Quick Impressions:
My husband and I were so excited to see the nominated live action and animated shorts before the Oscars this year! We almost never pull that off! (When my kids were little, I would feel too guilty if I asked my mom to watch them more than once a week, and I couldn’t exactly hire a babysitter when my parents lived in our house!)
We saw all ten of these on the big screen and loved the experience. I wish I were a member of some voting body because I’m the type who would dutifully watch every screener and take the whole exercise so seriously. But I’m not, so I just had to watch for my own pleasure.
So for the first time—maybe ever?—I’m writing a blog entry with my thoughts on the shorts. (Of course, this year, we’re miserably behind on the documentaries and foreign films, but you can’t have everything. I tried so hard to see Best Song nominee RRR on the big screen, but my choices were fly to Oregon or watch it near my house for one afternoon at 3:00, which did not seem like a great excuse for being hours late to pick up my kids from school). I’ll just run through these in the order I saw them.
Live Action Shorts
Ivalu
Producers: Anders Walter and Rebecca Pruzan
Directors: Anders Walter and Pipaluk K. Jørgensen
Runtime: 16 minutes
If forced to rank the short films, Ivalu is the one I liked least, but after I learning it was adapted graphic novel, I’d love to watch it again to pay closer attention to Rasmus Heise’s cinematography. This is a Danish film set in Greenland, and the cinematography is a highlight because the natural landscapes are so striking. Plus we get a young girl on a (quasi-spiritual) journey. She’s searching for her older sister Ivalu, but what she’s really searching for is closure, maybe peace. This search involves being guided by birds, and we’re often given carefully framed landscapes with interesting elevations. It’s so easy to imagine the story in graphic novel form. I’d really like to watch it again with its origins in mind. And I may try to hunt down Morten Dürr’s graphic novel because I suspect my daughter would enjoy it. (Besides, I’m looking for something to read before bed. So many of the adapted screenplays this year were adapted from other films!)
I want to see Ivalu again, too, because I figured out the ending immediately. (Within two minutes, maybe sooner.) I couldn’t decide if I’m just hypervigilant, always suspecting peril, or if the film is cueing us for this outcome. There are probably visual clues, but my husband (as I know from asking) did not share my suspicions and conclusions. So I want to know if the film deliberately prepares us for where it takes us with subtle visual cues, or if I’m just paranoid suspecting danger all the time. Young Mila Heilmann Kretuzmann makes a captivating protagonist as Pipaluk, younger sister of the missing Ivalu (played by Nivi Larsen). I already had an idea of where she might find her and why she left, but I enjoyed watching Pipaluk’s journey (which has almost a mystical feel because of the birds). The film’s costuming interested me, too. I never thought before about the Queen of Denmark visiting Greenland, or how young people there would prepare to receive her. It’s an intriguing and sad film that left me wanting to read the graphic novel.
Night Ride
Producers: Eirik Tveiten and Gaute Lid Larssen
Director: Eirik Tveiten
Runtime: 15 minutes
I loved this one. It was a nice change of pace after the bleak, wintry tragedy of Ivalu. I immediately started to identify with Ebba (Sigrid Kandal Husjord). I so well know the feeling of waiting and waiting for something, feeling desperate, and then after you’ve counted down the seconds to zero, for some reason you still have to continue waiting. Initially, she’s in this situation that isn’t an emergency, but it’s very unpleasant. Waiting in the snow on a cold night for the trolley is like waiting to use the bathroom, or waiting for dinner after having not eaten all day, or waiting to put down something heavy. If you’re forced to wait longer, it’s not going to kill you or anything, but it’s so achingly disappointing. This is the kind of situation everyone can relate to, surely, so it seems like good filmmaking. You’re instantly in the protagonist’s headspace. You know the discomfort she’s feeling. So you kind of understand what she does. And you’re with her at first, but it goes a little bit too far…
“This is like me,” I whispered, just as my husband turned and whispered, “This is you.” I can so easily imagine this happening to me. “Oh well! Guess I’m stealing a trolley tonight!” It’s one of those things that sneaks up on you, and suddenly you’ve created a debacle, and you’re trapped in a catastrophe. This opening bit is so funny because she could stop and apologize and run away. But she doesn’t. And then the passengers arrive…
But then the movie gets a little more serious. I love the visual metaphor. While Ebba’s continuing in this mini-disaster she’s created, something happens. Something goes wrong. People begin harassing one passenger (Ola Hoemsnes Sandum), and level of threat quickly escalates. So what will Ebba do?
She’s so easy to identify with. I think a lot of us feel like, “Oh no! You’ve mistaken me for someone in charge. I see this injustice happening, but I don’t actually have any authority. I’m just pretending to be in authority.” But no. If you see something happening, you do have authority. You are in charge. I’m a person who tends to be meek. I don’t feel like I’m in charge of anything. Ebba is literally an impostor, but she’s still able to stand up and do the right thing.
So we get this happy ending, and a very funny resolution, and the film drifts back into being an improbable little comedy. I liked it a lot.
My husband and I had different impressions of the situation on the trolley as it was unfolding. At first, I thought, “Oh no. This guy (Axel Barø Aasen) is going to threaten her.” Then I thought, “Oh! No! He’s just hitting on her. He’s genuinely interested. Well, that’s refreshing.” And then I realized, “Oh! He is a bigoted creep, after all. He’s just stupid. Uh oh.” My husband never doubted that the guy was confused and never mistook him for potentially not threatening. He explained, “He just thought she was hot.” I said, “Well, she is hot.” He said, “Yes, but now he feels stupid.” I said, “Well, he is stupid.” The funny thing is, Allan (Aasen) could stand up to the guy making fun of him (Jon Vegard Hovdal). He could shut him right down by saying, “Yep, that’s what I was doing, all right. I was hitting on her.” But he doesn’t have the courage to do that. Ebba has to stand up and be the bigger person.
Le Pupille
Producers: Alice Rohrwacher and Alfonso Cuarón
Director: Alice Rohrwacher
Runtime: 37 minutes
We’d watched the first two shorts. Both had an artsy/international/indy feel to them. Then Le Pupille blasts onto the screen announcing it’s from Disney, produced by Alfonso Cuarón, starring Carla Bruni’s sister…
This film was really jarring. It was longer than the first two put together, had huge names attached to it, looked extremely expensive, and had a very odd plot. I had a bizarre experience while watching. When I saw Le Pupille, I read it in French. There were all these eyes, after all. I thought, “Okay, this is a French film.” But then, I saw Alfonso Cuarón’s name, and I thought, “Or is it a Mexican film?” Then I realized, “No, this is Italy, maybe…” Catholic orphans could be speaking any of those languages! (I was somewhat unclear on if these girls were all orphans or simply students at boarding school.)
This perhaps sounds pretentious, but I couldn’t figure out which language they were speaking. The title is what confused me. Quickly, I realized what I was hearing wasn’t French. But my brain was telling me what the words meant instead of letting me think about what the words were. I was getting really frustrated, wanting to scream, “This is subtitled, brain! Please stop thinking of meanings and let me concentrate on the words!” (Okay, this doesn’t make me sound pretentious. It makes me sound insane.) At any rate, I’ve never had an experience quite like this. Finally, Carla Bruni’s sister (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi) showed up yelling, “Bambini!” so that helped a lot.
You don’t usually get titles that are puns in two languages (the pupil of the eye in French and the pupils in Italian).
When I was finally sure we were in Italy, I still found the story consistently surprising, full of strange and baffling events. Afterwards, my husband deemed Le Pupille “weird af,” and it is, but I liked it.
What makes it charming is that the whole thing is based on a letter, a real letter (I believe) that a little girl wrote from this Catholic boarding school/orphanage. It does play out like the contents of a child’s letter on a most unusual day. Aspects of it reminded me of both Oliver Twist and Jane Eyre. It’s also kind of like a parody of a 1980s Christmas special (back when network TV was supersaturated with them). The ending reminds me of one of my all-time favorite Simpsons quotes. “It’s just a bunch of stuff that happened!”
The characters are fascinating and well-acted, especially the desperate wealthy woman (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), the Mother Superior (Alba Rohrwacher), and the “bad girl” Serafina (Melissa Falasconi). I’d like to see more of the story, honestly. Fleshed out with some songs, it could be like an absurdist Italian Annie. I need to watch this one again. It looks gorgeous, and has a number of visual moments that stick with you. Maybe this one is actually on Disney+ right now. If so, I will be able to see it again before the Oscars.
The Red Suitcase
Producer: Cyrus Neshvad
Director: Cyrus Neshvad
Runtime: 18 minutes
This was our favorite of the live action short films. Both my husband and I thought The Red Suitcase was considerably stronger than the others. Of all these nominees, it seems to use its short runtime the most effectively. It packs a punch like a good short story, only for the screen.
It opens with a shot I loved that somehow makes this baggage claim in Luxembourg look like the most exciting place on earth. I truly love the shot composition there. (And I hadn’t considered before that Luxembourg only has one airport.)
There’s a red suitcase. It belongs to a young woman in a hijab (Nawelle Ewad). (I mention the hijab first, instead of saying her name is Ariane because I just read an interview with director Cyrus Neshvad who talks about anti-hijab protests happening now in Iran).
We quickly learn that Ariane is terrified to leave the baggage claim area. We don’t understand why at first, and airport authorities seem concerned that perhaps she’s a terrorist. Then we discover that she’s not a danger to anyone. She’s in danger herself.
The rest of the film is about her attempt to escape. She is constantly afraid, and she’s trying to make a bold, life-changing decision. But to do that, first she’ll have to give up every bit of comfort and security that she has.
I loved the final shot of this movie, too, so I suppose I should mention cinematographer Nikos Welter. This last image makes advertising look so sinister and leaves you with the uneasy feeling that perhaps all women are prisoners to something no matter where they go.
An Irish Goodbye
Producers: Tom Berkeley and Ross White
Directors: Tom Berkeley and Ross White
Runtime: 23 minutes
This is one of the stronger ones, as well. But both my husband and I thought it seemed less like a self-contained short film and more like a pitch for a longer movie. (I could envision it as a big budget Hollywood comedy, in my mind (for some reason) starring Will Ferrell. (I don’t know why. He’s not Irish. But every few minutes, I’d imagine him playing the older brother in the big Hollywood remake.)
The twist is easy to predict, but it’s still quite charming and heart warming (though I thought the fart jokes were a little stale). The story is compelling. We have two brothers in Northern Ireland reunited for their mother’s funeral. The older brother Turlough (Seamus O’Hara) lives in England now. The younger brother, Lorcan (James Martin) wants to stay on the family farm, but he has Down syndrome and can’t live independently. The kooky family priest, Father O’Shea (Paddy Jenkins) who has a habit of going off on inappropriate tangents and putting his foot in his mouth has recovered their mother’s bucket list, found on her body when she died.
It’s hard to resist an Irish comedy about grief and brotherly love, and this one is funny (sometimes). Honestly, I think it would work better as a longer movie. Shorts have quite successfully been made into features before. This one would benefit from more kooky scenarios and fleshing out of the four main characters. (Michelle Fairley from Game of Thrones voices the late mother.) I’d also love to see a more compelling reason why Turlough must (or can’t!) go back to London. This is a funny, heart-warming short, but I feel like we’re being given a taste of a longer movie. It’s almost like watching an extended theatrical trailer. I enjoyed it. I want to see more, though.
Animated Shorts
An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe It
Producer: Lachlan Pendragon
Director: Lachlan Pendragon
Runtime: 11 minutes
This blew me away! I could not contain my excitement as I watched. I think I watched for like three seconds before I decided, “This is my new favorite film of 2022!” What a title, first of all, but it builds on the promise of that title immediately! The whole concept is so cool. It should be the cartoon theaters show before Everything Everywhere All at Once.
I can’t recall the last time I’ve liked anything new quite this much—the concept, the execution, the humor. The sheer zaniness of this won my heart. The voice acting is excellent, and the premise appeals to my inability to stay either manic or depressed long enough to develop or dismiss a great conspiracy theory. My husband joked, “Was this short made inside your brain?”
I love stop motion, anyway, and from a practical point of view, I love the way the short lets us see how stop motion is made—while making us question our own reality. It’s so horrifying that it’s hilarious!
I also love its brevity. So often cool stuff like this gets ruined by being hyperextended to the point that it’s no longer interesting and fun. This just ends. A+! I love it!
I now fully intend to watch Lachlan Pendragon’s other shorts. (How did he get a name like that? What a great name!)
The Flying Sailor
Producer: Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby
Director: Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby
Runtime: 8 minutes
This is an extremely cool short, too, because it’s based on a true story, the Halifax Explosion of December 1917, an historical event I never knew about until tonight. This truly happened. A sailor went flying up into the air to a ridiculous height, propelled by the blast of this massive explosion when two ships collided. And then he survived!
Most of the short plays like those strange volcano parts in The Tree of Life. As he’s flying up into the air, this very naked sailor somehow experiences the totality of existence. He goes everywhere. The art style keeps changing as he travels. I was positive this was turning into a meditation on the meaning of life and our place in the universe. It seemed so metaphysical and ethereal, and then all of a sudden, “Wham!” He falls back to Earth and we get this brilliant epilogue that tells us, “By the way, this is a true story, and the sailor survived.”
This was quite an intriguing watch, and I tend to further research the incident.
Ice Merchants
Producer: João Gonzales and Bruno Caetano
Director: João Gonzales
Runtime: 14 minutes
This beautiful Portuguese short is the one I felt I didn’t understand, but I watched it absolutely transfixed and would be fine with it winning because it’s so well made and compelling. The art style alone is riveting. It reminds me of Ludwig Bemelmans or Edward Gorey. (There’s someone else I can’t remember. The red and blue. There’s some illustrator of children’s books I used to read with my mother who has a drawing style so similar to this.) (I’ll think of it.)
I couldn’t decide if the story was literal or some kind of parable. Are there (or were there) people like this who really live on the side of the mountain and parachute down to the town to sell their ice? (I completely don’t know.) (I feel so stupid writing that out.) I understand how the story works. (It seems very impractical to buy a new hat every day, but I guess that has its advantages.)
What I mean is, if this were a children’s book, I would say, “What a great story! What profound themes!” But after that exploding sailor who travelled to the far reaches of the cosmos turned out to be a real person, I’m wondering if this story has any basis in reality. That’s what I don’t know. I understand how it works as a story. I just don’t know if there’s truth in it (literal truth), (other than the fact that our non-sustainable lifestyle is making all the ice melt).
I loved the art style. I loved the music. I liked the story. (There is no dialogue.)
The Boy, The Mole, The Fox, and The Horse
Producer: Charlie Mackesy and Matthew Freud
Director: Peter Baynton, Charlie Mackesy
Runtime: 32 minutes
This was my least favorite of the animated shorts, which seems unfair because it has a really high-powered, all-star voice cast—Idris Elba (the fox), Gabriel Byrne (the horse), Tom Hollander (the mole)—and offers truly lovely visuals of a peaceful, snowy countryside.
It was a bit too long for me. The other short films all took me out of myself, and this one made me ruminate on all my failings as a human. It’s supposed to do the opposite of that, I think. I’ll have to read the book and give it another chance. It seems like everyone in the entire universe loves this book.
It’s very pretty, and I like snow and cake. And I like making friends and being loving and kind. My husband said, “Even though it’s all very familiar, it still makes you tear up a little bit from time to time.”
The trouble with aphorisms is they’re only helpful if you’re in your right mind. Imagine if the fox said, “Sometimes I’m quiet because while I actively intend the opposite of harm, I’m pretty sure I’m delusional, and I’m not sure what reality is, so I think I’d better keep my mouth shut until that goes away.” I feel like that might be more helpful (or at least more interesting). Well, maybe not.
Actually, that would be a terrible short. Children would cry. I never would have thought of suggesting it, though, had this one been more like twelve minutes long. My own son would never watch this. It wouldn’t hold his attention.
I’m not trying to insult this short because it’s lovely. It’s just not for me. I prefer a stronger narrative. But maybe I would like the book because surely reading it would not take thirty-two minutes.
Despite my intentions, I feel like I am insulting the short. Watching it agitated me because it pretends to dispense profound wisdom, but…
I’ll just stop. It features a very cute mole and a little boy who looks like Christopher Robin (voiced by Jude Coward Nicoll). I’m sorry that I didn’t like it very much. I am intrigued by the book and will probably buy it.
My Year of Dicks
Producer: Sara Gunnarsdóttir and Pamela Ribon
Director: Sara Gunnarsdóttir
Runtime: 24 minutes
This was great, though, frankly, I expected more dicks. It was proceeded by this screen-filling disclaimer that announced it was not intended for children. Then there was a brief intermission, so parents could remove children from the auditorium if necessary. In baffled shock, I whispered to my husband, “Whose children have been sitting through three hours of Oscar nominated short films?” (My fourteen-year-old would have liked them, but she would also be fine for watching “My Year of Dicks.”)
We seriously did expect a lot more dicks, as in actual, literal animated penises. That disclaimer was so intense, so we hunkered down, thinking, “Okay I guess we’re about to see a whole bunch of dicks.” We tried to prepare ourselves mentally, so we weren’t alarmed by all the dicks.
And then—gasp!—there were no dicks. At all. Nary a one. I assume the title is more metaphorical. She was trying to lose her virginity that year, so she dated a bunch of awful, undeserving guys. You know, dicks. (Later my husband joked, “Who knew “The Flying Sailor” would showcase more animated dicks than “My Year of Dicks.” There was no disclaimer before that one, and we got full frontal nudity for like five minutes while he was flying off into space!)
Anyway, I liked this one a lot, possibly it’s based on a comedic memoir by Pamela Ribon who was a teenager in Texas in 1991, so it’s relatable to me. (Technically, I was twelve in 1991, but I also lived in Texas and had not lost my virginity yet.)
At first I wasn’t sure if I liked this story or found it annoying, but it ends up being a very sweet love story. When it became clear (very early) how much her friend liked her, I was like, “Ohhhkay.” I found Sam (Jackson Kelly) so charming because he reminded me of my husband (and slightly of me).
This short was very affirming. The part where she talked to her mom made me feel so much better about my parenting. My daughter and I talk about stuff all the time. We have a great dynamic. We were just having a talk this afternoon. What her mom does to her in this is so awful! And that talk by her dad! This was all highly relatable to me because my parents loved me very much but gave me absolutely the worst advice about sex and dating. My mom used to tell me, “If a boy loves you, he won’t have sex with you even if you ask him to because he’ll respect you too much.” Meanwhile my dad would say things like, “Sometimes a couple has an arrangement where the man satisfies his physical needs elsewhere until the wedding.” They both seemed to prize virginity yet stress that everyone you encounter is always trying to sleep with you at every moment of your life, and you should always have a lot of sex and be very sexually attracted and available to men while remaining a virgin. I do think this is one area where I’m doing a bit better with my daughter. (I constantly worry I might come across like Amy Poehler in Mean Girls, but she doesn’t seem to be reacting as if that’s the case yet.)
The animation in this is fun, and some lines made me laugh a lot, like, “Dad, I’m grounded.” (That reminded me of my sister.) This short is pretty fun, and I discovered just now that author/subject Pamela Ribon voices the character of Kelly while Brie Tilton voices Pam.