A blog developing a corpus of short films, originally in conjunction with Professor Jeffrey Middents' course Literature 346/646, "Short Films," at American University during Summer 2006, Fall 2008 and Fall 2011.
Here are the 2012 nominees for the short film Academy Awards. We will attempt to provide reviews for them this year as they become available for viewing:
I first saw this film earlier this year at E Street Cinema when they showed all five live-action and all five animated Oscar nominated shorts. This was one of the live-action shorts that left a big impact on me in terms of how much I enjoyed it. This film tells the story of eight year-old Ardal who presents a toy engagement ring to his teacher to show his affection for her. Later, he learns that Ms. Purdy has just gotten engaged for real to her boyfriend, Pierce. However, Pierce won't even take her out to celebrate and so Ardal challenges him to a duel. Pierce mockingly accepts. The next day, Ardal meets Pierce after school and pulls out the gun he got from his dad's closet. Ms. Purdy tries to intervene but Ardal won't let her and as he keeps insisting that the gun isn't a toy, Pierce is driven to a crying mess and finally admits that he only proposed to shut Ms. Purdy up. Ardal shoots him, revealing that the gun was only a toy and Ms. Purdy break up with him, taking Ardal's hand to walk him home. Ardal then reveals he doesn't have a crush on her any longer but that she deserves someone who can give her everything.
This film is very rough around the edges but in all the ways that it endears itself towards the audience, it easily makes up for that. It does not have the class of other short films, perhaps, but it does have the heart which is what made me enjoy it so much. Ardal is a protagonist that the audience can easily root for. What left the impression on me was how, at first, simplistic the story was and easy to relate to, and then suddenly it took a turn for the dramatic! Films are always able to get away with the absurd simply by the fact that they aren't real. While this isn't an absurd film in the sense that it's "out of this world" necessarily, the relative quickness with which the plot progresses makes the audience gasp in entertainment.
That was absolutely one of the aspects that Creagh hit right on the head. This film was, at its core, entertaining and when it comes to films, that is the number one thing I look for. I want to be enthralled and taken away from reality for just a little while. The Crush does just that by endearing its characters (or most of them) almost immediately to the audience, drawing them in and investing them. When I mentioned that this film was rough around the edges, I meant that in the sense of comparing it to its fellow nominees this year. This film is nothing new in terms of cinematic experiences. However, not every film needs to be the next Inception. As gratifying as watching a film such as that is, there is also an immense amount of satisfaction to be held in the simplest stories told well. This film gets straight to the point and leaves little to the imagination but those aspect don't necessarily have to be cons. In fact, I'm of the mind that with a film like this, the simpler the better.
The Lynx is a short about a depressed person whose bizarre and complex masturbation routine turns him into a crime fighting man-lynx. The man, played by and named for the short's writer-director, is hired by Doug Shoehad, also played by Harmon, to take out the Fillipino mafia family. Harmon turns into the Lynx, kills all of the Fillipinos (two men who share a plastic gun) and returns to Shoehad with the good news. He goes home and is happier.
I talk about the plot so simply for two reasons: it's really that simple, and, more importantly, it sticks to Joseph Campbell's monomyth. Harmon has written about his respect for Campbell and the monomyth and references Campbell in interviews often. The monomyth is a basic structure that nearly all stories follow, whether or not the stories' writers knew they were following said structure. Harmon outlined the monomyth in a now-deleted post on the Channel 101 forum: "1. A character is in a zone of comfort, 2. But they want something. 3. They enter an unfamiliar situation, 4. Adapt to it, 5. Get what they wanted, 6. Pay a heavy price for it, 7. Then return to their familiar situation, 8. Having changed."
Not only does The Lynx follow this structure tightly (leaving out only the "heavy price" step), Harmon wants you to know that it is following it-- he places text at the bottom of the screen to let you know when every step is hit.
Dan Harmon is now famous for being the mind behind the TV show Community. Before Community, his largest artistic achievement was co-creating Channel 101, a monthly short film festival that he regularly contributed to. Harmon made a living moving between media projects (including co-creating The Sarah Silverman Programme, which he was fired from and which is referenced in The Lynx). When he wasn't making television and movies on other people's terms, he would return to Channel 101 and make insane little shorts like this. He challenged himself to both make something wild and stay within the monomyth structure.
The Lynx is a joy to watch because Harmon puts seemingly tight restraints on himself and then proves that the restraints weren't all that tight. There isn't any fat on The Lynx and none of it feels forced. There are jokes that would be clever on any budget (the exchange about the Filipino family's last name, the "dead pixel" note that pointed exactly to a dead pixel on the original theater's screen) and there are jokes that make fun of how little Harmon was able to spend on his short (the clearly fake gun, the Lynx 'costume'). The Lynx is a filmmaker proving that a complete story can be told and told well in three and a half minutes.
Directed by Oscar Sharp, United Kingdom, 2010, 5 minutes
Sometimes, the people who need the signs, are the ones holding them. Not only is this film charming, heartfelt, and beautifully upbeat, but it forces the viewer to look at the world and people differently. This film is about Ben, a "static outdoor information technician", or more simply, a sign holder, who loves is career and stands on Oxford Street in London. Ben is aware of the camera--allowing his joy for his career and coworkers to jump off of the screen. He informs us about his promotion, which he is excited for and starting the next day, and expresses his admiration for his coworkers who are displayed less enthusiastically than himself. Ben shares with us the history of Oxford Street and the origins of his job--he is a third generation sign holder and he is standing in the same spot as his grandfather and father before him. Also, we discover his crush for a non-union female worker handing out flyers across the street from him that he is too nervous to talk to.
This film is full of emotion: love, disappointment, and joy. The viewer immediately knows how Ben feels about his crush handing out flyers because he takes a flyer, even though he does not need one, stares at her longingly from across the street, and because we realize that they have on the same rainbow-striped gloves. The sames gloves not only hint to the viewer that they belong together, but that they are almost holding hands throughout the film. The viewer experiences disappointment with Ben twice throughout the film; 1) when they view the unhappiness of his fellow employees and, 2) when Ben's timer goes off signalling the end of his shift and Ben realizes that none of his comrades will give him a send off. Joy comes a few seconds after the disappointment, making it all the sweeter, when the other workers flip their signs over and tell him to go after the girl.
This film is important because it presents a person, working in what is considered a low position, but is immensely happy with his life. Ben's positive attitude reminds viewers to appreciate the little things in life and to respect everyone, no matter what their position in life. This short film, that was edited down to enter the Virgin Media Shorts film competition in 2010 (it was always a short film though), is full of life that would not have supported an hour long film, but gracefully tells a story in a 5 minute span.
HOW THEY GET THERE Directed by Spike Jonze, United States, 1997, 2 minutes and 26 seconds Source: youtube
Spike Jonze's early short How They Get There is a narrative boiled down to it's simplest definition. It's completely epitomized by the titles of both the film and the song Jonze chose for his score: "Sentimental Journey" by Les Brown and Ben Homer. The film is just a story of how something happened, more specifically it's describing how shoes end up in the gutter.
The goings on are simple. Boy starts his day with a fresh carton of milk, and ends up flirting with the girl walking across the street by copycatting each other's movements. Boy gets hit by car and all hell breaks lose; his shoes land in the gutter with the other lost, lonesome sneakers.
Before getting into the meat of this analysis, I must expound upon my one issue: every time I watch this short I am disturbed by that dude's nails as he opens the carton of milk! Jonze composes such gorgeous shots. He choreographs a huge car crash. He quickly draws us into the cuteness of these strangers flirting in a way that's oddly charming, he crafts beautiful symmetry and a simple story... But these nails are long, gross and dirty, ragged and jagged, and just distracting! They haunt me, to be bluntly dramatic about it. They pull me out of the film for a brief moment when the short film really has no time to lose the audience. Or is it just me? This film taught me an important lesson in filmmaking: Even the small details count; if something is going appear on screen, particularly in an extreme close-up, whatever "it" is better have a purpose or it can't be distracting or out of the ordinary.
My disgust at nails aside, this film is pretty dang brilliant. It's disarming, charming, and I'll say it again, simple. Jonze has this uncanny ability to shoot very smooth pieces. The camera movements are never jerky; even his characters stroll smoothly through the streets and the camera seems to float with them. Even at the shocking point of the car hitting the man, those shots are beautiful. That car is lofted into the air in a surprisingly dramatic turn of events, but man, does it fly gracefully to it's sudden dusty death.
The film boils the fat off of the typical narrative, taking the viewer quickly through it's classic three-act narrative structure. In the first act we meet our main man, and scraggly finger nails aside we are intrigued by him as well as the sweet girl he falls for as she walks by. In the second act we follow the flirting couple as they mimic movements. It's silly and simple and the kind of odd manner you never expect to see in real life but always think would work because it's absurdly cute in the context of a romantic comedy on the screen. And we are slammed into the third act by the crash. So far the short has been light and cute, the car crash not only amplifies the production value, but it takes the whole story to a new place, revealing a story we didn't initially expect. It's jarring but shot gracefully. It's a damn brilliant twist. The film is bookended by the familiar image of a lost shoe.
Jonze tells us with that last shot that his film is an explanation for a common phenomenon of lost shoes. It all helps to tell the tale of how lonely shoes end up in the gutter. This wasn't the first time this kind a crash like this had happened, and it surely wouldn't be the last. Thanks for the life lesson, Mr. Jonze. I'm never going to flirt on the streets again!
Validation is a short film that follows Hugh Newman, a parking assistant in charge of validating parking tickets, and his quest to get Victoria, a DMV photographer, to smile.The films starts out with a depressed driver walking to the validation stand with his ticket, as he arrived Hugh Newman begins to complement the driver and ends up making him smile.Soon everyone from George Bush to Saddam Hussein is smiling because of Hugh Newman’s ability to make people smile.However, when Hugh goes to the DMV to get his drivers license renewed, he runs into Victoria who simply won’t smile.This sets Hugh off on a quest to get Victoria to smile and this short follows the adventure that eventually changes Hugh and Victoria.
I stumbled across this film while searching for short films and fell in love with it very quickly due to its ability to blend the unbelievable with the believable.For instance this ability shows up in the beginning of the film as Hugh begins to talk to his first client about how amazing he is.I thought at first that Hugh was making fun of the man because of the way he expressed his complements however he was being completely serious.Then there are other details that stand out as unbelievable but yet the director is able to make them believable.One example of this is where the validation stand is located, it appears to be in a living room with a fireplace on the right.If you also looked at the DMV photo room, there are chandeliers and it appears to be filmed in a large ballroom.However, throughout the entire short, you never second-guess the fact that some of these things don’t add up or that some of them are simply ridiculous.While some people will claim that the film works hard to suspend belief from the beginning through crazy musical routines and just the insanity of it, all films must contain some believability.Without this believability, people won’t sincerely look at the video and will loose interest in it quickly.By perfecting this balance between the believable and unbelievable, Kurt Kuenne creates a unique and compelling story even if some elements don’t come close to lining up.
This ability to mix the believable and unbelievable is something that if mastered and correctly applied to a film adds a comedic and fun experience that cannot easily be obtained through other means.However, as a post production fanatic, I find it odd that in production or post production the chandeliers in the DMV photo room were not removed or covered up.While it may not bother most people, as a man who loves post production, keeping these elements in the film seems sloppy.However, this isn’t a issue to really get upset about, the film is a masterpiece that I truly enjoyed.
Hands Solo: The Porn Star With the Midas Touch, William Mager, 2011. 14:55.
One of the benefits of short film is being able to use brevity to your comedic advantage. One trick-pony jokes that would become played out and tear-jerkingly boring in a long film often work perfectly in a short film. There is just enough time to flesh out a joke until it goes as far as it can. Hands Solo: the Porn Star With the Midas Touch, is such a short film. It centers around a porn star who has used his deafness to his advantage by developing patented sex moves (the spider, the 'wristler', etc.) based on the manual dexterity years of sign language have given him. At its core though, the movie is about the love story between Hans Jane, and his estranged girlfriend.
This film works from a narrative perspective because of the densely imagined histories and motivations of all the characters. Though we first see hokey/porny images of Hans on set, within the next minute as the narration explains his biography, we see candidly filmed press conferences, childhood photos, a behind the scenes tour, and cast interviews. The effect of mixed media that travels such a large gap of time gives Hans's narrative a compelling foundation. The narration gains further depth when the film interviews neurological experts who use diagrams and statistics to explain the scientific basis for the impact of Hans's patented moves.
The story reveals further layers when Jane Tilden, Hans's pre-porn girlfriend of seven years, talks about the happy history the two shared. Jane is given her own characterizing details: she's the youngest ever executive of a deaf charity, and was there when Hans initially discovered his unique talents. Through cuts with interviews with Hans and Jane, it's revealed that a misunderstanding broke the two up. When Hans finds out, he resolves to fix it, lending the narrative the neat, concise conclusion befitting of a short film.
Directors: Arnold Mathieu & Laurent Riboulet, France,
2007, 7 Minutes
The film has no dialogue, only sounds, its about a guy
driving on the highway. As he speeds along the highway he needs to tale a
number 2, he sees a rest areas and parks. While gong to the bathroom an alien
crashes into the hood of the car in a craft the size of a small grill. The
alien says something in alien and puts a spell on the guy and flicks the rest
of his toilet paper roll over a mountain.After he gets the toilet paper he throws it and chases it again. The
ending credit has him in outer space capturing and re- releasing to the toilet
paper again.
I really like the animations in this short.I thought the story started out very ordinary
and took a complete detour as far as where I thought the storyline was going.
They main issue is the character needs to use the bathroom, then he becomes
only concerned with chasing the toilet paper not even having it. It’s a weird
film but I like how its left open to interpretation. My favorite cinematic
scenes are the part where he is chasing the toilet paper and jumps in slow
motion to get that paper, I thought it looked cool, and I liked how the
directors played with time. Although the storyline was very puzzling the studio
showed they could make a funny animation, it kind of reminded me of the show
Roadrunner because of the desert setting. I think the main moral of the story
is to chase what you want in life, go far and never stop desiring.
Just so no one is confused, this is my narrative post. I joined the class late, hence the awkwardly delayed post.
The above is part one of Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog, which I highly recommend watching now if you haven't already, because there are spoilers galore to come. According to The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, this isn't a short film, as they define "short film" as under 40 minutes counting credits, and this film is 42.* But I happen to respectfully disagree with this arbitrary numerical assignment. Dr. Horrible was designed and created to refute the necessity of major motion picture, blockbuster, box office hits that cost tons of money. For more on how and why Dr. Horrible came to be, check out this post by Joss Whedon, who wrote and directed the third act (as well as a million other things). It's really amusing, and provides a great description of the writers strike two years ago: http://www.drhorrible.com/plan.html
Now, for the narrative! The film begins with NPH playing Dr. Horrible himself, a supervillian with a "PhD in horribleness". We quickly learn the three relationships that will propell the plot of the movie:
Penny, played by Felicia Day, knows Dr. Horrible better as Billy. Billy goes to the same laundromat as Penny (in fact, he has memorized her laundromat schedule "Wednesdays and Saturdays except last month when you skipped a week...") and goes week after week with the intent of finally talking to the girl of his dreams. If you're not going to watch the whole movie, here's a song (just 2 mins!) illustrating the relationship: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDD-SP2iaa8
Captain Hammer, played by Nathan Fillion (Firefly, anybody?) is Dr. Horrible's arch-nemesis. As the audience, we have the unique experience of thinking he, the "superhero" is sort of a jerk, which makes it all the more unfortunate when Penny falls for him, further tormenting Billy. Here's an explanatory song for this love triangle: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NN3eBvZvUXk&feature=related
Finally, Bad Horse, (the thoroughbred of evil) is an undeveloped character who runs the Evil League of Evil, an organization Billy keeps applying to in an effort to validate himself. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rN2U5wkhRWc
This character driven narrative ends rather surprisingly, making it both unsatisfying and awesome, a hard balance to maintain. If the story weren't so carefully thought out, it would be easy to feel like the narrative was underdeveloped, but instead it all feels very intentional. Dr. Horrible isn't likable just because he's NPH, but because he's supposed to be likable. Captain Hammer isn't a jerk because he's the bad guy, but because he's the good guy. The story doesn't end the way it does because they ran out of film or shooting time, but because they were trying to create an anti-movie: something different, something with loose ends, something outside the box.
There is a man with an extremely large rabbit in his apartment. We're given no information about where this rabbit came from, how it got so big, or why the man seems so concern with keeping the rabbit and hiding it from everyone else. It doesn't sound like much of a story.
But I think that Egmont Mayer does a great job of creating a story with a surprising amount of depth without telling the audience anything. He establishes the man's isolation from the world with one shot of the lock he has put on his door. He also does a great job showing the man's complicated relationship with the rabbit. The man is embarrassed, affectionate and covetous of the rabbit, all at the same time.
In his description of the film, Mayer describes the rabbit as representing "habits that start out small and grow into something life threatening[.]" And suddenly we all recognize the story being told. We all have a friend who starting playing too many video games or got a little too in to collecting something. And they shut themselves off with their growing rabbit. When you read this into the film, the story fills out. That's what I love about this movie. That and the giant rabbit.
To describe the film any further would be to give away all the deliciously entertaining atmosphere that Goenaga gleefully -- and very quickly -- builds. Like the wall hiding the beach, nothing in this film is what it seems -- Irene, for example, lives with a monster of a mother, who treats her daughter like a doormat and refuses to lend her any money . The first half of the film sets up a tight narrative, then backs up at the two-thirds point to revisit the same narrative from another perspective. Despite the relatively short length, however, Goenaga develops Irene's sad-sack character just enough to make us care for her: she is not very pretty, yet she dresses up when there might be a chance (however sudden, however strange) for love, for getting away from her mother. Hitchcock sets up Marion in Psycho just to make us care when she gets the knife; Goenaga takes the same conceit in a different direction, with a tenser result.
The film is structured uniquely as well, getting us far into the action of the narrative before flashing the action back to the beginning to follow a different character. Indeed, we figure out that the characters have enlaced (trapped?) themselves in the titular apartment long before they do -- although we don't really know howmuch until it is far too late. Goenaga wisely does not show us everything at once, and the fun thrill of this film comes from suddenly learning a piece of information that we did not have before, information that alters everything we have thought about these characters up until that point. (Indeed, that happens several times within the very short duration of the film.)
The last shot is particularly thrilling: the camera sits around waist-level facing the kitchen, but still in the hallway looking in. When our characters each enter (and it is very difficult to type this without giving everything away), the spring-loaded door swings back, the pendulum motion slowly obscuring more and more of the long shot of the characters after they enter. Each time I watch this film, the sick part of my brain wants to hold the door open to watch the primeval forces battling behind it -- and yet, by leaving the spectator behind the doorway, Goenaga teases us into wanting more. Indeed, an ending like this actually denies us a proper response -- and opens up the opportunities for interpretation. Instead of opting for the quick and thrilling conclusion, Tercero B forces us to reconsider our relationship what and how we view even the shortest of stories.
Directed by Sean Ellis 17 minutes Original posting by Liz Feuerbach on September 4th. For summary and video check out her posting.
I was not going to originally post about this short film, but I recently saw the feature and I changed my mind.
When I saw the feature I did not realize that it was a short first, but now after seeing the short, I think the short is much better. All of my favorite parts of the movie were originally from the short. I also think the short captures the spirit of the story better than the feature did. The feature seemed to drag and add plot lines that weren’t really central to the story. See, in the feature Ben takes the night shift at the supermarket because his girlfriend just broke up with him and now he can’t sleep, so he figures might as well get some money for his extra 8 hours. One thing leads to another and he likes Sharon now. They get together. But of course, a misunderstanding occurs, she runs off, and doesn’t accept his apologies. In the end he gets a gallery to show his artwork and he invites Sharon as a one last “I’m sorry” gesture. She shows up and sees all of the drawings are of her. Now this would be creepy in most situations, but here it is somehow endearing, and they get back together…again.
The extra romance of the feature length film I think distracts from the main focus of the film: the stopping of time to deal with boredom and exchanging your time to get money. I mean both films are titled Cashback, and in the short the title fits the story. But in the feature, by the end of the film you forget what the title means.
Like Liz, I thought how Ben would undress the women in the store and draw them was really perverse, but the way he explains himself makes you forgive him… sort of. Also the way he redresses the women with such care, and makes sure their outfits are straight makes it more forgivable. And really, this is only in his head, he can’t really stop time.
I have a friend who works in the deli department of a supermarket at home and once a day he will throw a chunk of meat in the air and scream out “My arm! My arm!” or something to that effect, just to pass the time. Once it backfired though. Apparently this old woman witnessed him do it once before and she verbally flogged him for joking about something as serious as loosing an arm. I still think the joke is pretty funny.
The Heart of the World Directed by Guy Maddin, Canada, 2000 6 minutes
I became slightly obsessed with this film after having decided that I wanted to post on it during this blog's inaugural "narrative" week, but Lindsay swooped out from under me and snatched it up (DAMN YOU!). You can see her post if you want plot details, because it seems unnecessary to repeat them.
Initially, Lindsay discussed how this film was a commentary on "the inherent brevity of short films," making a frantic, tongue-in-cheek attempt at tackling larger-than-life issues in only six minutes. I think she's right to sense that Maddin is mocking something, but while she thinks he's mocking supposed thematic limitations of the short film genre (i.e. the idea that short films are much too short to meaningfully explore themes like love, greed, and self-sacrifice), I think he's moreso mocking the idea of the homage and his own investment in this concept. His aesthetics are based on early silent cinema, so to what degree can we applaud him as a visionary filmmaker? If Heart of the World borrows from these aesthetics as well as countless other elements, what makes it worth watching?
Heart of the World comprises a dizzying number of shout-outs, many of which flash by too quickly to be perceptible. In the first 15 seconds, we are presented with the image of an eye, and a knife slicing down a woman's torso. The torso, not the eye, is being sliced, but to insert this non sequitur in the opening sequence of the film is an undeniable allusion to Louis Bunuel and Salvador Dali's Un Chien Andalou, with its iconic eye/slicing image. This eye then pops up several times again throughout the movie to solidify the effect of the allusion; but the eye looks like it's peering through a camera lens, an indication that this eye is the embodiment of Maddin himself, watching us watch him. The machinery and gears at work where Anna does her work as a state scientist has the same gigantic cardboard cut-out feel as the set of Fritz Lang's Metropolis (1927), while Anna herself is dressed (helmet-esque hat and all) like Maria. Oh, and Metropolis' tagline also just happens to be, "There can be no understanding between the hands and the brain unless the heart acts as mediator." Sound familiar?
Lindsay touched on the nod to German cinema, but I noticed in my comment on her entry that "kino" is also Russian for "cinema." The characters' names in Heart of the World, Anna, Nikolai, Osip, and Akmatov, are Russian, and the font used looks like Cyrillic characters. Even the music is by Georgy Sviridov, a Russian composer. It seems then that this is also a nod to Soviet cinema, although unfortunately my ignorance prevents me from speaking more specifically about it.
I won't keep listing the allusions in the film, partly because I'm not enough of a cinephile to pick up on all the many references I suspect Maddin is making, and partly because I'm more interested in the idea of the homage in general, and how Maddin manipulates it to his advantage. This is an intriguing concept because it must negotiate the threshold between unoriginality and showing admiration, but Maddin doesn't tread carefully: he annihilates that threshold, piling homage upon homage as quickly and in as short a time span as he can. In this way, Heart of the World is kind of a joke. Maddin obviously admires those to whom he has alluded, but he's also aware that allusions must be used sparingly lest one's own work devolves into a mere collage of what others have done first. Nevertheless, film is a cumulative artform, and in making one film, you're necessarily hearkening back to the films that have come before you. Even though by contemporary standards, Maddin may seem like a breath of fresh air, his seeming originality is based on what he's borrowed from past films, and this film shows that he is more than cognizant of that. What makes him original is his use of modern themes (like overt sexuality, e.g. the flashing of the word "ORGY" when the masses find out they have only one day left, and the penis shaped canons), the way in which he creates a pastiche of all these elements and the self-awareness and humor with which he does so.
Justin brought this collegehumor.com short to the blog last month - a short about what the hit television series 24 would look like if it were made using the technology we had in 1994 instead of the technology we had in 2001, when the series began.
This short stands out to me for a variety of reasons, and Justin did a good job highlighting some. This short's distribution is only on the internet, and yet the production of the short is quite good. This doesn't surprise me because collegehumor.com is dedicated to maintaining a healthy level of satire, and in doing so is well funded for these videos that bring so much attention. Shorts like this one give legitimacy to the concept of the internet as a valid means to distribute short film.
What also represents itself well in this short is the role nostalgia plays in it. Technology that was cutting edge in 1994 is laughable only seven years later. With today's technology, a person can seem detached from society just by misplacing their cell phone or not changing their facebook status. The juxtaposition of technology that this short compares to today's technology expectations is a reality check, for a lack of better terms. Our lives are completely different. It is so much more convenient that is difficult to even imagine a time when the simple amenities like a cell phone or T1 didn't exist.
I want to highlight it again for the sake of this blog because this short represents a wide range of elements that come with short film. For example, this short is efficient with time, is funny in that it works with implicit notions of current technology, well produced, satirical, and self contained in its story. Lets not forget - it is entertaining! That is what this blog as a whole seems to suggest - that no matter what kind of bum wrap short films get for being short, they are addictive. We search for a spectacle, but more often than not we find something that makes an impression.
Fight to the Finish (2007) Directors: Steve Erdman, Zac Kind, and Daniel Wolfberg Czech Republic, 9 minutes
This quintessential posting gives me a unique opportunity as a filmmaker to respond to a post about one of my own short films. Fight to the Finish was a film that Dan Wolfberg, Zac Kind, and myself made while studying abroad at FAMU in Prague during the fall of 2007. We spent the entire semester building this film up from the ground up. Interestingly enough, our original intentions were to make a comedy, but as our idea evolved the film became a powerful (hopefully) introspective drama. We were in charge of everything. After we finished the script, we spent a great deal of time location scouting, locating props (surprisingly hard to find boxing gear in Prague), and casting. We shot the film in three days (two in the park and one at an insane asylum (the film Hostile was shot there as well)Overall I am pleased with how the film turned out and what it turned into, but as Jose Goenaga pointed out with his short films; I see little things I would change. This is because I have spent so much time with the film and am looking at it with a different set of eyes than a first time viewer.
First and foremost, the Jeremy’s initial post about the film was very flattering and rewarding. Seeing someone else write academic praise about something we spent so much time on has been a really cool experience. Jeremy’s observations about subtext were quite accurate. Our advisors urged us to keep dialogue to a minimum and really “show” the audience everything. As a result we were forced to think of how to communicate almost everything visually. The wide spaces are indicative of his loneliness, the blue of his clothing communicate a coldness or sadness, asking the man to move to another bench (when there are many open ones) suggests his tradition of coming to the same place every year.
The list goes on and on, but it all adds up to the telling of the whole story. Jan and his wife loved each other but as time wore on he took her for granted and slightly neglected her. One day they got into a fight, and she died in a tragic accident. The last time they spoke to each other there was a lot of anger and blame. This sour ending, paired with his aging have worn old Jan down. He has almost no one, and approaching the end of his days. As a result Jan honors his anniversary by doing what they traditionally would when she was alive (this is why the nurse knows where he will be). This could be old Jan’s last trip to the park, and in a cathartic release with the boxing mitts, he lets out all of the frustration/sadness/loneliness/aging/etc, and comes to terms with things as they are, not as they were.
The park scenes get progressively higher in elevation until the end, and the wine scene take place at the top of a mountain with Prague castle in the background. The castle proved to be an interesting theme as the audience sees it several times throughout. This self inclusion of Fight to the Finish as “quintessential” is not an ego booster but an interesting opportunity for one of the film’s creators to shed some light on the creative process, our intentions, and our final thoughts on the film. I hope everyone enjoyed the film.
By Pepe Donquart, Germany, 1993, 9 minutes 59 seconds Won the 1993 Academy Award for Live Action Short Film Source: You Tube
Original Blog Posted By Caren Jensen
Schwarzfahrer is a quintessential short film in its ability to confront an uncomfortable topic in a humorous way that is clever with a subtext. Every time I watch this film, I feel awkward for the other passengers as the elderly woman sits on the trolley spewing her bigoted thoughts. While they might disagree, not a single person is willing to disagree aloud except for a few punk kids but their immaturity in responding does nothing to reach the woman. It is not until the “Black Rider” eats her ticket, forcing her off the trolley, does anyone make an impact.
Upon first viewing, I expected the old woman to have a change of heart after the man did something incredibly gracious or respectable, but this is not a film about changing a person’s heart. Instead, Schwarzfahrer is about a changing time where the prejudiced mentalities of old are being replaced with more tolerant mindsets. Old woman and young black man are clear symbols of two generations, at least once removed. He does not have to protest out loud and make a statement through words. Above all, it is a film about silence.
The silence of the passengers while the old woman rambles on is their method of rejecting her beliefs. Their silence after the man eats the ticket is a symbol of their acknowledgement of justice. The old woman’s desire to voice her opinions further distanced her from group. The only person to openly acknowledge the ticket eating was the young boy who then looked to his mother for recognition. The mom’s choice to openly ignore the action served as a lesson to the young boy about the despicable nature of the elderly woman.
Some of the best short comedy films typically act as a long joke building to a punchline. Schwardzfahrer is a clear-cut example of this but dares to be more than just a joke but a statement. While the statement might seem superfluous today in light of recent events, this film still holds something true when put in context of 1993 Germany. However, it is still an enjoyable film to watch today and a prime example of how short films can be more than just entertainment.
Yu Ming is Ainm Dom (My Name is Yu Ming) Directed by Daniel O'Hara, Ireland, 2003, 13 minutes. Source: Google Video
I'm choosing My Name is Yu Ming as my quintessential film because of its length (a succinct 13 minutes), its intelligence and great sense of story (a bored Chinese student who dreams of a life elsewhere, chooses Ireland after a spin of the globe, and travels to his fate), its poignant music and extremes of color and light (which I think evoke a kind of sense of melancholy or even dream-like state to the proceedings), its twisty ending, and even for the possibilities it represents within the world of short film (an Irish production, mixing with Chinese language, focused on the promotion of Gaelic-toned art). It's one of my favorites of the term.
Raissa was the first to post on this and provided the key plot details, so I'd rather build on what makes this film so compelling. For starters, there's an undertone of magical realism to the film, of a boy on one side of the world opting for a trip through the transnational Looking Glass to search for his Magic Grail (the luck of the Irish?) At first, he only finds a sense of bafflement, and the filmmakers capture this perfectly by aligning two crucial scenes on either end of the planet. In China, Yu Ming practices his Gaelic while eating his lunch with chopsticks and then his "you talking to me?" lines in the mirror (all to some peppy music). Later, in Ireland, he's fumbling with a pair of faux metal chopsticks (his solution for the confounding newness of a fork and spoon) and uttering his Taxi Driver quote to a mute statue (as the music shifts to a sadder register). The effect of all this layering is to build a real sense of empathy with Ming, and a connection from his hopeful past to his gloomy present. Ming is also continually isolated from everyone in the film (his boss, the hostel clerk, the barman, and even the librarian, who expresses annoyance at his tampering with her precious globe) until he finds the sympathetic Paddy at the bar. He's the stranger in the strange land.
But there's also the deeper tones to My Name is Yu Ming, the reverberations of themes that echo beyond its short moment on the screen. There's the fascinating concept of a Chinese boy (an owner of the most spoken language in the world) attempting to learn one of the lesser-spoken languages of Western Europe, because of an assumption from an imperfect library book (a foible of our great, new communications age?) Then there's the film's look at the globalization patterns in the world that push many to seek an escape/a job/romance far away, and that in turn create a confusing amalgamation on the streets of any lonely city. Yu Ming isn't the only expat wandering about Dublin - there's an Aussie working the front desk of the hostel, and a Mongolian "Chinese" kid trying to get his money out of the soda machine. Even Paddy looks a bit lost in the bar, sitting apart with his thoughts - perhaps he's just another melancholic wanderer like Ming? The connection between the two is priceless, and comes at the perfect time in the film, 10 minutes in, when the audience is really starting to wonder what will come of all this.
I think there's also a great sense of hope for shorts when you consider the effect of this film on the young company that made it - Dough Productions, based in Dublin, won 18 awards with My Name is Yu Ming and now specializes in Gaelic-themed stories. The two other films on its website include Fluent Dysphasia, about a father who wakes up one day to find that he can only speak Irish (and thus connects with his daughter, who's studying it in school), and Paddywhackery, an ongoing series about a man, his Irish-language business ventures, and Peig Sayers, a Gaelic-speaking ghost character out of Ireland's schoolbooks. The low expenses, and exploratory possibilities, of short film, are what make this kind of culturally-rich film possible.
Antoine et Colette is the second of five films Francois Truffaut made about Antoine Doinel, a semi-autobiographical and perpetually hapless character played by Jean Pierre Leaud. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who's seen all five films and wouldn't name The 400 Blows as their favorite by a mile, but Antoine et Colette -- the only short in the bunch -- gets its fair share of love too. As Kylos mentioned, the film was originally included as a part of the 1962 omnibus film Love at Twenty, but Criterion recently extracted Truffaut's segment and released it as a stand-alone piece in their Adventures of Antoine Doinel box set. That's how I first came across it, and I still haven't seen the rest of Love at Twenty. I think this goes to show the peculiar way in which context is at once seen as integral and dispensable with an omnibus film: Love at Twenty as a whole seems to be about the message we get when putting all these separate shorts together, but the segments are each able to have lives of their own outside the film and be perhaps even more popular out of context.
Antoine and Colette gives Truffaut fans the ultimate wish fulfillment -- wouldn't we all love the opportunity to glimpse into the lives of the characters from our favorite films a few years after they are where we've left them when the credits rolled? The short comes three years after the tremendous international success of The 400 Blows, which was Truffaut's debut feature. That film has a huge emotional impact on me whenever I watch it, and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. The ending is iconic for its ambiguity; after the film takes us on such an emotional journey, we don't even get unequivocal proof in the end that Antoine is going to be "OK." The whole purpose of Antoine and Colette (and continuing on the Antoine character in general) seems to be Truffaut's way of telling us (and perhaps himself) that we don't need to worry, Antoine's life will continue on in its same haphazard way, and he will always be able to make it through whatever situation he finds himself in. I'm reminded of a quote from Felini that has always stuck with me, about the titular character in his film Nights of Cabiria, "This film doesn't have a resolution in the sense that there is a final scene in which the story reaches a conclusion so definitive that you no longer have to worry about Cabiria. I myself have worried about her fate ever since." Antoine and Colette seems to be Truffaut's way of telling us not to worry about Antoine.
Of the Antoine Doinel films I've seen, I would rank this one just behind The 400 Blows. What I like about it is that it there is no narrative gimmick of any kind, it's just a slice of Antoine's life at age 17. Truffaut has admitted that the later films were just excuses for him to work with Leaud again and to continue to character on. As a result, some of the features rely on some pretty unnecessary plot contrivances. In Stolen Kisses, Antoine tries his hand at being a detective. In Bed and Board, he works for a Japanese businessman and attempts to woo his daughter. They're good films, though I don't like them as much as Antoine and Colette, and I think their length has something to do with it. I'm not sure that Truffaut would be able to make a feature out of the plot of this short. It's so much a slice of life, a fleeting glimpse into the day-to-day of Antoine as a young adult. Aside from his ill-fated romance with Colette, the film is much more about creating an overall atmosphere than focusing on a gripping plot. Since it's hard to sustain a the slice-of-life atmosphere over a 90 minute feature, the latter three films in the series don't have the same effect as this short. For this reason, perhaps the series as a whole would have been stronger if Truffaut had kept the last four films as shorts rather than features. All we really want is a glimpse into Antoine's life to know that he's staying out of trouble (though that's rarely the case with him), and that is all Antoine and Colette grants us.
Yacht Rock Episode 1: "What a Fool Believes" Directed by JD Ryznar, 2005, 5 minutes Source: Channel101.com/YouTube.com
"Yacht Rock" is an online "tv series" detailing the days when the smooth sounds of Kenny Loggins, Michael McDonald, and Hall & Oates dominated the charts. In Episode 1, Michael McDonald has to write a hit song in one day, or else be kicked out of the Doobie Brothers. Kenny Loggins offers to help out, but Michael isn't sure because Kenny just ditched his former songwriting partner, Jim Messina. They visit Jim, who's now a drunk living in an alley, but inspiration strikes and Kenny and Michael end up writing "What a Fool Believes" together. The Doobies perform the song and all is well, until the belligerent Hall & Oates show up to challenge Kenny and Michael to a songwriting contest, setting up the scenario for the next episode.
"Yacht Rock" is a parody, and therefore is only really funny if you're familiar with the musicians they're poking fun at. (I am, because this is pretty much all my mom listens to.) But it still shares some characteristics with other online comedy films - for example, the low production values, such as John Oates' obviously fake afro and moustache, make it funnier. Personally I also enjoy the ridiculous nautical puns, and the effects that try to make it look like the series is actually from the 70s. (The rest of the series can be viewed here. Episode 2, which features a back-alley songwriting duel with tragic results, is my favorite.)
Although "Yacht Rock" is available on YouTube, it was originally created for the website Channel101.com. Channel101 calls itself "the unavoidable future of entertainment": it is a website where the viewers determine which shows continue and which shows die. Each month, a screening is held in LA for the submissions selected to compete. The audience then votes for the shows it most wants to continue. The top five winners are allowed to submit their next episode for next month's screening, to compete against whatever pilots are submitted for the next month. All of the shorts must be 5 minutes or less. (Here is a more thorough explanation.)
Channel101 is interesting because it again blurs the line between short film and television. Generally speaking, the films on Channel101 can work as stand-alones, but they're also designed to leave the audience wanting more (so that they'll vote for a new episode.) In 2007, the site even sort of made a move onto actual TV when VH1 created Acceptable.tv. Acceptable.tv had the same basic premise as Channel101, but instead of screenings the shorts were aired on television, and viewers could then go to the website to vote for the shows they wanted to see next month. The creators of Acceptable.tv were, fittingly, people who got their start at Channel101. They are not the only success stories - before landing his gig on SNL, Andy Samberg & his writing partners created The 'Bu for Channel101, which ended up being one of the longest-running series on the site, and "Yacht Rock" itself now has periodic screenings across the country.
Chad Vader - Day Shift Manager Blame Society Productions, USA, 2006, 4:47 Source: YouTube
The brainchild of Matt Sloan and Aaron Yonda, Chad Vader initially landed on the web via YouTube and MySpace in the summer of 2006, the first of eight episodes. The comic short series follows the adventures of Chad Vader, the younger, lesser-known and mostly inept brother of the arch-villian Darth Vader from the Star Wars movies.
Chad, in full black mask and suit (which apparently cost $600) works as the day manager of Empire Market, and has all the powers, the lightsaber (and voice) of Darth, and ill-fortune to deal with the earthbound and mundane struggles of grocery store managing life - lazy employees, demanding customers, the vagaries of the dating world, and a major conflict with night manager Clint. The latter relationship propels the arc of the series, as Chad is shunted to the night shift, quits the market, goes on a roaring drunk, fails at other jobs, and then duels Clint in Episode 8 to regain the vaunted position of day shift manager.
Chad Vader is both a good example of the viral power of the internet (I first heard about it through word of mouth, before it began spreading outward to Good Morning America and the BBC among other venues), and also of the "remediation effect" mentioned in our reading on YouTube, the practice of reusing or reworking material from one media in a different media, in this case generating comedy on the internet with an iconic film character. Viewers also have to be in on the culture of Star Wars to get the joke (the dialogue from the films and his powers are assumed knowledge).
I enjoyed the series when it came out, and it's got higher production values (and much more thought process) than many other YouTube bits, but in an odd way, it also feels "dated" by the standards of our national nanosecond attention span, swept aside in the great onrush forward. My current webseries obsession, which is still playing out this fall, is based here in DC.
Meanwhile, time will tell if Sloan and Yonda are one-hit wonders. They're still based out in Madison, Wisconsin (the set location for the series), have added merchandising to their repertoire, and are busy working on Series 2 of Chad Vader, just two more lucky lottery winners of this new world order (or third screen) of internet celebrity-dom.
