Too bright for a dirge - 2025 documentary shorts

There was an interesting dichotomy in this collection, in that two were about music and three were about death in one form or another. A full house of contrasts, although there is certainly music about death and if the first selection had been about children playing Mozart, I definitely would have made a reference to the Requiem. This collection was among the best we've seen, I think, as none of them failed to get their message across and all of them were worth the time spent, even if one did run a little long (for a short.)

Instruments of a Beating Heart- The opener started us off on a (ahem) high note, with a presentation of Japanese first graders about to move on to second grade and being given the task of performing Beethoven's Ode to Joy for the incoming class of new first graders. If that sounds like quite the task for kids that young, you're not alone. It was a good example of the standards set by the Japanese educational system and what many Americans see as hallmarks of Japanese society (elegance, pressure, achievement, determination) for good or ill. The central focus was one young girl, Ayame, who first aspired to the drum and then to the cymbal for their performance and fell short of the needed diligence to produce what their teacher was asking, only to be encouraged by him, her classmates, and another teacher to reach the level that all of them were striving for. It's something that sung to both my musical and socialist hearts about the cooperation and tolerance among humanity to bring more literal joy out of our daily existence than the spontaneous frivolity of children would otherwise produce. It was also just this side of unbearably cute in every scene and moment, not least for the eagerness displayed by the children to come to grips with a project that they likely didn't quite understand the scope of, but were constantly assured that they were capable of doing. It was an incredibly positive and entertaining story.

Incident- Of course, the next entry was one enormous pile of outrage and cynicism that wiped away all of the joy and brightness that its predecessor had introduced. It's the story of the murder of Harith "Snoop" Augustus by Chicago police in 2018, told entirely through body- and surveillance cameras. When Augustus is first accosted and then assaulted by police for no reason whatsoever, he attempts to escape and is gunned down. Watching the police, from the probationary officer who shot him to lieutenants scheming, prevaricating, and excusing in an attempt to cover up the fact that multiple officers had committed crimes ranging from simple assault and unlawful detention to second degree murder in the space of a couple minutes and then, of course, committed several other crimes in an attempt to cover it up was just a reminder of both the level of violence that is tolerated by society's "protectors" and their near-absolute authority in escaping the very justice that they're nominally responsible to uphold. This was, by far, the best production of the five we saw, as the screen was split into two, three, or four parts to show the progression of the incident from every angle available and even following some of the police away from the scene of the crime. That multi-perspective depiction also put on full display the power disparity between the normal citizens that came to ask questions of their "protectors" and the indifference of the latter to that inquisition. The film lacked the narrative style of most of the other entries, but the technical excellence and the power of the simple message it delivered made it a strong favorite for me (which means, of course, that it won't win.)

I Am Ready, Warden- Continuing the theme of death, we came to the case of John Henry Ramirez, who was convicted of the stabbing murder of Pablo Castro outside the convenience store where the latter worked in 1984 in Corpus Christi, TX. After being caught four years later, Ramirez was placed on death row and the film was about his last few days and how he was dealing with what he deemed his final release from prison, as well as how Pablo's son, Aaron, 14 at the time of his father's death, was confronting it, as well. The situation was brought to a tipping point when the local DA, Mark Gonzalez, tried to withdraw the death warrant for Ramirez after Gonzalez changed his mind about the morality of the death penalty. It was a careful examination of both the ethical situations involved in the murder, the conviction, and the impending execution, as well as the emotions that suffused all of those. The film handled those ethical questions with a very light touch, which is always the most effective method, IMO. As a death penalty opponent, I'm also quite sympathetic to the tacit idea of "justice" needing to be meted out to the perpetrators of heinous crimes; not least the ones they freely admit committing and to which they agree they probably deserve the harshest punishment, as in the case of Ramirez. Of course, given that region of Texas and the predilection of everyone involved to invoke Christianity into these matters, I couldn't help but regularly think of Deuteronomy: "Vengeance is mine" (saith the Lord...)

The Only Girl in the Orchestra- Returning to our theme of music, this film was about the life and career of Orin O'Brien, a double bassist who was also the first woman to play as part of the New York Philharmonic; hired by Lenny Bernstein himself. Like the first film, it was an incredibly positive piece about a woman who wouldn't let anything slow her down in any way, including the trappings of fame that came with her standout role as "the only girl." It was a great story of determination and passion for music while constantly professing the desire to not be in the spotlight and to embody the "support" role that she says that the double bass occupies in that form of music. The film was produced and directed by her niece, Molly, who regularly encourages Orin to wax rhapsodic on what she's accomplished, to which Orin responds by waving away any and all platitudes. It's a remarkable expression of humility by someone not only highly intelligent and clearly talented, but also driven by the memory of her Hollywood parents, whose careers took a downturn in the second half of their lives and left them both feeling unfulfilled. Orin, 87 at the time of filming and retired from playing (but still teaching!), regularly emphasizes that she had done pretty much everything she wanted to do in her professional career, but still felt the urge to keep going because of the happiness that that success generated. To her, it was about passing on that passion to her students and those around her. While it felt like this one ran a little long, given the relative lightness of its subject matter in comparison to the others, it was still really enjoyable.

Death by Numbers- And, finally, the denouement of death. This is a film based on the journals of Sam Fuentes, one of the survivors of the Parkland high school shooting, and how she was processing what had been happening to her while the shooter, Nikolas Cruz, was involved in a four-month long sentencing hearing to determine whether he would be given life without parole or the death penalty. A talented writer with a poetic turn of phrase, Fuentes' running narration of the events and her perception of them, as well as her victim's statement at the trial, delivered a message as powerful as any other that we saw tonight. I also thought that its placement as the finale was yet another statement about the current political climate, given Cruz's affection for the ideas expressed by both the historical Nazis and the ones currently controlling the US government. The fact that Fuentes has been attending a class about the history of the Holocaust while Cruz, his AR-15 emblazoned with swastikas, fired through the window is a discombobulating coincidence and something of a cosmic statement on the absurdity of US gun laws, the casual shrug with which yet another school shooting is accepted on a weekly basis, and the fact that bigots like Cruz have not only perpetuated both of those farces but are now in control of the government. In an ironic twist, the vengeful reaction of other bigots like Ron DeSantis to the result of Cruz's sentencing again brings us back to the ethics of vengeance and the question of how important it is to redress the crimes after they've happened or try to change our society before they occur.

Again, my favorite, simply for the way it was produced, is Incident. However, I think both the timeliness and the emotional impact of Death by Numbers will hand it the statue; fully deserved. So, those are the shorts for this year. It was probably the best total batch we've seen in some time, with no single glaring failure in any category. Now to track down four of the five feature-length docs that we haven't seen.

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.

Heavy on tragedy again - 2025 live action shorts

Like last year, the live action shorts were mostly dominated by a sense of tragedy, both past and present, with one bit of comedy (albeit dark) and a sliver of light that eventually shone through the pain. One of the best themes that stretched across almost all of the nominees was that of uncertainty; leaving their endings largely ambiguous and allowing the viewers to fill in the blanks, whether obvious or not.

The Man Who Could Not Remain Silent- This is a Croatian film about the Štrpci Massacre, where a Serbian paramilitary unit abducted multiple Bosnian Muslims and one Croatian from a train in what is now Bosnia-Herzegovina, beat them, and eventually executed them in 1993, during the height of the Yugoslav disintegration conflicts. At the center of the story is Tomo Buzov (Dragan Mićanović), a retired army officer who was the only passenger who tried to confront the attackers and was taken away with the rest of their targets and killed as a consequence. I enjoyed this one and the careful cinematography that kept the confusion of the passengers highlighted and the uncertainty about both what was happening and the subsequent events that everyone assumed would be happening. I did think it was too short, but still effective in the delivery of its story.

Anuja- This was an American-Indian production about two young sisters who work in a garment factory in Delhi. The younger one, Anuja (Sajda Pathan), has a talent for math that the local educator is aware of and he tries to convince her to take the national test which will get her placed in school and off the street but, of course, leave her sister behind. There's a significant amount of emotional weight behind this one, as the audience (and the characters) know the best choice for Anuja but also understand her circumstances and those of her sister, Palak (Ananya Shabhag) and how it might feel to "betray" the most important person in your life. There ends up being a fairly positive message here, despite its rather dire setting, but this is also one of those that left the ending vague so that the central element of the plot- choosing how and whether to better oneself, even while those closest won't benefit -is still there for the audience to consider.

I'm Not a Robot- This is a Dutch entry and Dutch language film, despite the presence of a heavy dose of English technical language. Lara (Ellen Parren) is a music producer who gets locked out of her system and has to take several CAPTCHA tests to reenter. Said tests lead her to a conclusion about her humanity in very Blade Runner-esque fashion, which her boyfriend, Daniel (Henry van Loon), grudgingly confesses to. The rest of the story is about Lara trying to convince everyone, including herself, that she's not what they (and she) all think she is. It's a black comedy, but it is a comedy and was hugely entertaining, not only for its modern relevance to Internet security foibles, but because it pointedly asks similar questions to Blade Runner: What makes us human? Like most of the rest, the ending is also somewhat ambiguous, when Lara takes the final (ahem) step toward proving her point and perhaps discovers that she wasn't as right as she thought she was. I really enjoyed this one, not least for its SF elements and comparison to the best SF film ever made. Probably my favorite.

A Lien- This is an American film and probably the most poignantly-timed of the nominees, given the American fascists that have taken control of the government and their draconian concept about immigration and who actually qualifies as a citizen. Oscar (William Martinez), his wife, Sophia (Victoria Ratermanis), and daughter, Nina (Koralyn Rivera) are attempting to get Oscar's green card processing completed. Of course, showing up at the immigration office to complete said paperwork also makes one an easy target to be apprehended by ICE just for trying to comply with the law. As with so many people in Oscar's circumstances, his situation is complicated by having been brought here as a child but, having a established a career, a family, and a life here, the possibility of being sent "back" to a nation that he has no memory of and has no foundation in is exactly as traumatic as it sounds for everyone involved. Except ICE and the fascists, of course. This one is played quite well by the whole cast and I expect that its timeliness will gain it enough votes to be considered the winner, which is, like so many things involving immigration, no genuine crime. Due credit for the nice wordplay of the title, too.

The Last Ranger- The main topic of this one- protecting animals from poaching -is close to my heart, so that won me over almost instantly. But it's also a great depiction of the dangers and struggles involved with being an anti-poaching ranger in sub-Saharan Africa, not least because it's based on a true story about a young girl who accompanied a couple rangers into the field and was present when poachers attacked a white rhino and those rangers. It centers largely around Litha (Liyabana Mroqoza), a young Xhosa girl, who is fascinated by the rhinos and holds the passion for protecting animals that most young humans do and takes it one step further by wanting to understand the ranger mindset of her friend, Khuselwa (Avumile Qongqo.) This one was perhaps loaded with more anguish and tragedy than any of the rest of them on the face of it, but also ended with the most upbeat message of all of them, so wins the prize for meeting both extremes. It's also very possible that this one could walk away with the trophy.

All in all, a good batch. There were none that any of us walked away thinking of as a waste of time or that somehow didn't measure up to the rest in at least some fashion. Next up, animation.

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. 

Tragedy, before and after, with a dose of whimsy: 2024 Oscar-nominated Live Action shorts

The next category, which we actually saw first, was Live Action. As noted earlier, in general, this was the better overall collection of films which, IIRC, is similar to last year.

The After- The film tells the story of a businessman who sees both his wife and child murdered in front of him and how he lives in the aftermath (hence, the title.) First off, it's a great performance by David Oyelowo, whom I'm most familiar with from Star Wars: Rebels of all things, as the voice of Agent Kallus. He's been in small parts in a number of films I've seen, but now that I've seen this performance, I think I'm going to seek out some of his starring work. But his performance was the strongest part of the film, as the scenario to enact the plot was bordering on the hard-to-believe (the UK, having sane gun laws, doesn't have nearly the ease with which a double murder could occur in the US, as we are just days away from that most American of events: a mass shooting at a Super Bowl parade.) After that, the story simply shows Dayo (Oyelowo) living life as a rideshare driver and listening to his clients get on with the various travails of their lives that don't even approach the anguish that he's experienced and don't provide him any progress toward dealing with his grief until his last job, which then initiates a breakthrough... which they then completely spoil by switching the subtle score to a pop song that's somehow supposed to embody this man's grief. It utterly ruined the moment for me and took away all the energy that Oyelowo's work had generated. This was my least favorite of the set, but still worth the time to see.

Red, White and Blue- In immediate contrast, this was easily the best of the night for me. Written and directed by Nazrin Choudhury, it's a very timely episode about a single mother in Arkansas searching for an abortion provider and having to find money and time to travel to Missouri to find one. Like The Barber of Little Rock (also in Arkansas, appropriately enough), it's a great rendition of the economic realities that many people in this country face and whom have their lives affected by the callous decisions of others working in the name of ardent ideology and social control which have far-reaching effects that they either don't know, don't care about or are, of course, the point. Brittany Snow is excellent as Rachel and the film demonstrates not just the emotional anguish and economic desperation that she endures, but also the often demeaning circumstances by which she's surviving the "American Dream." It's an evident political statement, as well, not least when Rachel makes it to a clinic without an appointment and says that she's traveled all the way from Arkansas and the nurse at the front desk waves a hand at the crowded waiting room and says: "You and all the rest of them from THAT state." There are, as always, a multiplicity of two Americas; one set defined by money, another by race, and yet another by political boundaries between the 21st century states and those still dominated by 19th-century thought (and misogyny, which is even worse than the 21st century version.) This was the most effective dramatic punch of the night and one that will probably last the longest with many viewers.

Knight of Fortune- Continuing the theme of tragedy, this film is about a recent widower, Karl (a brilliant Leif Andrée) having to confront the viewing of his wife in the local morgue. While there, Karl encounters Torben (the also excellent Jens Jørn Spottag), another widower who asks Karl for help with his own efforts of viewing and through his grief who ends up leading him on a much more involved experience than Karl expected. Along the way, they're frequently in the company of the mortuary porter (Jesper Lohmann) whom, although he says he's seen it all, probably hasn't seen much like this. Despite the overall theme of tragedy, there are enough lighthearted moments throughout the story that it's almost impossible to come away from the film without feeling like you've experienced something genuinely uplifting. There's wonderful attention to detail, as well, in things like the fact that Andrée is a Swedish actor and so speaks Swedish, while Spottag is Danish and, thus, speaks that language and they have to take a moment to assure each other that they're saying the same appropriate things in these trying circumstances. It's obviously much more relevant if you know those languages and live in those countries, but this is a Danish film. Andrée's face when they have a close encounter with another family in a viewing room is something I'm going to remember for a long time. Wonderfully acted and a great short story, this was my second favorite of the evening.

Invincible- Based on a true story, Invincible presents the circumstances of Marc-Antoine Bernier (Léokim Beaumier-Lépine), a teenager with some prominent mental health issues in a youth detention center in Canada. Allowed weekend furloughs with his somewhat distant parents, the intense young man finds even the rather loose constraints of the center (can wear their own clothing, are taken to outside recreation like swimming pools, etc.) so confining that he continually acts out and brings the hand of the administration down upon himself.. This yearning for a greater freedom than even outside life can provide becomes most evident when an instructor reads aloud the poem that he's written in class. I've felt that urge for something different that's indefinable and just beyond one's grasp and the frustration that it brings with it, so this character resonated with me quite a bit. The fact that his parents mirrored mine in their almost complete indifference to the unique identity that is their son until he does something wrong also struck me as quite familiar. The film continues with the overall theme of the night and is a solid entry for the trophy, even if overshadowed by some of the others. I'd be interested to see more of Beaumier-Lépine's work.

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar- The final entry is the one that had both the blockbuster writer and director (Wes Anderson) and the equally prominent cast (Benedict Cumberbatch, Ben Kingsley, Ralph Fiennes, Dev Patel, among others.) As I mentioned a few months back, this immediately struck me as another collection of actors "dying to be in a Wes Anderson", so here was their opportunity. It's also the second time that Anderson has adapted a Roald Dahl work (Fantastic Mr. Fox), although this story was even more suited to Anderson's usual approach than the previous. As I'm an Anderson fan, you'd think this would have been my favorite, but like I mentioned those few months ago, I'm to the point where what I'm seeing from him no longer seems original and this was no different. I think it ran too long for what it was trying to do and, although it was funny in his usual whimsical style, also felt rather repetitive by the end. I really appreciated Patel's narration of much of the story and his constant breaking of the fourth wall to demonstrate that narration ("What other ways? [looks at audience], I said.") The production values were the highest of the set, by far, because it had the most money and star power behind it, so it seems like it's a heavyweight in a lightweight competition and, as much as I enjoyed it, it still didn't have the impact that RWB and Knight had for me.

My assumption is that the trophy goes to Henry Sugar because of that star power and production value, but I still think Red, White and Blue was the best of a very good lot. We'll finish off tomorrow with Animation.

Music, books, living and building: 2024 Oscar-nominated documentary shorts

It's Oscar short season and we ended up seeing two categories in one day again. The second was Documentary, but that's the one I'm going to cover first because Live Action, collectively, was the better category this year.

Nâi Nai and Wài Pó- This was director Sean Wang's film about his paternal and maternal grandmothers, who live together to support each other, as their respective husbands had passed years ago. It's a very simple presentation about how they go about their daily lives; morning exercise and then activities of various sorts, like gardening or a day for dancing to music. It was quite funny and very cute seeing the two of them dress up in a variety of costumes which they freely admitted was because their grandson was there with a camera. It was also remarkably insightful on their polar opposite views on life, where Wài Pó, who is 83 said she felt like she was still 20, while Nâi Nai who is 94, said she felt like she was 100 years old. That perspective included their thoughts on the future, where the latter said that she would be fine with just another year or two of life, while the former bemoaned the fact that she had to die at some point when she clearly felt there was so much living to do. That extended to their activities, in which Wài Pó took the lead on thinking about trying new things, while Nâi Nai was content to flip through photo albums and phone numbers, reminiscing about the friends she'd lost and the good times she'd had with them. It was a great encapsulation of both elderly life and life, in general.

The Barber of Little Rock- This was the story of Arlo Washington, a Little Rock, AR entrepreneur who chose to follow the path of his mother, whose life was cut short at 31, and devote his life to work toward building and supporting his community. To that end, he started a barber college and used the money from that to begin People's Trust, a Community Development Financial Institution (CDFI; a non-profit bank), which provides micro and small loans to people in personal need or to begin businesses in the "south of the highway" section of Little Rock. It's a great depiction of life that much of (White) America never sees and almost immediately had me kicking myself for not still being involved in progressive politics, as these were the people and scenarios that I saw all the time when I was and whom still really need help. Arlo is an incredibly forward and positive thinker and the genuine emotion that frequently overwhelmed his clients when they finally found someone who would not only help them but actually listen to them was quite telling. I saw that frequently in my previous activity and it's a measure of both how much people in the "wealthiest nation in the world" still need help (especially if they're not White) and the humanity of those who make it their purpose to help them and, as Arlo frequently states, to grow the community as a whole. This was my second favorite among the offerings.

Island in Between- This was S. Leo Chiang's story about Kinmen, the small island right off the coast of mainland China which is a territory of the Republic of China (aka Taiwan.) As such, it was both the initial target of the People's Republic of China intentions to reclaim the territory it regards as its own and a heavily-militarized outpost that the Taiwanese regard as the first line of defense against the Red Menace. Chiang, who is originally from Kinmen, spent many years in the US, and is now a resident of Taipei, spends some time regaling us with the history of the island and the ardent propaganda against the looming enemy and how Kinmen was intended to be the launching point for the retaking of the mainland for the Chinese people and the destruction of the vile communists. Given that relations between the two nations have much improved since the 1950s, no one really thinks about that much anymore and, honestly, the film kind of reflects that neglect. It was a pretty rote depiction of the situation then and the tepid situation now and this was, by far, the least interesting of the nominated films.

The ABCs of Book Banning- This film, directed by Sheila Nevins, the head of MTV Documentary films, is obviously extremely timely. The most notable thing about it to me was that MTV still exists in any way, shape or form. I say that largely because I knew everything that was depicted here. Every time they put up another book cover that was promptly crossed with a glaring red "BANNED", "RESTRICTED", or "CHALLENGED", all I did was nod my head and think: "Yeah, I knew that already." I was clearly not the target audience. I also wondered why the font and format of those glaring red titles changed two-thirds of the way through the film. However, the real upside of the show was the collection of interviews with 7-10-year-olds who are the students of the schools where these books are being banned. To a person, all of them reacted with confusion and dismay at the idea that these stories and this information was being denied to them, especially when they learned exactly what these books were about. For example, And Tango Makes Three, a book about a penguin chick with two fathers (a situation that did happen at the Bronx Zoo and does happen in the wild) has been banned or challenged in multiple districts because it draws attention to the idea of same sex marriage; an appalling thought for the ignorant and/or religiously fanatical among society. The children presented with this book and others usually responded with "Why would they ban a book that just tells the story of people being who they are?" That, of course, is an extremely modern attitude which should give most hope for the future and the film overall does that. It just wasn't particularly new to me so, while I liked it, it's definitely a story I've heard before.

The Last Repair Shop- Right up front, this was my favorite documentary of the evening. That was because not only was it about music, but also because I didn't even know this program existed and was happily surprised that it did, especially in the environs of Los Angeles which, like many big cities, seemed like it had begun to phase out cultural activities for public school students. The program is one in which musical instruments are provided to those students and repaired for them when they inevitably encounter the problems that all crafted devices do. If it had just been about the repair shop for instruments, it wouldn't have been as interesting as it was because they also delved into the rather interesting characters who operate the shop and their backgrounds which led them to becoming experts in the repair and maintenance of brass, strings, woodwinds, and pianos. They include a single mother immigrant from Mexico, a man who came out in the early stages of the Gay Power movement in San Francisco, a former fiddle player for the Bodie Mountain Express, and an Armenian refugee from Azerbaijan. All of their stories are interesting and provide context for how they ended up assisting the musical dreams of children across the spectrum of LA existence. Needless to say, the story (ahem) sang to me and, for once, I think my favorite is also the clear favorite for the Oscar this year.

Next up is Live Action.

Wars to walruses - 2022 Documentary shorts

It's that time of year again and we'll be seeing all of the Oscar-nominated short films over the next three days. Like usual, it was a solid selection that didn't have any "bad" or misplaced selections, but there were a couple that I think elevated themselves above the rest.

How Do You Measure a Year?: I appreciate this one in principle but mostly for its social analysis contexts. Director Jay Rosenblatt decided to try to document the mental and emotional growth of his daughter, Ella, by asking her the same set of questions on her birthday every year from the age of two to the age of eighteen. While many have chosen to see this as a documentary about their changing relationship as she (and he) aged, I was much more interested in her sense of self-awareness and awareness of the world around her as she developed. I think my perspective may have been different if I'd actually had children of my own with the concern that many parents develop about how their kids will see them and whether their relationship of absolute devotion with a toddler may radically change with that of a teenager and an adult. My experience on a daily basis in that respect is solely with the teenager and adult stages, so I wasn't as taken with the cute or tender responses that Ella gave as a youngster, but I could see absolute parallels between the stages she displayed from the age of 13 onward with those that I'd seen in Tricia's daughter, including the same use of language (employing "like" before every three words at the age of 14; "I think, like, we're, like, fighting all the time, but we still, like, make up at the end...") and beginning to question the standards that are set before her. The most amusing point was when she had taken a shine to ASL at the age of nine which was, of course, completely absent by birthday #10. I think it was a good effort, if a bit simple when compared with the other four.

The Elephant Whisperers: While the story of this one was also relatively simple- a south Indian couple, Bomman and Bellli, tend to the health of a young elephant, Raghu, and others around him -what really came through for me was the old "film is a visual medium" angle. The cinematography of this one was excellent and was able to convey much of the story and the reality of their lives in Mudumalai National Park without any needed explanation, although both humans kept a running dialogue between themselves and their charges, Raghu and a later addition, Amma, so that we all knew the reasons for their respective involvement and how much the elephants meant to them. The camera took much time to examine the other sights of the park, including the everpresent gray langurs who were more than happy to help themselves to any food that the elephants weren't interested in eating. Probably the most interesting aspect to it was Bomman's insistence on speaking to Raghu as if the latter would understand him and, of course, he largely seemed to. Whether that was because of repetition or the fabled intelligence of the species is up for debate. You can't doubt their devotion to the animals in their care, though, and it's also open to question whether they looked on Raghu and Amma as beloved pets or beloved friends. I'm tempted to say the latter. Again, I really enjoyed the visuals of this one, even if the story itself was probably the thinnest of any of the available selections.

Stranger at the Gate: This was a very powerful story about a former Marine and veteran of the US invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan who learned to hate and fear Muslims and planned to act on those emotions by bombing the local Islamic center in his home town of Muncie, IN. It's a very straightforward depiction of learning to think of "the enemy" as subhuman in order to make it easier to commit violence upon them, only to have to return home and realize that "the enemy" are every bit as human as you are. Director Joshua Seftel had read Richard "Mac" McKinney's story in an Indiana newspaper years earlier, but decided he wanted to hear the side of the people that Mac had been intending to kill. His straightforward interviews with the Bahrami family, Jomo Williams, and Mac's ex-wife and daughter present a very crisp, documentary style that doesn't hinge on dramatic moments, but still provides both a level of tension and an excellent message of understanding from everyone involved. The visual storytelling is similar, in that it's presented in a very "investigative reporting" style but doesn't come with an agenda about anyone involved. Taking the time to interview the police who had become aware of Mac's plot was a really nice touch, as well. I was pretty much enthralled with this one and have it tagged as the eventual winner. More than any of the rest, this one is worth taking the half hour to absorb.

Haulout: This would probably be considered the most unusual of the offerings. Directors Evgenia Arbugaeva and Maxim Arbugaev arrived on an isolated beach in far northeastern Siberia when they were working on a documentary about the Chukchi people. There they discovered an equally-isolated marine biologist, Maxim Chakilev, who was studying walrus migration patterns and the impact that they're feeling from the lack of sea ice in the Arctic created by climate change. They decided to switch focus and stayed with him for the few weeks of his study, where they were completely hemmed in by almost 100,000 walruses and couldn't leave his tiny, ramshackle cabin. He was there to observe the walruses and they were there to observe him while they were all trapped together and you definitely get the mild claustrophobic sensation of being stuck there, but also the tragedy that has beset these creatures who are now all crashing into this beach, exhausted, because they have nowhere to rest on the open sea as they're accustomed to. They spend some time observing Chakilev, in turn, as he goes about both his work and simply existing in this distant corner of the world. No real dialogue occurs other than his taped reports (to be later transcribed) of what he's seeing and they don't bother to go into much detail, other than when he's stating the particulars of the corpses of the dozens of dead walruses left on the beach. They let the pictures tell the whole story, which was ideal in this circumstance.

The Martha Mitchell Effect: As one of the largely untold/misremembered aspects to the Watergate burglary and Richard Nixon's downfall, this was an interesting example of a mid-20th century case of political gaslighting. Former AG and Nixon campaign manager, John Mitchell's outspoken wife, Martha, was one of the first voices of outrage about the connections between the Watergate crimes and the White House. In a typically paranoid response, Nixon declared her Public Enemy #1 within his circle for a few months and tried to have her publicly discredited as "hysterical" and otherwise mentally ill. All of this story is told through archival footage from news programs and the later talk shows that Martha was interviewed on once everyone figured out that she had been telling the truth about the whole sordid affair. There are occasional quotes from various news figures involved at the time, both living (Connie Chung) and passed (Helen Thomas.) While I don't find myself particularly fascinated by rehashing Watergate yet again, it was interesting to see someone whom I'd only known as a minor detail in the whole event be revealed as someone that the media and public tried to ignore except as a source of entertainment, only to finally take her seriously for the couple years preceding her death, until eventually forgetting about her once they were past that. It's a sad commentary on the media's urge to flock to whatever is sensational at the moment, while looking askew at anyone who questions the propriety of what was going on in the august halls of Washington (New York Times, that's your cue...) I liked this one, even if the subject matter is a bit tired.

So, yeah, I think Stranger at the Gate was the runaway winner, both for technique and subject matter, but all of them were worth the time. Tomorrow: Live Action. (Still waiting for the "Unlive action" category.)

Strait-laced

There's a certain category of film that can't be considered anything but "Oscar bait", which means something that fits all the categories of the usual Best Picture candidate: drama, grandiose, historical, usually European. They usually appear around this time of year because it's the best time to make impact with audiences after they've already been fed to the critics and/or the festivals. Corsage is one of those. It was one of the favorites at Cannes back in May and will doubtlessly be up for a slew of awards that also always includes Best Costume Design and Best Production Design. There's nothing wrong with those films and I've enjoyed many of them, but this one seems to be so targeted at that approach that it left behind anything that resembled an interesting plot somewhere between concept and (Best) screenplay.

The story is nominally about Elisabeth of Austria, the wife of Franz Joseph I of Austria and then Austria-Hungary; last of the Hapsburg emperors. It's a known historical fact that the Bavarian duchess was unhappy with the stodgy atmosphere at court in Vienna after marrying Franz at the age of 16 and that she was unhappy with her treatment by her relatives, especially the mother-in-law, Archduchess Sophie, because she had only given birth to two daughters in the first couple years of her reign and not a male heir. On top of that, Elisabeth was deeply wounded by the loss of her first daughter, Sophie (named by the domineering Archduchess, without consulting Elisabeth) likely to typhus. She found life much more pleasant in the associated kingdom of Hungary, embracing Hungarian culture and learning the language. Many of the Hapsburgs blamed her for encouraging the emperor to accept the dual monarchy of Austria-Hungary, in which the latter was nominally independent, although still subservient to the Viennese throne. Now, all of that sounds like an interesting premise for a film, doesn't it? Unfortunately, Corsage engages almost none of that, with only occasional references to the empress' attachment to Hungary and the loss of Sophie as the cardinal points of her existence that show a very depressed, bored, and melancholy woman.

Instead, the film is largely about following said depressed, bored, and melancholy woman around her domain waiting for her to do something other than pretend to faint under the pressure of her corsage (corset) so that she can get away and play with her dogs under the half-bemused and half-annoyed gaze of her ladies-in-waiting. It's not a poor portrayal of a woman in emotional anguish, who functions in a life that is wholly colored by that angst while still demonstrating just how much pain she's in. I think Vicky Krieps did really well in that role to demonstrate just how much Elisabeth was trying to free herself from the constraints of a role that she really didn't want. Of course, the contrast is that the role that she really didn't want was one that offered her literally anything she wanted at any time, as Franz was not only the doting husband but also looked the other way past her dalliance with her cousin, King Ludwig of Bavaria, and basically anything else she wanted that wouldn't have been accepted in the painfully straight-laced Hapsburg demesne. She had three servants who not only wore dresses every day to match their blond, brunette, and auburn hair but had also pledged themselves to do basically anything she asked. But depression sometimes washes all of that in shades of gray (Been there. Not with the servants, though.) You can live the absolute life of luxury and still feel like you're in a prison. That prison was also a social one, as the film suggests that Elisabeth's known obsession with her weight and physical appearance was something driven by snide comments from court and the newspapers. The film spends much time on this as both social commentary on the modern age and an additional explanation for her state of mind.

And that stuff can be interesting. Films about human emotion and the lengths that they drive us to have appeal and merit all their own. I was just writing about something like that a couple weeks ago. But this one doesn't really have any of those emotional peaks or crevasses that let the audience inside of the trauma that's occurring. Instead, we just kind of drift along with the main character, wondering why we're still here. At one point, Elisabeth tries to entice Franz into bed with her, but when he responds, still obviously concerned about her mental health when they'd been physically distant for so long, she encourages him only long enough to finally stop him when he thinks he's getting to home base, suggesting that she can no longer take the impact of potentially having another child. We, as the audience, kind of ended up in the same situation, where moments that looked like they might be developing into something of real interest instead became more of the same, as we returned to the ritual of the corsage, not only being tied into one, but also the modern English meaning, which is something that's supposed to always be pretty, even if it's only used for one, rather superfluous event. Similarly, Corsage isn't a bad film, but it's a very particular one that seems to be designed more to turn the heads of Academy members than to really tell an interesting story.

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.