is the category that Tricia, Jaime, and Larissa are often least interested in seeing and I'm the voice in the wilderness saying: "No, really. Animation is good." Thankfully, this year's nominees had no such cinderblocks attached.

Magic Candies- This is a Japanese film, based on the Korean picture book of the same name. The story is about Dong-Dong, a lonely, little boy who spends most of his time by himself and loves to play marbles. A local shop owner convinces him to buy a packet of marble-looking magical candies. Putting one in his mouth leads to the sofa in his and his dad's apartment talking to him and complaining about things like his dad farting all the time. That kind of magical encounter soon follows with the other candies, ranging from his pet dog to the falling leaves in the local park. The animation style is CGI, but emblematic of the rounded, stop-motion style used in Christmas classics like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It's a great message about the power of children's imagination and how they create their own worlds when there's no one else around to share their experiences. It was also quite upbeat and funny, so it was a good launching point after having seen the live action nominees an hour beforehand.

In the Shadow of the Cypress- This was an Iranian entry and done solely in pen-and-ink animation with the classic, wavery lines that come with individually drawn cells. There's no dialogue, so the viewer just has to follow along with the tale of a former sea captain struggling with PTSD and his poor relationship with his daughter. One day, a sperm whale is beached outside their home and their struggles to alleviate the creature's suffering leads to him questioning not only his connection with his daughter, but how he's conducting life, in general. Speaking of connections, this is the one entry that I didn't really find an attachment to. It wasn't a bad film and I'd be willing to watch it again to try to discern where I just didn't land with it. Their travails with the whale and how to address the problem are nicely detailed, so it's a very "realistic" story, but I never felt like I really got the message other than what was already obvious.

Yuck!- This one, OTOH, was a delight. It's a French film about pre-teens figuring out the concept of kissing, romance, and human connection and whether they'd ever want to let themselves be drawn into such a disgusting concept. Director Loic Espuche used a great delivery method by having those disgusting adults' lips shimmer pink whenever they were planning to kiss or actually doing so. Léo (voiced by Noé Chabbat) while repelled by the whole idea has also noticed that his own lips are starting to do the same thing as he confronts childhood curiosity about what his siblings and friends insist isn't something they will ever do. It was probably the funniest of the 10 films we saw this evening, paced well, and replete with the little reminders of being that age and not really understanding what all of the fuss was about... until it happens to you. I could easily see this one snagging the statue.

Wander to Wonder- This one was a joint French, British, Belgian, and Dutch production (Channel bros, unite!) and my absolute favorite of the evening for a few different reasons. One, it's stop-motion animation, which I've been a fan of since seeing my first Ray Harryhausen film. Two, it's virtually a post-apocalyptic setting, as the three characters are puppets from a Mr. Rogers-style show who are then left behind in the abandoned studio when the show's host passes away and food is becoming scarce. Three, the puppets in question: Fumbleton (the great Toby Jones), Mary (Amanda Lawrence), and Billybud (Terence Dunn) are these bizarre, hyper-happy bear-like things in the first place which would probably have been the source of many children's nightmares in an evil clown fashion if the show had actually existed. As I've noted many times, I'm always a sucker for post-apoc stuff and this one was no different. The elaborate settings, their interactions with the local pigeons, and the very blunt presentation of all of it in the nominal "children's show" just had enough of the edge of the bizarre for me to really enjoy it. I think it's just a bit too edgy to garner the trophy, but I would've handed it off without thinking twice.

Beautiful Men- The final entry was again a joint production between France, Belgium, and the Netherlands about the hair replacement industry that is currently running full steam in Istanbul and other ports of Türkiye. Three brothers, Bart (Peter Van den Begin), Koen (Peter De Graef), and Steven (Tom Dewispelaere) decide to take the plunge together and almost immediately run into practical problems, as well as the lurking issues in their relationships with each other caused by their various insecurities (about all the things other than their lack of hair.) It was quite funny and had very realistically-presented characters, along with great dialogue ("You're a doctor." "I'm a dentist!" "So what? I'm a sales manager but I still fix your car for you!") The animation style was quite similar to Magic Candies and, like that film, very smooth and fluid throughout. I suspect this one will walk away as the winner.

So, a much more positive result than in prior years. The last category, documentaries, will either be tomorrow or Tuesday.

A very mixed bag and the best for last (and not nominated): 2024 Oscar-nominated animation shorts

The easiest answer for why this review took four days to get around to writing while the other two were both done the next day is because I was fairly underwhelmed by this year's offering in the Animated section (and, admittedly, I was writing other things, too), with one real exception that didn't even get nominated. So, yeah... But, I recall saying the same thing last year, so perhaps my standards (former comic writer; animation fan) are just higher in this category than others.

One of those that I really appreciated, thankfully, was the first: Our Uniform. It's a simple survey of the clothing requirements for girls and young women in Iranian society, which director, Yegane Moghaddam, animates atop images of various fabrics so that there's a real texture to the film, almost literally. There's a disclaimer at the front about how she's not criticizing the wearing of hijab but the gently mocking tone throughout ("... while other people can wear what they want...") is evident. The inside joke is that the choice of clothing can both conceal and reveal the motivations of the wearer and the state requiring such to be worn because, after all, men don't have those restrictions in the Islamic Republic. These are the obstacles that you have to (ahem) skirt in order to get your message across in a repressive society and I think Moghaddam delivered on her intent, with a smart and creative execution of the medium, as well.

The next selection was Pachyderme, a more standard animated approach (drawn and CGI) about a young girl in the south of France who's trying to translate the trauma she's experiencing at the hands of her grandfather who dotes on her but also takes advantage of her (healing her fishhook-wounded finger with the "healing kiss", for example.) Director Stéphanie Clément did a good job of creating an eerie atmosphere with what should have been bright summers at grandma and grandpa's house by restraining the color palette and keeping everything a bit misty, not only to emphasize the distance of the memories and the girl's attempt to suppress them, but also to demonstrate the unease that she felt while staying there. It just felt to me that she and writer Marc Rius kind of missed the target, in that the broad strokes of the story could easily be misinterpreted as simply childhood fascination with the wood knots in the ceiling. I think in their attempt to be indirect, again to emphasize that distance (natural or self-imposed) from these memories and to not come right out and state the abuse she was suffering, they lost the thread a bit. Visually, there was nothing particularly noteworthy, either.

Letter to a Pig, on the other hand, stepped it up a notch in terms of translating distant memories of trauma. The story is about an elderly man in a classroom reading the letter he wrote to a pig who helped to conceal his presence in a farmhouse where SS soldiers were looking for him during World War II. While most of the students are unimpressed, one young girl begins envisioning a train of twisted variations on identity and memories. This film was "deeper" than the other two, in that it was longer and, thus, had more time for its scenes and moments to settle and play into other meanings of the trauma of being less than human, but perhaps just as empathetic as the animal who enabled the storyteller's escape. I appreciated the animation style, as it kept largely to black-and-white to emphasize the tension of the story and the fine line work of the artists, but also dropped in spots of color to provide texture so that the viewer didn't become detached from the black-and-white world. There's certainly an argument to be made that the topic is becoming a bit worn with age, but given the current political circumstances with the fascists in the US and events like what the Israeli state is doing to Gaza, I think the message may be more resonant than ever.

While the first three entries approached with subtle meanings (at least at first), the fourth entry, Ninety-Five Senses, didn't seem to have any particular meaning in mind at all when it opened. It was Tim Blake Nelson voicing a man who delivers an ode to the value of the five senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. Abruptly, we learn that he is delivering this ode from a prison cell, where he is about to be executed for the unintentional murder of a family that might not have occurred had he possessed one of the senses in question. It is, in part, a tour through the regrets of this man as he understands that less emotional choices might not have led him here, but also a pointed question at the nature of capital punishment for the execution of an impaired individual who acted without particular intent but will pay for it as if he did (the fact that the overall atmosphere is from the Southern US is, doubtlessly, no accident.) Visually, it was one of the best of the night, as the film veers through six different animation styles as he describes each one of the senses and then finishes with his current circumstances. I especially appreciated the pen-and-ink technique as he watched/remembered the flames engulfing the house.

Unfortunately, the last entry we saw among the nominated films was less impressive. War is Over!, Inspired by the Music of John and Yoko hits the high mark in terms of technical ability for the animation, with the 3-D CGI presenting the action in great detail and impact. And the story- of two soldiers on opposing sides in World War I playing chess against each other via carrier pigeon until an attack is ordered -is certainly something that any sane person can agree with and appreciate. But, overall, the production felt trite and was a marked contrast to the far more subtle storytelling of all of the other nominated films. It had serious money and star power behind it (akin to the dreadful Hallmark card of last year) and that seems to be what is supposed to carry it to success; along with the trite and obvious message that most voters will instantly be able to understand and applaud for. Unlike last year's winner, it's not a bad film. It just doesn't do much other than provide some really nice visuals and, again, deliver a message that most sane people should be able to agree with. There's nothing new or really inspiring here, on top of the insistence at looking at 50-year-old pop music as still the highest calling in modern culture.

And then the screen lit up with a bold, white title: "HIGHLY COMMENDABLE." This is the Academy's version of "honorable mention", which very rarely appears and is usually only for one short that didn't quite make the cut. This year, we got two.

The first was I'm Hip, where a self-assured cat (mildly reminiscent of Top Cat) sings and dances to Dave Frishberg's song of the same name, assuring everyone watching that he's the coolest guy in town. It's fairly amusing and hearkens back to the Hanna-Barbera era of animation (with erupting symbols (!!!) for emotion and characters able to survive any kind of fall or impact), but it left me wondering just what made it "highly commendable", since there was nothing particularly visually impressive about the techniques involved and it's not a story so much as a music video. It was a direct contrast to the heavier aspects of most of the nominated films, but that still shouldn't justify its inclusion. I liked it, but was left kind of mystified that it was part of the ensemble at all.

In contrast, there were no questions after Wild Summon as it was, for me, easily the best offering of the night and, of course, wasn't even nominated. It's a depiction of the lifespan of a female salmon, emerging from an egg, traveling down the river while avoiding predators (but still getting tagged by researchers) and venturing into the open ocean, only to have to make the return trip all the way back to her spawning point when the biological trigger is tripped. The salmon are represented as broad-mouthed women in wetsuits, complete with diving masks, and changing color based on their life stage. There's no deeper meaning to it, other than some references to industrial pollution hindering their life cycle, but it was still a fascinating story and the best visual presentation of the evening. This film easily could have replaced three of the five nominated pictures and would be my preference to win if it had.

As it is, my vote would probably go to Ninety-Five Senses, but I'm afraid that the deep, deep desire for Boomer music in the form of John and Yoko will probably carry the day. Meh. 

Short films, big packages - animation, 2021

It may be a measure of the amount of high quality animation that I've seen in my life or the fact that I went into tonight's collection of films with the weekend's excellent array of "live action" productions still very firmly in my memory, but I was less impressed with this year's batch of animated films than I have been in the past. I sat through the first three waiting for anything to really grab me, although I appreciated the technique employed in all of them. The last two kind of saved the evening for me, although it wasn't like we were sitting through The Power of the Dog...

First up was Robin Robin, an Aardman production about a robin who grows up with a family of mice and, despite her best efforts, doesn't quite succeed at being like the rest of the family. I appreciate Aardman for their persistence in sticking to stop-motion animation; a tremendously grueling process but which carries a distinctly "old world" charm. I first became a fan from seeing the Sinbad films graced with the talent of Ray Harryhausen and one of my favorite modern endeavors in the field is The Nightmare Before Christmas. Aardman is mostly known for things like Wallace and Gromit and have largely stuck to the "claymation" (actually Plasticene) approach to the art form. In Robin Robin, they made their first venture into puppets and did so with aplomb. Everything was quite fluid and produced the kind of visual impact they were looking for. Unfortunately, story-wise it didn't really pay off. My impression as I sat and watched was that they were all big fans of Nightmare and had decided to make their own attempt at it (the constant cones of snow on people's heads, the wide-eyed wonder at every new thing, etc.) Plus, the music was quite derivative. Magpie's (Richard E. Grant) song about collecting things basically borrowed its musical phrasing from Beauty and the Beast's "Be Our Guest", although me being me, the first thing I thought of was Monty Burns' parody, "See My Vest" ("Made from real gorilla chest!") In (ahem) short, I really felt like I'd seen it all before, even if it was well done in a technical sense.

That was followed by Boxballet, a Russian production (which drew a couple quiet "Boo"s from the audience) about the contrasts and similarities between a boxer and a ballerina and how they each try to draw a connection to each other, philosophically and emotionally. I thought the premise was certainly more interesting, as his brutal world that leaves his nose permanently broken and his face regularly wounded is miles from her reality where her winsome form slips past everything without friction... until she encounters the director who wants more from her than just a good performance. What held this one back were the visuals. There was nothing wrong with them and it's a style that's reminiscent of Rocky and Bullwinkle, from Jay Ward Productions, with the thick lines and bright colors of the figures standing out against the finer lines and muted colors of the backgrounds and other objects. But the interesting parts were all contained within the story, which is usually fine, as I'm a story guy, but not to the exclusion of everything else. The demonstration of the boxer constantly framing things with his getting beat down in his latest match ended up being a little repetitive. One high note was his typically direct approach to romancing the dancer, which she appears to turn down in the name of keeping her career path open by succumbing to the advances of the director and his spacious limo. But suggesting that there's that much of a contrast between their two styles, despite arriving at the conclusion they both want, seemed somewhat misplaced to me. When I used to teach in my dojo, a figure I constantly emphasized to the class was one Muhammad Ali, for his fluidity and motion in the ring.

Next up was Affairs of the Art, which was another production from Joanna Quinn and Les Mills. Their first film involving the lead character of Beryl was in 1987. They've since done two more, but it takes a long time to produce them, as their style is to hand draw every frame and they both have day jobs as commercial producers. It creates a spectacular visual style which is great to watch and Beryl remains amusing, 'lo these 35 years later. But, again, I just didn't find that much to get excited about in terms of the whole package. The story, such as it is, circles mostly around Beryl's desire to become an artist of some repute, while she gets distracted by the peculiar fixations of siblings Colin and Beverly, the latter of which involves detonating the family mouse at one point, which was already a bit disconcerting, having seen a cat get dragged down a river in the middle of winter in Robin Robin. I spent most of Affairs kind of waiting for Beryl and company to actually do something of note, although it was at least mildly entertaining watching the trivial things that they were doing. I thought Quinn and Mills did a great job displaying the transition of Beryl from gangly teenager to bouncy adult and their visual style is, again, quite eye-catching, as the constant motion of every line on the screen keeps you occupied. But, just as with the previous two films, I found myself shrugging my shoulders when the credits rolled. Good, but nothing to breathlessly recommend.

However, the interest level ratcheted up a bit with the next film, which was Bestia, a Chilean production based on the personal life of Ingrid Olderöck, who was a member of the secret police in Chile (DINA; Dirección de Inteligencia Nacional) during the Pinochet dictatorship. We returned to stop-motion with this film, although with a much different visual style, as the main character was made of polyurethane mixed with crystal resin, to give her the appearance of a porcelain doll, in contrast to most of the objects and backgrounds, which were of softer cardboard. Filmmakers Hugh Covarrubias and Martin Erazo wanted to convey the hardness of the person that Ingrid was, despite their story being about what they imagined her personal life to be like (she was noted for being very attached to her dog.) Because they were likely filling in gaps that didn't know, they kept their distance from the subject, allowing the story and presentation to run to the abstract in approach, which was really interesting to follow, once you got past the initial confusion. The story is quite grim and certainly the darkest of the five films we saw, which gave it its own special appeal, as a contrast to the very bright and energetic approach of the first three that we'd seen. This was one that I'd be very interested in seeing again, just to examine some of the more subtle cues that I have a nagging feeling that I missed. It was certainly one of the two that definitely made the evening worth it.

The final offering was The Windshield Wiper which, like Bestia, was definitely more interesting in its artistic approach. We're launched from a man sitting in a café, burning his way through a pack of cigarettes, who asks us: "What is love?" We're then led on a path of various encounters and examples that try to portray the emotion (or lack thereof) in modern relationships, from swiping left to watching sunsets as the tide comes in. I really appreciated this one for its overall stylistic approach. The animation leaned toward the realistic (skin creases, strands of hair in the breeze) but the transition points between various shots left no doubt that this was an animated film and the director was emphasizing that, from the phallic symbols of the two factory chimneys that perfectly collide in their destruction to the perfectly lit and staged scene of a homeless man shouting at a mannequin who resembles a past lover. While it was mildly puzzling to see a Spanish film almost entirely voiced in American English, it was clearly a European perspective on sexuality and skin exposure (we were sternly warned by the theater that the latter three films were NOT FOR CHILDREN because, you know, all "cartoons" MUST be for children...) It also included the few really poignant moments of the evening, including when what seemed to be a vignette of the suicide of a young woman, presumably over the inability to derive love from whom she knows or fails to properly communicate with via text. There was a great deal of weight behind what director Alberto Mielgo was saying here but it was presented in a nice, even patter and left you thinking from moment to moment. It's safe to say that this was the best film of the night for me.

So, a little disappointing given the high points from the weekend, but nothing to complain about, certainly. We'll see the documentaries on Thursday and that will be a wrap for Oscar season.