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If you’re looking for an inspirational documentary that follows a group of trailblazing women in India, consider Writing with Fire. It follows a group of Dalit women – Dalits being the lowest caste in the Indian caste system – that start a newspaper in Uttar Pradesh, one of India’s largest and most politically important states. The newspaper, Khabar Lahariya, stands out from the others both because it’s written only by women and because of its emphasis to seek out the truth no matter what.
It starts with one of the paper’s lead journalists reporting on a local rape case. In it, we witness their reporting process. Meera first interviews the victim’s family for first hand info, then heads to the police station to press them further on the crime, before beginning to form a report. We see this process a few times throughout the film as they interview politicians, Dalit women without sewage systems that the government has promised, and worker’s strikes. Because of the topics they shine a light on and their determination to find answers, they face a lot of trouble.
This is clear when the reporters are out in the field. One reporter has to confront one union leader who at first refuses to talk with her because she’s a woman. Another reporter covering the upcoming elections has to banter with the male politicians just to try and get comments from them. It’s clear that being patronized is a part of their day job in the patriarchal society. However, they also have to put up with it at home from husbands that berate their independent working spirit.
It’s not just the patriarchy that is framed as dangerous to the reporters as the rising Hindu nationalism within India is posed as a threat too. One example is the young member of some kind of Hindu Youth League that patrols his neighborhood armed with a machete to fight crime. His role feels a lot like the Hitler Youth from Nazi Germany. He doesn’t appear to have much direction apart from his hatred of Muslims. The rhetoric of the local politicians are equally alarming, with the directors pointing out the new state leaders remarks that Islam is intrinsically linked with Terrorism. It feels like that the freedom of Khabar Lahariya and its female journalists are threatened by the continued rise of the male dominated BJP Hindu political party.
Lastly, it’s quite interesting to see exactly how a start-up newspaper is run. In addition to seeing how they gather a story from outside, we get to see how the newspaper is run at the office. We see their daily meetings – including one where one reporter gets disciplined for a low output – and hear about their growth strategies. Currently, they’re all embracing the switch to the growing digital reality by equipping all their reporters with camera phones and giving them lessons about YouTube. As the film runs, these YouTube clips are inserted into the narrative as milestones for their growth as their subscribers rocket to a few thousand after a few weeks work.
Whilst it’s probably a bit longer than it needs to be, Writing with Fire is well worth a watch for anyone interested in learning about inspirational women battling the patriarchy around the world. If anything, you’ll learn a bit about the current state of India and running a newspaper.
Rewind and Play is an incredibly uncomfortable example of how the Black experience has been written out of history. Alain Gomis digs up the outtakes from an interview Thelonious Monk did with French state television in 1969. It reveals that behind what perhaps appeared to be a simple profile of a Jazz musician, is a heavily edited, whitewashed version of one of the genres largest names. His talent and experience is deliberately reduced to a few stereotypical nuggets to fit a white European audience.
Initially, you might think that Thelonious Monk is just shy, from the short answers he gives to the interviewers questions. For example, he barely responds to the interviewer when asked about his first experience in Paris. However, as the film progresses, it becomes clear why Monk isn’t responding. He’s actually already answered the question multiple times – telling the interviewer that he faced discrimination despite being the top billing at the Paris Jazz Festival in 1954, but the French interviewer doesn’t want to hear it. He dismisses his experience of racism as ‘not nice,’ ‘derogatory’ words and keeps asking the same question to get Monk to lie.
He gives short answers as he’s not allowed to say anything else. His life and music are defined by his race, but he’s prohibited from mentioning it. In order to enforce the ‘color-blindness’ of France, the interviewer and state TV have written Monk’s life instead of allowing him to tell it. As they edit out everything he says, the interviewer ends up telling the French TV audience Monk’s life instead. Monk’s experiences have been turned into cookie cutter pieces of his life to be digested by a middle-class white audience.
The short answers, just like the shots of Monk leaving the stage after his piano pieces, also convey his justified frustration. Unfittingly for the celebrity he is, Monk is captured like an animal at the zoo, turning him into a token of fluke Black genius rather than celebrating his genius completely. He’s lit up with a ton of lights, causing him to sweat profusely, and then the camera zooms in for extreme close ups as if analyzing his anatomy to try and find something to prove his inferiority. He’s the celebrity, but he’s never offered a drink or anything to make him more comfortable. Instead, it’s the white interviewer in the position of power, leering at him whilst leaning over the piano and mandating how to respond to his questions and what to play. French TV want to take his music and separate it from his life. There’s no respect for him as a person.
Alain Gomis manages to brilliantly bring out the awful experience Monk faced in Europe through the outtakes of this French interview. He reveals that there is often much more value in the outtakes than the actual chosen footage. By highlighting this injustice, Gomis forces viewers to question all portrayals of Black celebrities and experiences by the media.
Watching the 2023 Oscar shorts is the quickest and easiest way to get closer to watching all of the Oscar contenders. So if you’re looking for something to say about the Academy Awards this week, check these short films out at cinemas near you.
The Animated 2023 Oscar Shorts
An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe It (Australia)
Neil (Pendragon himself) works at a computer doing… something. He finds himself on the daily commute to his office from… somewhere. There’s always a deadline and schedule to meet at the corporation of… mysterious account. Luckily, Neil finds therapeutic understanding in an office ostrich (John Cavanagh), who reveals to him much of what the audience already understands: the fourth wall is what keeps Neil from his destiny, a life unfettered from the benign banality of… some such.
The strangest among the crop of this year’s nominees—usually a feat within itself, but here even more so—An Ostrich colludes camera trickery and unexplained plot thickening to the benefit of anyone wondering how stop motion became so relevant in today’s industry again. Pendragon maintains his win for the Australian Student Academy Award for the short, a sign of creative breakthrough, if not some trust from a system ready to hold their faith above the absurd. For his inventive framing and perceptions, further recognition for Pendragon wouldn’t be unwarranted. -ST
Ice Merchants (Portugal)
Doing more with silence than the rest of this year’s dialogue-minimal shorts combined, Gonzalez’s artistic depiction of father-son relationships at their brink is a tragedy bred from circumstances beyond our comprehension. Curiously isolated from their matriarch, the two undergo a baffling daily routine: freezing water from atop their lofty cliffside home, plummeting down to merchandise in the valley town below, and steadily making their way back up for supper and sleep. This goes on until powers beyond their own force a spontaneous break from habit.
Gonzalez won this year’s Annie Award for Best Short Subject, a notice of interest to the Academy’s voters as beneficial as any. Ice Merchants will go down with or without the Oscar as one of the most lauded short films in the program’s history, running the festival circuit mercilessly from a deliriously colorful skypoint. Yet the short, more clever than it ever leads its hand with, emotionally seals a justified landing even when all seems lost; maybe it could do so on Oscar night just the same. -ST
My Year of Dicks (U.S.)
Screenwriter Pamela Ribon, noted for her work on Moana and Ralph Breaks the Internet, recounts a tumultuous time of her youth growing up in 1990s Houston. As the title implies, Pam (Brie Tilton) has to go through the shapes, shades, warts and wont’s of securing an appointment to lose her virginity at age 15. Nearly everything that can comedically go wrong does, along with the sprinklings of interactions with the worst vibe checks boys of the Gen X era can muster.
Like the teenage transition to womanhood, My Year of Dicks is, at times, appropriately excruciating. Originally conceived for episodic broadcast on FX, Gunnarsdóttir mixes visual styles not unlike an experimental web series would, drawing from anime and Adult Swim alike. My Year of Dicks, humorously landing its place in Oscar history by name alone, won’t receive more appreciation than it already commands – but a cute story, wrapped tightly in a bow near invisible in the making, goes a long way when the promised entertainment is begotten by just the sheer mention of, ahem, “Dicks.” -ST
The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse (U.K.)
Starting from the beginning, a boy (Jude Coward Nicoll) and a mole (Tom Hollander) find solace in each other’s company – snow encasing anything they know familiar, stuck in the outside to look for simple comforts. From there joins an untame fox and a curiously mythical horse. Slowly, by biblical pace more so than by weariness, the boy and his growing cohort of creatures set off to discover a home they seem to know nothing about, acknowledging their victory sign may be no clearer than their starting post, dashed and covered in a layer of snowed-out ambiguity.
Based on Mackesy’s own children’s book illustrations, the Apple TV+ short submission goes a long way for voters simply judging by its cover alone. Evoking the charismatic comforts of Winnie the Pooh better the most animated products of the last half century, Baynton and Mackesy find established ground in weening all the self-important hagiographic sayings they can out of the playbook, a 32-minute short denser on morality principles than animal tendencies. If that sounds outside the banner of trustworthy quality, then you’ve found yourself outside the voting body, which lauded the film heavily at this year’s Annie Awards for frontrunning commendation. -ST
The Flying Sailor (Canada)
Animation is far from the only field in which the incomprehensible can be submitted as fact, but it certainly is one of the more audacious options. In the collision of 2D and 3D effects, a story is brought forth a century later – the impact of two fully-barged shipping vessels in Halifax 1917 that caused an impromptu explosion so large, it defied physics and deductive reasoning. A lone sailor, sent coursing miles into the sky, landed near naked, bodily, fully intact in a neighboring district.
For all its duration spent in the heavens above Nova Scotia, The Flying Sailor is capriciously shallow, a work of blanketed humor that singes one of the most traumatic events in recorded Canadian history down to a portly man, flailing nude with exposed penis, silhouetting overhead an endless mass of clouded smoke. It truly does not get more symbolic or understated than that – and so there is little else to note. -ST
The Documentary 2023 Oscar Shorts
Haulout (U.K.)
In this year’s requisite piece of climate change pleading, the siblings Arbugaev film scientist Maxim Chakilev on his journey through the Russian arctic, treading along sheets of ice and terrain in search of the titular ‘haulout’ – a rare, though predictable phenomenon months in the making that roots all of Maxim’s biological studies in a habitat changing before his eyes.
What appears at first to be the account of a northern hermit eventually reveals itself to be a very surreal account of elder traditions continuing in an ecosystem that may not allow them for much longer. Haulout hinges on the reveal of its premise, a uniquely-played shift in tone so sudden it borders on outrageously funny. The surprise is the documentary’s key element – in today’s world, so much scientific warning can only warrant so much shock at the incitement of worsening conditions, even at the furthest reaches of what one could mistake for civilization. ‘They’ don’t seem to happy about the sudden shift of things either… -ST
How Do You Measure a Year (U.S.)
From ages two through 18, experimental filmmaker Rosenblatt films his daughter on the same couch, with the same medium-close camera angle, asking her a script of half-broadstroke, half-maudlin questions concerning personal life, existentialist ideas, future aspirations and youthful tendencies. How Do You Measure a Year? takes a “Rent” quote and uses it to capitalize on an idea any parent would find fun and engaging – to reject nihilism by means of documenting their child’s mental state in real time, a project born out of either a hyperfixed, uncool philosophy, or boredom. One assumes with this filmmaker it’s the former.
Rosenblatt was here last year with one of the most intrepidly thickheaded Oscar shorts in recent memory, When We Were Bullies. His follow-up release doesn’t carry nearly the same broken stigma of a man who can’t read what he’s putting on paper, though it does leave one to wonder why such nuttiness continues unabated. For every incredibly useless question Rosenblatt posits (asking his toddler about societal power), the value of How Do You Measure a Year? seems to come back around, ending on a sentimental going-away note that Rosenblatt surely didn’t predict – for he can’t see the future even half as well as his daughter can evoke the values of the present. -ST
Stranger at the Gate (U.S.)
Seftel takes a camera to Mac McKinney, a war veteran framed as the epitome of anti-terrorism succumbing to his own demons. A former U.S. Marine, Mac details the internal horrors the foreign battlefront left him with, a relentless need to silence the residents of a local mosque, people for which he can see no other face besides the ones the American government has taught him to hate for chapters of his familial growth and defensive experience.
Stranger at the Gate may be among the most controversial of this year’s short film entries, for nothing more than its indecisive carefree inhabitance of ‘we-are-the-world’ hand-holding. Mac McKinney, a burly figure with tattoos aplenty, is given incredible narrative force to speak his mind, often with confounding truthfulness. This is the story of a soldier’s settling moments with his own consciousness, and not so much a lament of the systems that got him there. Where religious freedoms care to spread, Stranger at the Gate is not an assurance that local communities are really following. -ST
The Elephant Whisperers (India)
Bomman and Belli are a loving couple who hold a heralded status in South India, recognized for their skillful tract and familiarity with local wildlife, exotic and unbecoming as they emerge. The Elephant Whisperers focuses on their relationship with one particular orphan Raghu, a curious boy of assumed intelligence who grows resiliently under their protective care. Whether Raghu establishes lived-in roots as one of his own kind is another question, Bomman and Belli taking it upon themselves to prove an ecological service unheard of to their indigenous communities.
The Elephant Whisperers benefits from its cinematography more than anything, decorated production value relayed in the capturing of effervescent colors, splendid close-ups of the childlike mammals in the reserve, guiding a perspective that comes across as more relatable and illuminating to the relationship of pet and owner than Hollywood has been capable of recreating in years past. Don’t let the Netflix-branding fool you from Gonsalves’ cinematic depiction of comforting sensibility, a brokered chronicle of man and animal that alleviates much worry that this year’s documentary field will emotionally overwhelm more than it will sympathize and engross. -ST
The Martha Mitchell Effect (U.S.)
The wife of John Mitchell, the Attorney General and campaign manager for President Richard Nixon, would never tolerate being so simply referred to as just ‘the wife of an Attorney General.’ Martha held esteem through her incredibly vocal appearances, on the press cycles and the talk show circuit alike, speaking her mind aligned to the Republican majority only in shucked responsibility. For Martha was a stronger tabloid than Nixon could even control, embedding herself into the Watergate scandal for better or worse, a woman whose job was never to keep the peace when such unscrupulous leaders were present.
Netflix’s The Martha Mitchell Effect could very easily be mistaken for a network TV expose, if not for the documentary’s consistently enamored takes of Martha’s visage. What Alvergue & McClutchy’s short lacks in political treatise toward anything that couldn’t be found in the most listened-to Spotify podcasts, it mostly accounts for by keeping Martha front-and-center, a figure of emotional and understandable stock, who fought for her beliefs in spite of a politically-dealt decade that would consistently let her down. Whistleblowers have been recounted with more inspiration in recent years, but one could do worse for stories of emblazoned righteousness. -ST
The Live Action 2023 Oscar Shorts
An Irish Goodbye (Ireland)
Following the untimely death of their mother, a young man with Down syndrome and his estranged brother discover her unfulfilled bucket list.
Maybe this will be helped by all the voters who liked Banshees of Inisherin, but not enough to rank it in their first few spots. An Irish Goodbye, has a lot of fecks, moaning, and dry humor. It also has two more great Irish names in Turlough and Lorcan – ironic considering it was directed by a Tom and a Ross. However, despite it’s attempt to balance dark humor and warm feelings, it ends up a bit too saccharine. – RS
Ivalu (Denmark)
Ivalu is gone. Her little sister is desperate to find her and her father does not care. The vast Greenlandic nature holds secrets. Where is Ivalu?
Interestingly, Ivalu is co-directed the director behind Greenland’s first feature film directed by a woman, Anori, which we’ve previously reviewed for FilmRoot. Ivalu also contains a mystery enhanced by the harsh but beautiful Greenlandic landscape. However, it also carries some of Anori‘s flaws – the flashbacks of Ivalu cut with snippets of her sister searching for her, never build up enough suspense for the predictable pay-off. -RS
Le Pupille (Italy, U.S.)
Le Pupille brings you into a Catholic Orphanage during Christmas in the height of the Second World War. Despite the frugal times and strict Mother Superior, the girls find joy in a few magical scenes reminiscent of the wonder of early cinema.
In the Catholic Orphanage, objects are a scarcity. Unlike the often stuffy materialism of today’s modern world, the girls in Le Pupille live in large rooms with very few things around them. The frugality in front of the camera is also seen in the film’s production. Le Pupille was shot completely on film, and therefore all of the special effects are completely VFX free. This gives the film a playful magic that feels like the wonder of the Melies’ silent films. In one scene a baby appears out of thin air (from one shot to the next), whilst a freeze-framed shouting Mother Superior conveys shock from what feels like the kids perspective in another. It’s this simplicity both in front of the camera (with the limited objects and distractions) and behind the camera (in the production process) that makes this short Christmas film feel playful. -RS
Night Ride (Norway)
Night Ride is another Christmas short (I guess Academy members binge their shorts over the Holiday season). It’s premise is mildly amusing: Ebba unwittingly hi-jacks a tram and decides to play out the role of tram driver. However, it quickly takes a very un-festive turn. Just as we’re enjoying some laid back humor, a trans-woman is assaulted right under our noses. Then in an uncomfortable 180, our lead character becomes a ‘hero’ for ‘identifying’ with the assaulted woman.
It’s a shame, because Night Ride starts off pretty humorously. It could have been an enjoyable festive short, but instead chose to use transphobia as a tool to develop the character of the cisgender lead. -RS
The Red Suitcase (Luxembourg)
A veiled 16 year old Iranian teenager is terrified to take her red suitcase from the carousel at the Luxembourg Airport for fear of being identified by her fiancé. Her fear grows with every second in the face of what awaits her beyond the gate.
Like Riz Ahmed’s The Long Goodbye (last year’s winner), Cyrus Neshvad’s The Red Suitcase does a great job of plunging you into a situation and ramping up the tension quickly. It’s not initially clear what the girl is afraid of. The film doesn’t waste time telling you who she is, where she is, or where she’s come from. Instead we learn bits about her through the action. It’s pure chase-thriller and has no excess in its tight 17 minute run time. -RS
As the news channels in Panama look forward to a big celebrity wedding featuring popular TV star Lucia de la Fuente, Ana gets ready for her own wedding taking place in 8 days time. However, an unexpected chain of events sees her racing around Panama City trying to get married as soon as possible. Something Blue is a rare festival rom-com that anyone can enjoy if they know what they’re in for.
If you’re into Eugenio Derbez rom-coms (see Overboard) then Something Blue is a film to look out for. The tone of the film is very similar, with it’s well lit production, light music, and a healthy serving of slapstick and cringe humor to propel the narrative forward. Plus Ana carries the comedy well, being the slightly overwhelming ‘bimbo’ character to laugh at throughout the film. Because of the light-hearted tone of the film, Something Blue feels more like an addition to a streaming service than a film festival film. It’s not particularly artistic or unique, things you’d typically expect from a festival film, but it plays into the cheesy rom-com genre well. So if you’re aware that it’s a cheesy rom-com before you start watching, you’ll be in a good position to enjoy it.
It’s fun to run around the city, with lots of establishing shots of the Panama City skyline and the restored old town. No doubt, these shots will help boost tourism to the city if this film is widely seen. However, Something Blue, like the majority of Latino telenovelas has a pretty un undiverse cast. Whilst only a small proportion of Panamanians define themselves as white, almost the entire cast of Something Blue is white. It’s unfortunately not unexpected, as this is pretty typical of Latino popular films and novelas, but it would have been great to see more diversity considering this is not a big TV production.
So if you’re up for a rom-com refresher to your film festival schedule, Something Blue is worth a watch.
Head to our LALIFF 2021 Hub for more reviews from the 20th edition of LALIFF.
Four people from different sides of Nairobi join a court-ordered anger management class with Counsellor Rose in Tales of the Accidental City. They each bring their own stories and banter to the Zoom call to create a quick one-location comedic overview of Nairobi society.
As called out in the opening titles, Tales of the Accidental City was originally created for the stage. It was adapted for film following the start of COVID-19 as the pandemic forced theaters to shut. It still resembles a play, as the focus is on the conversation and takes place completely in the single ‘location’ of a Zoom call. However, one benefit of converting Tales of the Accidental City for film is that all viewers are close enough to see the actors facial expressions. These are crucial for communicating the humor of the film which relies on the quick banter between characters. Without the close-ups we wouldn’t be able to see clearly how each of the character’s react to each other.
The humor seems to be built around local stereotypes with each of the 5 characters (including Counsellor Rose) representing a different part of Nairobi society. Louis represents the political elite, and fulfills the snobby, self-important stereotype. Counsellor Rose represents the Kenyan version of the cultural appropriating white hippie with Buddha poster on her wall and doing yoga to meditative music and candles. Jacinda’s character seems to be mocking the devout Christians of the middle class whilst Diana and Sarah represent the mothers and youth of the working class. Each character is exaggerated through their manner and their zoom backgrounds to create the associations with the stereotypes. Their equally flowing banter then makes fun of each of them, and the segments of Nairobi society they belong to.
If you’re looking for a simple Kenyan comedy, Tales of the Accidental City is worth a watch. Whilst the film is confined to the Zoom meeting room, it playfully makes fun of a few stereotypes of the city, giving the audience a few laughs and a small understanding of Nairobi society.
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