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?
If you missed our coverage of Documentary Short Subject, you can find that here. If you want to read our analysis of Live Action Short Film, you can do so here.
I admit that Animated Short Film is probably the trickiest to predict. Do they respond to the story? Do they love the animation style? Are they hoping these films in particular are the ones that transport them the most? By this point, we have been hearing a lot about the Animated Feature selections but less about these films–unless there is a Pixar short in contention. This year, there is not. 93 films qualified for this year’s shortlist. Let’s take a look!
Boom
A group of bird stare at each other blankly on a remote island with a large volcano in the center. I’d like to think this is an almost prehistoric inspiration of Hitchcock’s The Birds, and a small squawk can go a long way. When the volcano starts to rumble, though, that’s when the speedy, hilarious thrills kick in.
The premise is simple. A volcano is about to erupt and this gaggle of bird need to get out before lava spurts out and swallows them all. Most of the flock bounce off a cliff and wait patiently for the eruption to subside, but one set of parents have four eggs to tend to. It’s turns into a madcap Sophie’s Choice as both parents try to carry the eggs in their beaks or down a hill before it’s too late. It’s amazing how much manic, worrisome energy directors Gabriel Augerai, Romain Augier, Laurie Pereira De Figueiredo, Charles Di Cicco, and Yannick Jacquin pack into seven minutes. I kept yelling, “Oh, no!” one second and then laughing out loud the next.
You can watch Boom here.
Eeva
Rain, rain, go away, Eeva’s in lots of pain, okay? Morten Tšinakov and Lucija Mrzljak’s Eeva is a strangely satisfying and wordless short about one woman’s grief as it spills out all over her life. Don’t let your goldfish watch this one…
As Eeva mourns the death of her husband, we notice that she is surrounded, at all times, by men. Quiet men, respectful men, but, mostly, hysterical men whose tears flow as readily as the rain. They all share the same face, and even Eeva’s round chin is similar to theirs–she reminded me of a young Celia Weston.
How grief takes a toll on us is a big theme throughout this year’s Live Action Short Film race, but they mostly focus on the perspective of men (save from Dead Cat‘s entire family collectively experiencing loss). There is a gloriousness in how Eeva allows her sadness to affect her whether she has a tantrum in a restaurant and hurls wine bottles around or when she sets her apartment ablaze. On a technical side, I loved how Tšinakov and Mrzljak layer the sound throughout as if to contribute to the overall confusion of how one accepts a big loss.
You can watch Eeva here.
Humo (Smoke)
I am a big stop-motion animation fan, and I haven’t been able to shake Humo since it at HollyShorts this last summer (where it won the festival’s top animation prize). Much like this year’s Best Picture contender, The Zone of Interest, it tells a tale of the Holocaust in a completely different way. This time, it’s through the young eyes of a child.
A lot of elements look like they were made by a child: the scribbling of hair on some of the characters’ heads, the lines of the water’s surface in a bucket of water. Even some of the pieces spring up as part of a child’s pop-up book. The entire time, the film is narrated by a young boy who is taken by the Nazis with his mother. “It’s not like the one we take to the beach,” the boy says as a train arrives to take them to a concentration camp, his voice trembling as if the wind is sending a chill down his spine.
The craftsmanship, along with the importance of the story, is the star here. The animation shifts throughout (sometimes a character is flat and something they are rounded out), and I love how the animator’s make this boy’s head large and, in some shots, his hands and feet feel small or diminutive. A child is recounting this tragedy, so it’s remarkable how the characters look as if a drawing has come to life.
I’m Hip
Unfortunately, John Musker’s I’m Hip, about a self-proclaimed “hip” pussycat was not tracked down prior to this article’s publication. If we have a chance to view the film before nomination morning, we will update this post.
A Kind of Testament
If you are an indecisive person, Stephen Vuillemin’s A Kind of Testament might trigger you. Part mystery, part memoir, some of the animation is unsettling in the same way a bad dream shakes you up. It’s like the best urban legend you never heard of before.
A young woman narrates a story about how she stumble upon dozens of animated videos of herself when she tried to purchase a web domain in her name. An older woman with the same name Googled herself and found the younger woman’s profile. This inspired her to create some videos where some have little movement and some have extended, exaggerated, surreal situations. There is a moment at the end of this film that reminded me of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. If that doesn’t intrigue you, I don’t know what will.
Vuillemin’s film is colorful and bright, but as we look closer, we see a twisted element. Flowers throb like parched flowers and maggots inch too close for our comfort. It’s a film that plays with our own perception and out self-image. Maybe someone is making videos of you right now, and you will never know.
Koerkorter (Dog Apartment)
Oh, what a gloriously odd and alive this short film this is! When I was taking notes, I literally wrote, ‘chickenaxe..?’ Not chicken with an axe–chickenaxe. I can’t explain it. You just kind of have to see it.
Sergei wakes up dressed head-to-toe in leather–think Rubberman from American Horror Story had a baby with the Michelin Man–and his sink is barking. Sergei strokes the furry bed he sleeps on to calm down the dog apartment, and once he’s out the door, he can remove his get-up. He travels to a small building where cows are hooked up to milking machines and a bald, smoking, one-legged man presides over them. The cows are already thin and they are reluctant to provide any more milk. But when Sergei begins to dance–something he hasn’t been able to do for years–the cows perk up and the milk begins to flow.
The texture of Koerkorter is truly joyous. The shininess of the rubber suit. The fabric the cows are made of. I love their Jackson Pollock-style spots. It’s one of those films that you can’t think too much about even though it has the deep meaning of how we can get stuck in a loop of routine and not be able to escape it. It’s so silly and strange.
Letter to a Pig
I like when an animated short doesn’t explain a lot to you, and you can be whisked away by the imagery and the emotions that come out while you watch it. Tal Kantor’s Letter to a Pig is about collective outrage and reaction as much as it is about living with trauma and how that trauma can be accepted by other people or how people can be affected by it.
Kantor’s film begins with a brief prologue in the woods as a young boy tries to escape an assailant. He hides out in a pig sky, his breathing ragged and his eyes almost giving him away as he hides under, presumably, a pile of hay. One of the nearby pigs looks him right in the eyes and steps in front of him as Nazis barge into the sty, and the pig becomes his protector.
The narrative then flashes forward to a classroom but the stark black-and-white remains as the same man, now in his eighties, speaks to bored students about his experience surviving the Holocaust thanks to his porcine pal. He begins to read a letter to the pig thanking him for his kindness to snickers from the class. One student, a young girl with longer hair, seems more sensitive, and she sinks down into the floor and the narrative changes again. I’ve read a few interviews and articles with Kantor about the shape-shifting meaning of the pig itself–as it changes positions and size–and I’ve glad that she never gives a clear answer. There is a grand mixture of pity, ugliness, and generosity in this film that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I know that it affected me. I feel like this will sit with me for a while.
Ninety-Five Senses
Have you given any thought about what happens to us when we die? Maybe you think that our life simply ends, or maybe we drift off and think about important moments in our lives. Jared and Jerusha Hess have created a tender and comforting look at one man’s acceptance of the end.
Tim Blake Nelson lends his voice to Coy, an older gentleman who has spent most of his life behind bars for a heinous crime that he committed when he was younger. As he gets closer to being executed, he reminisces about certain memories that tap into our five senses. The sense of smell seems the strongest as he tells us about wandering through the video store (fuck, I miss video stores…) or the smell of vanilla that wafted through the beauty parlor where his grandmother got her hair done every week. When it comes to taste, he compliments the other inmates who prepare the prisoners’ last meals.
It doesn’t matter how ready we think we are, we always want more time. The Hesses are known for films like Napoleon Dynamite and Nacho Libre, and this is their first foray into animation. With every different memory, there is a new style of animation. Our perspectives about our lives change as we get older, so why shouldn’t the variety of kinds of animation reflect that? Nelson provides emotional, layered voicework. We do not know what happens when we die, so we can only speculate. If it’s anything like what happens in Ninety-Five Senses, we might be all right.
You can watch our conversation with Jerusha Hess and Tim Blake Nelson here.
Once Upon a Studio
This is a Disney Animation Studios fever dream, if I have ever seen one. Some audiences roll their eyes at the love of the Mouse House, but it’s difficult to be cynical with such a gloriously fun short like Once Upon a Studio.
Since this is Walt Disney Studios’ 100th anniversary, it’s time for all of the beloved characters to celebrate with a big group photo. Everyone from Moana to Bambi to Bolt to Peter Pan to Donald Duck to Elsa scamper down the halls of the Roy E. Disney Animation building to take the family portrait, and you have to be completely cold-hearted to not crack a smile. Even if you think that Disney dominates awards season too much, you cannot deny that seeing all of these characters banded together in various animation styles isn’t totally rad.
Once Upon a Studio is not just a celebration of the most famous animation studio in the world but a testament to its legacy. This is the most whimsical, fanciful reunion you’ll ever be part of.
Once Upon a Studio is streaming now on Disney+.
Our Uniform
Using projections on real fabric, director Yegane Moghaddam has created one of the most unique films on this list. Clothing conventions have been imposed on young Iranian girls for as long as some can remember, and Moghaddam’s film is packed from beginning to end with gorgeous texture.
“Each person has a different color and a different pattern and a different texture,” Moghaddam says at the top of her film. “I discovered my own texture at school.” Our relationship to clothes changes as we get older, and we can use different patterns or silhouettes to express that. For someone like Moghaddam, she didn’t have that freedom, and the clothes in Our Uniform are wildly alive. They pinch, swirl, and open as if they have a mind of their own. There are shots projected onto a pair of jeans and the buttons will be used for an animated bird to sit on, or they will be clusters of clouds as a plane flies through the sky.
Our Uniform is fanciful, clever, and truly ambitious.
Pachyderme
Stéphanie Clément’s film is like the unsettling sound of a music box slowing down. You know the tune is pretty, but hearing it a different way makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. A routine trip to grandma and grandpa’s house slowly turns sinister as a buried realization comes to light.
Louise usually spends part of her summer with her grandparents, and, this time, she will be left alone with them for ten days. Even though she is quiet, she is excited to have her own suitcase, and she observes the differences between her house and theirs. Their car sleeps under a blanket. Their rooms smell like polish, and the firewood is organized by size.
Clément uses size and the camera’s perspective to marvelous effect. Sometimes it will be hanging high over the action as Louise describes hearing the creaking floorboards outside her room, and the colors–caramels, yellows, and auburns–are very soothing and warm as the narrative gets more dire and dangerous. A girl this young should be in love with fairytales, but she is living her own nightmare as we learn more about beastly behavior of those who should be her protectors. There is a lot of soft beauty here, but then something creeps in to poison it all.
Pete
Pete just wants to play baseball, but people might have a problem with that since Pete wasn’t born by that name or that gender. Set in 1975, Bret ‘Brook’ Parker’s Pete is simply told and a true winner. Along with Live Action Short Film contender, An Avocado Pit, it is one of two films that deals with gender in a completely different way.
Based on a true story, Pete narrates this memory in his own words, and the characters don’t need much dialogue for us to understand the simple concept that this young girl feels more comfortable and more like herself when she calls herself Pete. ‘The world made more sense when I was Pete,’ he says as we see the aspiring Little Leaguer playing ball with his friends in his cul-de-sac. When he wants to sign up to play baseball, his mother seems a little reluctant, but he makes the team. When some narrow-minded people feel like they have a right to object to Pete playing (despite doing well in the game, mind you), Pete experiences his first bout of bigotry. No child should feel that small, especially from adults.
Pete feels like it was inspired by flipping through a photo album (my god, remember photo albums…), and I liked how the frame of the short is clouded with white, like in a memory. Just because the whole world isn’t ready for you doesn’t mean everyone will treat you the same way. When someone stands up for you, you can feel ten feet tall.
You can watch Pete here.
27
What is that moment when we realize that we are actually an adult? In your twenties, you can get away with almost anything, because a lot of your mistakes can be chalked up to the ignorance of youth. For Alice, turning 27 means that her ability to let loose seems like it’s running out.
27 is one of the more adult of the shortlisted shorts. It begins with Alice indulging in a fantasy, but she’s yanked back to reality thanks to her nosy younger brother opening the door without knocking. A news broadcast on the radio spouts that people just over the age of 25 are having difficulty living independently since jobs aren’t paying enough, and she seems a bit down despite that her mother baked her a birthday cake. When Alice goes out for the evening, the colors and vibe of 27 really amp up.
There are always one or two shorts on the shortlist that automatically get thrown into serious consideration because the animation is so striking. The bright colors in 27–the pinks, reds, and blues–morph and mutate before you can even identify them. In one of the most thrilling moments of any film on the list, Alice dances at a club with no qualms, cares, and worry. The music throbbing and beating within her and then back out again. Alice refuses to let her worries drag her down, and that feeling radiates through the screen.
War Is Over! Inspired by the Music of John & Yoko
Academy Award winner David Mullins was tasked with taking John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s most famous song, “Happy Xmas (War Is Over)” and transforming it into a narrative. How does one do that without succumbing to cheesy storytelling.
I love War Is Over! thanks to the flying pigeon that delivers messages across a battlefield as the fighting escalates. Despite the very real circumstances surrounding a fake conflict, the violence going on below the pigeon’s flight never seems dumbed down or taken less seriously Two men, on opposing sides of the fight, send each other chess moves even though they have no idea who the other person is. It’s a simply concept with a lot of complicated things going on underneath the surface.
The animation is inspired by Norman Rockwell and JC Leyendecker images, and when blood is shed, it’s alarming shade. It almost splashes out at you and you want to jump away. Don’t worry, they use the famous song to a thrillingly emotional effect, and I could see audiences losing it over this short.
I don’t think I have ever seen a “natural history fantasy film” before as we chart one salmon’s migration and back again. Wild Summon makes one change that is so simple but effective. Instead of watching actual salmon, the fish we follow are represented by tiny human beings.
Narrated by Marianne Faithful, we cannot be sure that this particular salmon will make it back home to lay her eggs, and that’s where a tremendous amount of tension lies. We literally follow this salmon from its hatching . She gets tagged and toss back into the water but then we begin the perilous migration. She encounters larger fish, being caught in a net, and the deadliest predator of all: man. There is even one shocking moment where one of her fellow travelers gets snatched up from the water by a bird. You won’t see that perspective on the Discovery Channel.
Directors Karni Arieli and Saul Freed use space remarkably throughout their film. Whenever we are in the open sea, we are afraid of other predators lurking in the murky waters in the distance, and, on the trek back home, the tight spacing between the fish as they bounce into each other is a striking visual. The goggles on all of the salmon is a whimsical touch, but the directors resist from making anything cutesy. They are more interested in presenting a perspective that we have never seen before, and they achieve a surprising amount of empathy just by allowing us to witness one salmon’s journey.
Who Makes the Cut?
I remember last year being much more confident about at least some of the shortlisted animated shorts–I knew The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and the Horse was a clear favorite–but an argument could be made for all of these.
The big question you always have to ask yourself is: Is Disney going to win another Oscar? If you go back and look when this category was created (it began at the fifth ceremony), you will see that Walt Disney won quite handily and, sometimes, against himself. Between Disney and Pixar, there have been over 65 nominations in this category alone. Disney has not been nominated the last two years (Madeline Sharafian’s Burrow was the last), so should we reserve a spot for them, especially since so many of its beloved characters are featured in Once Upon a Studio?
Even though we didn’t get a chance to see Musker’s I’m Hip, we should keep his legacy in mind. Musker co-directed Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, and Hercules, just to name a few. His work with Disney goes all the way back to the early ’80s with The Great Mouse Detective and The Black Cauldron, and he also worked on Moana, The Princess and the Frog, and both Wreck-It Ralph films. Could Hip and Studio both get in as a Disney nomination bonanza? Surely, people in the industry will check out his film on name recognition along.
I think a good rule of thumb is to see what films they will respond to in terms of the animation. They like stop-motion animation (Bestia, Robin, Robin, and An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe It were all nominated recently), so that puts Koerkorter and Humo in the mix. Do they want to explore serious themes like war and abuse or will they push away from that and go for wayward adults and frantic birds?
Predictions:
Boom
Humo (Smoke)
Ninety-Five Senses
Once Upon a Studio
War Is Over!
Watch out for:
27
I’m Hip
Our Uniform
Pachyderme
Wild Summon
My biggest hope:
Letter to a Pig
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