Short Film Reviews

Aftermath (Akibet)

After

Timothy J. Cox is a busy, hard-working actor, who has been mentioned on these pages many times before. He began a New York stage career a couple of decades ago, and for the past 14 years he has concentrated on screen work, a lot of it in short films. We have seen him play a wide range of roles in several genres. He is a natural character actor, often providing some comic relief or a bit of warmth. Sometimes he’s the villain. His many supporting roles include someone’s dad, their boss, their teacher, the school principal or perhaps a kooky acquaintance. Sometimes he has the lead role, and he’s firmly shown his range in such performances as an actor undergoing an unusual audition in Camera Test Subject or a man in an extremely one-sided relationship in Doll It Up or an inventor who may be mad or a genius or both in What Jack Built. Occasionally he writes screenplays as he has done for this film, and in doing so he has now given himself what is arguably his most emotionally powerful performance to date. Directed by Thomas Angeletti, After is a 17-minute movie filmed on one set with two actors with the action taking place in real time. The focus is entirely on the performances, and they pay off. Beth Metcalf (another busy actor) is moving and sympathetic as Cox’s concerned daughter Annie. More importantly, she is totally convincing, and her portrayal solidly supports Cox’s. And it is most definitely Cox’s movie. He plays Michael, a cop whose son, also a cop, has been killed in the line of duty. The way in which Cox forces us to feel and share his pain is nothing short of extraordinary. He achieves that sweet spot where we do not feel we are watching an actor but that we are voyeurs of something really happening. We agonize with him as he wrestles with his sorrow and inevitable thoughts of retribution. His verbal interchanges with Annie might as well be his own interior argument within himself. Two props, a whiskey decanter and a gun, figure so prominently that they nearly qualify as the narrative’s third and fourth characters. In combination, they provide a building tension that, by the film’s end, finally relaxes but is by no means assuaged. Powerfully, the gun figures dominantly in the final shot and persists in our memory well after. Seen 28 July 2023

Alcoholic’s Almanac

Here’s a philosophical question. What is the difference between a short film and a music video? For my purposes, it is when there is a full set of on-screen credits, appearing at the beginning and/or the end of the film and/or when it is directed by Pablo D’Stair. His Alcoholic’s Almanac is a visual accompaniment to a song of the same title, performed by the band American Inc. A rather upbeat—and, in fact, actually catchy—chronicle of being anti-social, dissolute and, perhaps most importantly, a rock-n-roller. The full-on, straight-on vocals by guitarist Scott Laudati (“I guess I’m an asshole, yeah, I guess I’m an ass”) are refreshingly self-aware with a sly humor. The music (with bassist Brian Weakly and drummer Travis Scelia) is hard-driving in the best energetic tradition of punk. Visually, Laudati’s vocals are lip-synched by young Sebastien Giles D’Stair, the filmmaker’s photogenic offspring. He is an acting veteran of D’Stair père’s movie M.r Pickpocket, in which he and his brother played budding comic book moguls. Here he is employed for essentially the same gag as before, which is that a fresh-faced, cherubic child mouths ironically words of age and bitter experience and, in this case, a decadent lifestyle. The cuts are frequent and inventive, making use of a wide aspect ratio and D’Stair’s trademark split screens. The lighting evokes a seedy bar, and the classic visual distortions of old terrestrial television make the whole thing look like an illicit broadcast. Hopefully, it will not come to the attention of Child Protective Services. The song—and other music by American Inc., including their latest album, titled appropriately Garage Band—can be found on Bandcamp.com. The video can be viewed on Vimeo. Seen 30 January 2018

All Over Again [2017]

Our first brief shot is of Greg, a man possibly of retirement age, picking away at his guitar. Quickly, though, we are transported to open mic night at the Bus Stop Music Cafe, a real establishment located in Pitman, New Jersey, about 15 miles from Philadelphia. As captured by this 17-minute film, the cafe is a warm, friendly local hangout with regulars supportive of anyone who wants to get up and sing his song or read her poem or play his trumpet. While the cafe is arguably the star of the movie, the protagonist is Greg, whom we come to know by observing him in real time and in a few flashbacks to his youth. The film does not tell us his story so much as show us. As a young husband and father, he loved the guitar. Apparently, he laid it down at some point, perhaps because of work or the demands of family life. Now he has been working on a song and working on the courage to perform it in front of an audience. The plot is not any more complicated than that, but Greg and his family and friends and the folks at the cafe are all vividly realized characters whom we come to care about, and so we become invested in Greg’s late-in-life dream. The film makes some interesting jumps in space and time as we watch the various performers at the cafe and observe Greg’s home life with wife and son and his solitary work on the guitar. In the best movie tradition, the payoff at the end is Greg’s heartfelt performance of his song, which shares its title with the film. It was composed by Joseph Fuoco, who plays Greg, and the lyrics are by Joseph McGovern, who wrote and directed the movie. McGovern also appears on screen in the role of the open mic MC. The soundtrack music by Matthew Amadio also deserves a mention for setting just the right tone early in the film and over the end credits. McGovern has done a lovely job of capturing a set of characters we would like to spend more time with and a place that we would love to visit. Seen 15 May 2018

All Over Again [2024]

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the coincidental signification of the title because we have indeed seen it before. It belongs to a sweet 17-minute character study about the need to express oneself—and finding the courage to do so—made by Joseph McGovern and which we saw six years ago. He hasn’t exactly remade the film, so no, it is not the same movie all over again. He has recut it into a four-minute music video featuring Joseph Fuoco’s performance of the title song from the original movie. Clips from the longer film are integrated, converting them to flashbacks. As with the first one, this is lovely to watch and to listen to. On the other hand, much of the enjoyment of it does derive from having seen the first one and being reminded of it. Still, the shorter film stands on its own just fine. Seen 3 February 2024

Any Last Words

Araf

Bursts of light illuminate a black sky, casting a strangely lovely indigo hue. We think it is a storm, but as the film progresses, it becomes clear it is not thunder we hear but the sounds of war. Azerbaijani filmmaker Tofiq Rzayev has, interestingly, worked in various genres and languages, but we first knew him for grim, claustrophobic films often dealing with trauma within a family. This latest one falls firmly in that category. This time he is co-directing with Fidan Jafarova, a young paint/rugmaker/filmmaker/actor, who wrote the screenplay from Rzayev’s story. According to the film’s IMDb page, this marks his first time making a film in Azeri, a Turkish-related language spoken in Azerbaijan and the neighboring part of Iran. Through efficient and effective uses of cinematic shorthand, we realize that, while war rages all around, a son is participating in that war while the father is near death. A mother and daughter are left to cope as best they can. One cannot imagine a situation more bleak. Understated supernatural visitations do nothing to dispel the bleakness, but there is still the faintest glimmer of hope. Despite the dark theme and visuals, the cinematography is truly beautiful. The music of regular Rzayev collaborator Gergö Elekes sets just the right tone. The father is played by Sabir Mammadov, whose most recent feature film was the similarly themed Nabat, Azerbaijan’s official 2015 Academy Award submission. While not forgetting that this work is a collaboration, I have to note that, as a filmmaker, Rzayev’s technical mastery gets more and more impressive. Seen 15 November 2016

As I Believe the World to Be

Something really interesting is going on in Cincinnati. We first became aware of the city’s decade-old Winterfilm competition when one of the entries, Ryan Fleming’s impressive short Sisyphus Unbound, came to our attention. Contestants have the month of February to make a 10-minute movie employing an assigned prop and an assigned theme, both of which must be integral to the story. This year those were a mechanical pencil and a percentage, respectively, and in As I Believe the World to Be writer/director Spooky Madison has used those elements to produce quite a stunner. Filmed in Columbus, Ohio, it’s full of mood, atmosphere and tension of both a threat and a sexual nature. The flawed but formidable protagonist is Elnora who’s somewhere between being a vigilante and a hired gun—like one of those menacing comic book superheroes who prowl the night. (Noting the hood and grim demeanor, a passerby actually jokes, “Hey, Tim Burton!”) Drawn to darkness and chaos, Elnora’s been hired to “rescue” Gia, and as Elnora says in voiceover, “I’m no hero, but I am a sucker for a damsel in distress.” Is Elnora a member of some strange cult (there is a meeting later with someone looking strikingly similar) or, as Gia queries, is Elnora not actually human? Bailey Kathryn, the actor who plays Elnora, trains in tactical/fight choreography, and it shows in the resulting physical performance. Gia is played by Agia Smith, and her father is played by Timothy J. Cox, who also had a role in Fleming’s film. In a neat trick, the Elnora and Gia’s tale is presented as a work of fiction within a framing story by a writer (played by Veronica Halko) who is essentially Madison’s stand-in as the creator who conjures a story after finding a mechanical pencil on a sidewalk and pondering where it might have come from. There is such a contrast between the writer and the character that we can’t help but wonder what’s going on in the writer’s mind to have created such a being. Early on there is a particularly nice visual effect involving the mechanical pencil, one of many that punctuate the movie and contribute to its otherworldly tone without being too distracting. Editing and visual effects are credited to Vincent Tricaso, Nick Huskey and Adam Dell, and special makeup effects are by Erika Severance. Another major contribution to the mood and the tension is the music by Brooks Leibee. As is always the case with a really good short film, we find ourselves wishing that it was a full-length movie or perhaps a streaming or broadcast series. Seen 5 December 2023

Backwater

If American-made movies about rural Ireland tend to romanticize—if not actually ladle whimsy on—the place, then some Irish filmmakers tend to go to the other extreme and load on heaps of futility and dreariness. Having said that, there is certainly a dark side to numerous pockets of the Irish hinterlands that is fertile ground for drama and pathos. Filmed in Mayo, this 24-minute film directed and co-written (with Frank O’Malley) by Donegal filmmaker Brendan McCallion casts a light on the sorts of isolation and frustration that seem impervious to the country’s general economic strength. The story here is plain enough. As we watch young Tommy go through his daily routine, we observe that he is apparently his father’s sole minder. The old man, a widower, has suffered an impairment, probably a stroke. Tommy, who himself may have some intellectual handicap, is largely trapped on the farm, passing the time with minding dad and various repetitive chores. The routine is disrupted by the arrival of Tommy’s sister Dylan, who has largely been absent but now means to ameliorate the situation. Not altogether surprisingly, Tommy resents the meddling and recoils at the suggestion of change, but Dylan shows no sign of backing down. By film’s end the situation is by no means resolved, but we have a sense that things may have been nudged in a better direction. Patrick Loftus is near-heartbreaking as earnest and disheartened Tommy. Padraic McGinley is poignant as the once-proud patriarch reduced to a child-like existence. As Dylan, Sophie Campbell is no-nonsense and persistent in putting aside guilt in favor of problem-solving. Seen 1 March 2020

The Battle Hymn of the Revolution

A companion to Alcoholic’s Almanac, this is another short film (or music video, if you insist) by Pablo D’Stair for a track from the band American Inc.’s album The “NO” Record. If the song “Alcoholic’s Almanac” was cheerfully dark, this tune is angrily dark—yet still entertaining. With a hard-driving, forced-accelerated pace, Scott Laudati’s vocals are full of energy but also of rage and recrimination. The title may suggest something radical or political, but make no mistake. This is a break-up song in a long line of angry male musical explosions of anguished despair. “I believed in little kids and stories of love,” he agonizes, eventually declaring, “The universe don’t give a f***.” He further concludes, “I learned a lot of lessons, but none about love because I’m pretty sure it don’t exist.” Visually, the film consists of three constant frames. The largest shows a group—frequent D’Stair collaborator Carlyle Edwards playing five different characters at once—fidgeting about in a cluttered, dimly-lit room. Our eye is drawn, however, to the two smaller right-hand frames, both of which feature once again young Sebastien D’Stair intermittently lip-synching the older-but-not-much-wiser lyrics of bitter romantic experience. In keeping with the battle hymn theme, the music has a martial beat—by way of punk—and not only quotes “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” melody directly at one point, but features the tightly-framed Sebastien in guerrilla-like face paint. The fact it’s actually finger paint only serves to blur the child/adult line in the song’s themes and emotions. The bits of finger-painting we glimpse are like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft story. As a mascot for American Inc., Sebastien’s incongruously sweet features and maniacal expressions are somewhat reminiscent of the young Dubliner Peter Rowen, who appeared on the covers of U2’s Boy and War in the 1980s. Are all rock stars really just little boys at heart? The “NO” Record is available at Bandcamp.com. The video can be viewed on Vimeo. Seen 2 March 2018

Beauty Queen

Nicholas Goodwin’s 18-minute short is up to-the-minute in its examination of the effect of intense popular and social media pressure on adolescent women regarding their body image. At the same time, though, there is something familiar and old-fashioned about it, particularly in the way that wisdom is dispensed, in turns, by a female high school teacher and by a kindly, concerned father. Christina Goursky plays a high school senior, who is clearly bright and intelligent. We see her excitement and joy upon receiving good news from the liberal arts school where she applied. Yet scholastic success is not enough. She cannot ignore the way a boy looks at a more glamorous classmate. She is exposed to an impossible standard of beauty in magazines and on Facebook. So it turns out that a slot at Sarah Lawrence is not the only thing she has applied for. In her pursuit of validation of her physical desirability, the film threatens to go to a dark place. Instead it goes to a literally dark place: a lovely and pivotal conversational scene by a fireplace, which could have done with a tad more light. Goursky plays the main character winningly and convincingly. Her harsh self-judgment is heartbreaking. Timothy J. Cox does his usual fine job, in this case as an involved and understanding single parent. Jordan Gaches makes a strong impression in his brief screen time as a shy classmate working up the courage to talk to a girl he likes. Issues of female self-esteem are clearly personal and heartfelt for filmmaker Goodwin, as he essayed similar subject matter in the short film Shadow. Seen 15 October 2018

Belov: Uma Vida no Mar (Belov: A Life at Sea)

Bent

This 21-minute cop flick begins where most crime stories end—with the authorities untangling and explaining the facts of a pair of murders. In fact, however, this is only the beginning of the drama, which follows one particular police officer through the aftermath of two police shootings. The characters are introduced with official-style screen titles during pauses in the action, giving us the feel of a classic TV series or perhaps an investigative documentary. The movie is dominated by the performance of Audrey Noone. We know her from satirical movies like A Warming Trend and The Penis, but there is absolutely no comic relief here. Noone is dead center in a tale fraught with responsibility, consequences and an oppressive, unsparing environment. Her portrayal is crucial, and she carries it off convincingly, drawing us in and making us experience her dilemma intimately. Other standouts include Justin Thibault as her less morally conflicted partner and Kris Salvi (who also wrote the screenplay) as an aggressive internal affairs investigator. (We previously know their work from the feature-length films A Life Not to Follow and Delusion). While director Chris Esper has recently given us more humorous fare in shorts like Please Punish Me, The Deja Vuers and Undatement Center, he is also clearly very comfortable working in the police procedural is a format. The viewer gets a definite feeling of authenticity in how the cops interact with each other and in the way the moral—or immoral—choices hang over some and not so much over others. After all is said and done, though, what sticks in the mind is Audrey Noone’s face. The final shot of her haunts us well after the credits have rolled. A trailer for this movie can be viewed at the Stories in Motion Vimeo website. Seen 20 August 2018

The Best Birthday Ever

With earnest and enthusiastic narration, punctuated by rough crayon drawings, Dimpton tells us all about how he spent his birthday. Described with the optimistic world view of a child, it all sounds very happy and rosy—except when a couple of negative bits intrude into the otherwise rosy narrative. How old is Dimpton? His drawings and speech suggest a kid in primary school. There are ten candles on his cake. The only inconsistency is that Dimpton is played by the film’s writer/director Cole Jaeger, who appears to be in his late teens. Are we meant to suspend disbelief and accept Jaeger as a small child? Or are we meant to see him as a child trapped in a grown man’s body? In the end it doesn’t matter. We simply accept Dimpton for who and what he is and, to Jaeger’s credit as an actor, he is totally credible as a child with no hint of ironic detachment. His man-child persona has just the very slightest reminiscence of Jared Hess’s Napoleon Dynamite. At four and a half minutes, the film’s story is brief but fills a complete arc. Cross words between his father (Timothy J. Cox) and uncle (Scott Schuler) followed by a hallucination on the beach suggest a commentary on the divisiveness of politics. Jaeger made the film three years ago at the New York University Summer High School Filmmakers Workshop. Seen 25 October 2016

Board to Death

Bulldog

In the course of this 17-minute movie, we come to know Sean Kang fairly well. In a natural performance by Vin Kridakorn (a veteran of numerous short films, web series, stage and television), he does not seem to be a bad kid. He takes out the trash and is concerned about his mother, who appears to be thrown on the couch from the night before. Sean is protective of her, as we see in an encounter with a man who Sean thinks is taking advantage of her. But this young man is clearly angry and frustrated. As his day progresses, we learn more about the family situation, the absent father, the loss that affects all of them and the frequent moves that have brought Sean from Long Island to Queens. The bad influences and alienation that are all too prevalent in the urban world of teens are seen at every turn. I would like to say that Benjamin Tran’s involving and well-made film ends with at least some sort of ray of hope, but you would need some pretty strong rose-colored glasses to see it. But at least we can take comfort from the fact that there are skilled young filmmakers like Tran out there shining their light into these uncomfortable recesses of contemporary society. Seen 15 April 2016

Caleb & Sarah

In looking back at my observations of writer/director Matthew Kyle Levine’s previous films (Miss Freelance, Daddy’s Wallet, Henry, Trusted Hands, Some Time Soon,), I find I invariably come around to the idea that they are puzzles to be solved. Of course, that says more about me than about the movies because I can easily imagine other viewers feeling they’ve gotten everything they need to appreciate the stories. I tend to get hung up on plot points. Levine’s latest, Caleb & Sarah, seems less of a puzzle because it depicts a situation that is all too familiar to many of us. The titular young couple are apparently homeless. They are living out of their SUV except when, after a phone call about getting some help, they install themselves in a roadside motel, joined by Brian. Who is Brian exactly? Forgive all the questions and also all the qualifiers like “seems” and “apparently,” but it’s my old journalistic training. We can pose lots of questions like… why are Caleb and Sarah living the way they are? Is it by choice or because of circumstances beyond their control? Does the filmmaker intend a social commentary or, rather, a brief portrait of the human condition? I tend toward the latter, and here’s why. I have previously noted themes of isolation and detachment in Levine’s films, and examples include the solitary, estranged protagonists of Henry and Some Time Soon. In contrast, this movie is about a couple (nicely played by Shea Glasheen and Dianna Glasheen), and they are inseparable, frequently embracing. There is definitely something endearing in their closeness, and that seems to be the real point of the movie. Moreover, there is a clear division in settings. The early running time is spent in a wooded area by a lake, and the presence of the outdoors in its natural state is somehow purifying. (As always, Levine’s visual compositions are beautiful and eminently watchable.) It stands in contrast to more austere shots of a gas station and the motel, exterior and interior. It is a relief when, at the end, we return to the trees and water. The final shot is a hopeful one of blue sky. Does that make Caleb & Sarah a hopeful film? Maybe, if you’re looking for one. Mostly, it is observational and non-judgmental. And as always with Levine’s films, it feels very real. Seen 15 March 2024

Camera Test Subject

“I am here. Yet I know not why.” You don’t get opening lines much more existential than that. The deceptively simple premise of this short-short could be written off as a quick gag, but on reflection, we have to wonder if this could be the screenplay Samuel Beckett or Eugène Ionesco might have written if given an extremely severe runtime limit. The film clocks in at just over two-and-a-half minutes, yet there is an amazing amount of self-examination and metaphysical reflection in it. Given the setup, in which an actor has been told to be in a certain place at a certain time for a camera test on the streets of New York, we might expect this to be a study of the thespian’s insecurity in being examined, tested and judged for a role. This is borne out by the film’s tagline: “A peek inside the mind of an actor in the throes of something truly terrible: a camera test.” We soon cop on that something more is going on. While the camera and its point of view is a constant in every film, because the actor here acknowledges the camera, the lens and, by extension, the camera operator are virtual characters. This affects the entire way we perceive the movie. Our unnamed protagonist is very aware of his place in a narrative. As he wanders the streets, his voiceover narration comes to make us question if, in his reality, the camera is really there at all. Is his mind completely stable? By film’s end, his musings have taken a slightly creepy turn. Like Anthony Perkins at the end of Psycho, he embraces the idea of being watched and judged, assuring himself, “I have been a very good boy.” The screen performance by character actor Timothy J. Cox is a tour de force. For some time now, we have seen Cox take on myriad film roles, each one displaying an additional facet of his range. This one in particular, which relies so much on facial expressions and body language, is a great showcase for what he is capable of. One tight closeup, about half-a-minute in, is particularly haunting. The writer and director is Sean Meehan, whose previous films include the short romcom Over Coffee, the paranormal cautionary tale Mallas, MA. and another meditation on role-playing and reality, Total Performance. Seen 4 August 2020

Choosing Sides

A three-hander that takes place at a family dinner table, this acid-tipped comedy demonstrates what can happen when parents become increasingly competitive over their child. Mikey is about turn twelve, and our first sign of trouble (mere seconds into the film) is when Dad points out that twelve is the number of apostles and Mom notes that it is also the age when Mikey would need to decide whether he wants to be bar mitzvahed. Yes, this is a religiously blended marriage—although perhaps not as smoothly blended as the parents might like to fancy. This is the humor of escalation, as the grown-ups keep raising the stakes while they not-so-subtly compete with each other for supremacy. A parable about the futility of religious war? Or perhaps just a wry observation on how kids find their own way in spite of their parents. Timothy J. Cox and Rachel Lynn Jackson are Mom and Dad, and Max Plush is Mikey. Lee Loechler directed from Yael Green’s script. Seen 17 December 2015

The Chrysalis

It’s the little touches that let you know you are in the hands of a filmmaker who knows what he’s doing. Like in this movie when, three minutes in, two stranded people trudge along in an impending snowstorm. The camera focuses on three bare wood shoots sticking out of the snow as a walker’s boot steps on two of them, leaving one. A portent? Or when a young dancing woman slips out of the white dress she had put on for a laugh and emerges in her own dark, tighter-fitting clothing—and we remember that the name of this movie is The Chrysalis. This is the thesis film of writer/director Matt Kravitsky, but it is by no means his first movie, and the experience shows. Camera angles, cuts and transitions all keep our eyes engaged but rarely draw undue attention to themselves. The well-judged location shots will remind some of the Coen brothers’ Fargo. (It was filmed in Massachusetts.) Narratively, the set-up is redolent of many a thriller. Two sisters are driving alone through an isolated region. The weather is promised bad. A news bulletin on the car radio mentions a missing nineteen-year-old. Liza and Megan’s girly, giggly chat is rife with intimations of impending sexual initiation. Will the car break down? Will they be out of cell phone coverage? The ominous opening chords (the music is by Steve Matthew Carter) have already alerted us to be on edge. Having said that, the mood is mostly realistic as opposed to artificially tense. Maggie Wetzel and Nicole Paige Chaffin are entirely relatable as a pair of young women more than ready to celebrate their still-new independence. Even when they meet mysterious Adam (Brian Dole, pretty much a dead ringer for Lenny von Dohlen in his Twin Peaks days), he is genuinely disarming with little overt hint of menace. You know, kind of like that nice, young Anthony Perkins in Psycho. It is a triumph of the film’s execution that we are never entirely sure who exactly should be scared of whom. The dramatic climax is genuinely surprising in its twists and turns, and in the best thriller tradition, the movie’s denouement is thoughtful and suitably unsettling. You can see the trailer by clicking here. Seen 8 November 2018

Clean Up Duty

For those of us who have had the pleasure of following filmmaker Christopher Di Nunzio’s work, there’s a bit of déjà vu about his new 11-minute movie. As in his 2020 film Exeter at Midnight, we again find ourselves in the company of regular collaborator David Graziano in a remote house located in our near the titular Rhode Island town. Is this a sequel? Perhaps, if we imagine that hitman Anthony from the earlier movie went into the secret witness protection program and took the name Henry, but in the end it doesn’t matter. While we are again in the Scorsese-esque gangster milieu, this is an entirely distinct film with a rather different tone. As we follow Henry through his morning routine, it is clear he is not a man with no cares. For one thing, he sleeps in his clothes. He makes himself alert with strong dose of coffee from his moka pot. Most tellingly, through the windows he surveys the woods carefully, expectantly. When outdoors, he frequently looks over his shoulder. Also, when washing dishes, he keeps a gun handy near the sink. We will have expected to cringe when the tall man in the dark suit inevitably appears, but what we don’t anticipate is the smiles and chuckles at what happens next. The tension and suspense do not let up exactly, but it’s the banter that absorbs and entertains us—especially the unexpected turn that the conversation takes. Let’s just say that, while the title may allude to retribution and unfinished mob business, it has another connotation as well. Once again Graziano is fine screen company as the world-weary man with a past who waits patiently for the inescapable. His visitor Lou is the menacing Fiore Leo, who appeared in David O. Russell’s Joy and has previously worked with Di Nunzio in several films, including A Life Not to Follow and I Am a Rain Dog. They’re a great double act. The clever screenplay is by Skip Shea, a writer and producer of the series Beacon Hill. He’s previously worked with Di Nunzio on such films as A Life Not to Follow and Delusion. His directing work has included the films Trinity and Seeds. These artists make up part of a loose-knit New England movie mafia that keeps turning out interesting work and which demonstrates an infectious love and understanding of the language of cinema. Seen 15 August 2023

The Cleaner (Temizlikçi)

The Clone Theory

First of all, kudos to Mr Darklight. He—or it—is credited with the music to this little three-minute masterpiece, and the soundtrack has a lot to do with this brief film’s impact. Visually there is not a huge amount going on, with it mostly consisting of tight shots on our protagonist as he peers at his computer screen. He is played by writer/director/editor A.P. Stevens. (With a movie that has the word clone in the title, would it be a spoiler to suggest that Stevens has a dual role?) Obviously, with such a scant running time the plot is not particularly intricate, but it is well played and cumulatively gets a lot of bang per second of screen time. It I were to indulge in a bit of kibbitzing, I would suggest that the ending might have more impact with the use of body double. But, as it is, it just means that the viewer immediately wants to see it again to be sure of what happened. I’d definitely love to see something longer by the talented Mr. Stevens. Seen 9 December 2015

The Convict

A taut little thriller with a heart, this 2014 short benefits from the great screen presence of Dean Temple. This was Temple’s first collaboration with writer/director Mark Battle. (Two years later they would reunite for Here Lies Joe.) Temple has a wonderful way of playing men at the end of their rope, and he has a way of making us sympathize even when we have no idea whether or not is he is up to no good. In this film he plays a prison escapee named David Eller, who is very determined to get to a specific place. When we meet him, he is breaking into a house to treat a wound he has sustained. Clearly he is dangerous. But is he a threat? Something in his eyes makes us want to take his side—that and a tattoo on his wrist. As his journey progresses, the gaps in his story are filled in and we learn just how desperate he is to get to his destination—and why. Also notable in the cast is Travis Mitchell as a motorist who encounters Eller on the road. Our involvement in the story is heightened by the fact that it all feels completely natural and real. In the end the story is a simple one, but the emotion mined in the telling—and those soulful eyes of the lead player—haunt us for a good while aferwards. Seen 31 August 2016

Covidream

At the entrance to a park in a Paris suburb, a young woman waits impatiently. That she fidgets with her mobile phone lets us know this is taking place in the modern era. That she wears a mask covering her mouth and nose alerts us that this is precisely the here and now. (If there were still any doubt, the copyright notice in the end credits proclaims, “MMXX Annus horribilis.”) Over the length of this 13-minute film, we learn that Caro (Caroline Lavergne) is meeting her sister (Maeva Rasolofoarison) and her father. We wonder what the meeting is about and why it is so urgent. Interspersed with the surface story of these three are beautiful shots of nature: the sun shining through tree branches, birds and squirrels in the foliage, gorgeously photographed clouds. Particularly striking are shots of facemasks placed artfully in such places as on the back of a park bench, dangling from a wooden horse in a children’s playground, on the face of a statue of a child. In reviewing short films, I sometimes write that I wish they would be expanded to feature length. In this case, the movie was actually conceived from the beginning as a full-length film. What we are seeing is, in effect, an excerpt from that prospective movie, which I hope we will be able to view soon. Enoch, the father, is played by Pierre Glénat, whom we have previously seen in Yassine Harbachi’s impressive H‑24. One of the striking things about that film was the ethereal music by Philippe Lebraud, and his melodies grace Covidream as well. Indeed, Glénat and Lebraud are the co-directors, and Glénat wrote the screenplay. What is striking about the film is its clear evocation of what life today is like for everyone all over the world. At the same time, it has a lovely dreamlike quality and a pervasive sense that nature will inevitably put things back in balance. Because Glénat has kindly shared with me his treatment for the full version, I know this will, appropriately and necessarily, be a love story. Isn’t that just what we will need and want in the wake of this current annus horribilis? Seen 17 December 2020

Coyote

Mark Grabianowski’s previous film Messiah, a creepy little Halloween number, made an impression because of its professional polish, its confident command of escalating suspense, and its ability to cram a lot of information comfortably into its brief running time. This follow-up is likewise infused with a rising tide of unease and tightening tension, although it has a look and feel completely different from the previous film. For one thing, the dialog is to a large extent in Spanish. The setting is fifty miles south of the U.S.-Mexico border (filming was actually done in California’s Mojave Desert), and the story is nothing if not topical. It opens with a brief glimpse of a young woman running though the hot, barren landscape in desperation. Later we will learn that her name, somewhat ironically, is Esperanza (Hope). The real action, however, begins with an interrogration conducted by the titular coyote, that is, a human trafficker. As played by Caesar James, Ramón is one of those villains whose menace is all the more unnerving because he invariably keeps his cool and maintains unerring control. The wildcard is his sidekick Marco (Johnny Rey Diaz), who seems torn by the situation but knows he dare not waver in front of Ramón. In the course of its quarter-hour running time, the drama unspools with no wasted time toward an emotionally involving climax. The mood and aesthetics may put some in mind, at least tangentially, of such Coen brothers fare as Miller’s Crossing and/or No Country for Old Men. (You can see a trailer for the film at the official web site.) There is not a false note among the cast. As Esperanza, Diana Dorempz Campos tugs at the heart without resorting to melodrama. We feel George Capacete’s despair as a man in a hopeless situation. As a pair of wandering North American hikers, Clinton Roper Elledge and Jesse Charles are natural and believable. I continue to wait for a feature-length piece from Grabianowski to see what he does with an even more complex story. Just keep an eye out for his production company, which still has one of the best names ever: Marked House Pictures. Seen 23 August 2017

Creatures of Habit

In an online interview, filmmaker Bryon Jones says that his earliest cinematic inspiration was watching The X‑Files as a small child. That explains a lot when it comes to appreciating this slick 6½-minute movie that could well be inserted into any number of Scully and Muller’s disquieting adventures. A world-weary journalist (played with comfortable nonchalance by Theo White) picks up three shots at a bar (the Wayside Tavern in Springfield, Ohio, as it happens) and settles into a booth to go over papers in a folder. One of the sheets appears to be an autopsy report. A man with a broad-brimmed hat discreetly takes the seat across from him. It does not seem to be a pre-arranged meeting, but who knows? In any event, the writer does not seem perturbed by the intrusion—at first. The stranger is played Timothy J. Cox, and all we see of him is his mouth and moustache. The shadow of the hat’s brim conceals everything else, as Cox’s voice provides a masterclass in subtle creepiness. What ensues is a conversation reminiscent of any thriller that has ever featured a mysterious informer or threats on behalf of shadowy figures behind the scenes. It is by turns probing, philosophical and ultimately ominous. We become intrigued by all the unanswered questions. What is the cold case being studied by Meekah? That’s what the stranger calls the reporter, a bit of information that appears to unsettle the scribe. Who is this man who knows so much about Meekah’s most intimate details? Most of all we want to know what will happen next. This could be a teaser for a longer movie and/or a pivotal scene in that movie. Will such a movie exist? I would definitely watch it if it did, but as it is, Creatures of Habit is a skilled exercise in how to craft a compelling story by way of questions that don’t get answered and expectations compellingly raised. Seen 2 July 2024

Credits Among Friends

Alexis Ramirez’s half-hour movie is what once would have been called a comedy of manners. Like many films and TV shows before it, it paints a portrait of contemporary young single people, how they socialize and amuse themselves, and the tenuous nature of their romantic relationships. If that makes you think of a particular 1990s hit sitcom, that’s not too far off the mark, but this is not the gag-a-minute, zinger-punchline world of the improbably affluent world of Friends. Stephen Olson’s screenplay goes for a more realistic, believable vibe. There is no spacious dream Manhattan apartment for this crowd. The action is confined to James’s somewhat sparse apartment—not counting glimpses of the film-within-a-film that the friends watch. The characters are invariably shot close up, giving the space a nearly claustrophobic feel. (The movie was shot in a Long Island studio, and the living room is the work of set designer Vincent Antonelli.) The setup is that the core group of friends know each other from film school, but none of them actually went on to work in the film industry. Instead, they now get together to watch terrible movies so they can amuse themselves by lambasting them. There is a wrinkle on this particular evening in that Brian has brought his new girlfriend who, unknowingly to him, has relevant history not only with another member of the group but also with the night’s entertainment. The result is the classic humor of revelations and surprise, as well as a bit of friction when the film-watching provokes a discussion of the male gaze. The cast are uniformly fine with the standout being Stephanie Falciano (also the executive producer) as outgoing and outspoken Sherrie. Dominique Alessi also makes an impression as the newcomer Julie. Dustin Teuber is her unsuspecting but adaptable beau Brian. Jennifer Agatte plays genial Kat, keen not to give up her seat, and Michael Paone is James, the evening’s complacent host who notoriously never has ice on hand. Each creates a recognizable and relatable character. Music is provided by Chris Barrett, including the track “Bad Movie Party.” Seen 3 March 2023

Curmudgeons

We think of Danny DeVito mainly as a comic actor, but he also has an impressive c.v. as a filmmaker. He has helmed such features as Throw Momma from the Train, The War of the Roses, Hoffa, Matilda and Death to Smoochy. In recent years he has made a number of short films, including this one. And this one is clearly a labor of love. It is dedicated to his friend David Margulies, who starred in this heartwarming mini-comedy before passing away three months before its screening at the Tribeca Film Festival in April. It has since played at festivals in Seattle and London, where DeVito appeared on UK primetime television to promote it. Margulies plays Ralph, a cantankerous foul-mouthed New Yorker, unhappy to be living in a nursing home. He kvetches and swears and criticizes everyone and everything. Lucy DeVito (Danny’s daughter) plays Ralph’s granddaughter, dropping in a for a visit. What he doesn’t know is that she has a surprise for him—and us—and it is one that will cause us to see Ralph in an entirely different way. By the end the film has turned heartwarming and bittersweet, and it prompts us to ponder whether it is worth revising long-ago choices or whether the only thing that matters is the current moment—even when the moments are very few and getting fewer. DeVito is so anxious to have the film seen that he has released it for viewing at no charge on Vimeo. Seen 20 October 2016

Daddy’s Wallet

As in his previous film Miss Freelance, writer/director Matthew Kyle Levine paints a stark portrait of an individual searching for emotional and sexual fulfillment in ways that would be considered non-traditional and with not necessarily felicitous results. In the earlier film the protagonist was an unorthodox sex worker. In Daddy’s Wallet it is a randy retiree doing his best to make the most of his golden years in a way that would be difficult to describe as anything other than narcissistic. There is some implied social—and maybe political—commentary here, as we witness his interactions with the women in his life and the power imbalance brought about by his gender, age and, most importantly, the titular wallet. We keep waiting for one of these younger women to just say, “OK boomer.” Levine, who is his own director of photography (collaborating with Alex Scarlatos), again favors tight shots and closeups which draw us intimately into the main character’s sensual and emotional state as well as the infirmities and foolishness of age. The other member of the filmmaking team is sound recordist/mixer Shea Glasheen, who is a co-producer with Levine and Scarlatos. Given that the scenes are frequently set in the bedroom or bathroom, we see and experience the protagonist in all his unvarnished and grizzled physicality. Narratively, the film—which is more of a character study than a story—is inventive in the way a transition suddenly introduces a new character or situation that throws us off-balance. Daddy is played by veteran stage and screen actor Daniel Martin Berkey, and his performance is impressive for its no-holds-barred lack of vanity. Snowy-haired, bearded and endowed with very expressive eyes, he inhabits the role completely. When he flashes the occasional devilish grin, there is something of Donald Sutherland about him. Indeed, the performances are the strength of this 23-minute film. There is not a false note among any of the cast which also includes Gina Marie Holden, Natasa Babic, Kelley Heyer, Alexandra Lenore and Rachel Kinzler. I found Heyer particularly moving as the daughter. Levine’s previous short films include Gloss, Megan and Weird Cupid. Seen 4 August 2021

Danni

Images flicker on a screen, flashing from one of those old-fashioned reel-to-reel film projecters. Fragments of memory play out in light and shadow. With a beginning like this, we can be pretty sure that the past will play an important part in the story. This 24-minute movie, written and produced by Jeana Reilly and directed by Peter Jensen, is one of those flicks that leave you scratching your head by the end, but the more you think about, the more it makes complete sense. Reilly plays Danni, a woman who waits tables at a local diner. We see from the beginning that she has things on her mind. A nice young sheriff (another character calls him “boyish”) has been trying to get her to go out, but she resists. Her shift seems normal enough until she spots a particular face and loses it. The story unspools like a mystery that we have to solve, and the ending is jarring. It is only on reflection that it dawns on us that, when two characters are alone in a movie scene, we cannot always be certain they are both literally real. The clever thing about Reilly’s screenplay is that it lets you have it both ways. You can choose to take it all literally or you can see it as an internal drama playing out in a woman’s mind. Either way, the filmmakers effectively evoke the difficulty and emotional turmoil of getting over a bad, long-term relationship and how important milestones are. In her performance, Reilly carries our sympathy throughout even when we do not understand exactly what is going through her mind. As John, John Moran brings a sense of menace that is particularly unsettling for being so understated. As Sheriff Mike, Don Draxler provides a friendly face that makes us wonder if he could be Danni’s salvation—or is he simply in the wrong profression? Brenda Crawley makes a vivid impression in the smaller role of Danni’s co-worker. Since its completion in 2017, Danni has been an official selection is 23 film festivals. Hopefully, we will see more from this team. Seen 28 March 2019

Dark Romance

The premise of this eight-minute flick sounds like it should be a horror thriller. Nice guy advertising exec Tim has a secret admirer. On Monday his colleague Cam teases him because he has gotten a card. On Tuesday there is more slagging because he has gotten flowers. On Wednesday the teasing stops because he gets, well, something disturbing. This is no longer a laughing matter (or is it?) because Tim is clearly being targetted by a psycho. This little set piece of workplace Grand Guignol was directed by Matthew Mahler (who co-wrote it with Ross Mahler) a couple of years before he made the very inventive What Jack Built. Tim is played by the versatile Timothy J. Cox. Cam is played Cameron Rankin. And Tiffany Browne-Tavarez plays the very attentive secretary whose coffee-making skills figure prominently in the action and the denouement. Seen 10 August 2016

Darkroom

The Date

We meet Vernon as he meticulously fishes some things out of a bowl while sitting by a window in a bar. Or maybe it’s a restaurant. The desolate, nighttime, urban streetscape has the resonance of an Edward Hopper painting. Did the bowl come with his drink? Is he separating out the nuts that he likes and leaving the ones that he does not? In any event, it is clearly established that Vernon is obsessive, so it does not come as a huge surprise when we learn that he is a computer software engineer. He is so intent on his sorting task that he does not even notice when an attractive woman approaches and taps him gently on the shoulder. They have arranged to meet, and it is clearly the first time. She is confident and reassuring. He is awkward and doubtful. The nature of this date becomes clearer when he broaches topics such as ground rules and payment of money. We know this scenario—or at least we think we do. Yet there are things that do not quite add up. Only when their date has completely played out do we understand what has been going on, and it is quite a shocking surprise. This nine-minute drama is impressively executed, which is not a surprise given that the director, Alessio Cappelletti, has worked as an actor, director and acting coach in New York for several years. The lead actors, Marybeth Paul and Michael Gonza, are nothing less than convincing and never strike a false note. The screenplay by Kris Salvi intriguingly leads us down a misleading path but without deceiving us unfairly. Though we would like to know more of what led up to this date and the deeper motivations of all involved, the story as told stands quite well on its own. An evocative electronic score by Patrick O’Donnell sets the mood nicely. This is the kind of film that you immediately want to re-watch with the foreknowledge of where it is going. Its dark and sombre theme also causes us to reflect. With whom or with what will our own next date be? Seen 27 January 2019

Dawn: Year Seven

Sixteen years ago Jay Reel made a low-budget black-and-white horror movie called Dawn. I have not seen it, but its trailer gives off a heavy George Romero/Night of the Living Dead vibe with a good dose of Southern Gothic thrown in for good measure. Anticipating Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight novels (at least in one key respect) by three years—and the film versions by five years—Reel portrays vampires not so much as monsters but as people with different needs from the rest of society. These are not your Bram Stoker vampires. For example, they have absolutely no trouble being out in the sunlight. Reel’s first film since Dawn is a 20-minute prequel, although it could also be characterized as a reboot or a re-imagining. “A vampire film with more heart than horror,” says Reel, and he is definitely right about that. In color and with new actors playing Dawn (Chloe Liles) and her father John (Jeremy Liles), the emphasis here is squarely on the close, loving relationship between a non-vampire father and his vampire child. (This theme, which has carried over from the original film, presaged by a dozen years Henry Hobson’s Maggie in which Arnold Schwarzenegger was a caring dad to zombie-infected daughter Abigail Breslin.) While the movie is not without tension—particularly in the opening sequence where John fights to stay awake while driving down a long stretch of back road—this is not really a horror film. Young vampire Dawn is not a demon but more of a comforting and welcome angel of death. As she reaches the age where her father can longer provide the sustenance she requires, the story becomes an allegory about parents watching their children mature and having to reluctantly let them out into an uncertain world. The cast—which also includes Connie Copeland, as an elderly woman who befriends Dawn, and Vance Liles, as a doctor—come across as non-actors. By that I mean, it is as though they are re-enacting something they have actually lived through rather giving performances, making the story feel rather true-to-life. The underlying spiritual tone is enhanced by the film’s rather desolate and under-populated rural Texas locations and two renditions of James Milton Black’s 1893 church hymn “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder.” Some quite realistic fangs are provided by Robin Cholopisa, DDS. Seen 27 September 2019

Defarious

Late at night a woman wakes in terror. But is she really awake? Very quickly we realize we are in Wes Craven territory. Can we ever know for sure whether what we are witnessing is dream or reality? Other horror movie references abound. The camera perspectives are those of CCTV, making this feel like, among other things, a found footage flick. A stabbing sequence is photographed so as to remind us of Hitchcock’s masterful tour de force in Psycho. Of course, the mask on the titular dream demon is meant to evoke the killer in Craven’s own self-aware homage to the horror genre, Scream. Naturally, we never do see the actor behind that mask, but the credits reveal that he is none other than Jason Torres, who played the wonderfully nice lead character in J. Antonio’s Night Job. At eleven minutes, this film does not have a lot of time for character development or plot elaboration, but that is not what it is about anyway. This is about the visceral essence of why people go to horror movies—the primal fears that haunt our nights and torture our souls. It is the concentrated form of the genre, rather than the customary diluted form we get in a full-length feature. The long-suffering heroine is played by Janet Miranda, an Italian-born Ukrainian-American actor who is also an author. A veteran of the genre, she evokes the many blonde victims of our legacy of cinema terror. The soundtrack music of Jonathan Martinez is more than suitably unsettling. The director of this determinedly unnerving opus is Chase Michael Pallante, who also wrote the screenplay in collaboration with its developer Zay Rodriguez. Pallante already has two more shorts in the pipeline and, judging from the titles (Malignancy and Rasplata), they should be no less disturbing. Seen 2 February 2017

The Deja Vuers

Have you ever come across a complete stranger and had the nagging feeling that you knew her or him in another life—or maybe in a dream? It is that strange but universal human experience that is at the heart of this extremely clever mini-comedy. But the déjà vu angle is only the launching point for the spooling out of the quirky sense of humor of filmmaker Chris Esper and screenwriter Jason K. Allen. A man approaches a woman sitting alone on a park bench and tells her that, though they have never met, he dreamed about her the night before. Some of the dream’s details line up and some do not. Is it a true case of déjà vu? Or is more than one case of déjà vu getting confused with another? By the time the scenario has played out, more characters have been brought in and there is even a nonchalantly exposited time travel event. The pleasure in the viewing is that of a well told joke where you cannot really quite anticipate the punch line. Kris Salvi is the creepy but mostly confused man chatting up perplexed but curious Morgan, played by Christie Devine. Craig Capone has a J.K. Simmons quality in the role of, well, let’s just say a relative of Morgan’s. Director Esper’s c.v. includes a host of other short films, including the comedy Please Punish Me. Seen 9 January 2017

Denial

With a length of just three minutes, a movie comedy realistically has just enough time for one really good joke. This one delivers exceptionally well because, when the final twist comes, it is a genuine surprise. Indeed, the film bears watching more than once—just to appreciate how well the filmmakers set up the gag and executed it. It relies on a sly bit of visual misdirection, which is tricky enough to pull off without the misdirection calling attention to itself and raising the viewer’s suspicions. It is also the sort of thing which makes an audience (well, me anyway) question how observant they actually are. The setup presents the most traditionally domestic of situations. A woman goes to flush the toilet, but nothing happens. She promptly asks her husband to come upstairs to sort it out. As she sits downstairs in the kitchen, she notices the time passing. What on earth could be taking him so long up there? Misti Dawn Garritano wears multiple hats, having written the screenplay and playing the role of the wife. She also co-directed with Mackenzie Leigh Barmen. A New York-based singer/songwriter/musician on top of everything else, Garritano also composed the soundtrack’s playful music for woodwinds (performed by Tessa Dolce). Her other recent acting work includes the sci-fi series The Third Age (available on Amazon Prime) and the horror movie Before Someone Gets Hurt. As the potentially oblivious husband, Timothy J. Cox, brings a comically obsessive quality that enhances the final comedic payoff. There are than a few of us males who can certainly identify with him. Seen 12 November 2019

Dirty Books

David Burroughs is something of an anachronist. He is devoted to the traditional idea of information being spread on sheets of paper. So it comes as an unwelcome shock when the school principal informs him that the student newspaper, of which he is the editor, will be discontinued and replaced by an online blog. Unable to accept this change, he is determined to make the print edition of the paper newly meaningful by finding and printing a story so compelling that it will result in the Prichard Hall Gazette becoming the ultimate must-read. Making the scoop 100-percent inclusive of all the pertinent facts is less of a priority. David prefers paper to digital because “it’s timeless.” In the end, though, David learns that the timelessness of the printed word can come back to haunt him. As the stubbornly earnest David, Noah Bailey has the perfect youthful face to convey the idealistic crusader who may not know when he is actually crossing a line. Filmed in Massachusetts, this brand new 16-minute movie comes from Fitch Fort Films, which previously gave us The Runaround Club. Zachary Lapierre directed and co-wrote it with Ian Everhart. Seen 20 February 2016

Distant Memories

The centerpiece of this thoughtful, touching film is a stunning portrayal by Sissy O’Hara as Anna, a woman experiencing the confusion, frustration, fear and isolation of Alzheimer’s disease. We encounter her in a storage room full of mementos, artifacts and keepsakes. It could be a garage or an attic, but what matters is that she is exploring the fragmented recollections in her own mind. Unsure of where she is, she gazes longingly at an old doll and embraces it. She attempts speaking into a telephone. Quite tellingly, she is perplexed by an hourglass in which the sand remains stubbornly in the upper chamber, refusing to flow into the lower one. In other words, time is standing still for Anna and is no longer linear. She peers in the window of an old-fashioned dollhouse and spies snippets of her now elusive past life. Gabriella Spinney and Chelsea Hueter also play Anna, at different ages in her youth. A striking segment shows Anna in middle age (played by Alyson Muzila) going for a drive with her husband (Tim Connelly), and their joy at being empty-nesters free to travel contrasts with the tormented woman we know her to be now. The writer/director is Chris Esper, who played around with the mind’s memory tricks to humorous effect in The Deja Vuers. A few years ago he presaged Distant Memories with a more thoughtful look at time and memories in the cinematic collage Yesteryear. This new film, thanks largely to O’Hara’s performance, takes the theme to an entirely different level of emotion and reflection. It is great to see this hard-working actor (going by her IMDb credits) in a role that showcases her talent so well. This is not the first time her work has caught my eye, by the way. Her c.v. includes scores of movies (short and otherwise), many with intriguing titles, including Angel Connell’s Raiders of the Hidden Donald Trump Fetish Doll of which the trailer boasts among its several blurbs one taken from this very site: “A shrewd and amusing parody.” My review singled her out with this line: “Other standouts include … Sissy O’Hara as a fiercely determined Hillary Clinton surrogate.” This woman has talent and range, and in this film she and Esper make a lovely tribute that will be appreciated by anyone who has had an Anna in their life. Seen 26 September 2024

Divertimento

Doll It Up

Talk about no good roles for women! In this case, however, the lack of female actors is actually making a point about the way women are regarded, treated and objectified. We meet Gunther as he is having a romantic dinner with his wife, but the conversation is decidedly one-sided. It turns out that his better half is actually a sex doll. In the course of this six-and-a-half-minute flick by Yalan Hu, working under the auspices of the Flordia State University College of Motion Picture Arts, we see Gunther go through disenchantent when his spouse springs a leak and otherwise grows too familiar. He decides to replace her with a fresher, newer model. As things progress, though, something strange is revealed. The inflatable women appear to have minds of their own. Are they really frustrating his will or he is actually working against himself, like Anthony Hopkins in Richard Attenborough’s Magic? As we see more of this film’s world, we realize that Gunther is by no means an outlier in his neighborhood. Think of it as low-tech Stepford Wives. While the film is amusing, it also raises interesting questions about the way men treat women, how society regards its distaff half, and gives a whole new meaning to the term trophy wife. Gunther is played by Timothy J. Cox, who gives the character Cox’s trademark empathy mixed with the clowning. He is supported by Devin Craig as a rather-too-interested deliveryman and Wayne DeBary as a hobo, who appreciates a good thing when he finds it. Seen 4 January 2019

Dyed in the Wool

The fun thing about Freddie is that, upon encountering self-serious hipsters, he says out loud exactly what is going through his (and quite possibly your) mind. In fact, he speaks his mind in pretty much every situation he finds himself. A plainspoken guy from Queens, New York, he’s not too hung up on social niceties, and he’s not impressed by people he finds weird. His gorgeous girlfriend Ev, on the other hand, has a more eclectic circle of friends and, more to the point, she’s looking for a job and needs to leverage her old contacts. That’s where the comedy comes in. When dragged to other people’s houses, he acts the way people comfortable in their own skin often do: he behaves as if he were in his own home. Whether it is turning on the host’s television at an intimate dinner party or considerately mentioning how things went for him in the bathroom, he is always himself—and that’s the key to his charm. Dyed in the Wool is a web series, and its five episodes—ranging in length from four to seven minutes—viewed in sequence are equivalent to watching a short film comprised of several amusing vignettes. They are written and directed by Bill Sorice, who plays Freddie. Monisha Shiva is the frequently embarrassed but ultimately supportive Ev. The stories mine the comedy of awkwardness, culture clash and social satire. Particularly entertaining is the fifth episode in which Freddie tries his hand at stand-up comedy at a nursing home. (Stand-up for people who can’t stand up, as the tagline has it.) Inevitably, his jokes deal with physical handicaps, hair pieces and the fleetingness of life. It’s cringe-worthy and deliberately so. Since its appearance in 2020, the series has been screened and feted with awards at festivals all over the world—ranging from New York to Los Angeles, Portland, the UK, Sicily, India, Tokyo and points in between. No wonder it travels so well. The humor is quintessentially New York yet universal at the same time. Freddie appeals to us because he is always unabashedly himself. Like the cloth referenced in the series title, his colors don’t run or change. Seen 2 January 2023

Exeter at Midnight

“This is what my days have come to.” With that line, a bit over three minutes into this movie’s runtime, we understand perfectly where Anthony is. Yes, he’s physically in the titular Rhode Island town, but he’s living in a head filled with ghosts, memories, regrets and hallucinations. Anthony is a mob hitman who thinks he’s retired, but if we know anything from mafia movies, there is never any retirement for men like him. There always seems to be “one last job.” Anthony is played by David Graziano, who has an uncanny way of inhabiting his character. We really believe he is drunk and at the end of his tether. The role is a variation of the one he played so well in the feature film Delusion which, like this film, was directed by Christopher Di Nunzio. At twelve-and-a-half minutes, we are not going to get a lot of plot twists or set pieces. What Di Nunzio and screenwriter Kris Salvi are interested in is the journey that has led Anthony to this point and how he will deal with the prospect of finding his retirement is more of a lull than a finality. In the role of Vincent, a younger associate of Anthony’s with the cockiness of having recently become a “made man,” Salvi exudes a Joe Pesci-like vibe as he tells Anthony he’s needed for one more, particularly unpleasant job. The tip-off that this is all about a journey? It’s the tee-shirt Anthony sports, referencing Monte Hellman’s Two-Lane Blacktop, the 1971 cult classic and ultimate word about metaphysical American journeys. The luminous Audrey Noone has a featured part as one of Anthony’s most enduring memories. It is impossible to watch this film without thinking of Martin Scorsese. Fortunately, Di Nunzio and crew do not suffer in the comparison. Every frame is compellingly composed, and every visual detail is spot on. Our eyes are completely under the filmmaker’s command, and from the very first moment we are in rapt suspense. In addition to Delusion, we have enjoyed team Di Nunzio’s work in the feature film A Life Not to Follow and the shorts Kinnari and I Am a Rain Dog. With each successive work, the technical quality only gets better. Seen 9 August 2020

A Fairy Tale

Faithful

The opening shot of this thirteen-and-a-half-minute film pans across a bathroom sink area. Everything we see in those first few seconds—from the flowers in a vase to the pair of toothbrushes together in a holder to the prescription pills container—gives us all the clues we need to the story that will unfold. This is the kind of economical, visual storytelling that tells us we are in the hands of someone who has studied his craft seriously. Director Niklas Berggren has said that, of his various movie jobs, it is his work in the camera department that has given him the most enjoyment—and it shows. His cinematographer here is Brooke Schulte, and the result is a series of images that hold our attention and are invariably lit in a way that sets each shifting mood. The sombre moments are effectively underscored by the music of Salil Bhayani. Quite a lot of story is included in the film’s brief running time. The attractive cast, led by Clarissa Hoffman, is natural and believable. As a woman doing her best to suppress emotional turmoil, she is somewhat reminiscent of Naomi Watts. Her final scene is very moving—in fact, quite devastating—without being over-dramatized. As her friend and her mother, respectively, Cynthia Aileen Strahan and Eve Conquillard also turn in appealing performances. If I am not giving much detail on the story itself, there is a reason. As the film’s plot description puts it, “the truth may not be as it seems.” In the end we get the pleasure of a well-constructed narrative twist without (appropriately enough for a film called Faithful) being made to feel deceived or cheated. Born in Stockholm, Berggren has studied in England and, more recently, at the New York Film Academy in Burbank, California. Now that he has a third short film on his c.v., we look forward to more of his work and, hopefully someday soon, a feature-length movie. Seen 18 October 2017

5 Ways 2 Die

Fond of a Moth

Freak

Friends Forever

Thomas Angeletti has been a prolific maker of short films the past couple of years, and on the evidence of this 20-minute movie and his recent After, he has quite a range. The latter is an intense, emotional drama notable for its sense of realism. Friends Forever, by contrast, is a genre flick squarely in the horror category. It will tickle hardcore and casual terror aficionados alike with its knowing references to the classics. It cannot be a coincidence that the main action takes place in the 1980s which was a renaissance of sorts for slasher flicks. Or that the setting is a remote farm, evoking any number of Ed Gein-inspired shockers. There’s even a cornfield, immediately stirring all kinds of echoes of cinematic devil children. Did I mention the creepy dolls? Naturally, the farmhouse has a gruesome history, as seen in a chilling monochrome prologue. Fast forward three decades and a group of heedless students have chosen the place—now abandoned but still looking weirdly lived in—for a final-year celebratory blowout. They’re all looking forward to leaving their grim hometown behind for college and greener pastures—all except for Erica, who may be feeling just a wee bit left out. Everybody thinks a party in the notorious dwelling is a cool idea except for the aptly named Cassandra. If only the others would listen to her. She’s played sullenly by Ashlee Lawhorn in classic bookworm mode. In contrast Colleen O’Morrow peels back some surprising layers of blonde, party-loving Erica. Angeletti wrote the screenplay with Jared Richard Acker and Paige Hoover, who plays Lisa, another of the party planners along with Mark Murtha’s Ryan. The unfortunate family of the flashback are portrayed by Julie Carney, Timothy J. Cox, Christy Carson and Kevin Rife. Seen 31 December 2023

Gary from Accounting

This five-minute comedy made me laugh a lot. Setting up its characters in an awkward situation, it has the feel of sketch comedy, like maybe something we might have seen on Saturday Night Live. It begins with mild-mannered Gary letting himself into a home. He has been invited for a very specific time and place but does not know why. Very quickly, things start happening, beginning the arrival of Hannah and Belle, who were clearly expecting someone else. It turns out they are staging an intervention, and Hannah took a wrong name and number from her husband’s address book. Then the ambushee Nathan arrives. In the best tried-and-true comedy tradition, the intervention proceeds regardless, with everybody expecting Nathan’s co-worker to participate anyway. The humor spools not only from the mixup but also from the increasing awkwardness of Gary, who clearly does not have the most emphathetic of personalities. This droll nugget, directed by Daniel Lofaso, has an Orange is the New Black connection. Its writer Phoebe Torres and performer Thea McCartan, who plays Hannah, have appeared on the Netflix series. Jake Lipman, who plays Belle, is the writer/producer/star of the web series Smart Actress. Mark Grenier displays a nice sense of befuddlement as the titular Gary, and Timothy J. Cox goes through a range of emotion as the husband who, strangely, finds it easier to connect emotionally with the guy from accounting than his wife, sister or kids. Seen 10 November 2016

The Girl in the Woods (Ormandaki Kiz)

God

The title character of this 13-minute film by Gregory Brunkalla is not the Deity but rather a free-spirited young woman named Melanie (Ili Ray). She acquires her nickname by inspiring worship from a collection of rowdy college frat boys when she immortalizes in a poem her abortive sexual encounter with their own alpha/idol, an Adonis named Caleb Newton (Mitch Moldenhauer). All frat brothers get nicknames, and Newton’s is Nutella, not only because it sort of sounds like his surname but “because he is sweet.” Also because “sometimes when you taste Nutella, you were there, perfectly present.” Those words are from the narrator (Tyler Young), a frat brother called Oprah “because there were books in my room and I asked questions.” For a movie about rowdy frat boys, this flick has a strangely and pleasingly literary feel to it. That is because it is closely adapted from a short story by Benjamin Nugent, which first appeared in The Paris Review. Yes, these guys objectify women and drink too much beer, but they also have the good sense to appreciate the epic quality of a well-written and heartfelt poem. For Oprah the poem becomes an obsession, and like all good poetry—and all good obsessions, for that matter—it leads him on a near-spiritual journey of exploration and self-discovery. His life will never be the same after his own encounter with God. Overshadowed by Oprah’s focus on himself—and on Nutella—is Melanie’s story and her own significant life passage, but that is the way it is with young men in the heat of their bonding rituals. Apparently, it is not merely because of the alphabet used for their houses’ names that frat brothers are called Greeks. Seen 9 December 2019

Greg’s Guardian Angel

This very amusing short has the classic structure of a joke—complete with punch line. One morning corporate slave Greg puts on a tie and immediately gets a visit from the titular angel. It turns out that the choice of which tie he dons could have longlasting implications for the rest of his life. The gag is when the angel’s visits become more frequent, more intrusive and basically micro-management gone wild. It is sort as if the film is pondering the question: what if we lived every moment constantly worrying about the butterfly effect? As Greg, Greg Vorob is an affable straight man. Clearly having fun as the angel, Elmer J. Santos plays him hilariously as a fussy worry-wart who becomes increasingly caught up in the pettiest of Greg’s affairs. Veteran short-film-makers Dan Conrad and Dan Kowalski wrote and directed, respectively. Special kudos for the inventive title sequence. Seen 6 January 2016

Grind

Guillotine Guys

Gunderson’s

Even though this is kind of a one-joke movie, it’s actually not that hard to see it being expanded into a feature-length comedy. We have all the key set-ups for a very funny guy-oriented flick. There’s the uncomfortable visit to the doctor’s office. There’s the buddies sitting around and shooting the bull out in the woods. And there’s the young teacher saying all the most inappropriate things to a skeptical middle school health class—a ripe situation for male comedy if ever there was one. At about 14 minutes, that’s a lot of stuff to pack into one little film. Max Azulay, who looks a bit like a young Ray Romano, plays the young man who learns that he has the titular STD, which has a single odd symptom. The young actors who play his students are well chosen and are completely convincing as typically unimpressed tweens. Our old friend Timothy J. Cox is also on hand (with shaved head), as the gung-ho principal who comes to worry about the message Max’s medical condition may be sending. Phil Primason and Mallory Westfall co-wrote the screenplay along with Azulay the director, Matt Porter. Personally, my favorite bit was the snippets we got of a classroom education film about the dangers of drunk driving. Seen 1 April 2016

H-24

Carl has a special gift. From a young age, he has always been able to see himself twenty-four hours into the future. This can certainly have advantages, but there is also a downside. For example, it has always been inevitable that one day he would receive a one-day notice that his life is about to end. At least that is what he tells us—and we only know what he tells us. This film by Franco-Moroccan writer/director Yassine Harbachi is visually austere. For its four-plus-minutes running time, the camera is largely stationary on Carl wearing a white pull-over and leaning against a white wall. While not comprised of still images, there is precious little motion in the course of the black-and-white film. This plus a melancholy narration and the theme of foreseeing and experiencing one’s own death puts us in mind of Chris Marker’s classic short movie La Jetée. Harbachi poses similar questions dealing with time, perception, destiny and inevitability but in a way that is by no means derivative of the 1962 movie. And as in Marker’s film, there is a mystery. By the end we come to see that Carl is in a psychiatric hospital, calling into question the truth of his story. As he touches his chest and grimaces, we wonder whether he is really dying—or if this is a delusion that he lives over and over day after day. As Carl, Pierre Glénat gives a subtle performance that requires him to express a wealth of ideas and emotions by means of minimal expressions and, mostly, through his eyes. We hear his voice, although we do not see him speak. He carries the movie entirely on his shoulders, joined only at the end by Caroline Lavergne as a psychiatrist. The clean cinematography is by Fabrice Mengotti. The mood is set nicely by the ethereal music of Philippe Lebraud. This assured debut by Harbachi has since been followed by the short film 2 minutes. Seen 30 December 2019

Hard Truths

The most impressive thing about this 12-minute drama is learning that it was developed entirely through improvisation. On viewing there is nothing to suggest that the actors are mentally grasping for dialogue or going through any sort of internal writing process as they play their scenes. In fact, the performances are natural and true-to-life in a way that is hard to capture through improvising and are usually the result of skilfull writing and fruitful rehearsal time. The set-up is simple and entirely relatable for many of us. Timothy J. Cox plays Peter, a modeling agent who also happens to be a genuinely nice guy. He’s dropped by at a photo shoot of Hope, one of his longtime clients. He has news to deliver about a big prospective job the two were both eager for, and it’s not good. We would expect a story dealing with how physical appearances can hold a person back careerwise to focus entirely on the woman being judged superficially, and indeed Paige Hoover quite capably conveys Hope’s hurt and frustration in the situation. What is interesting, though, is that the film is at least equally interested in how the situation affects Peter, who clearly cares about Hope and about her feelings. In another scenario, he would be cast as the villain, the man telling the woman she no longer measures up. Instead we perceive that he is every bit as upset as Hope is. Seeing how he is affected—as is Hope’s protective husband Danny (Patrick M. Johnston)—makes the point that prejudice affects not only Hope but also the people around her who care for her. This approach makes a very human story out of one that could have easily turned into a diatribe. The director is Maya Ahmed, who previously worked as the assistant director on another short film featuring a strong performance by Cox, Thomas Angeletti’s After. Seen 11 December 2023

Hell-Bent

From the beginning it is clear that this is going to be one of those workplace comedies, about the competition and dehumanization that goes on in the cubicled world. And then it goes off in a wackily unexpected direction. The disparaging boss (Timothy J. Cox) of Brimstone Magazine (pay attention to that name) puts his writers in competition with one another to write a really good piece, with a promotion as a reward. Everyone thinks that ball-breaker Beth (Ashley Kelley) will win, but we are meant to root for mild-mannered Michael (Justin Andrew Davis) who we know loves writing because he uses the old typewriter his granddad gave him. And then this flick goes off in an unexpected and humorous direction. One of the best things about it is Leslie Lynn Meeker as Agatha, the receptionist and Michael’s ally in the competition. She has one of those wonderful voices that add so much to a screen comedy. It is reminiscent of Mae Questel, whose voice work graced many cartoons as Betty Boop and Popeye’s Olive Oyl. Beyond her voice, however, her contribution is the true comic spark of the film. Kelley’s suitably tough performance as Beth adds a nice edge to compensate for the lack of energy in the Michael character, as does that of Steven Trollinger as the jerk from (literally) hell. Given the nearly half-hour running time, more could probably have been done with such a funny conceit so full of possibilities but, as it is, this is quite an entertaining little story with very identifiable characters. Foster Vernon directed, and the screenplay was by Shayne Kamat and Lorenzo Cabello. Seen 25 May 2016

Henry

“I might be a little buzzed,” says the title’s Henry in a phone conversation with his fiancée. He’s spending the night alone in a Las Vegas hotel in advance of long-anticipated solitary trip to the desert, and yes, he does seemed a little buzzed. Played by Alex Scarlatos, Henry is the only character who appears on screen, but we overhear snatches of conversations with other characters in phone calls. The precise reason or plan for Henry’s desolate excursion is not precisely clear, but we gather that things aren’t entirely idyllic between him and his betrothed (Tate Kenney). We also discern emotional detachment from his father (Timothy J. Cox). Wandering in the desert inevitably brings to mind Jesus’s struggles with the devil during his 40 days in the Judaean wasteland. Is that the operative metaphor here? The movie’s striking poster with a giant fist clutching a horned Henry suggests it might be. It also brings to mind films like Sean Penn’s Into the Wild chronicling the way nature can lure people from civilization and to their doom. Everything is seen from Henry’s point of view and filtered by his state of mind. Whether it’s drugs or a mental breakdown, things become increasingly disoriented. Has he gone deliberately to lose himself off the grid—or was he lost before he ever set out? Whatever the case, he’s looking for an emotional connection wherever he can, as attested by a disastrous call made to an escort service and his erotic fixation on a Health magazine cover. Writer/director Matthew Kyle Levine (Miss Freelance, Daddy’s Wallet) has again done his own cinematography, and his images are invariably well composed, clean and compelling to the eye. A nighttime shot of a ghostly Henry seen in a light’s glow through the fabric of a tent is especially nice. The tone is set effectively by the unsettling sound design and music of Shea Glasheen, who also provides voices for the escort service operator and Henry’s grandmother. There is something haunting about this story of isolation and yearning. After spending 16 minutes with it, you won’t want to be alone. Seen 22 February 2022

Here Lies Joe

The first thing we notice from the very first frame is the happy face drawn on a car window with lipstick. It has x’s for eyes. Then we notice the hose shoved through the window and the duct tape sealing up the places where air can escape. This does not look good. Joe is played by Dean Temple, and he has the careworn face and weary eyes that let us know he is well and truly at the end of his rope. (When he is not acting—or directing or writing his own film—Temple does animal wrangling, including for the period medical series The Knick.) At a suicide prevention meeting—which is mainly played for dark laughs—Joe meets Z, an anarchic free spirit, whose carefree impulsiveness is the antithesis of Joe’s morose gloom. Z is played naturally and beautifully by Andi Morrow, an actor from Tennessee who doesn’t seem to be acting at all. Also standing out in a brief comic-relief role is Mary Hronicek, as another meeting attendee. Filmed in New Hampshire, this 23-minute flick makes us care about its characters even while we fear the worst for them. It was directed by Mark Battle, who co-wrote it with Pamela Conway. I hope it is not too much of a spoiler to say that the film’s ultimate message is a hopeful one. Seen 27 January 2016

History in the Making

We might think of history as a list of grand world events that are recorded in text books, but this 7½-minute film written and directed by Alex Garcia takes a much more personal and forward-looking view of the chronicle of time. “What is history?” queries the narrator, Marissa Grapine. “The word is described in a thousand different ways. History is the compilation of the past, particularly the individual’s.” Filmed at Rutgers University in Camden, New Jersey, the camera’s lens focuses on a group of 11th and 12th grade students participating in a college program in which the filmmaker is their teacher. (He also provides the soundtrack’s music.) We observe the students as they chat and pass the time in an indoor public space, but the heart of the experience consists of hearing some of them (Frankie Clas, Deljone Gray, Lorenzo Laguano) in the classroom reading from their own essays. A common theme is the hesitancy of young people to participate or take action because of how they see themselves or how they might look to others. “We live in a world where there are men in chairs that dictate our lives,” says one, adding that “the U.S. is missing change in leaders.” Says another, to keep history from repeating itself we need “proper education and better leaders.” At one point the film’s flow is interrupted by a news bulletin from a Detroit TV station about a 13-year-old boy who has taken his own life at school. “Trauma and tragedy is never forgetting unfortunate times,” says our narrator, “What matters is how you can translate those emotions into motivation, to write your own story.” At another point we observe a young man standing and walking away from the other students. He walks out of the building and onto the street to… where? By the end, though, the movie has reversed his steps and brought him back to the group. We get the feeling that this hopeful image sums up quite succinctly the film’s aim. Producer of this encouraging doc is Joseph McGovern (All Over Again, Hush, Is This the Bed We Lie In?). Seen 28 July 2024

Honey Halo: The Left by Snakes Video Series

Hully Gully

Hush

Joseph McGovern’s first short film All Over Again was a gentle, feel-good story about a man reconnecting with a long-neglected love of music. McGovern’s second short Hush is, well, different than that. What the two films have in common is that they are both intimate portraits of men at key points in their lives, and those portraits are painted with effective visuals and a minimum of dialog. In fact, Hush has absolutely no dialog, although we are never at a loss for understanding what is going on or what people are thinking and saying. Actors must love to work with McGovern (an actor himself) because he puts so much emphasis on performances rather than on literal exposition. The film’s focus is constantly on Anthony Scanish’s Jeremy with roughly half the time given over to his obsessive fantasies. Thanks to a consistent use of color schemes, we are never in any doubt as to when we are viewing the workings of his imagination and when we are observing objective reality. A constant cool electronic score by Matthew Amadio sets a tone that can feel erotic or sinister, depending on the visuals. Because Jeremy is married, as is the object of his desire (to his best friend, the IMDb notes tell us), the narrative tension centers on how his attraction will ultimately play itself out. Early on, we have some sympathy for him. After all, most of us have felt some attraction to someone we shouldn’t at some point in our lives. Jeremy is at his most sympathetic in a moment where he can barely bring himself to touch Suzanna when it’s hugs all around at a couples’ charades night. Yet his fantasies become ever more consuming, leading us to wonder how exactly dark will this story go. Melissa Damas carries off the tricky job of playing three versions of Suzanna: an absolutely normal person, a very appealing woman when seen through Jeremy’s furtive gaze, and the seductive temptress of his secret fantasies. Genre-wise, this accomplished 12-minute movie fits neatly in the cinema of l’amour fou. Given the age we are in now, though, a better way to classify it might be as a feminist-issue film as seen through the filter of a thoroughly—and ultimately uncomfortably—male point of view. Seen 1 October 2018

I Am a Rain Dog

Fans of singer/songwriter Tom Waits will immediately recognize this intriguing twelve-minute movie’s title as a nod to the title track of his pivotal 1985 album. While the song evoked louche denizens of the urban streets, this film is ostensibly an exercise in mobster noir. The main setting is a room that will be instantaneously familiar to anyone who has spent more than a few minutes in any of the standardized rooms of America’s budget motel chains. (Filming was done in Leominster, Massachusetts.) A man named Valentine Biltmore edgily expects someone. He musters what reassurance he can from a bottle and a handgun. What follows is an encounter that is strangely perplexing and, unexpectedly, somewhat touching. Like the canine of the title, Biltmore has lost his way—yes, literally, but mostly metaphorically and spiritually. We are not entirely certain what we are watching, as the conversation gives every indication of being allegorical. The meaning-laden pronouncements of the mysterious Mr. Weiss, as well as the fact that he towers physically over Biltmore, makes him a bit reminiscent of the giant played by Carel Struycken in David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. As played by Fiore Leo, Weiss has a matter-of-fact businesslike manner that belies the somewhat otherworldly nature of his advice. In terms of performance, he has cadences and demeanor not unlike the late, great Burt Lancaster. Biltmore is played by Kris Salvi, who also wrote and produced the movie. We know his writing prowess from similarly dark and imaginative films like Bent and The Date. The camerawork and direction are by Christopher Di Nunzio, familiar to readers of these pages for the feature-length films A Life Not to Follow and Delusion. Also in the cast is Justin Thibault, playing a man named Krumpt who may have political ambitions. Tom Waits does not appear on the soundtrack, but we do get a nice mood-setting bit of introductory melody by Monplaisir and a fine closing vocal by Eva Taylor. Seen 23 June 2019

I F*@#ing Hate You

Imposter

While I have not seen all of Chris Esper’s films, I have seen enough of them (Please Punish Me, The Deja Vuers, Undatement Center) to have a general sense that he is drawn to high-concept ideas which allow him to explore aspects of the human condition by imagining worlds where things work a bit—or maybe a lot—differently than they do in our own reality. In his imagination it can be perfectly normal that a business would exist to expunge your guilt or to help you transition between romantic relationships or that déjà vu could be a literal condition. Another common thread in his work is a jaundiced point of view and wry sense of humor. Having said that, Imposter is his most serious—even sombre—and profound work to date. While I do not want to spoil its conceit for you entirely, let us just say that Esper has found an inventive visual shorthand for letting us know at what point in each character’s life his or her emotional progress was arrested. Thus, the film effectively portrays the baggage we carry around with us well into adulthood and how hard it is to free ourselves of longstanding insecurities and feelings of inadequacy. We begin with Mike (Tom Mariano), who is preparing for a staff meeting that will produce no good news. Our attention moves on to an artist, who appears to be all but invisible at a well-attended exhibition. By the time we join Mike and the artist on a bus, we begin to feel that are in a full-blown allegory. With nearly no spoken dialog, the numerous actors make the most of their assorted and varied roles through facial expressions and body language. The biggest impression is made by William DeCoff, who plays a military veteran dealing with serious emotional scars if not outright mental illness. The ending is somewhat ambiguous and open to interpretation. On one hand, smeared blood is evidence of wounds—emotional if not medical—but, on the other hand, looks of relief, if not outright smiles, suggest that some sort of catharsis has been achieved. By the end of Imposter’s ten-minute runtime, we have gone from being intrigued and curious to finding ourselves strangely moved. The film’s trailer can be viewed on the Vimeo web site. Seen 18 June 2018

In a Time for Sleep (Bir Uyku Vakti)

As this 14-minute movie opens, Arda is consuming the lovely dinner that Leyla has thoughtfully prepared for him. We learn the reason for the meal is that she wanted to do something special to celebrate their first month together, but Arda is not the least bit appreciative. In fact, it is pretty obvious that he is your basic male chauvinist pig. Things deteriorate quickly into a bitter fight. To say any more would not be fair, but let us simply say that things do not progress exactly as we might expect. By the end of the story Leyla is in a very different place, having come to see herself as someone quite distinct from who she had thought she was. The screenplay was written Tofiq Rzayev (who directed) and Mehmet Fatih Güven (who plays Arda), i.e. the same team that gave us a different sort of domestic melodrama in The Cleaner. It has been a pleasure to Rzayev’s film work grow more assured and polished with each movie he has turned out. The performances here are solid, particularly in the way that Goknur Danishik (as Leyla) and Elif Barut (the final character in this three-hander) play off one another. The ending is particularly strong, featuring a beautiful song by Serif Ahmet Ege, marking the first time Rzayev has employed an original song in one of his films. Kudos also for the end titles sequence, presumably the work of David Kislik, who is credited with visual effects. It is subtly reminiscent of something we might see at the beginning of a James Bond movie. Seen 11 May 2016

Incognita

Imagine getting two different—but strangely related—pieces of life-changing information on the same day. This is what happens to Ben Park during his first day in a new job, teaching a college ethics class. At the same moment as a student is trying to talk to him after class, Ben’s wife rings his phone with some major news. Trevor, the student, will have to wait until later to drop his own bombshell. Ben’s reaction to both pieces of news tells us something not only about where he is in terms of maturity but also what he was apparently like a couple of decades earlier as a teenager. Given the film’s twelve-minute runtime, he does not have a lot of time for sorting it out all out, but by the end of the story, he seems well on the way to maybe finally growing up. Sean Kneese plays Ben as a more-or-less slovenly everyman. As Trevor, Phil Kramer is earnest and searching. As Ben’s wife Veronica, Nedra Shamberger is a welcome breath of emotional clarity and energy. The screenplay was written by the film’s producer Brielle Carroll with the director Asha Rosemond. Treats awaiting us in the end credits include a bit of a gag reel and a stirring tribute to the filmmakers’ film professor. Seen 12 December 2019

Inspired

Clearly inspired on real events, this lovely film tells the story of a young woman influenced for the better by a sports coach—at precisely the moment concerned adult guidance is critical. Audiences looking for edgy entertainment may find it a bit conventional, but most people will feel it tug honestly and genuinely at the heartstrings. There was surely a temptation for the director and actors to go for flashy, screen-chewing performances, but to their credit everyone plays it very realistically and true to life—even to the point of understatement. The protagonist Sam is an adolescent at that point where everything and everyone seems to be against her, and Tyler Kipp plays her convincingly. We feel her overwhelming frustration, without necessarily justifying it. As her perceived nemesis, Ariane M. Reinhart balances nicely between, on one hand, the kind icy toughness that the insecure would find intimidating and, on the other hand, unspoken and heartfelt concern for her charges. Overall the production is as slick and professional as anything you might see on television. Writer/director is Maggie Kaszuba has done well by a story that is plainly very close to her heart. Seen 17 May 2016

An Irish Goodbye

So what’s an Irish goodbye? If you rely on the internet to inform you, you’ll get what I think is mainly an Irish-American interpretation: the practice of slipping out of a party or other gathering without saying farewell or thank you to anyone. Some sources go so far as to suggest this is so the perpetrators might avoid drawing attention to how scuttered they are. In my own personal experience, however, an Irish goodbye is quite the opposite. It’s the parting that never quite departs, the adieu that never seems to end. Either way, the common thread is that an Irish goodbye is not really a goodbye at all, and so it is in this touching and funny 23-minute movie made in Northern Ireland by Tom Berkeley and Ross White. Presumably, its rural setting is meant to be County Down. At least that’s the impression we get from a song playing on the radio as the film opens. There are two Irish goodbyes in the story. One is between a recently deceased mother and her two sons, Turlough and Lorcan, and as anyone familiar with Irish literature (or even actual Irish people) knows, there are no true goodbyes with the dead. The other goodbye is the looming one between the two brothers, as Turlough can’t wait to get back to England and leave the dreary countryside of his youth behind. Stubborn Lorcan, who has Down syndrome and was living with their Ma on the farm, doesn’t want things to change any more than they have to. He also insists that they must posthumously fulfill Ma’s lengthy and eclectic bucket list—even if they are only doing it for the benefit of an urn containing her ashes. As Lorcan, James Martin (a veteran of at least two other short films and two episodes of the TV series Marcella) is a stealer of scenes and hearts. As testy Turlough, Seamus O’Hara (of The Northman and the series 6Degrees) incarnates the bossy brother who turns out to be not totally impervious to sentiment. Also on hand is Paddy Jenkins as a quirky priest with knack for saying something off-kilter. We do not see the dearly departed mother, but she is given voice by Michelle Fairley (Catelyn Stark on Game of Thrones). This lovely, gentle movie is up for an Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film this weekend, so let’s wish all involved the best of luck. Will they be pulling an Irish goodbye at any Oscar parties? Seen 11 March 2023

Is Olc an Ghaoth (Death in the Time of Covid)

The Irish title actually means “It’s an Ill Wind,” but the English title on the TG4 (Irish language TV channel) page has a nice Gabriel García Márquez kind of feeling. There’s even a bit of Gaelic Magic Realism in the final act. The notes describe this as an “Achill Island Gothic Triptych” of three short films, but it is really more like a three-act play filmed on location in the midst of Achill’s barren, windswept beauty. Written by Kevin Toolis (author of My Father’s Wake: How the Irish Teach Us to Live, Love and Die) and directed by Tom Sullivan (writer/director of the 2019 historical drama Arracht), this film is nothing if not up-to-the-minute. The precipitating event is the arrival home of an emigrant’s body for his funeral and burial, and this most timeless and traditional of life events is completely atypical because of the Covid‑19 pandemic. Padraig and Éamonn, two brothers who fell out years before over something trivial, come together when their brother Máirtín arrives home in a pricy coffin. The casket’s weight gives the first act its title “Ceithre Chéad Meacháin (400cwt/400 weight).” Under the pretext of pandemic restrictions, Padraig declines to enter his brother’s home—even though the two actually share the divided old family home—and the window between them becomes a poignant symbol of the emotional barrier between them as well as the government-enforced changes to their way of life. In the second act “I bhFlaithis Dé (God’s Own Pocket),” Padraig prevails on local publican Síle to break the rules and serve him a pint in her shuttered establishment. She tells him a humorously poignant story of her own frustrated emigration dreams and how she dreamed of living in Dallas because of the popular 1980s TV show named for the Texas city. In “Sioscadh na Marbh (The Grateful Dead),” Padraig meets a mysterious stranger who is not what he seems. A wistful and bitter current of emigration and intra-family rivalry wends its way through this bittersweet film along with a sense of the dying of the old ways, accelerated by disease. As Padraig, Stiofán Seoighe artfully conveys a sense of ebbing bitterness laced with a lingering taste of missed chances. As Síle, Carrie Crowley likewise brings to life a melancholy sense of entrapment and startles us with her passion when she suddenly flings a glass against a wall. Peadar Cox and John Finn round out the ensemble. Seen 3 November 2020

Is This the Bed We Lie In?

In his third film as both director and writer, Joseph McGovern has further established and refined his trademark themes. He is clearly drawn to stories that feature men coping with emotional challenges. In All Over Again, it was Greg working up the courage to perform with his guitar after many years of having left his music aside. In Hush it was Jeremy, a married man hopelessly attracted to his best friend’s wife. In Is This the Bed We Lie In? it is Robert having an unexpected and unwelcome talk with his wife Jennifer. The difference this time is that it is as much Jennifer’s story as Robert’s—if not more. The two share the screen’s space for most of the movie’s four-and-a-half-minute running time, and the conversation is initiated and steered by Jennifer. This is not to say that it is any easier for her than for Robert. As with McGovern’s other work, the situation gives every indication of being true to life. The actors, Constance Reshey and Joel Blanco, play out the scenario with a sincerity that feels honest and real. Both have worked on the director’s previous films with Reshey having appeared onscreen in both. The film is laden with emotion, but there are no histrionics as one could expect in other more stagey film treatments. Viewers may choose to sympathize with one or the other of the couple, but as they are portrayed, there is no hero or villain—just ordinary people dealing with each other’s feelings. We are, in fact, only seeing the beginning of the conversation. It will be continued the next day and probably for many days after. Music by McGovern’s regular collaborator Matthew Amadio underlines the mood without being intrusive. The film’s brief duration necessarily limits narrative and character development, but writer/director McGovern still gets quite a bit of both in the scant runtime. Seen 23 December 2023

It’s Not You

This brief but very moving film very nearly qualifies as a time travel story. It opens with two parents nervously preparing to tell their daughter that their marriage is over. The brief shots of Timothy J. Cox and Sara Ruth Blake as the father and mother are extremely powerful in their raw emotion. Once the bombshell has landed, the girl’s mind travels back to happier times when everything seemed untroubled and merry. How could such a happy family come apart? But then she revisits these memories anew and other details emerge: the lingering glance at a woman, the stain on a collar, the whispered phone call. The recriminations and arguments, muted, are only half-heard, as if off in the distance. These things had been suppressed and ignored in her memory. Now they come flooding back to be pieced together as an alternate reality, a hidden narrative. Abigail Spitler does a nice job in a passive role as someone watching her world fall apart retrospectively. The writer/director is Sophie Peters-Wilson. Soundtrack music is by Mountain Range. Seen 29 July 2016

Italian Turtles

Do you remember when you first became aware of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? You probably needed some time just to work out the title and learn how to say it. Then you had to somehow get your head around the concept. Of course, now thanks to comic books, TV shows and movies over the past three and a half decades, this quartet of characters is so familiar it doesn’t even seem strange anymore. What this short film written and directed by Vin Nucatola asks us to do is to reset our minds and imagine what it was like when creators Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird first had to explain the concept to studio executives. Of course, it probably did not happen like this. After all, my understanding is that a licensing agent actually sought out Eastman and Laird as a result of their parody comic’s cult popularity, but where’s the fun in that story? In this re-imagining, the two guys show up at a pitch meeting and have to explain the whole idea cold, and of course, it comes off sounding like the most absurd thing imaginable. Nine minutes of solid laughs are mined, mainly from the original absurdity of the concept and the studio execs eye-rolling reactions to it, as well as a good bit of fun with the 1980s trappings (hair, clothes, mindsets) and vacuousness of the studio system. Nick Piacente and Chris D’Amato are pretty much dead ringers for the young Eastman and Laird, and they have a pretty good comic chemistry going on. As the execs, Timothy J. Cox, BJ Gruber and Janel Koloski exhibit the combination of competiveness and cluelessness we all know studio suits must personify. And of course, look to the woman efficiently making the coffee for the real burst of creativity. Cowabunga! Seen 26 March 2019

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel

Joe

Jones

“Here’s to living forever.” This film begins mid-party atop an observation platform in Brooklyn. The music pulses. The vibe is fun. The sunset—or is it a sunrise?—is beautiful. We seem to be in for a good time. That lasts for all of half a minute. Then it is time to go home, and we wonder if Jones and Manny, in their inebriated state, will make it down the stairs in one piece. They argue, and we realize that Jones has not only lost her judgment but that she has a pretty serious problem. At about the two-and-a-half-minute mark, the screen goes black and we flash forward. Or have we actually been watching a flashback? The further we get into this eight-and-a-half-minute movie, the more the whole thing feels like fragmented memories pushing in on a struggling soul. Jones tries to get her life back on track, but clearly every day, hour and minute is a struggle. As the producers’ website puts it, “Every minute feels like torture.” If the dominant emotions here are raw and personal and true-to-life, it is because the screenwriter Marzy Hart, who is a producer (along with Craig Coffman, Carrie Radigan and director Stacey Maltin) and who plays Jones, is telling her own story with searing honesty. Stories like this always run the risk of coming off as “inspirational” or as “public service” messages. This one does not. There is no upbeat, feel-good ending. There is only the reality that addiction is a struggle one wages indefinitely. The film does not sugar-coat the issue or offer false hopes, but it does show the path to recovery in realistic terms. As Jones, Hart is nothing less than convincing as the party girl out of control and also as the determined woman refusing to be defeated by temptation and painful memories. As Manny, Michael Varamogiannis navigates the tricky role of Jones’s partner who, while perhaps an enabler, also sees her problem. As Barbie, Lisa Tharps radiates empathy and support as the really good person that we all hope will be there when we need her. This film has been an official selection at the Big Apple Film Festival and was awarded the first-ever Women In Limelight award at the SENE Film, Music & Arts Festival in New England. It was also the winner for Best Drama Short at the Twister Alley Film Festival in Oklahoma. Quite apart from being an emotionally involving exercise in storytelling, this is a film that could seriously change someone’s life. Seen 21 May 2019

The Jungle of Accounting

An 11-minute mockumentary filmed in Brooklyn, The Jungle of Accounting is crafted skillfully enough to pass as the real thing. Yes, we recognize that the people in the 1980s segments are actors, but dramatic recreations are not uncommon in real documentaries. Ray Bergen and Kathy McCort, who play the present-day couple relating anecdotes about a series of quirky and offbeat assistants formerly employed by their accounting firm, are so convincing that you assume they actually are Charles and Maryanne Bailey. The stories they tell about Bailey & Associates are entertaining enough for sitcom fodder yet, despite their unusual nature, are still within the realm of believability. The never-ending search for a suitable assistant was a memorable running gag in the sitcom Murphy Brown, but this takes the idea to different level. Erin Patrick Miller plays the staffer who turns his sweater into some sort of passive-aggressive weapon. Kate McGarrigle, wearing an eyepatch in one of the film’s best scenes, is an employee reminiscent of the Topper character from the Dilbert comic strip. Greer Barnes plays an FBI agent delivering some unsuspected news—and getting an unexpected reaction. Timothy J. Cox and Colleen Sproull play the younger versions of the Baileys. Mike Drew, with a pleasing Welsh lilt and voice somewhat evocative of Edward Everett Horton, provides the Dragnet-like narration. It is no surprise to learn that writer/director Chase Pearson was inspired by actual stories he had heard from his grandparents. He has a nice knack for observing characters, and the result is an experience not unlike hearing some really interesting and funny true tales while sitting around a table with family and/or friends. Seen 21 July 2020

Just Scream

This ten-minute movie takes a simple visual approach, which suits its story and subject matter very well. Apart from a couple of subtle zooms at appropriate emotional moments, the camera is fixed, the frame including two chairs on a studio interview set. In the moments before filming begins on the film within this film, people move in and out of frame and sometimes are only partly in frame. Then we settle down to the recording of a Q&A which will subsequently be edited. Presumably, this is for a television show or perhaps a documentary film. The interview subject is a young woman named Emma Clarke, and she has a terrible story to tell about something that happened to her at the age of twelve. The nice thing about this movie is that it makes its points subtly and naturally, so much so that the viewer receives them with no sense of being lectured to. Without needing to draw any undue attention to certain facts—i.e. Emma is African-American, her interviewer (Timothy J. Cox) is white, older and male—the dynamic is self-evident. Because the interview will be edited, he has leave to interrupt her and instruct her in ways that are probably normal in his profession yet seem insensitive given the story she is telling. Then comes his gut punch of a question, which gives the film its title. It’s not an unreasonable question, as it would occur to many people who might watch the interview. Yet the effect it has on Emma and her impassioned and well-composed response effectively makes the point that victims of such crimes are inevitably made victims all over again—and again. In a wonderfully calibrated performance, Emma is played by Ewurakua Dawson-Amoah, who is also the writer and director of this impressive and affecting work. Seen 12 December 2019

Kinnari

This brief film (just under five minutes) is essentially the monolog of a man who has lost faith with the material world and is seeking enlightenment through beauty and meaning. He wanders away from his humdrum existence and falls in thrall to the vision of a mysterious and beautiful woman. Inspired by and/or based on Hinduism, the screenplay is compelling, in large part because of the images that bring it to life as well as the considerable screen presence of David Graziano. He and writer/director Christopher Di Nunzio have worked together before on the feature films A Life Not to Follow and Delusion. Indeed, the latter film also had Graziano pursuing the answers to life and death through mediation by a supernatural female presence, so this may be a running theme with Di Nunzio. The photography is impeccable and is in glorious black and white with one brief and nearly imperceptible—but quite well judged—use of color at a key moment. The film is available for streaming on both YouTube and Vimeo. Seen 9 January 2017

Land of Winter

With his long hair, beard and soulful eyes, Gabriel bears more than a passing resemblance to western depictions of Jesus. Indeed, a woman who approaches him in a pub, upon learning his name, pointedly likens him to his namesake angel. Yet he is not exactly Jesus-like or angelic, at least not in the way he blows off a beggar in the street. He is a lost soul. Not only is he wandering Temple Bar alone when pubs are closing for the night, but he makes the same weak, self-deprecating joke about not having a contact-less credit card at each one. The payment technology reference may be up-to-the-minute but the themes and sentiments go back generations. Tommy Creagh’s movie alerts us at the beginning that it is inspired by the writings of James Joyce, and the contemplative ending, with winter’s first snow arriving, in particular evokes The Dead. Gabriel is played by Declan O’Connor, who manages to impart a huge amount of information—with only the odd look or throw-away line—about this wanderer adrift. As Polly, the woman who latches onto him to escape her rowdy mates, Caitriona Ennis is at turns shy and forward. She slowly reveals a brashness reminiscent of Molly Bloom herself. Why exactly is Gabriel so lost? What haunts him and feeds his melancholy at the season’s turn? Only at this intriguing film’s ending do we begin to understand. Seen 19 October 2018

The Last Time I Saw Richard

This three-year old short film by Australian Nicholas Verso is of fresh interest because it features similar themes and the same main actor as his new feature Boys in the Trees, which has been getting some film festival buzz lately. The short focuses on Jonah, a rebellious teen prone to self-harm who has cemented his loner status in a mental health institution. That changes when he is given a roommate who stays up all night drawing strange pictures. In the best Lovecraftian tradition, the creatures drawn by Richard (Cody Fern) may or may not actually be real. The beauty of the film is that it can be read as either a supernatural story or a metaphorical take on mental illness. The visuals are mesmerizing and haunting. The spooky bits are genuinely unsettling and frightening—without resorting to jump scares. Toby Wallace as Jonah, despite the character’s obvious problems, is likeable and engaging. The bond that forms between the two lads—the intense and somber Richard unexpectedly exposes Jonah’s previously unseen protective nature—is genuinely touching and ultimately heartbreaking. With this as a teaser, in addition to an impressive trailer for Boys in the Trees, Verso’s feature looks very promising indeed. The cast for that flick includes Toby Wallace and Gulliver McGrath, who has previously appeared in supporting roles in Scorsese’s Hugo and Spielberg’s Lincoln, as well as playing David Collins in Tim Burton’s version of Dark Shadows. Seen 14 October 2016

Leftovers (Geride Kalanlar)

My knowledge of the Turkish language is non-existent, but Google suggests that a more literal translation of the title might be Left Behind, and I wonder if that does not capture even better the sense of traumatic loss evoked by this harrowing 13-minute drama by our prolific Azerbaijani friend Tofiq Rzayev. On the other hand, the title Left Behind has already been appropriated by a series of Christian apocalyptic novels (and film adaptation) so maybe Leftovers is the better way to go. This movie is vintage Rzayev, which is a strange thing to say about an accomplished filmmaker who is still only in his early twenties, but he has already earned the right to his own adjective. Rzayevian? Rzayevesque? His frequent themes of family tragic, unbearable loss and feelings of hopelessness are again front and center. The story is simple enough. Two men are driving a third man along a mountain road. (The filmmaker’s notes tell us we are in Turkey.) The backseat passenger is distraught, and we wonder if he is possibly being brought to his own execution. It emerges that he is being brought by two police officers in plain clothes to a crime scene to identify the body of someone who is believed to be a family member. Finally, his anguish becomes extreme to the point of illness and they stop the car to let him out. His expressions of mental, emotional and metaphysical torment become so intense that the two officers—men in a profession that would presumably harden them to the grief of others—are clearly and startlingly moved, even shaken. The power of the situation is impressively rendered by the raw performances of Gökberk Kozan as the passenger and Ismail Mermer and Erhan Sancar as the escorts. Sancar has previously appeared in Rzayev’s films The Cleaner and Nihan: The Last Page. Rzayev’s scenario co-writers are Alsen Buse Aydin and Mehmet Fatih Güven. The drama was so compelling, it was only in hindsight that I realized there was not a note of music on the soundtrack. We continue to wait impatiently for the impressive Mr. Rzayev’s eventual foray into feature-length movies. Seen 21 December 2016

The Legacy

Leo Zelada: Transpoética

The subject of this vibrant and kinetic 15-minute documentary is the Peruvian poet Leo Zelada, who is currently based in Madrid. While the specific focus is his 2016 poetry collection Transpoética, the writer takes us on a virtual whirlwind tour of his entire life and his creative imagination, interspersing his flow-of-consciousness conversation with recitations of his verse. An engaging screen presence who takes barely a moment for him or for us to catch a breath, Zelada delivers a nonstop monolog with words flowing as fast as our ears can absorb them. The mental energy is infectious. We learn he was raised by his grandparents “in a family of criollo origins,” only discovering his Andean identity when meeting his father for the first time at 14. He began writing “since I can remember,” told fantasy and horror tales to his friends at 5, began writing seriously at 14, and was inspired by César Vallejo and Marío Vargas Llosa, his predecessors at Lima’s San Marcos University. He tells of his five-year journey, influenced by Paul Gauguin and Arthur Rimbaud, “by hitch-hiking, by bus, by horse, by boat” from Peru to the United States. He recounts with humorous irony surviving a misguided attempt to visit the remote and unpopulated Peruvian jungle frontier. Reflecting on his indigenous heritage, he muses, “My lineage is almost extinct. I am one of the last vestiges of great splendor.” He adds, “I have tried to make my words speak the language of my blood. I write in the language of my colonizers… I am a virus in the grammar of Spain. How can I express what I feel in a language that is not mine?” He discusses his next poetry book “with a fantasy touch and a bit of science fiction” and his novel dealing with socio-political issues in contemporary Europe. Once the pandemic is over, he hopes to travel throughout Europe and to ride the Trans-Siberian Railway to Mongolia in 2022. Zelada’s words are enhanced and highlighted in the film by the inventive and colorful visual post-production effects of the filmmaker, Cuban-born director and cinematographer Mario Leclere. With its use animation and graffiti, the film is a nearly perfect fusion of imagery and words. The musical soundtrack is an eclectic mixture of electronic and traditional Andean instruments. Zelada’s other poetry collections include Delirium Tremens, Diary of a Cyber-Punk, Brief Work on Nosferatu at Dawn Point and The Path of the Dragon, as well as the novel The Last Nomad. He was previously featured in the 2013 short film Leo Zelada. Underground Poet. This new film is scheduled for a premiere in Paris this summer. Seen 5 March 2021

Life on Pause

Less than two minutes into this 14-minute comedy, the protagonist is at wits’ end for having gotten lost enroute to a wedding. “I just wish they’d invent some device in cars that could just tell me which way to go,” he exclaims. The flick is set in 1986, and this is just one of a number of instances where it has fun taking a contemporary look back at the period. Given the era and the theme of weddings, it brings to mind other such minings of nostalgia as Frank Coraci’s The Wedding Singer (with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore) and the Amazon series Red Oaks. In addition to hairstyles and one-time state-of-the-art tech, screen titles evoke the time period with blocky pixelated lettering familiar to vintage video gamers. Writer/director Steve Lifshey takes a broad approach to this tale of a wedding videographer (as he proudly describes himself) still pining for his college crush. Adam is the classic screen dweeb, desperate in his quixotic romantic quest and victim to a string of embarrassments—some in a dream, some in real life—and prone to fantasies about how he hopes things will work out. His beloved Valerie has asked him to take charge of her wedding video, and our hero improbably imagines he will do such a fabulous job it will somehow make all his dreams come true. As Adam, Daniel Desmarais has the perfect face for evoking the overly optimistic innocent whose reactions run from giddy to despair. As Valerie, Jackie McCarthy ably portrays both of the character’s two faces. Valerie’s fiancé Trevor is played by BJ Gruber (whom we know from Italian Turtles), and he amuses us with one malapropism after another. The bride’s map-obsessed dad is played by William Scott Brown, and Eva Visco plays her mom, a woman prone to repeating words for emphasis. Some of the best laughs come from comedian Vince Chang, as a bridegroom, who gets in a string of hilarious one-liners at Adam’s expense. It goes without saying that the film’s editing is top-notch. Lifshey has done editing work for a wide array of cable channels. Seen 12 August 2021

Linda LeThorn & the Musicbox

The titular Linda’s Aunt Lucinda has passed on and left her a collection of odds and ends that were important to her and which, she hoped, would be important to Linda. Chief among these items is a music box and, when it begins to play, it has a startling and unsettling effect on our protagonist. She is overwhelmed by traumatic memories involving her mother (apparently), skin sores and olives. Linda’s (presumably) stable life in a small Brooklyn flat shared with her cat Kook and her pet-minding job are thrown into turmoil. The music box is also interfering with a budding relationship. There is something disorienting and ultimately disturbing about this offbeat comedy. As Linda, Aundrea Fares has the sympathetically bedraggled mien and expressive eyes to make us care about this woman—even when we do not completely understand exactly what she is (or is not) doing and why. Ashley Peoples is quite appealing as the woman who tries to free Linda from her mental stupor. The writer/director is Meg Skaff. This film brings back three characters (played by Brit-Charde Sellers, Timothy J. Cox and Kimberly David) from her earlier film, Terry Kendall and Orange Green. Seen 14 July 2016

Live Health

Watching this nine-minute movie, one has a sensation of eavesdropping–if not outright voyeurism. The performances are real, honest and very much tone-perfect as a reflection of many of our lives. Timothy J. Cox (who co-directed with Jamie Cox) plays a therapist who, because of the Covid pandemic, now conducts his sessions online. Apparently improvised, the monologues by the actors playing his four patients are earnest, heart-felt and not always easy to listen to. They communicate raw feelings about betrayal, loss and an emotional gulf with a loved one. The longest segment belongs to Lincoln (Bob Rutan), a father tormented by his inability to connect with his daughter whose lifestyle choices he cannot fathom. Each story is heartbreaking in its own way—all the more because they involve experiences we may have had ourselves or at least witnessed. For much of the running time, Cox’s performance is limited to reaction shots, and has an uncanny way of communicating an entire world of emotion and empathy through his body’s posture and the look in his eyes. Indeed, we can actually see the weight of these confessional testimonies on his soul. Where does a therapist like Dr. Marcus go when it all gets to be too much for him? Even in this Covid era where communication and support are necessarily remote, it is encouraging to see that, thanks to technology, people are still there for each other. The other patients are played by Nancy Kellogg Gray, Matthew Harris and Becca Robinson. Heidi Swarthout radiates warmth as Dr. Marcus’s colleague. A sensitive tone is set by the soundtrack music of Matthew Mahler. Seen 18 October 2021

Mail Time

This four-minute flick is an homage to Neil Burger’s The Illusionist, from which it borrows a clip and Philip Glass’s haunting theme. But it is also an homage to cinema pioneer Georges Méliès. Music aside, this is essentially a silent film that evokes the magic and wonder of Méliès’s groundbreaking visual work. Yes, modern movie audiences are well accustomed to special effects, but somehow filmmaker Sebastian Carrasco manages to make us see the tricks through new eyes. This is because we see them through the eyes of the protagonist, played by chameleon-like actor Timothy J. Cox. He is a postal carrier, who attempts to liven up his day and that of his customers by delivering a trick or two with the letters and parcels. Inspired by Edward Norton’s turn in The Illusionist and seemingly through sheer force of will, he takes his magic to a whole new level. The story climaxes with a re-encounter with a thief that tests his newly developed powers. The real magic, though, is how Carrasco and Cox make us feel as though we are seeing with a child’s wonder. Seen 29 July 2016

Mallas, MA

At seven and a half minutes, this little movie packs a full story—complete with some nice whimsy and even a moral—into its brief running time. Timothy J. Cox and Maria Snyder are a couple of paranormal investigators with a deadline. They have promised something exciting for that evening’s television news broadcast. Do they actually expect to find something supernatural in the house that they are visiting or are they merely exploiting the fears of the home’s occupier? While they seem to have gone through this routine many times before, this time will be different. And at least one of them will have a consequent change of heart. The director is Sean Meehan, whose other shorts include Over Coffee and Total Performance. Picturesque Winthrop, Massachusetts, stands in for the titular Mallas and is seen to great effect in the film’s opening aerial shot. Twins Uatchet Jin Juch and Nekhebet Kum Juch’s enigmatic smiles add a sweet touch of mystery to the proceedings. Seen 8 January 2016

Matar a la madre (To Kill the Mother)

A rather elegant, sophisticated, middle-aged woman—the sort who wears expensive sunglasses indoors—walks into a fast-food joint in the middle of Madrid and orders a Happy Meal or whatever the equivalent would be called in a Spanish chipper. The food isn’t for her. It’s for the wholesome-looking young man she is meeting. He tells her he will be 18 soon. As we suspect, he’s there in answer to an internet-arranged solicitation, but we will suspect other things before this 19-minute movie by Omar Ayuso is over. The writer/director will be best known for playing a character (also named Omar) on the steamy Spanish private school Netflix soap Elite, and this appears to be his maiden helming effort. It is a self-assured work that holds the interest and keeps us guessing. While the ending isn’t entirely unforeseeable, it definitely works as a legitimate twist. Apart from a shot that lingers strangely and overly long on the fast food staff, the attention is entirely on the two protagonists. The woman is called Dorita, which is also the name of Ayuso’s grandmother to whom the film is dedicated, and we can’t help but wonder what real-life story is behind that. Dorita is played by the singer La Bien Querida and her stage presence translates to screen presence. Young Noa is played by Iván Pellicer, a busy actor who has appeared in the series Fugitiva, Paraíso, Sagrada familia and an Elite spinoff. He has the tricky job of giving credibility to a character meant to be a veteran rent boy and also a seriously aspiring college student. Within the confines of the strange scenario, he pulls it off and would probably make quite a successful business major. Seen 13 February 2024

Maturing Youth

Meet the Author

Much of the running time of this 19-minute romantic comedy is taken up with something we do not get enough of in movies anymore—good old-fashioned banter and sparring between a man and a woman who rub each other the wrong way despite an underlying, unspoken attraction. Think any number of 1940s Hollywood movies with the likes of Katharine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy, Rosalind Russell and Cary Grant. The setup is that Marvin, an author hawking his sophomore effort at penning romance novels, has come to a local bookshop (the Jabberwocky in Newburyport, Massachusetts) to do a reading and sign copies. It turns out that the breathless prose of his chosen excerpt makes a wonderful contrast with the real-life encounter he has with one particular reader, effectively deconstructing the romance novel genre in the process. Jennifer has come to the event not because of the book but because of the man, thereby unexpectedly opening up some interesting questions about what separates ourselves from our work and which of the two is really us and what we are attracted to and fall in love with. The late revelation of a sad coincidence makes the encounter surprisingly poignant. There is much delightful humor here, especially when it comes to books, writers, readers and the agonies of necessary self-promotion. As Jennifer, Marty Smith makes an engaging foil for Marvin’s defensive disposition. The film’s comedy is particularly well-served by Bob Mignarri as a street person availing of the refreshments and, especially, Pamela Jayne Morgan as Marvin’s outspoken promoter Marnie. Marvin is played in turns as apopletic and exasperated by Steve Blackwood. The film opens with some nice establishing aerial shots of Newburyport before settling down into the cozy Jabberwocky, but what sticks in the mind even more than the visuals is the strength of the writing. It comes as no surprise to learn that the screenplay (written by Blackwood, who also directed) is adapted from a play (by David Susman). Blackwood is a veteran actor who may be most familiar from his stint several years ago on the TV soap Days of Our Lives. And that is not the end of his talents. His voice is also heard on the soundtrack nicely essaying a couple of classic jazz standards. This is a movie that not only makes you want to spend more time with its characters but also to spend time in a friendly local bookstore. Seen 13 March 2019

Memories

The setting, the tone and the reflective quality will all be familiar to anyone who has seen the previous film of Philippe Lebraud and Pierre Glénat, Covidream. Once again we are in a park in the Paris, de nos jours (Paris nowadays, as the subtitle translates), specifically the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, a 61-acre wooded haven in the city’s northeastern 19th arrondissement. Lebraud, the soundtrack composer, weaves an ethereal spell in moments of transition accompanied by whimsical visual effects that suggest the wondrous workings of the human mind. Glénat, the scenarist, spools the tale of M. Villon (played by himself), who is left sitting on a bench on his own by his carer (Marie-Christine Glénat) while she goes to retrieve a magazine that was left behind. Reading, however, is the last thing on Villon’s active mind. Ignoring her admonition not to move, he promptly wanders the park’s trails amid the greenery with occasional views of the urban landscape beyond. He encounters a number of people, including Elsa (Maéva Rasolofoson) who insists that they have met before—though not in Paris or even in France. He says that’s impossible, but later he will be the one to insist they did meet before and in an even more exotic location. When faraway places are mentioned, we are brought to them magically through stunning footage. Are these the memories that Villon is certain do not exist? Or are they memories that have not happened yet or have happened on some other plane of existence? Memory plays another trick when he meets Dominique (Dominique Faure), a writer whom he is certain he has seen on television or somewhere else and who speaks to him of the imaginary, dreamed lives she has invented. Villon also meets Chantal Rakotomalala and Jérôme Fleury, real-life founders of the Myaro associations that support literacy in Madagascar. There is, of course, a reason for Villon’s inconsistent recollections. The first clue is that he has a carer. When she reappears, she scolds him for not staying where he was supposed to, and she reminds him that he must get back to his “establishment” for lunch. The film invites us to ask what is the true nature of memory and where do recollections end and where does imagination begin. These themes make this 17-minute movie a fitting companion to another (but very different) film that featured Glénat in the central role, Yassine Harbachi’s H‑24. Seen 26 September 2023

Messiah

The Misogynist

Harlan is a photographer in New York, who is going through a rough patch creatively. The first thing we learn about him is a disturbing dream he had, as he describes it to his wife. She should have probably paid more attention. Later, as he is talking to the guy at the talent agency, Harlan talks about himself in a way that suggests someone who has obsessive/compulsive issues. Everywhere he goes, the city seems to be full of all sorts of people with cameras, using up all the ideas there are for a photographer. And he badly wants wants to find something that no one else yet has. Is he headed for a breakthrough—or a breakdown? The answer is jarring for both its casualness and its unexpectedness. Harlan is played by Pascal Yen-Pfister, a very busy New York actor who has appeared in numerous shorts, feature films and TV series. He brings an air of world weariness to his portrayal of a man who has truly lost his way. The final shot can be read as darkly comic and/or as poignant. The writer/director of this 13-minute unsettling portrait is Chai Dingari, who completed it in 2011, the same year that he received his BFA from New York University. Seen 18 February 2016

Miss Freelance

Carly is an attractive young woman in New York who, based on the time we spend with her, goes out nightly. She travels by subway and by cab and meets a different man each evening. So, yes, she is in that profession. One of the men she meets, Ben, actually seems to be her boyfriend—or at least he is under the impression that he is. Given the unusual nature of some of her encounters, we cannot rule out the possibility of some kind of role-playing scenario, but this does seem to be one honest, i.e. non-professional exchange, of the movie. The interesting thing about Carly’s various rendezvous is that the men are not drawn to her so much as an anonymous sex object but as someone who is genuinely nice to be with. Her comments to Ben suggest that she gets her satisfaction by being some kind of (paid) sexual charity worker, and she seems to feel these nightly encounters are all she needs, both physically and emotionally. But are they? The final encounter that we see—as well as some emotional private moments—suggests that maybe she needs something more. This 19-minute movie by Matthew Kyle Levine is shot unwaveringly in pretty tight closeup, mostly focusing on Carly’s expressive face. As played by Maddy Murphy, she exhibits a sweet nature that makes clear why people would be drawn to her. There is nothing of the jaded, street-weary call girl about her. Somewhat incongruously, the soundtrack features bits of old-time radio comedy shows, drawing a clear contrast between Carly’s emotionally solitary lifestyle and nostalgic past times with their traditional social conventions. We do not always understand Carly, but we do come to care about her. Playing the men that she meets are Timothy J. Cox, Zach Abraham, Keith Boratko and Ivan Greene. Seen 19 June 2019

Möebius

Moment of Truth

Film buffs will know where we are from the first few frames. The lush monochrome. The Academy screen ratio. The world-weary voiceover. The inventive camera angles. Yes, we’re in the world of film noir—but with a 21st-century revision. This 8-minute flick is directed by Lea Pfändler, a New York-based photographer and filmmaker who originally comes from, well, seemingly from all over. She not only has a clear command of the language of film but also a profound appreciation for its soul. She co-wrote the screenplay with Pavel Shatu, who also has an onscreen role. The cinematography by Kevin Barber is effectively moody and evocative. We know the standard noir story. A dame walks into a private investigator’s seedy office, and more often than not she turns out to be bad news. We usually learn this from the gumshoe’s narration, but this time we follow the story from the woman’s point of view. We aren’t merely watching the shamus gather clues and waiting for him figure things out. We’re the ones who have to work out people’s motives and who’s going to betray whom and why. Despite the brief running time and a cast of only three characters, there is quite a bit to figure out—and we find ourselves wanting to immediately watch it again to make sure we’ve put the pieces together right. The unnamed protagonist is played by Masha King (familiar to viewers of the series Madam Secretary as Talia Petrov) with the appropriately somber mien and eyes which haunt and perhaps evoke memories of Barbara Stanwyck or Joan Bennett. As the detective, Shatu has a lupine quality which is appropriate given the epigram that opens the movie. Can he be trusted? Can she? Needless to say, there is a final twist in the narrative—as well as a twist of the knife. The best bit, though, is saved for the very end when the screen magically changes size and hue, and we realize that, in addition to the classic noir formula, we have also been viewing an update to a very different but equally familiar tale. Seen 9 December 2021

Narcissist

Der 90. Geburtstag oder Dinner for One (Dinner for One)

Things you learn on a film’s IMDb trivia page. Apparently, this 18-minute movie from 1963 was listed in The Guinness Book of World Records (at some point anyway) for being the TV show with the most reruns. Until 1969 it was banned in Sweden due to the depiction of mass alcohol consumption. A two-hander comedy sketch, the actors (Freddie Frinton and May Warden) are English, though it was filmed in Hamburg’s Theater am Besenbinderhof for German television. Because the actors speak English (World War II veteran Frinton refused to speak German), the first two-and-a-half minutes consist of a narrator explaining the story’s premise to the audience in German. The film was intended originally as a filler between programs, but after it was aired on New Year’s Eve in 1972 it became so popular it has had multiple New Year’s Eve airings ever since, sometimes in nearly constant rotation. It is true, this thing is daft funny. With all the literary heft of a well-told joke, the action unfolds as Miss Sophie celebrates her 90th birthday. She has had her manservant James set places for four dear friends. As she has survived them all, she dines alone. Each dinner course requires both a fresh bottle of fine drink and a toast in which James is required to participate on behalf of all the absent guests. Predictably, each round gets progressively shambolic as poor James tries to keep up. Frinton’s work is reminiscent of great physical comedians from Chaplin to Red Skelton. The result is not unlike the setup and execution of a major bit in a Blake Edwards comedy. This version is adapted from a sketch written by Englishman Lauri Wylie and performed in London in 1948. Among its many other performances was one in 1953 on Broadway with Hermione Gingold and Billy De Wolf. If you don’t feel like waiting until next New Year’s Eve to see it, is freely available to view on YouTube in the original black and white, as is also the colorized version that audiences rightly rejected as unholy sacrilege. Seen 31 January 2020

Next/Door

Patty is unlucky in her choice of boyfriends. But she just may be equally unlucky—maybe even more so—in her choice of neighbors. And that’s about all I dare say about the actual story of this deceptively twisty little creep-out of a short film. The less you know about it going in, the better off you are. It won’t to everybody’s taste or welcome to everyone’s sensibilities, but if a 17-minute visit with a dark, unhealthy soul is your idea of a good (or at least interesting) time, then this is your flick. The good news is that the payoff is a good one. The director is Nathan Suher, working less broadly than he did in Scary Little F**kers but no less wittily. The screenwriter is Brian Pickard. Once again Suher has assembled some first-rate actors, whose commmitment to the material is essential for it to have the proper impact. In the principal role David Ryan Kopcych somehow elicits a bit of sympathy—even while we are completely put off by him. He actually gets us to see things from his own deluded point of view. Also, special mention has to be made of stalwart Lindsey Elisabeth Cork, who never breaks the film’s illusion under the most trying circumstances in a role that is, for the most part anyway, best described as passive. Seen 10 March 2016

Nihan: Son Sayfa (Nihan: The Last Page)

The last couple of films that we saw from Tofiq Rzayev ventured into genre territory. The Girl in the Woods was a mystery story bordering on horror. The Cleaner was a crime story that could also be read as sort of a romantic comedy. By contrast, this sombre and emotional 14-minute movie returns to what seems to be Rzayev’s natural narrative space: the bleak introspective meditation on life and death. As in Aftermath, we have a bereaved man struggling to cope with a devastating loss. Our protagonist has been writing a book about the life he shared with his beloved wife, and clearly this has been every bit as difficult for him as it has been necessary. Now he finds himself on the last page, and something is stopping him from completing it. A visit to his sister-in-law may hold the key to closure. In the best art film tradition, the sunlight illuminating that encounter contrasts with the shadows of our writer’s solitary scenes. The two main actors are Erhan Sancar and Alsen Buse Aydin, both of whom also appeared in The Cleaner. Where Aftermath ended on a note of despair, this film offers some sort of hope. The very affecting screenplay (in Turkish) was written by Rzayev and Erdogan Ulgur. It was based on an idea from Sevgi Ucgayabasi, who portrays a ghostly presence in the film. Seen 10 February 2016

Ninety Seconds

Nox

Numb

We do not find out a lot about Astrid in the course of this somber and, at times, heartbreaking ten-minute movie. On the other hand, we actually accumulate a wealth of information about her in that brief span of time. Young, attractive and morose, she easily draws the attention of men. More to the point, she invites their attention. Whether it is a guy in a bar, the new fellow at her support group or just a stranger in a restaurant, she latches on in her cool, detached way, and she is the one to initiate a quickie. What has made her this way? She certainly does not lack for concerned people around her. Played with assurance by Rebecca Martos, Astrid is one of those enigmatic characters who keeps others at a distance even while pulling them in close out of some sadly insatiable emotional need. We eventually get enough of the backstory to fill in the gaps by the time the movie reaches a conclusion that makes us desperate—or afraid—to know what happens next. The writer/director is Penelope Lawson of the New York University Tisch graduate film program. Her previous short films are Love and Babysitter. In Numb she has created a concise, efficient portrait of a woman in pain that stays with you. The mood is reinforced by a soundtrack which includes music by LCS Soundsystem, Twin Shadow and Evan Louison & Matthew Mendelson Seen 6 October 2016

Odd Men Out

The set-up will be familiar to film aficionados everywhere. Five men in black suits are running for their lives. The quick cuts and jittery camera work suggest extreme urgency. The guns and the bag they are carrying alert us to the fact that maybe they aren’t just late to work or trying to catch a bus. When they burst into the motel room, we see their heads are covered with creepy animal masks. We are immediately reminded of every flick about a heist that went wrong—first and foremost Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs, although the masks also evoke such flicks as Point Break and Dead Presidents. We soon learn that our merry band have been assembled for the job and are not meant to know each other’s identities. And in the best film noir tradition, they come to realize that they may be mere pawns in someone else’s larger scheme. This 17-minute thriller is a good example of what distinguishes a knowing hommage from merely being derivative. The filmmakers know what they are at. There is a visual style that keeps us focused and a pacing that makes us experience the protagonists’ growing awareness of their peril in real time. The director is Jon Perry, and the screenwriter is Adam Masnyk, who also plays one of the robbers. The others are Peter Hoey, Kris Salvis, Mike Daniels and Daniel Washington. Gloria Crist makes a strong impression in key scene, as the mysterious woman who may pulling the strings. Masnyk’s dialog makes us smile because he is so obviously familiar—and having so much fun—with the tropes of the genre. The ending is stirring with its echoes of classic movie stand-offs and confrontations. It is the kind of short film that stands fine on its own but could also be slotted into a full-length movie as a pivotal act. Many of the participants have considerable experience in movie and TV supporting roles and in other short films, and it shows. This is one of four short movies—plus one feature film—turned out so far by Masnyk’s four-year-old company Another Theory Productions. As a calling card, this showpiece is both fun and extremely promising. Seen 23 November 2018

Orfeo

The ancient Greek myth of Orpheus is a timeless and heartbreaking tale of love and loss. Its theme of passion surviving the grave (or not) has inspired countless interpretations, variations and knock-offs. (Irrelevant and self-indulgent aside: my own novel The Curse of Septimus Bridge draws heavily on the Orpheus story.) In particular, it has provided material for an astounding number of operas (more than 70, the internet tells me), going all the way back to works by Jacopo Peri and Claudio Monteverdi at the beginning of the 17th century. We have a fresh reworking of the story in this film by Liz Kiger, founder and creative director of the Brooklyn Telemann Chamber Society. Orfeo ed Euridice was the most popular work of 18th-century Bavarian-born composer Christoph Willibald Gluck. The libretto is in Italian, and from the first original performances the part of Orfeo—renowned poet and player of the lyre—was composed for alto or soprano castrato. While this production amalgamates various previous versions and adds characters, it clocks in at just under an hour in running time. Orfeo’s soaring voice is that of Canadian-Polish lyric coloratura soprano Alexandra Pawlus, who embodies the Thracian prince with all the besotted ardor of youth. Fellow soprano Helena Waterous plays Eurydice, the doomed bride not as eager to rejoin the living as her husband would have hoped. Supporting characters include Amore (Allegra Durante), who encourages the poet to venture to the underworld; the ferryman Charon (Thomas Geib); a spirit of the underworld (Rebecca Rutkovsky); king of the underworld Hades (James Wigger) and his bride Persephone, who has a particularly nice aria (composed by Diego Naselli originally for a 1770 performance) when Orpheus pleads his case before the couple. Persephone is played by director Kiger, who also opens the film with a haunting violin overture in an introductory segment establishing Orfeo and Eurydice’s happiness before her untimely demise. Otherwise, music is provided entirely by harpsichordist Marie Blair in a nod to the opera’s Baroque period origins. Kiger has opened up the production by filming it in an open field under a sky that at times actually mirrors the Orfeo’s emotions with its changing cloud display. The underworld is represented by a derelict building that looks as though it could come crashing down at any time. The danger with filmed versions of stage works is that often the (usually static) camera has trouble holding the viewer’s attention, particularly in one such as this with impressively long takes. There’s no risk of that here, however, as the camera manages to move in interesting ways and find fresh angles without distracting us from the actors’ performances. This is no surprise since the director of photography is Matthew Kyle Levine, several of whose short films have been mentioned on these pages. As Kiger explains, while the idea of filming opera came about as a matter of necessity due to the Covid pandemic, it has the additional advantage of making the artists’ work accessible to wider audiences. Since its first premieres last year, it has been streaming free on YouTube with a donation suggested. It will have its final physical premiere this summer at the Film Noir Cinema in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, New York. Seen 2 April 2023

Ostia

As a filmmaker, Pier Paolo Pasolini has been celebrated for his controversial body of work, which ranges from Mamma Roma to Teorama, his trilogy of The Decameron, The Canterbury Tales and Arabian Nights and to his final provocation Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom. Nearly as fascinating for filmmakers as his work, though, has been his brutal death in 1975. Six years ago Abel Ferrara explored the filmmaker’s final day on earth in Pasolini, in which Willem Dafoe (bearing un uncanny resemblance) played the title role. Three years before that, Craig Boreham dramatized the murder in the short film Ostia – La notte finale. Sixteen years before that, Marco Tullio Giordana gave the grim story an Oliver Stone-style treatment in Who Killed Pasolini? Eight years before that, Julian Cole took a more artsy approach with this 26-minute film. Its most notable feature is the casting of filmmaker Derek Jarman (Caravaggio, The Last of England, Edward II) as Pasolini. Also notable is that the film does not bother hiding the fact that it is filmed in England rather than in Italy. There is a constant, meandering soundtrack monolog that feels pretentious, perhaps in an attempt to make the short resemble one of Pasolini’s own movies. The result is more of a feel of one of Jarman’s movies—but without any of that director’s trademark beauty. (Jarman had originally conceived this idea for one of his own films, but it was never realized.) The main facts are presented, preceded by 17-year-old Pino Pelosi (David Dipnall, looking older than a teenager) being hustled into a car by a group of men, signaling that he is bait to lure the filmmaker to his death. On the beach at Ostia, Pasolini is beaten by Pelosi and a group who has followed them from the restaurant, where they had dined, with Pelosi running him over afterward with the filmmaker’s own Alfa Romeo. That’s where the film abruptly ends. Arrested while driving the car, Pelosi would be the only one convicted of the murder. In 2005 he would retract his confession, saying it had been made under a threat to his family. As Pelosi died three years ago, we may never know the full story of Pasolini’s death, but I suspect we have not seen the last of these curious film projects dedicated to his martyrdom. Seen 11 July 2020

Over Coffee

If the late Gabriel García Márquez had been the one to pen this sweet little mini-romcom, he might have called it Love in the Time of Cappucino. At just over a quarter-hour, this tale of possible office romance spins its story economically and efficiently, complete with a classic three-act structure. Its setting will be familiar to any urban or suburban office worker—divided between the office and the local latte-dispensing coffee shop. It is established in the very first scene that Andrew is crushing on Carla but, in addition to his own shyness, he has to negotiate boorish colleague David and the imperious Mr. Rice, whose rigidity over his coffee sets the plot proper in motion. The story unfolds naturally and briskly, keeping us involved right up to the end. Erik Potempa is Steve Carell-like as Andrew, Michael Oberholtzer is creepy in the usual romcom-best-friend tradition, and Timothy J. Cox has a nice moment as Rice when an inopportune phone call humorously and unexpectedly infantilizes him. This is a 2010 film by Sean Meehan, whose latest work is Total Performance. Seen 8 December 2015

O Pai (The Great Father)

First, a little history. In 1755 Portugal was devastated by what became known as the Great Lisbon Earthquake. Modern seismologists estimate that its magnitude was between 8.5 and 9.0. The exact death toll from the quake and the resulting tsunami and fires is unknown, but it would have been somewhere between 10,000 and 100,000. In the aftermath of the catastrophe, there was a bloody settling of scores between the king and a large, powerful noble family. In this movie, the filmmakers have reimagined that historical moment to spin a fictionalized tale of popular rebellion, class conflict, and the dawn of the Enlightenment. It has the feel and scope of a historical epic, which is nothing short of amazing given that the film’s entire running length is a scant seven-and-a-half minutes. Yes, the pacing does feel rushed, as would have to be expected with such a time constraint, but the amount of story compacted into the brief runtime is nothing short of impressive. The narrative is compressed into four quick acts, each representing a consecutive day. I pay what I consider high praise for a short film when I say that I wish it could have gone on much longer and fleshed out the characters more. Much of the action takes the form of conversations between Portugal’s Queen Mariana (Ivone Biscaia) and her daughter—and heir to the throne—Princess Maria (Ana Catarina Lima). Other scenes involve restive rebels. Through his direction and editing, Tiago Abubakir generates an respectable degree of tension. The filmmakers cleverly get around their budgetary limitations (this is a student film) through such techniques as closeups, the depiction of key violent scenes just off-camera, and judicious use of Adobe software. The illusion of crowd numbers is effectively managed by something as simple as focusing on a few raised weapons. Establishment of the setting is quite convincing given the use of a period building that genuinely appears to be a palace as well as cinema-quality costumes. (Credit for the costumes is given to Ballet Rosana Abubakir, which is also acknowledged, along with Colégio Antônio Vieira, for facilities.) The actors—including Humberto Campos as the Black Baron and Eduardo Pereira as a rebel leader—are obviously experienced and comfortable with their craft. Producers Abubakir and Luiz Humberto Campos—who created the story and who appears onscreen as a young rebel—are also co-scenarists. They are based in Salvador, Brazil, and their achievement is all the more remarkable for the following facts: they are students at the secondary level, and their budget (at least according to an estimate on the film’s IMDb page) was a mere $475. Seen 11 April 2020

Partitioned Heart

If your computer runs a Microsoft operating system, then you have probably had the experience of the screen telling you that one or more programs is preventing Windows from shutting down. Amazingly, writer/director Matt Morris manages to turn that very common computer experience into a 21st-century allegory for loss, emotional attachment and struggling to find a way to let go and say goodbye. The only actor we see on screen for the film’s nine-minute running time is Travis Mitchell as Rob. The set-up exposition is spare but sufficient. Within a couple of minutes we grasp that his son has died. After clearing out Daniel’s computer room, Rob attempts to shut down his computer but a mysterious program refuses to quit. By some miracle the program allows Daniel (voiced by Malik Uhuru, whom we also glimpse in a photograph) to talk to Rob from beyond the grave. Rob’s extra time with his child is cherished but finite, and so this sci-fi/supernatural premise becomes a metaphor for trying to hold on to those we have lost and finally having to come to grips with letting go forever. Mitchell is a veteran player in numerous short films, as well as the web series Sex Personified and Ghost Light and an adaptation of the Small Miracles books. He is impressive and moving and totally believable as the grieving father accustomed to being the one who gets to make the decisions. When it comes to the most heartbreaking decision, though, he has to accept that it is out of his hands and our heart aches for him. The performance is quite an accomplishment, given that he has no actor physically present to work against. Kudos also to Uhuru for a performance that is also heart-rending and which must rely on his voice alone. Seen 21 May 2018

Paul Laurence Dunbar: An American Poet

The subject of this 10‑minute film is the first African-American poet to have been acclaimed at a national level. A native of Dayton, Paul Laurence Dunbar is honored in this tribute presented by Caesar’s Ford Theatre of Xenia, Ohio, and timed to coincide with the just-established national holiday Juneteenth. The writer/director is Yellow Springs filmmaker Kane Stratton, whose previous short film subject was Caesar (presumably the theater’s namesake?), an 18th-century runaway slave who became a member of the Shawnee tribe in Ohio. This movie imagines a dinner in 1904 at the home of Dunbar’s mother Matilda at which Dayton’s mayor C.A. Snyder is a guest. The purpose is to discuss the poet’s participation in an upcoming Fourth of July extravaganza, but there is a hiccup over a symbolic matter. It is the sort of disagreement that will not be unfamiliar to contemporary audiences. The mayor wants the lauded poet but not any potential controversy that may come with him. Played by A. Slate, Dunbar exudes dignified eloquence. (Dunbar would have been around 30 when this takes place, and what the film does not allude to is that he was suffering from tuberculosis at the time and would be dead in a year and a half.) Timothy J. Cox plays the mayor as a political calculator used to getting his way. The warmly human presence between the two men is MyJoy Filer as Matilda. The fourth actor is Tanner James Brown as the mayor’s obsequious aide. While Dunbar and Snyder debate a minor matter of principle, it is clear that the debate is symbolic of larger divisions that have split the country for centuries. The film is optimistic in that the stubbornness over the rift is mitigated by Matilda’s common sense and Dunbar’s soaring words. He gives the mayor a preview recital of his poem “Sympathy,” and Slate delivers it powerfully and movingly. These days that poem may be most familiar to listeners because of a line borrowed by Maya Angelou for the title of her autobiography: “I know why the caged bird sings.” Stratton’s film is a welcome reminder that art may be our best hope for healing old divisions. As of this writing, the film can be found on the Caesar’s Ford Theatre’s page on Facebook. Seen 22 June 2021

Peabrain

We have enjoyed Steve Blackwood’s affectionate salutes to genre films, like the detective noir short Private, the wacky screwball comedy Stuck and the sparring-romcom Meet the Author. Clearly, his new film is much more deeply personal. It is dedicated to the memory of his father, who died in 2015. A quarter-hour drama, it recounts a son’s visit to his dad in an assisted-living home. In the first few minutes, the situation is made clear. Phil appears normal enough and well functioning, but we quickly realize he has become a master at covering up his memory problems. He not only fails to recognize Craig, his own offspring, when he calls to the door, but he then mistakes him for his other son. The hints are that Phil suffers from alcohol-related dementia. Anyone who has had a parent with Alzheimer’s or dementia will identify with the poignant back and forth, and everyone else will relate to the generational chafing over changing culture and standards. At the heart of this relationship, of course, is the fact that we never really stop being the young child we once were, and parents often don’t fathom the lifelong effects their words have on their kids. In flashbacks as young Craig, Silas Robbins does a nice job evoking the emotional hurt. There is also the poignancy of the inevitable reversing of child-parent roles. The film’s narrative has a meta quality, as Craig is a filmmaker who has settled into “making my own movies now,” and writer/director Blackwood plays the father who, like his own, was a former baseball player. Craig (played by Brian J. McDonald) is a former cast member of Days of Our Lives, as was Blackwood, who appeared in hundreds of the soap’s episodes a couple of decades ago. In a particularly funny but wince-inducing scene, Phil and one of the home staff (an engaging Halle Curley) get carried away while making light of the dad’s painful taunts. The film ends on a wistful (and again meta) note, suggesting that art such as movies can, if not exactly fix or improve reality, at least give it some perspective and help us detach from it. It can also perhaps be a way of healing. Seen 7 October 2023

The Penis

Well, the title certainly gets our attention. The next thing we notice is how short it is. I am speaking, of course, about the length of the film, which is just a tad over two and a half minutes. The auteur of this faux commercial message for a sure-fire way to get ahead in the employment world is Audrey Noone, who tickled us last year with the slightly longer comedy A Warming Trend. For years Canadian filmmaker David Cronenberg has unsettled us with a genre that has come to be called body horror, and now Noone is pioneering a sub-genre that might be called body humor. While A Warming Trend took a wry look at a very particular aspect of female biology, this new film has a laugh at the expense of double standards in the office as exemplified by the most apparent difference between men and women. Noone herself appears onscreen in the opening scene, as a well-qualified woman applying for a position. Other amusing vignettes follow, with the titular appendage acting as a stand-in for the concept of masculine domination. As the film makes clear, though, you do not even necessarily have to be female to need a hedge against testosterone in the workplace. Seen 24 June 2016

Please Punish Me

Positive Discrimination

In Ireland the term “positive discrimination” refers to the practice of giving extra help to people who are disadvantaged, i.e. what we would call affirmative action in America. By the time we get to the end of Charlo Johnson’s engrossing 12-minute movie, we realize that the phrase here is perhaps just a tad ironic. As we watch elderly Joe negotiate the streets of Dublin back to his flat, we see enough casual acts of kindness toward him to suspect that this may actually be a promo for the Samaritans. Don’t be fooled. Nothing is quite what it seems, as Joe receives a pleasant home visit from a kindly young woman played by Róisín O’Donovan, a regular on the Irish cop drama Red Rock. Old Joe, as played by white-bearded Liam Burke, is a twinkly grandfatherly presence. Their visit is as natural and comfortable as any you might have with your own favorite uncle. That is probably why we don’t see the twists coming any sooner than we do. Also on hand is the imposing presence of Niall Dempsey as a detective who may or may not be Joe’s nephew. An interesting tidbit from Burke’s IMDb page: he was actually cast to play the assassinated mad king Aerys Targaryen in flashback scenes on Game of Thrones, but his scenes wound up on the cutting room floor. For this film, however, he was nominated as best actor at the Los Angeles Independent Film Festival, where Positive Discrimination won the prize for best foreign short film. For his part, writer/director Johnson, who hails from Tipperary, picked up nominations for best writing and best new Irish director from the Cork-based Kinsale Shark Awards. Seen 18 February 2016

Private

A shiny classic car pulls up to a nondescript building. A classy blonde dame gets out and swans into a seedy office, and film buffs know exactly where we are. These are all the touches of ageless film noir. Sure enough, in walks the world-weary private detective to meet with her. The actors are Sandy Bainum and Steve Blackwood. We saw them a couple of years ago in another homage to a Hollywood movie genre, a screwball comedy called Stuck, and once again we are swept into a celluloid-esque world of comfortable film familiarity. He’s Bogart or Mitchum or maybe even Nicholson. She’s Astor or Tierney or perhaps Dunaway. The case she’s hired him for has gone nowhere—or so she thinks—and she’s come to settle accounts. He keeps her talking, as something more than his paycheck is nagging at him. There’s something fishy all right about her husband’s mysterious disappearance. He was a Michigan state senator, and there’s a twist. Then another one. Then another. We could easily believe this is an actual artifact from the 1940s, but as with Roman Polanksi’s 1974 neo-noir Chinatown, sordid themes that were referenced only obliquely in the 1940s are dealt with here more forthrightly, reflecting the contemporary climate. In a running time just short of 20 minutes, we get an amazing amount of backstory on the two characters, as well as a deep dive into their psyches, motivations and nature. The story ends on an ambiguous note, daring us to put ourselves in the private eye’s place and ponder what we would do in his situation. Actor/singer/comedian/filmmaker Blackwood directed the movie, having adapted it from his own one-act play. It’s set in Detroit but was filmed in glorious black and white in Blackwood’s stomping ground of Newburyport, Massachusetts, where Stuck and Meet the Author were also shot. The movie has been making the rounds on the international film festival circuit, picking up awards for Best Drama at the London Indie Short Festival, Best Period Movie at Iowa’s Star City Film Festival, and Best Narrative Short at the Berlin International Art Film Festival. Another movie is already in the works from Blackwood Productions, and we will definitely look forward to it. There is a special pleasure in seeing the work of people who have a genuine love of film. Seen 29 December 2022

Psychic Murder

There is something a bit noir-ish and something of the absurd about this comedy/drama by Brandon Block. Billy is an aspiring comedian trying to find his feet in front of an indifferent audience. The usual lines about his non-existent love life are met with uncomfortable silence. He is, as they say, dying out there—until he starts joking about his unusual hands—and that is where the absurd element comes in. The best way to describe his mitts are, well, cartoon hands. On stage Billy recovers well enough to be approached afterward at the bar by a talent agent, who turns out to be a real piece of work. Played with near-satanic malevolence by Timothy J. Cox, this guy gives Billy a clear idea what to expect if he signs away his soul to him. A bathroom encounter with the guy’s girlfriend only emphasizes the mind games that will be involved. Will Billy do it? Or will he hold on to his independence and his integrity? A nice mood is set by the film’s washed-out lighting and a piano score composed by Nicholas Saia and played by Christopher Frick. A nice jolt of humor is provided by some brief flashbacks, and Will Bernish is suitably nervous and ill-at-ease as the callow Billy. (A throw-away James Stewart line suggests that Billy’s real gift may actually lie in impersonations.) Tatiana Ford, as the agent’s arm candy, shines in her brief moment alone with Billy. Block’s screenplay, adapted from the short story Ghosts by Maxwell Gontarek, could well become standard course material for people studying neuroses among those in the entertainment business. Seen 18 March 2017

Pusher

We read and hear frequently about the opioid crisis afflicting the American heartland, but for those of us removed from it, it remains mostly an abstraction. This film, beautifully written and directed by Andi Morrow, makes it heartbreakingly real. Though it shares its title with the 1996 Danish film that made Nicolas Winding Refn an international phenomenon, the two movies could not be more dissimilar. Morrow’s film eschews every convention and cliché of the standard drug dealer genre. It is not about violence, deals gone bad or male territorial disputes. Rather, it shines a light on the devastation wrought on America’s rural hinterlands and small communities by the addiction epidemic. Morrow plays Brittany Lee, a small-time dealer who, over the course of a day, becomes cognizant of the path she is on. She sees her supplier ready to pocket her profits and pursue an education, while a friend and customer of hers is clearly on a downward spiral. We also see a generational split when she attends a church service with her “Mamaw.” The attendees are few and elderly, but the comfort religion brings these people fretting over their families—small though it is—contrasts sharply with the hopelessness of the young in their boredom and aimlessness. The actors in the church scenes (Cindy Ralston, Cynthia D. Perry, Dan Tippen, Jackson Pyle) are particularly effective in touching our hearts with their sincerity and dignity. Filmmaker Morrow, a native of East Tennessee, plays Brittany with authenticity and natural ease. This is not surprising to those of us who saw her work in Mark Battle’s short Here Lies Joe. It is refreshing to see a film set in the American South that, while not flinching from a serious social problem, does not condescend or trade in facile stereotypes. Morrow’s film does not—and no movie could—offer solutions to the problem it highlights, but in the humanity of its characters and its protagonist’s emerging self-awareness, it at least offers glimmers of hope. Pusher will have its world premiere on March 15 at the Pasadena International Film Festival, where it is a Best Short Film nominee. It will also be seen April 11-14 at the Chattanooga Film Festival, and it is well worth catching if you have the opportunity. Seen 1 March 2019

Query

There is now nearly a whole virtual subgenre of film about ostensibly straight male friends having their whole worldview shaken in a moment of—under some pretext or other—engaging in some degree of sexual experimentation. We have seen this in such films as Alfonso Cuarón’s Y tu mamá también, the late Lynn Shelton’s Humpday and Xavier Dolan’s Matthias et Maxime. The notion has also been played for (usually uncomfortable) laughs in numerous mainstream comedies, as well as quite a few indy gay-themed films in which it invariably signals a character’s repressed sexuality. (Disclaimer/gratuitous plug: there is even such an episode in my new novel Searching for Cunégonde.) Sophie Kargman’s nine-minute film Query effectively strips the premise down to its bare essentials. We observe student roommates Alex and Jay as they go through a day. They are constantly in each other’s company and engaged in non-stop chat—when not interrupted by a video call from Alex’s girlfriend Olivia. The topic of conversation this particular day is the nature of sexual orientation and whether it is inborn or learned behavior. Ancient Greek male-bonding customs are raised. Amid the usual guy trash talk, Alex sounds honestly inquisitive, while the more macho Jay is dismissively skeptical. It is thus something of a surprise when, in the evening over a game of backgammon on the patio, it is Jay suggesting they experiment with a kiss. Jay is played by Justice Smith of the series The Get Down and the upcoming Jurassic World: Dominion. Alex is played by Graham Patrick Martin of Two and a Half Men, Major Crimes and the recent Catch–22 miniseries. At one point they interact with a jogger played by Armie Hammer, and it is clearly no accident the blink-or-you’ll-miss-it cameo features a star of the most homoerotic movie of recent years, Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name. In the final moments, Smith’s performance is impressively subtle but masterful. Left alone for a brief moment, his expressions and body language convey an abundance of questions, thoughts and reflections. Has this friendship changed irrevocably or was this just a brief experience to be lived and forgotten? Director Kargman co-wrote the screenplay with Ryan Farhoudi, who also co-wrote the 2013 comedy Man Camp. Seen 16 October 2020

Raiders of the Hidden Donald Trump Fetish Doll

I’ll tell you how good this nine-minute film by Angel Connell is at executing its clever conceit. It takes the form of a crowdfunding pitch for a new movie, and as I watched it, I actually did think it really was a pitch. (Come to think of it, maybe it was.) Only as the sly humor set in did it dawn on me that what it really is, though, is a shrewd and amusing parody. On one hand, it is a commentary on what independent filmmakers must go through in our current age in order to get a movie made. On the other hand, it is a knowing observation on our over-wrought political times. Connell joins such artists as Federico Fellini and Woody Allen in making himself (and it really is himself, not even an alter ego) the center of the story as we join him in experiencing the filmmaker’s creative life and journey. Given that his oeuvre includes such titles as Beneath the Veneer of a Murder, Meaningful Murders and Evening of the Evil Eye (which, as far as I can tell, is still in the screenplay stage), the proceedings take a decidedly violent (but off-screen) turn at regular intervals. The setup is that Connell is auctioning off the titular Trump fetish doll in a bid to raise cash, and a strange assortment of characters comes out of the woodwork, desperate to have the prize. By the time it is over, we have heard from the Russians, the North Koreans, the Iranians and even fanatical Hillary Clinton supporters. The humor is nothing if not topical. This will not be the only time the memorably disturbing Trump doll (designed by Connell and realized by Scott C. Miller) figures in a Connell movie. It is also the MacGuffin in Evening of the Evil Eye. (Raiders is actually drawn from skits that were devised to crowdfund for that film.) Shot in glorious black and white, the film’s production values are extraordinarily good for a short flick that is basically a single extended joke. Kudos to the entire crew, notably Chris Esper (cinematography/sound). As an actor, Connell is a solid comic presence. Other standouts include Kermens Atwood as a smooth spokesman for Kim Jong-un (because, it is explained, Dennis Rodman wasn’t available) and Sissy O’Hara as a fiercely determined Hillary Clinton surrogate. Raiders certainly lives up to its tagline: “Let’s make crowdfunding campaigns great again!” Seen 15 March 2020

Ready Cash

“I assume you’re okay with needles.” This innocuously delivered inquiry takes on chilling implications two-thirds of the way through this half-hour movie. Justin is indeed okay with needles, as we have seen in the film’s delirious and dream-like opening shots, but now he is in an entirely different and ominous situation. Ready Cash works on several different levels, but it is perhaps most effective as a cautionary tale. The scenario is that of a thriller and at times teases us with trappings of the horror genre. It’s a fascinating blend of gritty neo-realistic drama and urban legend, and the execution is first-rate. Directors Austin Shell and Dylan M. Shell did their own cinematography, and they definitely know their way around framing, lighting and how to create a mood with a judicious bit of visual effects. They are credited as The Shell Brothers, bringing to mind all those pairs of cinematic siblings (Coens, Wachowskis, Russos) who have dazzled us with their strangely symbiotic creativity. Hunky Zach Thomas plays Justin, a man living irresponsibly moment to moment with a drug debt to a feared local dealer. He now finds himself out of resources and devoid of options. His only hope is a mysterious business card handed to him sometime back. What does he have left, we wonder, that would be worth what he now needs? And if he survives, will he make the most of what will surely be his last chance? Tracy Bedford is sympathetic as his mother, who has run out of ways to help him. Sydney Jordan is the girlfriend to whom his addiction is virtually indistinguishable from that of the drugs. Timothy J. Cox is the Faustian figure with whom he makes his dire bargain. The performances are all solid, and the visuals and sound are effective without being distracting. The screenplay is by Austin Shell after a story Chet Turner. All in all, an impressive piece of visual storytelling. Seen 19 February 2024

The Red Lotus

This movie poses what I call the Catch-22 challenge in film reviewing. On one hand, it has an extremely thought-provoking premise that is certain to draw in an audience. On the other hand, a lot of the satisfaction in viewing the film comes from actually seeing that premise revealed, which means I feel obliged to be circumspect in describing it. So forgive me if this turns out to be a maddeningly vague review. The Red Lotus’s IMDb plot summary has it being set “in a not too distant dystopian future,” but that may be a bit misleading since it might suggest something along the lines of one of those YA adventure novels. A better way to think of it might be as speculative fiction about where America could possibly be in just a couple of years. Two women are driving through a wooded countryside. Debbie is accompanying her sister Michelle to a yoga retreat—or so she believes. As they get closer, it becomes apparent that something else is going on. By the time we get to the end of the film’s 19 minutes, this flick has displayed elements of both being a mystery and a political thriller. Yet it does not strictly follow the conventions of either of those genres. Instead it ends with a simple conversation that brings up old regrets, sadness and past tragedy. It ends on a quietly emotional note after shining a light on the often conflicting emotions and feelings that go with being a woman. Michelle is played by Jennifer Plotzke. Debbie is played by Shara Ashley Zeiger, who wrote the screenplay. This is a very different—and clearly much more personal—than her recent delightful romantic comedy Joe. The director is Jessica Alexandra Green, who is also an actor and film editor and who has helmed five previous short films. The Red Lotus will premiere at the New York Shorts International Film Festival on May 31. Seen 15 May 2018

Reina

Seth and Michelle are on a first date, and it is not going well. So far, so standard in terms of romcom setups. From there, however, the story takes a few unexpected turns and does not go anywhere we might have thought it would. Seth cannot stop talking about Reina and his heartbreak over losing her, which unsurprisingly does not make for a great evening for the woman he’s with. She decides to end it early. He asks for another chance. And then the twists begin. It would be unfair to say more about what happens in this 14-minute movie—except that there is more than one curveball coming and quite a bit to laugh at. As Seth, Sergio Castillo has a face with the elasticity of a young Mel Brooks. He is the classic movie schlemiel that we cannot help but root for, even while our common sense tells us that we should be annoyed by him. As Michelle, Kat Peña gives classic reactions—necessary for comedy to work—to situations that go from bad to worse. As a trio of colluding Russians, Ron Orlovsky, Travis Mitchell and Woodrow Proctor provide a nice mix of potential threat and goofball inter-dynamics. All demonstrate the timing and confidence of comic pros. Impressive as the aforementioned are, though, the most touching performance, against all odds, is actually turned in by Bootsy in the title role. Her eyes break your heart. Credit for that lies firmly with writer/director Philip Vickery. Reina is professional quality entertainment with its own winning idiosyncratic sense of humor. Seen 8 August 2018

Return to Glennascaul

This 23-minute shaggy dog ghost story is an intriguing artifact not only of world film history but also of Irish theatre heritage. It is the only movie directed by Hilton Edwards, who was also one of its producers along with his longtime partner Micheál MacLiammóir. Co-founders of Dublin’s Gate Theatre in 1928, the pair were giants on Ireland’s arts scene for a half-century. This black and white flick, released in 1952, appears to have been made as a lark to take advantage of the availability of their old chum Orson Welles, who was cooling his heels in Ireland during one of his periodic breaks in trying to finish his funding-plagued adaptation of Othello. The trio became great friends after the American arrived on a boat in Galway in 1931 at the age of 16 and eventually made his way to Dublin where he chanced his way into an acting career. In Return to Glennascaul Welles plays himself picking up a stranded motorist in the middle of the night. While being driven home, the fellow (Michael Laurence) relates how previously, on the very same road, he similarly gave a lift to a mother and daughter who subsequently invited him into their stately house for a cup of tea “or something stronger.” Anyone who has ever heard an urban legend can foresee how things will go, and there’s an effective level of gothic creepiness—not to mention some sly humor. (The house’s name in the title translates as glen of the shadows, so consider this a forerunner of my all-time favorite daytime serial.) The real-life story of MacLiammóir is a fascinating one. With a name like that, you might assume he was as Irish as they come and probably a native of some remote corner of the Gaeltacht. Indeed, he passed himself off as being from Cork, but he was actually born as Alfred Willmore in London with no Irish connection at all. He created an Irish identity for himself after he met Edwards and realized his destiny lay in Éire (and conveniently avoided UK military service during World War I), going so far as to become fully fluent in the Irish language. A flamboyant stage performer, he also had a film career, which included playing Iago in Welles’s Othello. He also appeared in John Huston’s The Kremlin Letter and the Debbie Reynolds/Shelley Winters Grand-Guignol What’s the Matter with Helen? and was the narrator in Tony Richardson’s Tom Jones. Seen 2 June 2023

Revenge Tour

We are warned at the outset that this nine-minute film “contains material that may be harmful or traumatizing to some audiences.” By the end, it is clear which specific audience the filmmaker has in mind, and we realize the warning is not only tongue-in-cheek but also essentially a punchline. The narrative involves a pair of cops—Vince Hobart Smith is the cynical senior detective, Hasan Hamad is the eager rookie—investigating a disturbing string of brutal murders and missing persons. The connection? All the victims were involved in the film business. If you think this is an opportunity for some wry observations about independent movie-making and about some of the people in that world, well, you’re right on the same page with writer/director Bryon Jones, who clearly had a good time making this flick. People who have previously worked with Jones show up as witnesses/interviewees at the police station, including Theo White, who stars in White’s recently released Creatures of Habit. The actors all play the police procedural format straight, which makes the humor all the funnier. A particularly good gag is the way the killer adorns his victims with scraps of cardboard scrawled with ironic pull quotes from typical film critic blurbs. The gruesome-slaying set pieces clearly provided amusing creative work for Jones’s SFX artists (Morgan Riegler and Beth Metcalf). So what is my honest opinion of this film? I can sincerely say it is better than Citizen Kane or any movie ever made by Steven Spielberg. You can quote me on that. Really, it’s true. Now, please, just don’t hurt me. Seen 3 July 2024

Rewriting Mallory

As Joshua leaves his therapist’s office, he passes an older man in the corridor. The man gives him a strange look. It appears to be a simple throwaway detail that could well be superfluous, but by the end of this 20-minute film, that seemingly minor moment pays off handsomely. The basic story (screenplay by Malcolm Vanderwoude) is simple enough but deceptively so. There is a twist or two that cause us to wonder if we are in the realm of metaphor or fantasy or perhaps the supernatural. It is the kind of literary conceit that puts us in mind of Latin American writers like Jorge Luis Borges. The setup: Joshua (a very natural Jonathan Erwin) is grieving a loss and is having difficulty moving forward. Because he is a sometime writer, his therapist (Lucy Borchers) suggests he try working out his experience as a writing exercise. He settles into a neighborhood café that has personal meaning for him and, while sipping coffee, puts pen to paper. As his tale unfolds, we wonder if it’s a literal account or rather a therapeutic fiction. Things become more perplexing when the lines between his story and reality begin to blur. By the end we are made to totally reassess how much of what we’ve seen is the “real” story and how much is imagination. It’s a clever narrative conceit that will tickle the writer in many of us. Filmed in Ohio, the movie was directed by Emerson Adams. She recently appeared in front of the camera in Ryan Fleming’s short Sisyphus Unbound, another film concerned with a writer’s travails. Adams’s movie, while necessarily set-bound and focused on conversations, has an assured look that holds our interest visually throughout. Additional cast include Tammy Sanow in a sympathetic performance as the titular Mallory, Bryson Schultz as her disappointed boyfriend, Timothy J. Cox as the boss who makes her day the worst ever, and Zach Holt as the café server who worries about people taking on more than they can handle. Despite the subject matter, the film is sweetly optimistic, as it celebrates the possibility of human connection and the potential healing power of literature and creativity. Seen 26 May 2023

Rooftops

This 12-minute film by Bruce Bradbury is a fine example of fitting a fair amount of narrative information into a brief timespan where, deceptively, nothing all that much seems to be going on. Tatiana Borie plays Rachel, a young New York musician who has been away on tour. We quickly gather she is talented, as the film opens with her being recognized by a rather enthusiastic fan in search of an autograph. Her shy but friendly response suggests perhaps she still has not quite “made it” but it may be only a matter of time. We next find her at the apartment of friends in Brooklyn. Their exuberant reception implies she has been away quite a while, and they are disappointed to learn she is leaving again the following day. Additional subtle storytelling alerts us that there is something special about Rachel’s friendship with Margaret, played by Sloan Pirie. Knowing glances between Kim and Johnny hint that the two women have history—or perhaps pre-history? The visit, which involves a walk along the Hudson River, culminates with Rachel and Margaret passing the night on a rooftop, talking until dawn. The conversations among the friends are natural and realistic, as if Bradbury had simply recorded normal people going about a normal day. In addition to co-writing the screenplay (with Zavier Henderson) and co-producing (with Borie), Bradbury plays the role of Johnny and does so with an engagingly boyish charm. Alex Leombruno completes the quartet as Kim. With a few deft strokes, the filmmakers do a lovely job of evoking the wanderlust of the young, the ties that draw them back home, the strength of youthful friendships, and the difficult choices that arise when one’s heart is pulled in different directions. Despite the film’s New York location, Bradbury is actually based in Portland, Oregon, where he pursues filmmaking and cinematography. Seen 10 February 2020

The Runaround Club

This tense little drama by Matthew Rindini mostly takes place in a house one evening over a relatively short amount of time. Two young men break into the house with burglary as the apparent motive, but things get dicey when the three residents return home unexpectedly. Short-tempered dad Frank and daughter Linda eventually become aware of the interlopers’ presence but assume that they are friends of Linda’s sister. And, frankly, things are left ambiguous enough that the viewer cannot be completely certain whether that is true or not. The fifteen-minute running time doesn’t really give an opportunity for delving deeply into what are clearly complicated family dynamics, and John Depew’s performance, while solid, doesn’t really make Frank quite as monstrous as he is meant to be. In the end, the film’s highlight is the comfortable rapport that develops between Linda and the alpha burglar Lucas. Their banter successfully keeps us guessing as to what way things might ultimately go. As Lucas, Ariel Zuckerman displays ample leading man potential and, as Linda, Asta Paredes has an appealing vulnerability laced with independence. (Aficionados of Troma productions may recognize this veteran actor as the lead in two Return to Nuke ’Em High flicks.) Andrew Gleeson wrote the screenplay, and filming was done in Dalton, Massachusetts. Seen 22 January 2016

Scar

When we meet Scarlett, she and her father are running late. Still, he indulges her when she wants to stop for a pizza slice. He does so again when she drops it getting back in the car. There’s a reason for his forbearance. Unlike Scarlett, he already knows all too well what lies in her short-term future, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to try to make it up to her. At this point, she’s a silly, heedless teenager—but not for much longer. This 18-minute film written and directed by Alison Hale takes us through some of the intermittent moments of a teen’s cancer diagnosis and treatment. “Honestly,” she explains to a friend, as she recounts the endless rounds of chemotherapy, “cancer is boring.” In brief snippets, we get the range of moods, emotions and imaginings of someone forced to confront her mortality at such a young age. Some scenes are characterized by bravery in the face of reality. Others are pure tears. Some are like dark dream sequences where the doctor’s and the father’s voices are drowned out. In the most uplifting one, Scarlett has a conversation with her dead mother, who had the same cancer. The title is apparently the main character’s nickname, but does it also refer to the exterior and interior trauma of a relentless disease? The role of Scarlett requires Casey Landman to play many and varied intense feelings, and she touches all the right notes. Indeed, she breaks our hearts. By contrast, Travis Mitchell, as her father, necessarily gives a more nuanced—but no less affecting—performance as a man who has to keep it together for his child. We have seen Mitchell in other short films (Reina, The Convict), but this depiction is most reminiscent of his impressive turn in Partitioned Heart, which dealt with a similar theme. Thankfully, Scar ends on a happy note, but here’s the thing. Is it real or another of Scarlett’s dreams? Seen 7 February 2022

Scary Little F**kers

Just to be clear, it is my own sense of editorial delicacy that has cleaned up the film’s name. As released by IM Filmworks, the title appears in all its original Anglo-Saxon glory. A fairly spot-on parody of Joe Dante’s Gremlins, the flick has pretty good matches for Hoyt Axton and Zach Gilligan of the original in Rich Tretheway and Josh Fontaine. It tells the story of perpetually inebriated Saul who poignantly (pathetically?) tries to make up for his inadequate parenting skills with an unusual gift for his alienated 15-year-old son Kyle. Soon, however, the Fookas are multiplying—and not because they got wet but for more straightforward (and blinding) biological reasons—and mayhem ensues. Despite a determination toward raunchiness, the flick actually turns out to be almost sweet in spite of itself. At 23 minutes, its length is just about right so that the jokey premise does not wear out its welcome, and there are a few pretty good laughs. While the quality is low-budget (no Jim Henson calibre creatures here but that’s part of the fun), it is definitely professional. A particularly nice turn is contributed by Anna Rizzo as Kyle’s bubble-gum-chewing girlfriend who has a not-entirely-healthy eye on Dad. The director is Nathan Suher, who has a string of shorts under his belt—with more to come. The writer is Lenny Schwartz, who has previously written the feature films Accidental Incest (which he also produced), Normal and Murder University. Seen 8 March 2016

Seduction Theory

One often gets the feeling with certain independent movies and shorts that the writer/director is using the filmmaking process as a form of therapy. In the case of this 20-minute movie, that is the actual premise, and the profession of psychological counseling does not come out well in the process. We meet our unnamed protagonist as a twelve-year-old using a stethoscope to eavesdrop through a wall on his psychiatrist father and his patients in the dad’s basement home office. Because the lad has his own emotional issues, manifested through adolescent bedwetting, you would think Dad would be uniquely suited to deal with the problem. It’s no surprise, though, to observe the over-educated, under-nurturing parents are really the cause of the problem. This is basically a comedy, with the humor flowing from wry observations on the whole therapy phenomenon, as well as a story told from an adult’s perspective but through the mouth of a child. Indeed, as our hero’s narrative continues through his later life, we see it consistently from the child’s point of view. I’m not any kind of expert on psychology, but I think this means the protagonist is emotionally stuck at the pivotal age of twelve. By the end, the story turns emotional, as we glimpse the father’s eventual demise and how childhood baggage carries on into the protagonist’s adult relationships. It’s an interesting way to look at how we never truly escape our childhood. As the kid, Christian Goodwin has an older-than-his-years presence that belies his baby face. The dad is played with just the right amount of pompous self-absorption by Michael Cumpsty, a familiar face from numerous film and television roles. The filmmaker is Steven Ascher, who mainly works in documentaries, including the moving 1995 farm-in-jeopardy doc Troublesome Creek: A Midwestern, which he co-directed with Jeanne Jordan. Seen 14 August 2020

The ’78 Slasher: A Halloween Fan Film

After decades of Halloween sequels, remakes and reboots—not to mention those of all the other horror/slasher franchises that began in the late 70s onward—many of us forget that John Carpenter’s original 1978 movie Halloween was actually pretty restrained in terms of blood, gore and graphic violence. It was more in the vein of Hitchcock’s Psycho in that it relied mostly on masterful audience manipulation in terms of building suspense and playing on fears and expectations of viewers. Aspiring filmmakers could do worse than to study and learn from Carpenter’s techniques, and of course, many have done just that and also paid video homage to JC’s work with their own filmed efforts. Actor Mark Murtha has been involved in such fan films before, but this one he directed himself and co-wrote (with Owen Simcox). He also plays the Shape, i.e. the relentless killer in a mask preying on teenage victims. By alluding to the year 1978 in the title, Murtha signals that this flick is focused on the original movie and not all the other stuff that came later. It takes place on Halloween, the night of Michael Myers’s killing spree in Haddonfield, Illinois, as depicted in Carpenter’s original film, but involves a different set of victims. (It’s not exactly clear to me whether it’s meant to take place before or after the movie’s events.) Chief among Myers’s numerous potential victims at a Halloween party is Ben Tramer (Louis B. Hauff), a character mentioned but not seen in the original Carpenter movie. It was revealed that Jamie Lee Curtis’s Laurie Strode had a crush on him, and that detail is acknowledged in this film when Ben makes a reference to Laurie. Murtha and crew have learned well from studying the genre, and the film exhibits effective use of pacing, visual angles, reveals, and a knack showing us what the characters do not or cannot see in order to build suspense. The Shape is a simple concept yet very unsettling in his blank appearance and tendency to appear somewhere in the shot and then vanish suddenly and then re-appear. Kudos to the cast for convincing performances as smalltown teenagers. Also making a solid contribution to the overall mood and tone is the musical soundtrack by Murtha, Aaron Poland, Tim Jones and Brent Lee. Murtha had an onscreen role in Thomas Angeletti’s similarly themed short Friends Forever, and Angeletti has returned the favor by taking on cinematography duties (along with Tyler Ronk) on Murtha’s film. Another member of this virtual repertory company is actor Paige Hoover who has roles in both flicks. The ’78 Slasher is a concise 33-minute film from which you come away with a full and complete horror movie experience. Seen 12 January 2024

Shadow

One comment I frequently find myself making about short films I like is that I wish they were longer. In the case of Shadow I would go so far as to say that it is actually essential for it to be longer. While the story is complete enough in terms of its plot arc, the sensitivity of the subject matter begs for even more time to be spent on character development. The theme—the sometimes poisonous culture of sexual expectations and behavior on American college campuses—is quite topical, so a film that is too brief (Shadow clocks in at just over twelve minutes) risks coming off as a mere “message” movie instead of the thoughtful drama it clearly aspires to be. As the main character, Revell Carpenter is totally convincing and sympathetic as a shy student with a crush on Allen, who is tutoring her. He is played by Kumasi Hopkins, and he nicely gives us a sense of a generally decent guy conflicted by his misguided loyalty to his friend Will. As the “villain” of the piece, Will (played by the film’s writer/director Nicholas Goodwin) is the least nuanced of the main characters. While he may deserve no sympathy, satisfactory drama requires that, as much has possible, he exist as a flesh-and-blood, complex human being, so it would be effective to get to know and understand him somewhat better. The film’s production is quite good, with natural performances by all and a non-linear narrative that works to contribute to the emotional impact—rather than just being a gimmick, as time jumps too often are. Particularly notable is the well-chosen soundtrack music that draws on public domain sources and which features Neil Cross, Alexis Dezer, Kyle Preston, Oliver Olsen and INOVA. Filmmaker Goodwin has been busy with a couple of other flicks completed or nearly finished already this year. Impressive versatility is suggested by the fact that he can pen such a sensitive story from a female point of view while also giving a convincing acting performance as a unrepentant cad. Seen 23 April 2018

Shine

This 18-minute movie from Northern Ireland has the same title as Scott Hicks’s 1996 Australian film, which won an Oscar for Geoffrey Rush, and that may not be a coincidence. Both movies are about young men with artistic gifts and dreams but who are discouraged by strict fathers. Young Nick’s da Johnny (a no-nonsense John McIlmail) is not nearly the monster that Armin Mueller-Stahl played in Hicks’s flick, but he can be cutting. “Do you want to be funny?” he shoots at the lad with those exquisite Ulster vowels over breakfast. “Join the circus. I’ve no time for that shite here.” Ma (Sandra Brown) is more supportive, though she doesn’t want to see the lad flying the coop either. She is an Irish mammy after all. Nick’s situation is a familiar one in rural Ireland. His time is not his own. When not working as a laborer, he is under extreme pressure, as the only son, to keep the family farm going. This may sound grim, but the film’s tone is light and sweet, largely due to Declan Curry’s amiable performance as Nick. His attachment to home is deep and real, and he himself clearly needs to be convinced of chancing a foray into the wider world, perhaps even more than the parents. We see this in the tender attachment between him and Sally the border collie and in the heartfelt farewell speech he delivers to the cattle. He is finally pushed to take the risk after a chance encounter with a woman (Rosamund Monteith) in the local church, and her intervention seems nearly divine. The story somewhat parallels Curry’s own, as he wrote and directed the film as a step toward building on his own amateur acting career. Filmed in scenic County Down, it benefits visually from the region’s gorgeous landscapes. He has another short in the works and has recently gotten attention from national broadcaster RTÉ. Among his IMDb credits is a bit part as a Wight in Game of Thrones, only strengthening the impression that every single working actor in the North managed to find his or her way into that mega-hit series’s sprawling cast. Seen 29 November 2022

Simon’s Quest

In the alternate universe that is Simon’s Quest, “monsters” (vampires, werewolves, demons) are real and live in society along with everyone else. Which is not to say that their interactions with non-monsters are always smooth. We know this because the film begins with an infomercial featuring a brimstone-and-fire televangelist type hawking an assortment of weapons designed to kill them. Not everyone, however, takes such an antagonistic and violent approach. In this world there are, for instance, support groups to help “monsters” accept themselves for who they are. This 22-minute satirical comedy by Marley Jaeger takes the form of found footage, presumably raw footage for a documentary. The subject is Simon, and he definitely has self-esteem issues. He had only begun to deal with the experience of coming out as gay when he then found he had become a werewolf. Now he is nearly paralyzed with fear when it comes to venturing out in the world and establishing human contact. It takes little time for the viewer to cop on that being a “monster” is a metaphor for having an alternate lifestyle of which much of society disapproves. The most entertaining bits are the support group sessions, and there is a particularly funny sequence in a park where Simon plays fetch with Gwen, the woman who is filming his life. Simon is played with earnest urgency by Johnny Pozzi, and you really do want to take him aside and tell him everything will be okay. That is actually Gwen’s role, and Talley Gale plays her with a persistent insistence on helping. As Gwen’s film crew mate Robert, Lucas Brahme casts a more jaundiced eye on the proceedings. Writer/director Jaeger has effectively created a world that is both wry and fanciful and yet extremely familiar. Seen 21 May 2018

Simple Mind

This involving little drama packs a fair amount of nervous suspense in its seven-and-half-minute running time. The story is framed by some sort of therapy session in which Bob talks about his life. At first blush it seems innocent enough, but it quickly turns dark. The first little twist is easy enough to see coming, but the final couple of twists are much harder to anticipate. Written and directed by Phil Newsom, this is a thriller in the vein of Alfred Hitchcock or Rod Serling. Bob is played unnervingly by the chameleon-like Timothy J. Cox, whom we have seen as completely different types of characters in Socks and Cakes and Over Coffee. At one point he does something with his eyes that would give anyone the creeps. Seen 17 December 2015

Sineater

Sisyphus Unbound

With a title like Sisyphus Unbound and a protagonist named Virgil, this eight-minute movie by Ryan Fleming is not short on classical evocation. The ancient Roman poet Virgil is best known for a work (the Aeneid) chronicling a war refugee’s struggles to fulfill his destiny. The mythical Sisyphus is best known for an eternal punishment in the afterlife: being forced to roll a boulder up a steep hill repeatedly only to see it roll back down every time. Our young Virgil in this film is a college student and aspiring writer, and during its brief running time we see that he is struggling with his own metaphysical boulder. He’s naturally shy, and certain behavioral tics (constant fidgeting with a pen, averting his gaze) suggest self-confidence issues. We also learn he does not have an easy family situation at home. Virgil has written a manuscript (also called Sisyphus Unbound) and needs to get it past his overbearing, egotistical writing professor, whose daughter just happens to be involved with the selection of publishing submissions. Is he a match for the academic tyrant who belittles him relentlessly and displays a clear bias for people of what he considers his own social class? Professor Laymen is another great character role for Timothy J. Cox, and he is by turns imperious, ingratiating, demeaning and in at least one moment even a bit creepy. To the role of Virgil, Frederick J. Todd brings a winning sympathy and a quiet determination underneath the reticent exterior. As Gwen, Emerson Adams offers a disarming warmth lacking in her father. Her initial encounter with Virgil qualifies as meet-cute and would likely signal a further relationship in a longer film. According to the movie’s IMDb page, this movie was a submission for Cincinnati’s 2023 Winterfilm Fest in which the challenge was to make a film within a month after being given a prop and a theme. In this case they were a mechanical pencil and “percentage.” It is no mere chance then that, among his mentor’s many discouraging comments, Virgil learns that a mere .01 percent of writers manage to acquire representation. Definitely sounds like a Sisyphean challenge, but despite the odds we suspect Virgil may be up to it. Seen 22 April 2023

Six Shooter

Sky’s the Limit

Jason is having a difficult time being his son’s sole parent. He is consumed with finding a new mother for Frankie and a wife for himself. Of course, all Frankie wants is his dad’s attention, but that is hard to come by when Dad seems to spend all his evenings on a succession of dates with women. On this particular evening, though, the babysitter lets Jason down and Frankie has to be brought along. Maybe, just maybe, during the film’s seven-and-a-half-minute running time events will conspire to begin to let Jason into Frankie’s vivid imagination. Dad is played by Timothy J. Cox. As Frankie, young Joseph Di Stefano has the most imposing pair of large brown eyes we have seen in a child actor since Lukas Haas in Witness. The writer/director is April Schroer. Seen 8 January 2016

Slapface

“Monsters are real, Dad.” What is it about kids and monsters? Steven Spielberg figured that one out a long time ago, not to mention the creators of Stranger Things. Childhood is a time when our imaginations are large, and so are our fears. That is what makes monsters such great metaphors. Jeremiah Kipp’s nine-minute film takes this theme and spins a moody tale of suspense and pathos that plays out like a kind of dark fairy tale. The work of Mexican director Guillermo del Toro comes to mind. A young boy (engagingly played by Joshua Kaufman) tramps through deserted woods. The trees are bare, and there is a ruin that looks, in silhouette anyway, like it could be a castle. He is searching for someone or something, and Kipp knows how to push the right buttons to create a creepy and tense situation. Giovanni Spinelli’s unsettling music certainly helps too. We come to learn enough about what the lad is dealing with and why monsters are very real for him. The lingering question is whether the ogre in this movie is merely a coping mechanism or something much more sinister. Similar in theme to Spanish filmmaker J.A. Bayona’s 2016 UK movie A Monster Calls, this film relies less on special effects and more on mood and ambiguity. As the father, Nick Gregory does a nice job playing a man doing his best in the face of his own inner demons. Hidden under the monster’s disheveled exterior is the Danish actor Lukas Hassel. Writer/director Kipp has created a haunting tale that makes us care about his characters and want to know how things turn out for them. A busy fellow, his other work includes the TV series The Circle and Diabolical and the recent movie Black Wake. Seen 26 March 2019

Small Arms

This 2017 two-hander is an efficient, nifty little thriller that builds up a fair amount of tension in its 22-minute runtime. Set in Northern Michigan, it deals with the relationship between a loner bullied college student and the survivalist/militia alpha male he comes across in the process of buying a gun for protection. We actually don’t learn a whole lot about Ethan other than he fears for his safety after his car is vandalized with homophobic graffiti. David is easier to suss. Macho, paranoid and living off the grid, he surprises himself by inviting Ethan to his home for shooting lessons. The instruction turns out to emphasize paramilitary action over mere gun safety. Ethan appears to fall in thrall to the older guy, bemoaning the fact that each generation of men tends to get “softer.” The film is somewhat frustrating—but perhaps all the more effective for it—in that we never truly know, even by the end, Ethan’s true motivation for wanting to spend time with the potentially dangerous David. The latter’s reasons for mentoring the student seem more understandable, although there is always the possibility of a deeper, murkier subtext. The movie’s interest in the meaning of masculinity in the present day could well have been expanded into a full-length character study. Interestingly, the teacher/pupil dynamic of the relationship brought to mind Bryan Singer’s 1998 flick Apt Pupil. David is played with authority and brooding menace by Dominic DeVore (of the Starz! series P‑Valley). As Ethan, Tyler Young (of the USA series Eyewitness and the recent horror flick Polaroid) projects an earnest callowness quite suitable for the role. Written and directed by Arman Cole, the film can be viewed on YouTube via the Omeleto platform. Seen 8 December 2020

Socks and Cakes

A film buff’s first reaction to this urbane comedy of manners would have to be déjà vu. The setting is an upscale urban apartment where witty, intellectual people are having a dinner party. The soundtrack features mellow jazzy pop. A male character is in a relationship with a much younger woman. And the opening credits are written in white (in the Windsor typeface) on a black background. Yes, it is a Woody Allen film—or, more precisely, an affectionate homage to the Woodman. The Allen character is played by Timothy J. Cox who, like various actors who taken that role in Allen’s own movies, is not impersonating him but is channeling his world-weary perspective on modern life and love. At one point breaking the fourth wall, Cox makes us like Harry even when while we’re judging him. The setup involves three couples gathering for dinner, except that Harry (Cox’s character) has arrived alone. Another guest (Ben Payz, who bears a bit of a resemblance to onetime Allen regular Tony Roberts) arrives with his new girlfriend, the daughter of French clients. There is much discussion and conversation and drinking of fine wine and, ultimately, coveting of what someone else has. It is all executed very smoothly, pleasingly and amusingly. At twelve and a half minutes, the film earns the ultimate accolade for a short film: we wish it was longer. The writer/director is Antonio Padovan. Seen 8 December 2015

Solutions

I suppose you could categorize this 20-minute caper flick as light-hearted drama, but I would personally tend toward the label serious comedy. The story is nicely framed by black-and-white sequences that include jazz, a bottle, a tumbler with ice, and an older Damon recalling how, at the age of 18, he learned exactly what his father did for a living. In the flashback that forms the bulk of the film, Derek decides to take his inquisitive son along to a meeting with a client, an underdog tycoon who aspires to become mayor—by whatever means necessary. (Presumably, any parallels to current politics are only to be encouraged, as the screenplay includes an explicit reference to Donald Trump.) Interest builds as the viewer attempts to work out exactly what specific dirty trick Derek is price-haggling over. The suspense rises further, as we fret about what danger young Damon may get into on his initial foray into murky operations. Will there be a twist at the end? Would we want it any other way? Hard-boiled on the surface, the film puts a smile on your face. As plain-spoken no-nonsense Derek, David P.B. Stephens exudes the world-weary confidence of a man who is by no means saddling up for his first rodeo. As the callow Damon, Oise Ohiwerei convincingly conveys that false courage young men summon up when they are being tested. As for the tycoon, chamelion-like Timothy J. Cox plays him as a man long used to getting his own way but who now must deal with someone more streetwise than himself. The director is Zachary Halfter, whose story provided the basis for Stephen Pavlics’s screenplay. Seen 12 October 2017

Some Time Soon

There is by now ample material for us to be speaking of Levine-ian filmmaking. That coined adjective refers to writer/director/cinematographer/editor Matthew Kyle Levine, whose latest short movie returns to his favored themes of isolation and detachment. In a way, Some Time Soon can be seen as a re-working of his previous film Trusted Hands in that it involves a woman (again played by Victoria Astuto, an actor with impressively haunting eyes) who has separated herself from family and friends for reasons that are not entirely clear to them—or us. The familiar Levine trademarks are present. Tight, near claustrophobic shots nearly make each frame seem like a puzzle piece. The soundtrack is a mixture of dial-spinning of an old-fashioned radio turner punctuated by voicemail messages from concerned relatives and a significant other. The protagonist is a cipher—or perhaps more appropriately thought of as the main puzzle piece. Perhaps the most Levine-ian thing about the movie is that, despite the fact there is precious little in the way of plot points during its 14-minute running time, Some Time Soon is eminently watchable. Levine is a master at grabbing our eyes and holding on to them with his close-up, intriguingly cropped shots. He gets a surprising amount of tension out of a woman sitting in her car, lying on a beach, or making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—or from a car just sitting in a parking lot. As with Trusted Hands and his earlier films Miss Freelance and Henry, this is a mystery to be solved. Why has Lilly left home only to be sleeping in her father’s car? Is it the weird thing involving her boyfriend (Zachary Daniel Booth) that may or may not have happened at Jack’s place? Is it to get back at her father (Dan Berkey, memorable from Levine’s Daddy’s Wallet) for whatever he seems pretty definite he didn’t do even while he pleads ignorance of what it might be? Or some combination of the two or maybe something else entirely? Lilly’s sister (Nancy Kimball) seems to think she understands why Lilly left yet wants to know more. As for Lilly, she is silent on the matter—and on everything else for that matter. Her power is in her refusal to engage. All we hear from her is some distracted humming. And then there’s that enigmatic look in her eyes as she lies there passively as her one-night stand (Levine himself) tactfully hints it’s time for her to leave. A longer movie could certainly have been made to fill in all the gaps, to answer all the questions, but where’s the fun in that? We pretty much get what we need to work out (invent?) what we need to. The exercise of doing our own mystery-solving—plus those compelling visuals—make this yet another Levine-ian story worth watching. Seen 29 March 2023

Spiders in the Wall

“But don’t tell anyone I was here. There’s too many spiders in the walls.” That enigmatic line gives this film its title, and it’s one more puzzle piece in a fragmented narrative that begs us to find a way of putting it together—even though that may well be impossible. Azeil Baxter is a government agent in the throes of an endgame fated to wind up in betrayal, gunfire and blood. The action takes place entirely in a hotel room and parking lot (filmed in Gardner, Massachusetts). The various vignettes include Baxter, another agent named Leon, and woman called Marcy. References are made to a mysterious authority figure called The G. Overall, there’s an unreal, dreamlike quality to the proceedings, accentuated by the fact that Baxter sometimes has trouble remembering where he is or what’s going on. More than once he’s told he needs to wake up. Clearly, some of this is meant to be a dream, but the question is whether any of it is meant to be waking reality or is it all dreams within dreams. Indeed, word is that the story was really inspired by a dream, specifically one that screenwriter Kris Salvi had. He appears here on screen, working again with regular collaborators from previous (and presumably future) noirish works, including director Christopher Di Nunzio and actors Justin Thibault and Fiore Leo, who play Baxter and Leon. (They are joined by Kayla Caulfield, who puts in a strong performance as Marcy.) Given the movie’s hotel setting and motif of memories out of reach, this most resembles the filmmakers’ 2019 short I Am a Rain Dog. In that one, I thought I detected a bit of a David Lynch influence in the dreamlike quality, the idiosyncratic behavior of the characters (especially the one played by Salvi) and hints of a hidden supernatural plane where this all might make sense. In other words, the mystery feels as if it might be as much or more metaphysical than a simple matter of who shot (or will shoot) whom and why. (Okay, here’s a wild stab. The name Azeil is Hebrew for “God is my strength.” Is that what The G refers to?) As always, Di Nunzio, who handles his own cinematography and editing, keeps our eyes focused and involved in virtually every frame. We look forward to more from all involved, whether individually or together. Seen 9 November 2024

The Spinning Man

We’re back at the Cuban missile crisis, but this time things go differently. The U.S. and the Soviet Union go for all-out war, and it’s the end of civilization and apparently most of the human race. Jordan Rosenbloom’s well-made 15-minute movie sets this all up quickly and efficiently with a series of radio broadcasts which feature a pretty darn good impersonation of JFK. The film is confined to a single set, the title character’s bomb shelter which doubles as his broadcast studio. Stan passes his endless days spinning discs—or is it just the one?—for whoever might be out there and tuning in. And also consuming his supply of canned clam chowder. Finally, a fellow survivor makes contact by radio. This is great news. Or is it? In this post-apocalyptic world, are other people a sign of hope or are they a threat? Moreover, is the now-depopulated listening market really big enough for two DJs? Stan is played by Travis Mitchell, a gifted actor we have previously seen in the short films Reina and Partitioned Heart. There is always a warm touch of humanity in his characters—even when survival is an fundamental question, as it is in this film. We really believe him and his situation, and we are reassured by the fact that his voice sounds strangely like Tom Hanks. Booth Daniels provides the voice of his potential friend or rival. The nostalgic songs are provided by Zac Lavender, and the film’s score is by Katy Jarzebowski. The screenplay is by Rosenbloom and Ben Eisen. Like all the best dystopian literature, this film tells us about ourselves and our own world by pretending to portray an imagined future. In the end, it all comes down to dog-eat-dog—if not man-eat-clam. Seen 4 June 2022

Static Cling

With Steve Lifshey’s third short film we now have enough evidence to pinpoint patterns. As with his previous flick, the very entertaining Life on Pause, we have a young man looking for love in a perhaps unlikely place and suffering through all sorts of painful travails in the process. Again, we have a zany madcap comedy with well drawn characters. The difference this time is that Kyle—in contrast to the previous film’s Adam, who was an awkward geek with unrealistic aspirations about an old crush—radiates over-confidence as he zeroes in on an attractive stranger (Jackie McCarthy) at a laundromat. Still, the result is essentially the same: entertaining disaster culminating in life lessons. The pace holds your attention, which is not a surprise since Lifshey spends a lot of his time working as an editor. The physical humor is akin to a live-action cartoon. Kyle is played by BJ Gruber, a busy actor who was also in Life on Pause as well as another very funny short, Vin Nucatola’s Italian Turtles. One of his co-stars in the latter was Timothy J. Cox who appears in Static Cling as a man in a slow-simmering standoff with a vending machine. Another castmate from Life on Pause was Tim Brian Anderson, who shows up here as a grumpy man stuck into reading Ben Mezrich’s Sex on the Moon. Other washing machine users include Mel House as a helpful mom and Eva Visco as a natural motivator named Faith. There are many others, and the actors playing them are uniformly fine and engaging. As if that weren’t enough, there is nearly a whole other movie within the movie, as seen through Kyle’s phone as he converses with a pal at a wild and happening party that Kyle is missing. If you get the chance to see this, be sure to hang on through the closing credits because that includes some of the funniest bits. Even more comedic value is added in the cast list as we read the names of the many characters we have glimpsed, including Hannah Hangout and Michaela Ohmystars, to name but two. Unsolicited suggestion to the writer/director: how about a spinoff movie focusing on the party, featuring occasional phone clips of the laundromat action? Humor, of course, is subjective, but it seems a safe bit that 18 minutes spent watching this movie will put a smile on most people’s faces. Seen 13 May 2024

The Stoic Breeze

The Stoics were a school of Greek philosophers known for the austerity of their ethics. The word has come to mean someone who practices repression of emotion, indifference to pleasure or pain, and patient endurance. In this beautifully shot 32-minute film, is it the breeze that is stoic or the protagonist played by Julia Bisby? Perhaps both of them in their own ways. This is an art film, with a classic three-act structure, that amply rewards the attentive viewer. It is a specimen of pure cinema in that the storytelling is all but completely in the visuals. We do hear ambient sound, including the titular wind as well as some incidental conversation, but the narrative is entirely what we take in through our eyes. The lighting appears to be completely natural throughout—indoors as well as outdoors—contributing to a succession of images gorgeous in that way that only well shot black and white can be. The camera is nearly a character in the movie as it sneaks up on Bisby in the woods, follows her from behind as she walks along a footpath, and later is completely stationary as she makes a cup of tea in front of a window in her kitchen. Some of the tracking shots in the woods are a bit reminiscent of “found footage” horror films like The Blair Witch Project, and there is definitely an eeriness in the bare and otherworldly trees that populate the woodland. Are they meant to say something about the character’s inner life or something else? You cannot watch a lone woman journey through such a environment without being reminded of childhood fairy tales with all their symbolism. To the extent there is dramatic tension, it is provided by the protagonist’s solitary existence being interrupted by three chance encounters. The first two are brief and perfunctory, but the third—a man in physical distress in the woods (Philip Lee)—requires a more serious involvement. When the two part, there is a thankful embrace for her assistance, but we are left to ponder exactly what the experience has meant and whether there will be anything more to it. The opening shot is of a mysterious opening in what appears to be timber. Is this a detail of the heap of a fallen tree that the protagonist inspects near the film’s end? That and a shot of Bisby staring upward at something out of the camera’s frame, which appears at the beginning and end of the film, give the narrative a satisfyingly circular structure. The filmmaker is Scotland-based Tomas Gold, who has made a dozen short films over the past decade. After seeing this one, I was sorry to have learned that he intends for it to be his final one. According to his website, he is now devoting his time to performance art pieces. Seen 29 March 2024

Stuck

Steve Blackwood is back, and very welcome he is too. While his previous short Meet the Author was a pleasant throwback to the battle-of-the-sexes romcoms of the 1940s, his new one has the feel of an early-1960s-style sex farce. Once again the director has written the screenplay, again drawing on a play by David Susman. And again he has graced the soundtrack with his own vocal stylings, this time featuring the standards “I Don’t Worry ’Bout a Thing” and “My Baby Just Cares for Me.” Otherwise, however, the two films could not be more different. This one breezes through its 14 minutes with the manic energy of escalating panic which will be familiar to devotees of farcical comedy. The setup: suburban couple George and Helen Simon are expecting advertising clients for dinner at their home, but shortly before the guests’ arrival an overly enthusiastic delivery boy shows up with the sex contraption they had ordered with the idea of spicing up their romantic life. Things get only more complicated from there. Our interest and curiosity are piqued by what is not explicitly shown on camera, causing our imaginations to run away with exactly what the frantic couple are dealing with. There is also something of a bait and switch in that, while the main story seems to be about avoiding a horribly embarrassing situation, the tale’s real point turns out to be the Simons’ growing realization that, in their work and their social lives, they are not really being true to themselves. By the end it becomes clear the film’s title has two meanings. As George, Blackwood has a great face for registering his increasingly befuddled frenzy. As Helen, Sandy Bainum is a blonde ball of energy absorbing his stress and then magnifying it. The tone is established at the outset by Max Schochet’s young Finn, the courier who sets things in motion with his near-maniacal interest in the package he’s delivering. His presence dominates the proceedings despite the actor’s actual screen time being relatively brief. The quality of the performances is key to our enjoyment of the comedy. Blackwood and Bainum are both experienced screen actors. Blackwood is also an acting coach, and Bainum is a singer/dancer who has performed in theaters on Broadway and across the country. Her screen roles include playing Cindy McCain in the political TV movie Game Change. Schochet will be seen this spring as a supporting player in the X-Men spinoff movie The New Mutants. Here’s hoping Blackwood will be back soon with yet another nod to some of Hollywood’s great classic motifs. Seen 25 February 2020

Stutterer

The only thing better than seeing someone with your own surname win an Academy Award (congratulations, Brie Larson) may be seeing an Oscar-winning film in which the main character has your old job. Greenwood is a typographer, who seems to still be working with metal type. (Kids, ask your grandparents.) He is also something of a recluse, living with his father and, yes, as the title indicates, he has a serious problem getting his words out. What writer/director Benjamin Cleary does wonderfully is portray the eloquent and witty monologs that go on inside Greenwood’s mind and in his social media interactions—in contrast to his insurmountable verbal challenges, as exemplified by an onging war with the telephone support system of his broadband provider. What really makes the film work is the endearing and engaging performance by British actor Matthew Needham, an erstwhile regular of UK TV’s Casualty. He has that wonderful look of sensitive lost youth. Think Ben Whishaw with just a bit of the hardened edge of Mathew Baynton. As the only winner from Eire in this year’s Academy Awards (among a record number of Irish nominees), Dubliner Cleary did his nation proud. More than one commentator said how great it was to hear the word sláinte in an Oscar acceptance speech. I’ll drink to that. Seen 3 March 2016

Sundays with Dad

A particular pleasure of this humorous and touching two-hander is watching a pair of consummate character actors discuss exactly what a character actor is. George R. Hildebrand and Timothy J. Cox play Ben and Jason, a widowed father and his son, who spend a Sunday afternoon in Ben’s backyard. The conversation meanders as real-life family chats tend to do, and it is clear that mischievous oldster Ben, a former teacher (and probably a very popular one), likes to rile up the more serious Jason with an occasional risqué remark or provocative observation. While this pattern seems well established in their weekly visits, Jason is not prepared for his dad’s latest bit of news about where he has been seeking companionship. The revelation and subsequent discussion provide a pretext for Ben to deliver a rather moving monologue on loss, love and the need for human connection. Before this, the 22-minute movie opens with another monologue by Ben, this one extolling the virtues of Claude Debussy, whose music Ben is listening to. (The French composer’s exquisitely poetic and melancholic “Clair de Lune” bookends the film.) The recitation is for the benefit of his arriving visitor whose presence he has sensed at the backyard gate. The pleased look on Ben’s face as he pontificates from his lawn chair and the affectionate gaze from Jason tell us everything we need to know about this relationship. The 15-page screenplay is by Cox, and it is quite the gift to Hildebrand, a Cincinnati-based thespian who has appeared in a number of films, long and short, over the past several years. Directing chores are handled by Thomas Angeletti who has worked with Cox before on such films as After and Hard Truths, both of which provided the actor excellent opportunities to show off his chops, as well as the mini-horror flick Friends Forever. According to the IMDb, the trio have another project in script phase that looks quite interesting. We look forward to seeing more of their work, whether in collaboration or separately. Seen 14 October 2024

Terry Kendall and Orange Green

This straightforward story, about a conscientious young woman and the very odd man who appears to be stalking her, unfolds in twelve minutes like a late-night news report, cautionary tale or maybe an urban legend. Terry, played sympathetically and winningly by Brit Charde Sellers, is a model supermarket employee. She is always sure to arrive at work punctually, and it is probably her attention to time which causes her to notice that a strange man appears day after day at precisely two o’clock. We will learn that his name is Orange Green, and that is not even the weirdest thing about him. The always versatile Timothy J. Cox plays him in a way that is truly unsettling but does not signal explicitly whether he is harmless or if there could be cause for alarm. His sudden appearances and strange question (always the same one) definitely unnerve poor Terry. An evening of drinking flavored vodka with her self-involved friend Traffy (Kimberly David) does not resolve Terry’s or our unease. The ending is unexpected and bewildering in its matter-of-factness. The writer/director is Meg Skaff, whose knack for oddball characters is on further display in the slightly longer Linda LeThorn & the Musicbox. The three actors from this movie make appearances in that one, apparently playing the same characters—although Cox may actually be playing Orange’s twin brother, since his name in that one is Purple Green. Seen 18 August 2017

That Terrible Jazz

An exercise in evoking the atmosphere of film noir in the 1940s and 1950s, That Terrible Jazz pays a lot of attention to period detail. Its slick black-and-white photography and hard-boiled banter let us know that we are in another period. When Bethany (Elizabeth Alksne) tells a man sucking on a cigarette in an alley that he could be doing that inside the bar, we definitely know this isn’t the health-conscious 21st century. The details are so meticulous that we actually wonder if this will be a parody but, no, writer/director Mike Falconi is playing it straight. This is a sincere homage to a glorious Hollywood era. That man with the smoke is Sam Sellers (Ephraim Davis), a private investigator who will shortly be on the trail of a missing musician. In an efficient few seconds we learn that Sellers likes his drink and that this may have contributed to the end of his marriage. It is that kind of efficient story-telling that makes this 17-minute drama filmed in Philadelphia feel nearly like a full-length feature. Not surprisingly, the trail will eventually lead right back to that troubled dame we met in the very first scene. Seen 15 January 2016

This Is Only a Test

Back in my college days my religious friends used to say that life was merely a test. The idea was that the human lifetime was only a brief interlude before the afterlife and how you did during the short time between your earthly birth and death would determine where or how you spend eternity. This film from the back catalogue of writer/director Bill Sorice and his Cold Gin Productions (Dyed in the Wool) explores a variation on that idea. We observe the complete life of a woman compressed into nine minutes, and we are shown that her life—and by extension, ours—basically consists of one test after another. They are all here: the pregnancy test, testing the temperature of infant formula, school tests, eye tests, driving tests, interviews and auditions, alarm/detector tests, printer test pages, not to mention the inevitable, dreaded medical tests. Even crash test dummies make an appearance, reminding us that we ourselves are the ultimate crash testers if and when we find ourselves in an unfortunate automotive mishap. The film begins by pointing out that Adam and Eve’s time in the Garden of Eden was explicitly a test. (Spoiler alert: they failed.) The quick succession of images is inventive and thought-provoking in a tradition of surrealist filmmaking going all the way back to Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí’s Un Chien Andalou. Tamar Pelzig plays the protagonist with an-self-conscious naturalness, necessarily relying entirely on facial expressions and body language. Mason Heidger plays her partner. Jennie Epland and Drew Buck play Eve and Adam. Sorice and Cynthia Toronto play a scary pair of casting directors. The film feels has a definitely personal feel to it, most likely explained by the fact that Sorice dedicated it to his mother, who had died the previous year. He thanks her “for a lifetime of her loving support and encouragement to follow my dreams.” No doubt she would have been proud. Seen 3 November 2023

To Be Alone

This thirteen-minute film makes an interesting companion to director Matthew Mahler’s earlier film, What Jack Built. Roughly the same length, both films focus entirely on a single character whom we never hear speak. Motivations, history and state of sanity are left unclear, but in both films the protagonist is consumed with a compulsion to put something together out in the woods. And in both cases he is played by Timothy J. Cox. These are performances that give Cox, who often plays authority figures in supporting roles, a real chance to show off his range and depth. In To Be Alone it takes a few minutes for us to suss out his situation. He is clearly agitated if not traumatized. In a series of cuts we see him clutching his Bible, listening to televangelists and sleeping on the couch. A phone call from a concerned party is left to go to the answering machine. A certain amount of tension builds as we ourselves become increasingly concerned as well as curious about what exactly is going on. A climb up a stairway has the uncomfortable feel of a thriller and we are reminded that Mahler’s Dark Romance did not end happily for all involved. I would like to say that the end of this movie resolves all our questions and allays all our worries, but it is not that kind of movie. The conclusion is amiguous yet strangely moving. It incisively explores fears, emotions and longings we are all prey to at some point in our lives. Seen 2 May 2017

Total Performance

Transience

This is the kind of film that is hard to pull off: a mostly silent black-and-white dramatic two-hander with no spoken dialog. But filmmaker Tan See Yun pulls it off in a concise bit of storytelling that clocks in at just under seven minutes. Two men, apparently married, share a home. The film does not tell us their names, but press notes inform us they are George and Tom. George (Timothy J. Cox) is dressed and ready for work, glancing at a chessboard with pieces from an unfinished game. He has made breakfast for Tom (Joshua Michael Payne), who is only now coming in from a night out, guiltily slipping his ring back onto his finger on the sly. George presents him with papers. A divorce? Later, Tom studies his own face in the mirror in such a way as to signal he is obsessed with his fleeting youth. On a subesequent jog through the park he sees something (a vision?) that puts things into some sort of perspective. The filmmaker does a nice job conveying an entire relationship and a complete dramatic arc with these brief series of images. Will George and Tom work it out? The chessboard and a vase with flowers are our clues. Seen 10 August 2016

Trouble

Our first clue that Isaac is being bullied comes in the very first scene when he is awakened at 4:21 in the morning in a fairly elaborate prank to make it seem as though a train is bearing down on him. Isaac, played with an appealing befuddlement by Bennett Kirschner, is a resident of St. Sebastian’s Quiet Academy for Disreputable Youth (apparently in Maryland). And, yes, the tone of the film is just as tongue-in-cheek as the institution’s name makes it sound. Though hapless, Isaac is a rebel at heart, sort of like a young hipster version of Jack Nicholson’s McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. His torments include run-ins with his nemesis Greg (Max Carpenter) and being forced by the headmaster (Timothy J. Cox) to act out lame little dramas about character. His repeated efforts to escape come to naught until the nurse inadvertently gives him an idea. At 13 minutes the film is just long enough to amuse without wearing out its welcome. Indeed, one suspects that the character of Isaac could be further developed for a longer format. The writer/director is Daniel Witkin, who has a cameo as a priest. Seen 13 January 2016

The Trouble with Uncle Max

Film buffs will know immediately that this clever 21-minute movie’s title is a nod to Alfred Hitchcock’s 1955 dark comedy The Trouble with Harry. Whereas Hitch’s film dealt with people’s unlikely reactions to coming across a corpse, the titular trouble of this comedy noir has more to do with the problem of making a victim die—and staying dead. (Another nod to Hitch may be the fact that, though the film is clearly set in the present day, Max is for some reason watching a a television show from 1957.) We know from the very opening that we are in good hands. To the strains of Bon Saints’ “Wreck Me,” we quickly and efficiently get a wealth of background information in a series of shots of a bulletin board and a car interior. The film hangs confidently on the strong performance of Arianna Danae as Sonya, our working class femme fatale, anxious to be out from under the loathsome presence of her unpleasant uncle, all too convincingly incarnated by Bill Taylor. Nathaniel Sylva is suitably dim as Sonya’s would-be partner in crime, and Logan Lopez is spot on as her dorky co-worker with a major crush on her. The production values are first rate, since the writer/director is Rufus Chaffee, who has previously made the horror features Divine Intervention and The Muse. The Trouble with Uncle Max is currently available for streaming or download via Vimeo’s on-demand service. Seen 19 November 2016

Trusted Hands

One of the founding axioms of this blog was that the average film review really tells us more about the reviewer than it does about the film. There are few better examples of why this is so than this intriguing 12-minute movie by Matthew Kyle Levine. We are invited, challenged—perhaps even required—to fill in gaps ourselves in a way that nearly guarantees each viewer will see a different film. Allison is spending some time alone in a house in a scenic, foggy, autumnal corner of “Somewhere in Upstate New York.” As always, Levine’s visuals are compelling. We don’t actually learn Allison’s name from the film itself. We glean that from the movie’s IMDb page, which also tells us that she is listening to an online therapy video. (General query: is a film’s IMDb information canon?) We do not actually see a video or, for that matter, a computer or phone or screen of any kind. We just hear what Allison hears: the soothing, measured voice of London-bred actor Jamie MacDonald. Is it just me or does he actually echo the bland sonority of the HAL 9000 in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey? From the recording’s content and from cheery but concerned phone messages from Allison’s mom, we understand Allison is recovering from a trauma, but we are left to speculate exactly what it might have been. (Mom is wonderfully voiced by Eve Austin in that forced-upbeat way that tends to make many young adult children cringe.) Some viewers may well find the therapy voice comforting—Allison certainly does—but there is something unsettling about the way it subtly exerts control over its listener. It gets more than a little creepy when the voice becomes specific about how it would like to comfort her. Allison doesn’t mind, though, and she responds to the remote control eroticism. As Allison, Victoria Astuto’s performance is all in her expressive face and body language. Her only lines are obedient repetitions of the disembodied therapist. In a way, the movie is a bit reminiscent of flicks like Spike Jonze’s Her where characters fall in love with the AI in their phone or smart speaker—or Maria Schrader’s I’m Your Man where a woman falls in love with a robot. The difference here is that there is no real-time interaction with whoever or whatever made the recording. Allison’s role is completely passive, and that seems to be what she needs—or at least wants—as opposed to picking up the phone and engaging with her mother. In that way she is a spiritual cousin to the title characters in Levine’s Miss Freelance and Henry: lost souls yearning for connection but only finding it, paradoxically, in their solitude. Seen 1 November 2022

Undatement Center

Chris Esper is a prolific maker of short films with a quirky sense of humor. His trademark is the high-concept situation that feels like it is happening in a parallel universe where the rules are different and yet everything that occurs is totally recognizable and relatable in our own lives. In Please Punish Me (from a story by Tom Paolino and adapted by Rich Camp) a man visits a service where people pay to be punished in order to assuage their guilt. The Deja Vuers (written by Jason K. Allen) takes place in a world where dreams are literally, if confusingly, indicators of things that are happening or will happen in real life. In Undatement Center (written by Esper himself) the conceit is that there is a place for single people to go when they find themselves made redundant relationship-wise. It is not entirely clear if the Undatement Center is a private business or actually run by the government, but either way it has the definite feel of a large organization where bureaucracy has taken over and made everything impersonal. Waiting lines are demarcated with tape on the floor and plastic cones. Our everyman hero Jack is palpably apprehensive about dipping his toe back into the pool of modern dating rituals—even before discovering the new rules have gone all hyper-procedural. As played by Trevor Duke (with his light beard he is something of a dead ringer for Thomas Dekker), Jack should reasonably expect to have little enough trouble in the romance department in a rational world, but his world—like our own—is not particularly rational. His befuddled reactions will be familiar to those who have endured disastrous blind dates as well as to those who have had bad experiences at the department of motor vehicles. The system can be soul-destroying and, the longer this goes on, the more we see Jack’s heart grow cold and calculating like everyone else’s. Will the charming Lindsey (winningly played by J.D. Achille) be different? Perhaps genuine human connections are not completely extinct after all? Seen 4 April 2017

Undertaker

Not unlike a play by Samuel Beckett or Eugène Ionesco, Chris Esper’s ten-minute film invites us to ponder existence itself. Shot in gorgeous black and white in Shirley, Massachusetts, it plays like an episode of Rod Serling’s original Twilight Zone series—an impression firmly enhanced by the monochrome hues, period dress and locations, and a vintage car in fine condition. A man wakes up next to a train track. He does not remember how he got there or, apparently, who he even is. Looking for answers, he meets a series of characters whose responses to his inquiries range from cryptic to inscrutable. Is this the afterlife? Perhaps, but certain things he’s told suggest that his journey is not ending but only beginning. “I’m an undertaker,” he smiles when a beautiful, mysterious woman asks if he remembers what he does for a living. “Not today,” she replies enigmatically. (It’s probably worth remembering that the word undertaker can have more than one meaning.) As he progresses through what seems to be a new existence for him, certain objects and experiences—a cigarette, a cup of coffee, a kiss, a gun—take on near-talismanic significance. What exactly is going on? Our best clue may be the opening epigraph by Aldous Huxley. As it happens, it’s the same text that inspired Jim Morrison when he named his seminal band. The screenwriter is Kris Salvi, who also appears as The Driver. Dustin Teuber has the title role. Other cast members are Junnifer Drummond, Justin Thibault, Teddy Pryor and Michael Lepore. As a thought-provoking meditation on existence and purpose, Undertaker fits comfortably into Esper’s considerable oeuvre of short films produced by Stories in Motion (They include Please Punish Me, The Deja Vuers, Undatement Center, Bent and Yesteryear). A trailer for the movie can be viewed on Vimeo. Seen 16 October 2021

Vera

There is a scene two minutes into this three-hand drama that signals brilliantly where we are headed. American businessman Jack has brought his new girlfriend Vera to his sister’s house for dinner. The young Russian has accompanied him home from a trip abroad. As Laura gives Jack a hug, she casts a cold eye over his shoulder toward the newcomer. The look on Laura’s face speaks volumes. In one brief moment, she has clearly and definitively sized up his new flame. As they say in the movies, it is going to be a bumpy night. Indeed, it turns out that Vera is quite the fan of Hollywood films. Left alone for a while after dinner with the formidable Laura, Vera gazes at the 1937 version of A Star Is Born, which is playing on the television, and beams, “I love American movies.” She rattles off the titles of some of her favorites, to which Laura declares that she herself does not care for movies. She further intimates there is no Hollywood-style happy ending in store for Vera. Given the current political climate, it would be tempting to see this ten-minute story as an allegory for immigrant dreams and the harsh reality on the ground, but in the end the narrative is really a timeless one of clashing wills among three distinct and differently motivated people. It is a testimony to the screenplay (by Wilder Carnes and the film’s director Dante Iannetta) that we can understand perfectly—and to various extents, sympathize with—the points of view of all the characters. Vera is played by Moscow-born Sofya Nova. Versatile character actor Timothy J. Cox plays slow-on-the-uptake Jack. And Laura is played resolutely by London and Swiss-educated actor Tatyana Yassukovich, whose interesting career has ranged from the stage to voice work in video games. (She was the narrator in Lasse Hallström’s Chocolat). The performances are spot on and the characters so well drawn that they should really have a longer story to do them justice. Seen 15 August 2019

Vesper

Vespers are evening prayers, a connotation that comes from the word’s root literal meaning, which is the evening star. Vesper can also refer to the bell that summons worshipers to vespers, and sure enough our first image of Marge is of her waking at night to the sound of a chime. This is a film where details like that are worth paying attention to. Likewise the on-screen epigraph quoting French Romantic poet Alfred de Vigny’s Les Destinées to the effect that the invisible is real and souls have their own world. This is the sort of film where it is unfair to divulge much, if anything, about the plot, but here is what becomes clear in the early moments. Clare is consumed—and perhaps menaced—by the lingering presence (real or imagined?) of her husband Walter. She confides her concerns to her earnest young nephew Christian, recently returned from studies in Finland. As the 23-minute tense drama unfolds, we cannot be sure what is real or imagined or whether we are jumping forward or backward in time. Darkly lit interiors, stairway encounters and, mainly, the mood-setting score of Gréco Casadesus combine to create an atmosphere of deeply dark foreboding. The openness of an exterior sequence on the deserted beach in Deauville, Normandy, does not relieve the looming dread. If I had to guess the filmmaker’s influences, I would venture Chabrol and Hitchcock. Marge is played by Agnès Godey, who has been seen in numerous roles on French television. The imposing figure of Walter is played by Götz Otto, whose long c.v. of mainly European work includes Tom Tykwer’s and the Wachowskis’ Cloud Atlas, the Hitler drama Downfall, the Bond movie Tomorrow Never Dies and the cult Nazis-on-the-moon flick Iron Sky. Vesper is the second film of Keyvan Sheikhalishahi, who not only directed it but also wrote it and took on numerous other jobs alongside a sizeable crew, producing it with his own production company Amitice. As if all that were not enough, he also has the role of Christian in the movie. The film has been accepted to compete in the Digital Box Office Awards in California and in the upcoming London Independent Film Awards in October. It is an extremely impressive piece of work purely on its own merits, but the accomplishment is even more remarkable when one realizes that Sheikhalishahi made the film last year when he was eighteen years old. He is definitely someone who bears watching. Seen 21 July 2017

Waiting for Magic Hour

The title refers to that in-between time, as the sun peeks above the horizon, when it is neither night nor day. There is a special light with an enchanting quality. Perhaps, this film suggests, it might even wield a magical effect beyond mere illumination. Photographer Natalya has arrived in Donegal for a photo assignment. She is determinedly focused on the work at hand but Sean, the driver who collecting her from a Letterkenny hotel, is all ready for chat. Despite her initial resistance, by the time they arrive at a famous shipwreck in Gweedore, she has taught him a number of photography terms, and he has introduced her to a few idiosyncratic Irish expressions. It is a classic romantic setup, but will the two of them click (so to speak)? This is a change of pace for writer/director Gerard Lough, whose previous films (including the features Night People and Spears), have dealt with mystery and paranoia while exploiting Donegal’s remoteness for creepy effect. This flick, with its shots of some of the county’s beautiful landmarks, shows off a much brighter side. What is consistent with the previous films, however, is the quality of the soundtrack music (by Michael McElroy and featuring the track “On My Mind” by Le Groupe Fantastique)—not a surprise considering Lough’s experience in music videos. Sean is played by regular Lough collaborator Aidan O’Sullivan, and he brings a down-to-earth charm as a man comfortable in his own skin. Aline Almeida (originally from Brazil) plays Natalya with a no-nonsense efficiency that gradually melts into a warm geniality. When Sean finally gets her to smile and then laugh, she lights up a dim hotel room. The third player in the cast is another Lough regular, Michael Parle, as George, a testy actor not inclined to take direction and who inadvertently brings Natalya and Sean closer. Are we watching the development of a sweet friendship or the beginning of a passionate romance? Will it have a future after Natalya goes home? The ultimate praise for a short film is that we would love to see it expanded to feature length so that we can see the story continue. Seen 6 October 2024

A Warming Trend

The Watchers

As a friend of mine always used to say, just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Are they out to get John Porter? It is hard to be sure at first. Director Sy Cody White, who co-wrote this with Jeff Moffitt, who plays the increasingly disturbed Mr. Porter, builds the tension nicely and gradually in the beginning. We cannot be certain if John is merely over-anxious or if something untoward is truly going on. Soon enough, though, over the course of the film’s 28-minute running time, the suspense ratchets up. The proceedings have the comfortably creepy feel of a 1950s conspiracy thriller. The strangers on New York’s streets eying John have the ever-so-slightly unsettling look of the pod people from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. When one of them actually speaks to him, she has the disturbing quality of certain characters in Carnival of Souls. Is it all in John’s head? Is there some sort of plot? Or is there something supernatural at work? Maybe his counselor (Timothy J. Cox) can sort him out? Or maybe his absent wife, if she would ever take one of his numerous phone calls? It’s all effective edge-of-the-seat stuff with a satisfying conclusion that only needs Rod Serling to step out of the shadows and add a few sardonic comments. Seen 18 August 2017

We Just Want to Play

If there is something vaguely familiar about the boorish members of Ruckland University’s men’s rugby team, it might be because they are the cinematic descendents of Faber College’s Delta Tau Chi fraternity, immortalized in John Landis’s classic Animal House. Like their Delta House forerunners, they can only be bothered to interrupt their hedonistic and degenerate lifestyle when the powers that be try to oust them unjustly. We can’t say we weren’t warned. The very first frame is a classification warning to viewers to, among other things, “Hide Your Wife” and “Prepare To Be Rucked.” Lars Lee plays the inexplicably clean-cut team member who is our point-of-view character. Alexandra Bartley plays the girlfriend who has little patience for his teammates’ sex-obsessed shenanigans. Trevor Williams is the main instigator of pretty much all of the bad behavior. Andrew Gill is their bane as the haughty leader of the rival golf team, whose father (Timothy J. Cox) just happens to be the athletic director. Much mindless and politically incorrect fun ensues. At sixteen and a half minutes, this about the right length for the broadly played humor and, in fact, it is reminiscent of the one-reel comedies these lads’ grandparents might have enjoyed at the cinema. The scenarist is Frank De Rosa, and the director is James Cappadoro. Seen 9 January 2017

Welcome to New York

Were-Flutter: Darkest Desire

My film education continues. It turns out that very short films about female creature transformations are a cinematic sub-genre. As a dyed-in-the-wool Dark Shadows fan from way back, that’s certainly something I can get behind, and like any given episode of that hallowed series, this particular example ends on a right cliffhanger. A four-minute movie, it’s an offering at www.werecreaturevideos.com where many such films can be found on a pay-for-view basis. It is produced, directed and edited by Alexis Ramirez of New York-based Exiram Productions. His numerous other films include the recently reviewed Credits Among Friends. Given its brevity, Were-Flutter: Darkest Desire feels more like the beginning of a movie, that is, like a tease before the opening credits, which is another way of saying that we wish it was longer. On screen there is a single actor and no dialog. The soundtrack is consumed by intriguing and unsettling music by Joe Kowalski. We know from the credits that the protagonist is named Hope and is played by Lex E. Rojas, who also wrote the screenplay. We follow Hope as she walks through a city park and spots a necklace with a fascinating gem dangling from an iron fence. Somewhat furtively, she examines it, then slips it into her coat pocket. Once at home… well, that would be telling. Rojas, who describes themselves as a renaissance artist, trained at New York’s American Musical and Dramatic Academy for theater and screen acting. Among their other projects, they wrote, directed and starred in the comedy web series DysFUNctional. The title of Ramirez’s film provokes the question: what is a were-flutter? The were prefix is clearly the same as in werewolf, but what about the flutter? I’m guessing it has something to do with the wings. Seen 30 May 2023

Were-Flutter: Quest for Truth

All things come to him who waits, and patience is a virtue. These aphorisms are vindicated by the appearance of this sequel nearly a year and half after the enigmatic Were-Flutter: Darkest Desire. To recap the first flick, which ran all of four minutes, a woman named Hope found a necklace in a city park that exerted a strange influence over her. Back in her home, she tried it on, and it then manifested a fantastical transformation. We (and Hope) were left with many questions. What exactly was this magical necklace? Where did it come from? What was the extent of its powers? What would be its long-term effect on Hope? Was it an instrument of good or evil or neither? We viewers had an additional question (since, presumably unlike Hope, we knew the film’s title): what on earth is a were-flutter? The good news is that we do get the answer to that last question by the end of Quest for Truth’s seven-minute running time. As the title suggests, the follow-up concentrates on Hope’s search for answers to the supernatural talisman that has come into her possession. Her quest is a solitary one until by chance—not unlike the way she acquired the necklace in the first place—she comes into contact with Frieda. Despite the woman’s unpromising manner and surroundings, Frieda actually turns out to be surprisingly knowledgeable. Once again, Alexis Ramirez directs, and Lex E. Rojas has written the screenplay as well as playing Hope. Caitlyn Geiler appears in the role of all-business Frieda. Once again, Mara Pawlak’s ethereal music sets the tone. What will happen next? I, for one, wouldn’t mind finding out, but how long will that take? In the meantime, if watching creature transformations is your thing, you can choose from a variety of them (for a price) at www.werecreaturevideos.com. Seen 24 September 2024

What Jack Built

Well, here’s something I can’t always say. Despite having but one single actor and absolutely no dialog, this film held my attention closely for its entire running time (about 11 minutes). What we lack in verbal exposition is more than made up for by a manic performance by our old friend Timothy J. Cox, a lot of quick cuts and an energetic electronic score that was provided by the director, Matthew Mahler, who co-wrote the screenplay with Ross Mahler. Kudos should also be paid to John Heerlein, who is credited with props, for one of the most authentically ramshackle and imaginatively equipped workshops I have seen. For most of the film Jack is frantically putting together some sort of invention. It’s hard to tell what it’s meant to be, but it involves a fair amount of woodwork and electronic circuits. We’re not completely sure that Jack, unshaven and constantly puffing on a smoke, is really in his right mind. At one point he drops to the floor to furiously punch a few keys on a keyboard that isn’t connected to anything and consequently seems amazingly delighted with himself. You really don’t need to know anything else—except to hear those words that stir the heart of any sci-fi/fantasy/suspense fan. There’s something in the woods. Seen 20 January 2016

Who Is Elmore Dean?

The title announces itself about a minute into this movie’s five-and-a-half-minute running time. It appears as a headline in an issue of Songwriter Weekly lying in a clutter of notebooks and music books on a desk. Amazingly, by this point we can nearly answer the posed question ourselves. While we have yet to meet Elmore in the flesh, we have had a thorough tour of his living space. We know he is not into the latest gadgetry, as we see lots books, a typewriter and vinyl records. We know he’s a music guy not only because of the aforementioned items on his desk but also because of the various musical instruments on display. (The endlessly informative art direction is by Shiyin Lin.) Perhaps Elmore writes the kind of fidgety jazz we hear on the soundtrack. (It is actually by Ethan Kogan and David Lantz.) We also get a good insight into Elmore’s state of mind from details like the jumble in and around his wastepaper basket and, perhaps more tellingly, the most fleeting of glimpses of an M.C. Escher print. This whirlwind tour is courtesy of a camera that clearly has a mind of its own and which is, arguably, the film’s main character. (Cinematography is by Olivia Kimmel.) It is as though we are seeing everything through the eyes of flying insect or, more likely, a restless spirit. Speaking of restless spirits, when we do actually meet Elmore (Timothy J. Cox) it is as he wakes and begins his morning routine. Rapidly, his demeanor goes from exhausted to frantic as something mischievous persists in following him. Written and directed by Max Rothman, Who Is Elmore Dean? packs a huge amount of character and detail into a brief expanse of time, while at the same time giving us an rather amusing look at man’s constant struggle against the unseen. Seen 8 March 2018

Yeah, Love

The setup is one that most all of us have been through. A shy high schooler notices and becomes captivated by a more popular student. She is so cool, but she doesn’t even know I am alive. Emmily (with two m’s) glumly goes through her day, getting bothered by a creepy guy on the subway and watching the boys at school brag about their imagined female conquests. She is getting counseling, but the shrink has nothing useful to offer. Emmily gazes longingly at cool girl Milo, and then Milo notices her. Could she and Milo actually become friends? Writer/director/narrator Becca Roth nicely captures the frustations, the pinings and the madness of adolescence. As is usually the case for films about high school, the actors are a bit old for their roles, but they suspend our disbelief with their complete buy-in of their characterizations. As Emmily, Crystal Franceschini totally inhabits the moods and poutiness—and eventually the glee—of the teen years. The other actors, including Paton Ashbrook as Milo, likewise convince us that their characters are real people. Seen 10 August 2016

Yesteryear

Prolific short-film maker Chris Esper has played around with time before, notably in the amusing, time-bending flick The Deja Vuers. In this new film he approaches the quality and nature of time’s passage in what he describes as a documentary. Technically, that is the correct term, as the film is pieced together from archival footage, but my own personal description would be a found-footage art film. He has assembled a visual collage of snippets of home movies, an amateur art that has been transformed in these times by the ubiquity of easy, handy, video-recording smartphones. There is something quite different about these clips which would have been made on camcorders. It’s not always clear how old the footage is, but a couple of snippets have 1989 date stamps on them. In other words, near the end of the era when video recording was still not entirely the common, taken-for-granted phenomenon it is now. The people in these clips are very aware and somewhat intimidated by the camera. The first segments involve people saying hello and asking if the recording has started. From there we proceed through all those regular, constant milestones that mark the passage of time: birthdays, Christmases, Fourths of July, family gatherings, summer vacations. Then there are the scenes that mark the birth of a baby and a child’s growth. The clips are carefully chosen and arranged to make us keenly aware of the passage of time. Scenes with grandparents are particularly poignant because, even those these people may be strangers to us, we feel a sense of loss knowing that the elders are likely no longer with us. That is perhaps the most significant achievement of this 15-minute visit to the late 20th century. The experiences and emotions exhibited by the unknown people we see in this film are so universal that they provoke emotional reactions by reminding us of our own families, childhoods, milestones and memories. Esper (head of the Stories in Motion production company) was inspired to make the film after seeing many home movies himself lately and reflecting on the “simpler times” they represent. “I was intrigued by this notion,” he says, “and wanted to explore that through the use of personal memories of others. Also, the goal was to give a positive light in a cynical world.” He has certainly succeeded there. The world feels like a sweeter place after seeing Yesteryear. Seen 24 May 2020

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Short Films Seen at Film Festivals

Seattle International, 1987

Seattle International, 1996

Seattle International, 1997

Cork, 1997

Seattle Women in Cinema, 1998

Galway, 1998

Edinburgh, 1998

Seattle International, 1999

Seattle Irish Reels, 2000

Seattle Irish Reels, 2001

Galway, 2001

Seattle Irish Reels, 2002

Cork, 2002

Galway, 2003

Cork, 2003

Cork, 2004

Galway, 2005

Cork, 2005

Cork, 2006

Galway, 2007

Cork, 2007

Cork, 2008

Galway, 2010

Cork, 2020

Dublin, 2022

Galway, 2024

Kerry, 2024