Despite how disruptive the past year has been for the film industry, independent films and shorts continued on, with less coverage and attention than ever before. Even to the biggest film fans, short films can often feel inaccessible and hardly talked about. For Film Cred, Julia Sitkovetsky reviews each of the Live Action Short Film nominees from the 93rd Academy Awards, which honored the best films of 2020 and early 2021.
Two Distant Strangers – 2020 (USA)
Directed by Travon Free and Martin Desmond Roe, written by Travon Free
This film is not exactly subtle in its message, but it is achieved very effectively with creative cinematography, disturbing set pieces, and a defiant rather than melodramatic tone.
We follow Joey Bada$$ as Carter as he attempts to go home after a one night stand (the rather over-the-top Zaria – she did not need to overemphasize every single sentence beat). He has an unfortunate encounter with a police officer (Andrew Howard channeling Michael Rooker in a chilling performance). What follows is a Groundhog Day situation as Carter tries to ‘solve the game’ and get home safely, but the situation becomes increasingly worse and more dispiriting.
The most unsettling moment comes at about the 7-minute mark when the audience gets an all-too-real experience of how George Floyd spent his last moments. Breathing becomes a leitmotif throughout most of the scenarios, whether it is heavy breathing from running or fear, or being choked and shot repeatedly. Indeed, it seems that all Carter has to do is ‘breathe’ near the cop and that is enough for violent action.
Joey Bada$$ gives a really solid, grounded performance as the audience surrogate Carter – he never overplays likeability and never drives toward sentimentality or overt outrage, which is what makes the final scenes simultaneously heartbreaking and inspiring.
Directors Travon Free and Martin Desmond Roe have managed to accomplish in 32 minutes what many feature length films have not: a real insight into how Black Americans feel most days. As you watch Carter try to figure out how to get out of the next puzzle, you know what the likely outcome is, and yet he keeps trying and you keep rooting for him.
The all-too-long list of names at the end is another stark reminder of the work that needs to be done. A very accomplished film indeed.
Feeling Through – 2020 (USA)
Written and directed by Doug Roland
Feeling Through has been receiving a lot of attention for its casting of Robert Tarango, a deaf-blind actor, and the fact that this is the first time someone with this disability has been cast in a film (hopefully not the last).
This film should be watched for this reason, but more so because it is a beautiful vignette with a surprising amount of depth and character development. The 19 minute long film displays two very different struggles: the difficulties of being deaf-blind and the difficulties of homelessness. Tereek is down on his luck and on the street, but hides it from his group of friends – there is a particularly delicate touch in a brief scene of Tereek eating with his crew: watch how he scoffs his food down desperately while they eat slowly, calmly, with small mouthfuls. Always vibrating with frenetic, distressed energy – little touches like these from Steven Prescod as Tereek add up to a very satisfying, well-rounded performance.
The fulcrum of the story is Tarango’s Artie. Tarango plays Artie with such a disarming stillness that it is impossible to not hang on his every gesture, every smile, every pat of the hand. He imbues Artie with an openness that warmly melts across the dark, unfriendly streets of New York. Perhaps his character possesses an innocence or naivety that could never be challenged due to the fact he could never really see the brutal unkindness present in the world. Neither Tarango nor writer/director Doug Roland tend towards extracting overt sympathy from the audience, instead they push towards gentle humor and empathy, which works very well.
As a storyteller, Roland masters the art of brisk exposition to a tee. With a focus shot on a secretly homeless man eating dinner, a curious flip through a book filled with various short handwritten sentences, and a direction to an actor to never drop his smile until he is asleep, the audience receives all of the information we need to know about the characters.
He chooses to end the film ambiguously, but with a decidedly hopeful aftertaste. Perhaps this film is too hopeful – my cynical brain can only think of the worst possible outcome. But Doug Roland proves himself a worthy filmmaker by presenting fully-fledged characters that are much more than their circumstances.
This, plus the performances from Prescod and Tarango add up to a strangely comforting little journey that could warm even the most cynical of hearts.
The Letter Room – 2020 (USA)
Written and directed by Elvira Lind
Sometimes, storytellers bring us into harsh worlds to shake us awake to the realities we may not be aware of. Other times, storytellers bring warmth into situations where none may exist. In The Letter Room, the latter is true.
This is the most star-studded of the Live Action Short Film selection, with Oscar Isaac and Alia Shawket leading the cast. Isaac plays Richard, a kindhearted but lonely prison guard who is reassigned to the letter room where he has to screen incoming letters to the inmates, and soon becomes fascinated with one particular exchange between a woman and a death-row prisoner.
Director Elvira Lind and star Oscar Isaac (a married couple in real life) have the confidence to allow the inherent loneliness of Richard to present itself naturally without telegraphing: the peaceful monotony of an evening routine; the quiet mutterings to oneself; the little treat of devouring a pudding; the hints of jealousy and longing when reading a passionate love letter not written to him.
The film maintains a fairly still, almost peaceful atmosphere – save a couple of outbursts from prisoner group scenes and one particular speech given by the death row inmate – which works to its credit. There are revelations made and secrets discovered, often in hushed reading to oneself or in a voiceover with a flat affect, but the lack of obvious emotion forces the viewer to really listen, which almost makes the revelations more shocking. Alia Shawket in particular, who only makes a physical appearance towards the end, has a knack for bringing the audience into her mind without demonstrating the feeling. Her final speech was very affecting – I find her a rather underrated actress and hope she receives more interesting work like this.
Aside from some choppy editing at the beginning, the film is well put together, nicely shot, and beautifully acted. Here is a heartwarming meditation on the warmth humanity is capable of, and the selfless comfort one can choose to bring to others.
White Eye – 2019 (Israel)
Written and directed by Tomer Shushan
Both White Eye and the Palestinian-made The Present depict an unflinching, damning portrait of Israeli law enforcement, immigration, and bureaucracy (see review for The Present below).
Daniel Gad plays Omer, who believes he has found his previously stolen bike. In his efforts to retrieve what he believes is rightfully his, he ends up opening a can of worms involving the police and illegal immigration with devastating consequences.
White Eye is filmed, seemingly, all in one take and for the most part it works. One gets the sense of hurriedly following the action, desperately trying to keep up with the steps. The setting seems to ooze grime, almost like feeling dirt under your fingernails; the lighting and saturation are grey and hopeless. The film pulsates with tension as the situation continues to escalate.
The performances are convincing and naturalistic, which adds to the cinema verité style. Daniel Gad as Omer allows his frustration and stubbornness to grow quietly, while Dawit Tekelaeb as the ill-fated Yunes attempts to stand his ground by appealing to reason and kindness. The delivery of the text from all actors flowed elegantly and without pretense – again adding to the feeling that we, the audience, are the camera, desperate to hang on and observe, but with no power to help. There was an interesting addition of a background story involving a prostitute and her various clients, which was never really explored, but nevertheless added a layer of intrigue.
The final act of demolition in the last minutes did not quite land for me – perhaps Omer couldn’t bring himself to even look at the bike after what happens; perhaps the act of destruction is a metaphor for the futility of all that had just transpired; perhaps he was just angry. It didn’t quite have the emotional payoff that the film had been building towards. However, this was a very slick (for the most part), well-acted, uncomfortable, and thoughtful film that leaves you thinking about how you might behave differently… or not.
The Present – 2020 (Palestine)
Directed by Farah Nabulsi, written by Farah Nabulsi and Hind Shoufani
The Present, like White Eye (see above), presents what is a dark reality for many people who have had the misfortune of being positioned on the ‘wrong’ side of a situation, or born into a so-called ‘wrong’ country. Simply the act of going to work, buying groceries, or going home turns into a tense life-or-death situation where one is at the mercy of law enforcers who are already not on your side.
All of this gives The Present a great start: we follow Yusef (Saleh Bakri) and his young daughter Yasmine (Maryam Kanj – with a really beautiful performance) as they travel across Checkpoint 300 on the West Bank in order to buy groceries and a present for Yusef’s wife for their anniversary. What follows are engaging juxtapositions of Yusef’s determination, Yasmine’s childlike playfulness tinged with sadness, and the brutal dehumanization from the checkpoint guards. Guerilla filmmaking tactics were used for the Checkpoint scenes, with many of the Palestinian extras comprising of non-actors who were there genuinely to get to work on the other side. Touches like this add urgency to the story, however the fact that the actors playing the Israeli guards had strong Arabic accents when they spoke Hebrew/English slightly pulled one out of the realism.
The film’s final third is where I feel it falls apart. Saleh Bakri as Yusef had shown beautiful restraint in his performance as he hid his exhaustion and exasperation with a stoic, resigned effect. It is understandable that this would build up into some kind of emotional explosion, but the one that is displayed here does not ring true at all and feels like rather forced hysteria from the actor and the script. Moreover, it seems highly unlikely that someone reacting in that manner in front of the Israeli soldiers would have left with their life – they would have been shot on site, sadly.
Although overall I was left unfulfilled by the story, I am glad this film exists. This is a perspective we often don’t get, and it is important that we, in the West, check our privilege from time to time. If the final third had not descended into melodrama, it would have been much more effective.
All five of these entries display how much can be done with up to 35 minutes of story time. There wasn’t a film in this category I actively disliked, although the final third of The Present was frustrating. In terms of technical filmmaking and innovative storytelling, I would have given the Oscar to either White Eye or Two Distant Strangers. The latter had the advantage of being extremely (unfortunately) topical to the current American racial landscape, which most likely cut straight through to the voters’ guts, and rightly so. In terms of which film travelled directly to my heart and stayed there, I would have to give it to The Letter Room. Simplicity in human emotion and interaction is a surefire way to have me hooked, and it did.
