The short films categories can elude many fans of the Oscars. Most films do not get a wide, theatrical release (streaming certainly helps), and, for a lot of awards season fans, the titles don’t become familiar until the shortlists are announced. Over the next few days, I will be taking a look at Animated Short Film, Live Action Short Film, and Documentary Short Subject to explore the themes and the individual races. Are there clear frontrunners, or should we prepare for a perplexing race?
Guys…Documentary Short Subject is so stacked this year. Sometimes when we look at these lists, we can find a clear frontrunner or a select five, but I could see audiences going for every single title on this list. There were 114 films to qualify for Documentary Short Subject this year, and, sometimes, I like to think of what kinds of stories The Academy latch onto. Normally, there are a lot of stories about social justice or animals and, sometimes, voters can just hear what a film is about and want to cast their attention on it.
This year’s shortlisted docs focus on a landmark vote that helped pass abortion in the United States, the history of Black girl hand games, the growing divide between two close twin brothers, and censorship in today’s school libraries. Without further ado, let’s look at the nominee, shall we?
The ABCs of Book Banning
The old and the very young seem to be the wisest people we have, and that is evidenced by this documentary short from directors Trish Adlesic, Nazenet Habtezghi, and Sheila Nevins. It seems that you can’t turn on the news without hearing about how a school is emptying out their library to book bans, but when you look at the books being removed, you keep asking the same question: why?
Rather than focus on the politics themselves, ABCs shows us two different groups of people. Grace Linn, one hundred years young, thank you very much, arrives at a Martin County school board meeting in March of 2023 to protest books being restricted and banned in the county. Books can either be restricted, challenged, or banned, but Linn is there to talk about how her husband fought fascism during the second World War. She echoes how Nazi Germany removed any kind of challenging material in order to strike fear in some citizens and silence others.
The more central component to this doc is meeting some children who are confused as to why books are being talked about so much. Why can’t a young Black child read The Lives of Rosa Parks and become inspired by her history? Why can’t some advanced students read a copy of Slaughterhouse-Five or The Catcher in the Rye? Children aren’t afraid of learning new things, so why are adults removing the questions before they are even able to ask them? There is moment when an inquisitive young girls just keeps asking, “Why?” right to camera, and we shouldn’t be afraid of that question.
ABCs might seem straightforward, but the theme itself is straightforward. Why are we doing this? Do we not see how dangerous this kind of censorship is?
The ABCs of Book Banning is streaming now on Paramount+.
The Barber of Little Rock
“The racial-wealth gap is not a million dollar problem, it’s not a billion dollar problem–it’s a trillion dollar problem. It’s a never ending story,” Arlo Washington says in the first few moments of The Barber of Little Rock. After I watching this film, I kept coming back to those words and thinking about a physical, dangerous divide splitting a cliffside apart. No matter how much you hold on, you can’t stop it.
Washington’s barber school has already created opportunities for over 1,500 licensed barbers, and he saw generational poverty first-hand. Big banks swoop in to make money, but they are not familiar with the communities. If you aren’t going to take time to learn about the community itself, you aren’t going to learn about the strength of the people. In 2008, Washington created the People Trust, a nonprofit organization dedicated to extending loans to people in underserved communities.
There are huge issues center stage in this film, and even the small moments hit home. Washington reveals that his mother passed away before he graduated, and he was tasked with taking care of his little sisters (“Where do I go from here?” he asks us). In another scene, he asked two men to stare into each other’s eyes as part of an exercise. “Think of the pain, think of the hurt. Be with him,” he says.
This isn’t just a film about money. Washington is fostering change by connecting on a human, big-hearted level. It’s inspiring.
The Barber of Little Rock is streaming via The New Yorker’s YouTube.
Bear
Morgane Frund’s Bear starts off as one thing before transforming into something else before your very eyes. It’s the most unique film on this shortlist.
The first image we see if of a bear poking his head out of the tall grass. He stays put before his head ducks back down, but then another younger bear’s noggin raises up. And another. It’s archival footage from one of Frund’s colleagues, Urs Amrein, and he has dozens and dozens of videos of similar content. As a surprise, Frund plans to digitize the footage so it’s not lost forever, but as she scours hours of cassettes, she finds videos of young women being recorded in public. Shot from a distance, the young women could be having lunch with a friend or taking a phone call on the street. Why did he film this? “Even if I destroy the tapes, they will still exist–they are ingrained in my brain,” she says in her voiceover.
What begins like the plot of a thriller turns into a larger conversation about voyeurism and the ownership of images and consent. Some people might assume that Frund would confront her colleague, but, instead, she opens a clear dialogue with him. He is a number of years older than her and they have a fascinating string of conversations about art and a male gaze versus a female male. We should always be having these types of chats about comfort and permission.
Bear confronts issues in an organic way, and we cannot tear our eyes from it. There’s a palpable immediacy that I haven’t been able to shake.
Between Earth & Sky
Do I know anything about trees? No. Do I know anything about how moss attaches itself to a trunk of a tree? Absolutely not. But I want Nalani Nadkarni to teach me all about it. The subject of Between Earth and Sky, we follow Nadkarni as she dissects “what grows back” after treacherous activity in the rainforest canopy.
“The trees were there as my witness,” Nadkami says early on in the film, but it’s not abundantly clear what she means as we lose ourselves in this film. She conducted research in Washington State from 1980 to 2021, and she details a cataclysmic fall she took seven years prior that broke almost 10 ribs, ruptured her spleen, and broke her fibula. After having four surgeries in four days, Nadkami didn’t think she would walk again, let alone climb.
Between isn’t about injury or loss, though. It’s about vitality and bouncing back from something that tries all its might to take you down. Nadkami won’t let that happen. There is so much passion, drive, humor, and gorgeous photography packed in this short film that I didn’t want it to end.
Between Earth & Sky is streaming via PBS.
Black Girls Play: The Story of Hand Games
I remember seeing young Black girls playing hand games at school or on television, but I didn’t know the history of it. It’s not just a game where people smack their hands together–this history is deep and rich. Michele Stevenson and Joe Brewster want to open your eyes to something you may have walked passed on the street. There is vitality and joy in this music, and it has permeated our culture for far too long without the credit it deserves.
Oppressive white people thought that if you took an instrument away, the music would stop. Oh, how wrong they were. If someone takes away the drumsticks, someone can use their hands to make sound. If someone takes away the drum itself, one can use their own hands on their body to establish an exciting noise. Black Girls Play dives into the background of hand games in such an easy and exciting way that the film itself flies by. It’s marvelously paced.
By the time that African American ethnomusicologist Kyra Gaunt and Marvelene C. Moore weight in on the history and prominence of hand games in our everyday culture, we begin to wonder how long this history has been pushed down before expanding its narrative to show that men are allowed to stay young and Black women were told to leave their games behind. I could watch an entire series about this. The next time that you hear Nelly’s “Country Grammar,” the lyrics will perk up your ears in a brand new way.
Camp Courage
What would it take for you to push aside your fears and climb a literal mountain standing before you? Max Lowe’s Camp Courage is a tale of resilience and love shown through the eyes of a Milana, a preteen living with her grandmother, Olga, as they displaced from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. “She keeps my soul strong,” Olga says.
Milana and Olga attend a camp in the Austrian Alps with other families, but Milana faces a few emotional battles of her own. Olga is tentative to intervene too much, because she knows her granddaughter is reaching an age where she is trying on her own independence. Olga wants Milana to know that she is there for her, but she doesn’t want to overstep. This family has been through a lot, and we fear that they will endure more tragedy. Milana’s mother was killed almost ten years ago, and Olga recounts how her granddaughter was constantly asking where her mother was.
Lowe never lets go of the bond between Milana and Olga, but he doesn’t shy away from Milana’s frustrations as she tries to accomplish other activities at the camp. He rounds out the story by taking testimony of instructors who still carry guilt for actions they took during wartime. This is not a film about broken people or places but, rather, how we don’t stop getting up after we are knocked down.
Camp Courage is streaming now on Netflix.
Deciding Vote
You might remember where you were when Roe v. Wade was struck down in the United States. I certainly do. What Jeremy Workman and Robert Lyons’ Deciding Vote is determined to show us is how the fight was shaded with many other battles before that war was won. One man had a change of heart on camera and changed his vote for the better of women’s rights.
In 1970, Auburn, New York was an especially religious section of the state, and traditional values were heralded. The race to expand a woman’s right to an abortion was a highly publicized one, and Assemblyman George Michaels was planning on voting against the measure. Michaels’ own son hoped that his father’s vote would be the one to change the course of the bill, and he actually opposed it at first. When he saw how the voting was going to play out, Michaels changed his vote even though he knew what the decision would do to his political career.
Beautifully edited with archival footage and interviews with Michaels’ sons, Deciding Vote feels even more vital now that the landmark decision was overturned. It is an important film about progress, standing up against your own fears, and sacrifice. They should show this film in high schools.
Deciding Vote is streaming via The New Yorker’s YouTube.
How We Get Free
We often see Elisabeth Epps alone throughout How We Get Free, a rousing short about ending the criminalization of poverty. The founder of the community bail fund, the Colorado Freedom Fund, she is constantly answering phone calls, returning voicemails, and ripping open letters to try and get people out of jail so they don’t stay there. Some viewers don’t even know that people will plead guilty to a minor offense just so they can leave prison but it sets in motion a circular pattern where people can find themselves in a cage again.
If Epps is overwhelmed, it never shows on her face, and she has earned the admiration of a lot of people in her state. Maybe she can’t let it show? Over the course of two years, How We Get Free follows Epps’ infectious pulse for change. She spars with police and will walk in with a small stack of checks to get people the hell out of a cage. If it sounds like a personal story, it is. Epps recounts her own story of how a police officer arrested her when she checked in on a man experiencing a mental health episode. It’s all caught on cell phone footage, so the fight is personal for Epps because she experienced it first-hand.
There are documentaries that propose a problem but the issue seems insurmountable to approach. Geeta Gandbhir and Samantha Knowles’s film reaches higher heights because of the access to Epps’ passion, experience, and determination. It’s a film that makes you want to take to the streets, because you would want someone to be in your corner.
How We Get Free is streaming on Max.
If Dreams Were Lightning: Rural Healthcare Crisis
It is no secret that a lot of Americans do not have healthcare. Since 2005, over 190 hospitals have closed their doors in the South, and, strangely, some of them have become hotspots for paranormal researchers. The filmmakers introduce us to a lot of residents who reveal their medical problems, but then they always pose the question the same question: “What did you dream about?”
For areas that have lost their hospitals, the Health Wagon is a godsend. The massive bus offers free healthcare to people who don’t have access to it, and the film introduces us to a slew of people who are not shy in disclosing the last time they saw a medical professional. One mother-daughter pair expel extreme honesty but can always make each other laugh while Marty, a coal miner, keeps the tradition of his profession alive in his family despite the ailments that plague him.
Dreams is unflinching in its honesty, and it hits home the fact no one should be denied healthcare because of money or status.
Island in Between
There is a gorgeous shot of Xiamen, China from the shore of Kinmen, Taiwan. The Chinese city looms like a mirage with water lapping at our feet. S. Leo Chiang’s film exudes an honest yearning.
Only two miles from the coast of China, Kinmen attracts tourists who hunt for a glimpse of remnants from the 1949 Chinese Civil War. Chiang had never been to the islands until he arrived with his parents. Born in the United States, the director expresses that he always felt like he was part of a three-country custody battle. There is tension all throughout Island as the tentative peace between the two countries feels like it could be broken at any moment.
Despite political climate, Chiang’s film reminded me of feeling a strong wind gusting at your back. It’s so personal and lyrically told. How do you exist in this world while you wonder where you belong? There is some stunning imagery in this film, but even the beautiful objects feel covered with a conflicting skin.
Island in Between is streaming via The New York Times’ YouTube.
The Last Repair Shop
If you ever played an instrument, you may not ever think about where it came from. Or if your instrument was sent away for repairs, you anxiously waited for it to return. In Ben Proudfoot’s magical and essential The Last Repair Shop, he shines a light on young musicians’ potential as well as those individuals who work tirelessly to keep the music playing.
In the heart of Los Angeles sits one of the last remaining workshops of its kind. We meet four craftspeople–all dedicated to a different kind of instrument–who have had to repair or restore a part of their own lives. Directors Ben Proudfoot and Kris Bowers also acquaint us with excitable, eager young musicians who reveal why they are so enamored with music. There is almost an invisible tether between the people who are just learning about music and theory and the wise people who hold, fix, and repair these instruments every day. Maybe even a part of their experience will magically transpose onto the younger generation?
Proudfoot and Bowers utilize the same speaking to the camera technique that they used in their Oscar-nominated film A Concerto Is a Conversation, and it allows us to see the twinkle in everyone’s eyes. Everyone is there for the purpose of creation–the students are just getting started and the craftspeople know the value of repairing something and not abandoning. This is a truly special film. You can read my review of the film here.
The Last Repair Shop is streaming via The LA Times’ YouTube.
Last Song from Kabul
When you realize that you love music, you cannot remove that love from your being. It doesn’t matter if you play the guitar or sing in a choir, there is something truly instinctual about that passion after you discover it for yourself. The young women at the heart Kevin Macdonald’s Last Song from Kabul will stop at nothing to keep that love alive.
Because these young women are Muslim, they are told that they will bring shame onto their families if they pursue music. In 2015, the Afghanistan National Institute of Music, under the guidance of Dr. Ahmad Sarmast, established the Zohra Orchestra, Afghanistan’s first all-female orchestra, and Macdonald introduces us to many young girls who play a variety of instruments. The joy on their faces as we see them traveling to Switzerland, Portugal, the United Kingdom and other cities is something will make you want to stand and cheer, but it will also devastate you when the film approaches 2021 when the Taliban regains control of the country. Instruments can become an extension of your body, and seeing the Taliban seize control and destroy them in the street.
Macdonald’s film gives space to the young women who are trying to keep their hopes alive, and he steadily shows how war and hatred can take a toll on a young creative mind. There is a gorgeous scene towards the end where the orchestra plays outside, the wind gently brushing through. There is dignity in creating something for yourself, and Macdonald’s film honors the ongoing battle to maintain that hope.
Last Song from Kabul is streaming now on Paramount+.
Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó
Sometimes we forget that growing old is a privilege. As body conscious as America can be, some of us neglect the connection between our physical bodies, our minds, and our souls. Sean Wang’s delightful, gentle film is a celebration of becoming older but also having someone to share your days with. Could I watch 200 episodes of Wang’s grandmothers doing their daily activities? Absolutely.
Chang Li Hua is 83 years young, but she feels like she’s 20. On the other hand, Yi Yan Fuei is 84 years young, but she jokes that she feels 100. Both women laugh easily, and both love their grandson unconditionally. They sleep in the same bed like sisters, exercise together, and even arm wrestle. When was the last time that we saw a positive film about two grandmothers? I feel like American media always pits these women against each other while Wang’s film reinforces that that kind of love can only grow.
As we get older, we are forced to think about what is to come and what has passed. These two glorious women have survived a lot–both together and separately–and Wang’s celebration of them seems ordinary on the surface, but his respect, love, and admiration for them glows throughout this film. It has an infectious, affectionate energy that will make you want to call your grandma as soon as the credits start to roll. What a gloriously sweet and fun film.
Oasis
When does the divide between two close brothers begin to form? Rémi will joke around with his friends at the local skatepark, but Raph watches from a distance. These twins are at the age when differences will begin to take them on two separate paths, but Rémi never treats his brother, who has an intellectual disability, as anything but his best friend. Director Justine Martin’s gorgeously handled film captures the elusive feelings of self-consciousness and brotherly love unlike we have ever seen before. I haven’t been able to shake Oasis since my first watch.
Martin’s film is generous in how it allows these brothers to explore their feelings. Raph feels protected by his brother, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Rémi is scared to grow up. They swim in the lake and camp out together, and catch small frogs in a marsh. When they hang out inside, Martin films them in front of large windows–the outside is never far away. I felt this incredible sense of the outside pressing in on them. Perhaps the real-world is more ready for them than they are for it. There is love between these two brothers–something that we rarely see caught on camera so uninhibitedly.
Near the beginning of the film, Raph walks towards Rémi at the skatepark, and I couldn’t help but notice the physical distance between them. You feel the same feeling as we watch Rémi watching Raph sleep in his sleeping bag in their tent. Is Rémi worried about leaving his brother behind? How much responsibility does he feel like he has to project on their relationship?
This is exceptional, observational filmmaking. It’s a moment beautifully captured in time.
Oasis is streaming via The New York Times’ YouTube.
Wings of Dust
There is a moment towards the end of Giorgio Ghiotto’s short when Vidal Merma’s son, Erik, is able to drink water from a fresh spring. Erik’s face lights up, a huge smile across his face. No one should be without clean water, and Ghiotto passionately chronicles Merma’s constant struggles against a mining company destroying native land. It’s a lot of films rolled into one: a father-son story, a political drama, and a protest rallying cry.
There is a shot of a colorful mural that reads, ‘Defending the environment is everyone’s responsibility,’ and Merma is singlehandedly fighting to keep that ideal alive. When we see shots of water in Espinar, Peru that look have no life–the water isn’t translucent. Because multinational mining companies have been working on the land, the water is contaminated, and, in 2020, Amnesty International collected blood samples of the Indigenous community and found lead, arsenic, mercury, and manganese. In a place where hope feels like it’s being pushed down, Merma keeps the fight alive. Since the word hasn’t been getting out, he will pay an hour of streaming time in order to inform the public in an unbiased and objective manner. As Merma’s voice grows louder, the police begin harassing his family and we see protests erupt into violence.
Merma is a captivating presence, because he won’t give up, and Ghiotto honors his voice by giving him space. This is a massive, widespread problem, but Ghiotto’s film never buckles under the weight of importance.
Who Makes the Cut?
Since covering shorts for Awards Daily, this is easily my favorite year for the doc shorts shortlist. Some viewers come to this films as if they are homework, but I don’t think you can say that about this year’s crop. They all have a distinctive perspective, and they come from all over the world. It’s interesting that three of these (The Last Repair Shop, Last Song from Kabul, and Black Girls Play) deal with music–do they all make the cut?
Every year since 2017, Netflix has gotten at least one film nominated in this category. Last year, they had two nominees make it in, and, the year prior, they had three. Camp Courage is the only documentary short from the streamer, so I will be holding a place for it on the list. If we are going to talk about consistency, then we have to talk about Ben Proudfoot and Kris Bowers’ The Last Repair Shop being a major contender. Of all the films on this shortlist, this one seems to have the highest profile, and it recently won Best Short Documentary at Critics Choice. Proudfoot won his first Oscar just a few years ago for The Queen of Basketball.
This is where it gets tricky. Does the Academy go for something that feels relevant with today’s headlines (Barber of Little Rock, Deciding Vote, Book Banning) or do they lean into something gentler (Oasis, Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó)? Wings of Dust‘s scope is enough to convince me that it nabs a third slot.
Predictions:
Camp Courage
Deciding Vote
The Last Repair Shop
Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó
Wings of Dust
Watch out for:
The ABCs of Book Banning
How We Get Free
Last Song from Kabul
My biggest hope:
Bear
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