Meet Rocky Salemmo. He’s a ramblin’ gamblin’ man. For the majority of his adult life Rocky has hustled bowling for a living.

Dunne’s hugely entertaining, character-driven doc tells the story of Rocky Salemmo, a larger than life man, who has spent the majority of his adult life in the bowling alley, gambling for a living. Like a heady combination of Bill Murray’s Ernie McCracken from Kingpin and Joe Pesci’s Tommy DeVito from Goodfellas (without the violent episodes), Salemmo feels like he was born to be in front of the camera. Rocky is a seriously hyper personality (he claims he doesn’t take coke as it brings him down), he tears up the screen like a wild man, spitting out stories like his life will end if he doesn’t tell them. It’s these rambling antidotes that form the basic structure of Dunne’s film, it feels like he just set-up his crew and waited for Rocky to let loose (much like a crew shooting a wildlife doc would do).

However, there’s no point in having a captivating character with a wonderful story, if the production values don’t match the levels set by the content.

Shot on the Sony EX3, the film features some sumptuous cinematography by director of photography Hillary Spera, as her camera seems magnetized to Rocky and his manic behaviour. The interviews are beautifully constructed and whether we’re in the low-lit bars or Rocky’s mother’s busy living room, Salemmo is always the given space he needs to frantically tell his stories. Often overlay the distinctive voice of our storyteller, The Bowler is also filled with a wealth of hugely effective cutaways ranging from random bowling alley shots, to close-up shots of Rocky bowling, laughing and dancing. Salemmo’s quick-fire delivery is perfectly matched with the fast paced snappy editing from Kathy Gatto and her cutting does a great job of painting the world in which Rocky believes he lives.

Dunne seems to be rapidly becoming a name to watch in the world of the documentary short and his distinctive style and charming stories are sure to win him an army of followers. If you liked The Bowler, be sure to check out the 2009 Sundance selected short The Archive, another fascinating short focusing on the owner of the world’s largest record collection.

Memories are often all we have of past times and past loves, but what if we lost these memories, how would not remembering the there and then, affect us in the here and now.

Written and Directed by Briand, Apricot tells the story of a young couple on a date early in their relationship, they sit in a restaurant, reminiscing of first kisses and first loves over a fresh cup of coffee. However, as the date progresses it quickly becomes apparent that this trip down memory lane has an ulterior motive for one of the potential lovers.

For a film all about memories and what triggers them, Briand and his team have paid a close eye to details and created a film which evokes a dreamlike state for its viewers (almost as if the Director is encouraging the viewer to float off into their own memories whilst watching the his film). Beautifully shot by Cinematographer Adam Arkapaw, the dreamy visuals float across the screen, just as they would float across the memory banks of the mind. Every shot is composed and lit superbly, the date scene speckled with artificial light and framed so the couple seem the only people in the buzzing restaurant. The memory sequences opt for a more personal feel, bathed in sunlight with people and objects drifting in and out of focus (almost as if they are some of the best home movies you’ve ever seen). A sprawling, unobtrusive score from Basil Hogios, combines with a soundtrack of distant thunder and rumbling winds, helping to merge the worlds of reality and memory seamlessly together.

Dialogue also plays a huge part in the feel and the flow of Apricot and Briand has obviously taken great consideration into ensuring the pitch of the dialogue marries up with the other contributing elements of his short. With lines like “He could stare at the Sun longer than anyone I ever met” and “He always covered his collarbone” uttered throughout the film, the unrealistic, almost poetic dialogue also adds to the trancelike feel of Apricot.

There are some films made to provoke anger or disgust from its audience, some films made solely for laughs and some to evoke forgotten memories, Briand’s Apricot is definitely the latter. A film for the dreamers, A film for the romantics and in my opinion a film for film lovers.

Based on Monologue About a Whole Life Written Down on Doors, the Testimony of Nikolai Fomich Kalugin by Belarusian journalist Svetlana Alexievich, Juanita Wilson’s poignant, emotive film begins with a very simple act, the stealing of a door. However, as the film progresses and the narrative unwinds, we discover this act is far more complex than we could have initially imagined. The door is in fact a vital part of a traditional ritual, carried out by a grieving family in the aftermath of the Chernobyl tragedy.

Written and directed by young Irish filmmaker Wilson, yet filmed in the Ukraine (in Pripyat, a city described as the most radioactive place on earth) and featuring regional actors speaking in their native tongue, The Door truly is an ambitious project. Thankfully, the ambitions of the filmmakers are matched to the rewards of this richly captivating, heartfelt short. The film is beautifully shot, with Director of Photography Tim Fleming taking exceptional care over the composition, camera movements and colour palette of every shot. It’s a remarkable achievement that the cinematography team of this production managed to create an aesthetic that works in tandem with such a commanding narrative.

Credit can’t only go to the visual team however, as The Door is also masterfully scored and powerfully acted. Brian Doyle’s music could have so easily been over-dramatic and distracting in trying to compete with other aspects of the film. Instead it gentle accompanies Wilson’s short, softly entering at all the right places. Being a film of little dialogue, its success was always going to quite heavily rely on the actors’ ability to portray emotion through body language and facial expression. As the couple going through an unimaginable grieving process and a drastic transitional period, Igor Sigov and Juliette Gering, do this perfectly, with their vacant stare and furrowed brow saying more than words ever could.

Winning an Irish Film and Television Award in 2009 and an Academy Award nomination in 2010, Juanita Wilson’s directorial debut is gaining the critical acclaim that a film this well made so rightly deserves.

With a feature film, As If I’m Not There, currently in post-production, Wilson’s directorial career is one I’ll be keeping a close eye on.

The two main characters in Pivot are meticulously designed and it’s easy to see that a lot of thought has gone into how to give them an eye-catching, individual look.

The concept for the styling of the main character was inspired by the look of our shadow in the Californian sun.

The long, stretched, oversized limbs of the main character are most effective when he is in full flow, bounding through alleys or bouncing across rooftops, his distinctive orange trousers (inspired by old Russian cosmonaut suits) a liquid blur behind him. In dramatic contrast the ‘villain’ of the piece, is a beast of a figure, his shadow swallowing light as he charges after Pivot’s ‘hero’, his heavy laden feet shattering pavement beneath his trunk-like legs, with every giant step.

In its essence, Pivot is a cat and mouse story—hunter versus prey—but it’s a short made with such panache and such vigour, it must be one of the best of its type. The night-time setting, low-key lighting and shadow play within the film, means we are treated to a mood and atmosphere similar to film noir, whilst at the same time hit with the high tension and frantic pace of a horror movie. To check out how the creators of Pivot created the vibe of the film, be sure to check out their mood boards.

It’s so refreshing to see an animation try something different in terms of style, form and content and I honestly can’t remember the last time an animated piece made me feel this tense and this on-edge. Pivot is a film I’m still not bored of watching, despite being in double figures in terms of viewings and surely that is the sign of a truly great short.

In 1969, a 14-year-old Beatle obsessive Jerry Levitan tricked his way into John Lennon’s hotel room in Toronto and equipped with a reel-to-reel recorder, he managed to persuade Lennon to do a spontaneous interview. Almost 40 years later, Josh Raskin (along with help from Jerry Levitan as producer) has moulded this interview into a mesmerizing animation, featuring time-honoured ink sketching alongside modern digital illustration.

Taking the initial audio recording of the interview as it basis, Raskin develops Lennon’s words into a non-stop visual bombardment of the animated kind. Illustrator James Braithwaite lends his penmanship to the film and his scratchy style is the perfect accompaniment to the old school fuzzy soundtrack. At times Braithwaite’s designs and animations can’t but help elicit memories of The Beatles Yellow Submarine and although the illustrator’s vision is somewhat less colourful and psychedelic than it’s predecessor, you have to presume it played some part in his aesthetic choices. To add a modern edge to the film, Raskin employed the talents of Designer and New Media artist Alex Kurina, whose well-ordered, somewhat more precise style creates an intriguing infusion alongside Braithwaite’s.

Don’t be fooled into thinking this is a film solely based in its visuals though, as however eye-catching they may be, there probably isn’t an animator in the world that could eclipse the thoughts and messages of John Lennon. The interview with Lennon may now be over 40 years old, but it’s incredible how applicable and significant his words still are. In a time still overshadowed with ongoing war and the threat of terrorism, Lennon could almost be speaking of the ‘establishment’ of modern day and the troubles it faces. Adding to the charm of the film, the Musician and Activist seems to have a frankness and honesty in his answers, when speaking to the 14yr old Levitan. These are words and opinions that may not have been so forthcoming to a more seasoned, professional journalist.

Together, this powerful interview combines potently with the strong, imaginative visuals of Raskin and his fellow artists, creating a striking film that is bound to stick in its audiences mind for a long time after watching. It’s easy to see why this innovative short was nominated for a Best Animated Short Film Oscar in 2008.

Like Alive in Joberg, the 2005 short from District 9 director Neill Blomkamp, this feels much like a calling card, showcasing the creative talents of the director Fede Alvarez, who, along with fellow animator Mauro Rondan, were responsible for the impressive digital effects. The opening sequence of the boy playing with his toy robots as the giant machines begin their deadly attack is pure cinematic genius. Within the opening 30 seconds of this almost 5 minute short, when the colossal robots emerge from the fog, you can tell you are witnessing something very different and something very special.

As the film progresses there are no punches pulled nor any distractions used to avoid showing this breathtaking assault. There are no Cloverfield tricks at play here, this is a full-on action sequence, giant robots crash through landscapes and city streets and, accompanied by dozens of attack ships, they proceed to destroy Uruguay’s capital, Montevideo.

This is a film that relies on careful planning, inventive shooting and most importantly, unforgettable digital effects. Looking at the amount of money cinema throws at visual effects in modern times, it’s quite astounding to think this was created for such a minuscule budget. After shooting principal photography in 2006, the film took 6 months of concentrated effort spread out over 2 years to complete, but in doing so the team behind Panic Attack have pulled off the rare and enviable achievement of creating an effective, believable science fiction short, that at times can put many of Hollywood’s attempts to shame.

In Egmont Mayer’s animation, Red Rabbit, this is exactly the story the director chooses to tell. “The man lives alone in a small apartment. The little contact he had with other people has dropped to zero since the rabbit appeared. Every attempt to get the rabbit out of his apartment has failed and since he is not sure whether or not pets are allowed in the building, he does not let anybody enter his apartment”—(via egmontmayer.com)

Mayer’s student film is a beautifully paced, stylistic piece, where no dialogue is needed to convey the emotions of the main characters. Tensions and relationships are slowly and thoughtfully developed throughout the film and we seem to know exactly what the characters are thinking and feeling without anyone ever having to speak a word. Even though as a viewer you really feel the loneliness and isolation of the characters, there is still a certain warmth and touching poetry to this tale.

Rabbits seem to be constantly appearing in films and throughout film history have been used to symbolise many different things. There are many different theories as to what the giant rabbit in Harvey symbolizes, or what Frank the rabbit in Donnie Darko represents. I’m not quite sure what the giant rabbit in Mayer’s Red Rabbit symbolizes, but the one thing I am sure of, is that this is one of the best animations you’ll see all year.

For other Filmakademie work, check out Das Rad.

In Marc Craste’s strikingly original animation Jojo in the Stars, the nightmarish, freak show world he has created reminds me of what might happen if Lynch and Burton ever decided to make a film together (in fact Craste evens proclaims Eraserhead as one of the inspirations behind his film—along with Wings of Desire).  It’s rare to see an animation in such a desaturated form, but the colourless aesthetics of the film adds magnitudes to the industrialized carnival location of the film, whilst also giving it’s characters a dark, tragic edge. If Jojo would have been in colour, it’s hard to imagine how the characters wouldn’t have been cute and lovable (ok maybe not Madame Pica) and this would have inevitably distracted the focus from the story at the heart of this piece.

Although the visuals of Jojo will almost inevitably be what the majority of its viewers remember and remark upon, it is the narrative of the film which takes it to the next level. A heart-breaking tale of love, isolation and self-sacrifice, Jojo tells the age old story of how far one robot-bunny-thing will go to try and set free the silver-plated, owl-like, trapeze artist he has loved from afar. Although set in a twisted, strange world, very unlike the one we live in, the story of Jojo feels like it could come from any book or any film set in any time or any place.

Craste stated that he wanted to create a “a love story with freaks” and that’s exactly what he’s done in creating a cold, nightmarish world, filled at it’s heart with a universally touching story of warmth and devotion.

Comprised of two parts, To Build a Home firstly chronicles the last hours of a dying woman (Julia Ford), as her dedicated and faithful partner (Peter Mullan) cares and comforts for his love in her final moments. In the second part of the short, we see Mullan’s broken shell of a man, coming to terms with the loss of his beloved and struggling to face his future without the woman he loves. It’s an emotional journey full of feeling and atmosphere with a story that will resonate with anyone who has experienced the passing of a loved one.

Up the Resolution’s sombre video for two of The Cinematic Orchestra tracks is a swift departure from their usual, graphics/effects laden work (their video for Coldcut’s Sound Mirrors being a pristine example of this). For To Build a Home, UTR instead decided to focus their attention more on storytelling, mood and performance. The story they weave is touching and mesmerizing, whilst the performance from their two lead actors is nothing short of heart-breaking. Peter Mullan is in spellbinding form portraying a man struggling to come to terms with loss, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of Britain’s most under-rated actors. Although this appears to be a story- and performance-driven piece, don’t for any minute be fooled into thinking that the visuals for this film have been over-looked. The cinematography is absolutely sumptuous. Shot on 35mm, it perfectly captures not only the stunning landscapes of Cumbria, but every nook and cranny of the couples homely little stone cottage (as well as every nook and cranny of the actors expressions). The aesthetics of the film are even more amazing, when considering this is director Andrew Griffin’s (an animation specialist) first venture into the medium of 35mm film.

As a music video it’s a pretty original idea, combining two songs from an Artist into the soundtrack of a short film, especially as the two tracks complement the narrative perfectly. As a short film, it’s beautiful in all departments, utterly compelling and will stay with you for a long time after watching it.