Elevated is what I discovered, and I find it to be a phenomenal short film. A taut horror-thriller, it employs a simple gimmick—the entirety of the film takes place on an elevator. From such a simple premise a remarkable amount of tension and horror is derived, delivered by a surprisingly diverse and dramatic shooting style in addition to excellent performances.  The film begins with a woman and a man sharing an elevator at the end of the day. They are going down when a building security guard joins them. Covered in blood, he commandeers the elevator and sets it to go to the very top of the building. From there a tense psychological battle joins, as the security guard—not the most trustworthy of figures with his manic, panicked behavior, tries to convince the credulous pair that going down is a REALLY BAD IDEA.

In moving on from Elevated, Natali has come to be known as an expert visual craftsman, and this film really shows the roots of that. There is a facility with space necessary to make such a concept work, and the entirety of the elevator car is utilized, from the the high to the low, in ways that are sensible and non-showoffy.

More so though, I really enjoyed the look of the film. Made in 1997, I actually got a strong 80’s vibe from the soft light and desaturated colors. This is probably because it is so rare to see shorts shot on film nowadays, and the ones that are still get digital color-grading. Something about the the blue of the night shots glimpsed outside the elevator though  gave me this overwhelming nostalgia for the Terminator/Die Hard era of action filmmaking. The soft focus and blinding backlights of the finale sequence instilled similar sentiments.

For a director that is most associated with high-concepts, Elevated, and really all of Natali’s  films, showcase fine acting. Truthfully Elevated is an actor’s piece, the artificial confines creating a stage of sorts—though the editing and directorial decisions add infinitely to the presentation. Still it is a work unusually dependent on its acting, and the confined space necessitates many closeups of the actors, who fortunately really let loose and dig into their roles. There is a reticence I would imagine to screaming one’s head off in an elevator with a camera mere inches from you, and if that reticence came through the film would be sunk. However Vicky Papavs, Bruce McFee and Natali fave David Hewlett really shine.

Splice may yet change this, but up till now Natali has been most famous for his debut feature, the excellent cult classic Cube. For those who know the film, the similarities are obvious. It is not made explicit anywhere I can find, but it reasons to think that Elevated was in many ways a proof of concept for that film, which similarly explored tense human relations in a confined space. Unfortunately it doesn’t seem as though Elevated got included on any of the Cube special edition dvd releases. It would have made a nice accompaniment, and thus, this lower quality file from DailyMotion with French-hardsubs is our best option to enjoy this wonderful film.

Lutz is a dreamer and malcontent in a controlled world where life is dictated by the number of social points you have. Intelligent enough to enter the prestigious Institute for Neuro-Informatics but lacking both the determination to succeed within the system and the sense that there is anything better, Lutz seeks to escape. With the help of Jannik, an ex-con and ex-dreamer who has suffered in the virtual prisons where each individual’s Hell is personalized, Lutz hatches a plan to give him what he’s always wanted, though even he realizes that the most likely outcome is a lifetime of agony.

As I watch this film again, what strikes me is not the FX. Those effects are excellent, be they flying robots, future cityscapes, or fifty foot mothers, but they don’t steal the focus. It is the story that grips me. This is a story of hope and fear and redemption. The quality of those effects allow Axel (writer/producer/director) and Henning (writer/producer) Ricke to tell that tale without my mind, and hopefully yours, slipping out of their world. I am there with Lutz, feeling his doubt, his hope, and his need for something else. Stars David Winter and Reinhardt Firchow bring such loss, energy, and humanity to their characters, but then the Ricke brothers make that easy, giving them such rich personalities to work with.

If my description makes D-I-M sound dour, let me assure you it is anything but that. Fast paced, with twisted humor running throughout, it is even more enjoyable than it is thoughtful. Cinematic cyberpunk has been a disappointment.  For every Blade Runner or The Matrix there have been twenty mindless, poorly shot rip-offs. D-I-M gives fans of the sub-genre something to cheer about again.

The Ricke brothers are just getting started.  Henning took the director’s chair for their follow-up, Rosfeld, a marvelously sly science fiction comedy that hit the festival circuit in 2009. It is not available online, so you’ll have to keep an eye out for it at your local festival.

(embed courtesy of eerieTube.com)

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.

The plot is as complex as you would expect (or desire) from a beer-based zombie film. A drunken brew master has embarrassed the brewery for the last time, being exiled to the lonely late-night shift. He hasn’t let this setback interrupt his drinking, and while looking into a vat of… OK, let’s not over think this. We all know that beer turns guys into zombies, right? That’s the plot. Done.

Co-writer/director Rob van der Velden approached internet fame with his winning entry into Quentin Tarantino’s fake trailer competition (Dutch edition), Nailed by Nikita. Fitting with the tone of the faux trailers in Tarantino and Rodriguez’s Grindhouse, Nailed by Nikita introduces the touching tale of an abused, often naked woman, with a nail gun. God how I love nail guns. Van der Velden upped his game, with help from de Voogd, for Zombeer, surpassing the production values of most genre features, as well as almost everything which airs on the SyFy Channel. The last is pertinent because Zombeer screened on that channel, and was also nominated for their Shocking Shorts Award.

I suppose you could find some political commentary here, or a statement about alcoholism, but my mind never wandered into the land of deep meanings while watching drunken zombies take a bite out of tourists. Sure, it’s hard to become emotionally involved as the film never picks a character to focus on. And yes, it could be a more complete story and less of what feels like an intro to a larger work. But it is already delivering zombies and beer. To ask for more would be ungrateful.

Since Zombeer could stand in for the definition of “guy” film (definitions with words in them are way too feminine), don’t watch it alone. The Super bowl is nearly upon us, another stereotypically masculine bit of entertainment. Set out a few twelve packs, and make sure you have at least a case of Dutch brews chilling. Order up a few pizzas, and before the big game, start off the afternoon with Zombeer. Nothing could be more fitting.

The Tale of How is part two of the Dodo Trilogy. Forget for a second that there is neither a part one or part three, the team is operating on an epic vision which I can appreciate. Despite that, the film exhibits a silly and light touch. The mundane names chosen, “Otto” for the octopus and “Eddie” for the savior mouse, coupled with the stoner-ish vocal delivery of Eddie, provides an element of child-like fun to the proceedings, though children might very well be alarmed by images of the dodos being torn apart front and center onscreen.

Speaking of vocals, as distinct as the visual style is the operatic delivery of the story’s narrative. My initial reaction was dismissive—hokum, and difficult to understand hokum at that. But the short runtime of the film allowed me to immerse myself in visuals the first time, and then listen closer to the lyrics the second time. Under closer inspection I realized they were well written if nothing else, and the idiosyncratic deliveries, themselves a slight mockery of operatic forms, were done well enough. The crew has published the lyrics online if you have a curiosity in deciphering some of the more opaque passages.

First coming out in 2006, the film has found many fans, playing the festival circuit, winning a prize at Annecy, as well as touring with OneDotZero and the much-missed ResFest traveling tours. Motionographer and Dek, who also has posted a “making of” vid, have previously featured the film. To capitalize on the popularity the filmmakers have put up a book for sale, featuring original artwork and some lovely prints, along with a DVD copy of the film. I am quite a fan of this approach. Though a little rich for my blood at $50, I think the secret to selling digital content is to package it with non-digital content that appeals to fans, and the book certainly looks lovely, and the quality of our linked Vimeo file is certainly a little lacking.

The directors have repeatedly hinted of a prequel emerging soon for this film, we’ll keep you updated if and when it surfaces. Until then, there is the 2009 United Airlines commercial the team did, which is of a similar, marvelous aesthetic. I cannot believe this actually played on TV!

So is the case for lone cop Melvin, caught short in the wrong place at the wrong time in Poet Zero’s short of misunderstanding Cerrado Al Publico. The film is a perfect example of effective striping back to the essentials that so many filmmakers overstep, often to the detriment of the finished product – over stretching both resources and story when less would have certain left an impression of more. Cerrado Al Publico employs a minimum of on screen talent (a single actor, walkie talkie voice and two pairs of feet) until the final reveal and a location that it’s hard to imagine could be any more minimal, yet is perfectly dressed to make the viewer share our protagonist’s disgust - I’m assured that it’s a chocolate syrup and pea soup mixture smeared around the stall.

It was also a relief to see that directors Takashi Doscher and Alex Shofner were able to take Melvin from bumbling, comedic character to tragic ‘if only he hadn’t…’ figure with a twist that didn’t feel like a cheat or easily predicted from the opening credits, but was rather filling in the unexpected blanks for Melvin and the audience alike. As co-directors the pair took a divide and conquer approach to their shared role; Shofner took on set directing with responsibility for all that passed before the lens (actors, props, set, etc.), while Doscher’s cinema director role, tackled behind the camera tasks such as liasing with the crew and ensuring the technical elements stayed sharp.

Perhaps credit should also rest with the process by which the Poet Zero team select their projects; members of the group pitch their ideas, with the group voting on which ones to take forward and then finally roles attributed due to personal interest. Also, it has to be said that the work of David Torcivia (VFX & Grading) and John Merizalde (Editor) go a long way in helping to sell the final moments of this $0 budget, yet effective and entertaining short.

A young woman reflects upon a time 15 years earlier. She was 5 and her village was about to be set upon by English soldiers. In desperation, she crossed through the Black Forest, to search for a swordsman of legend, the “Kuroi Kenshin”, to help protect her family and people. Her only tool of persuasion is a book she hopes to give him.

That is the setup for the film, which at only 10 minutes, is still admirably able to establish a languid mood, only to be sharply shattered when the English finally do arrive. Omnipresent gloom, influenced by the dark pallete, and stylistic use of fog and other filters, helps as well to reinforce the dark, gothic meme. Religious overtones are meant to be imparted through the use of Schubert’s Ave Maria, but beautiful as it is, I found it to be found an almost laughable choice. Aside from mood and some nifty work with light, Comedy adheres rather closely to the traditional anime aesthetic, and is about as conventional a film you will see from the studio, known for its experimental work.  The action, which is brief, yet beautiful, is where the majority of the innovation can be witnessed, though simultaneous representations and ghostly afterimages. Sadly though it is the portion least suited to viewing on the ‘net.

Perhaps because it is one of the more straightforward entries in Studio 4°c’s catalog, Comedy has definitely become a fan-favorite. Of course maybe it is simply because of the well-established fact that mysterious and beautiful killing-machines are so deeply resonant with your average anime fan ^_^. Still the film has stood the test of time for a studio known as a bastion for short, experimental animation in Japan. It is a small studio, that by and large rejects growth, in order to create an environment that allows some of  the greatest animators to do the work they want to do. Commercial projects, such as major contributions to the Animatrix and the newer Gotham Knight collections, as well music videos for Linkin Park and the huge Japanese band, Glay, keep the studio in the black, but it is their short film collections that are the heart of their output. Collections like Genius Party, and the recent Genius Party Beyond, are the latest examples.

This is an important role the studio plays in term of the growth of animation in the country. Studio 4°c creates a space for animators, like Kazuto Nakazawa, to journey back and forth from the experimental to the mainstream.  The ironic thing about Japan is that the ubiquity of commercial animation, actually retards the experimental. Only in the last few years have Japanese animators like Koji Yamamura and yesterday’s Oscar-Winner, Kunio Kato, recieved recognition and validation on the world festival stage, and their work is by and large independent and does not really touch upon what we consider an anime aesthetic. Directors like Nakazawa on the other hand have a commercial output as diverse as directing the anime sequence in Kill Bill,  the Asience: Hairy Tale commercial, and chief animation directing of several episodes of Samurai Champloo. Comedy, is a worthy title in that oevre, and now with Youtube upping their quality, it has finally  been uploaded in a form fit to share. Enjoy it with the high-quality setting!

I’ve heard Jasper Morello described as a gothic horror, but there’s certainly a strong connection to science-fiction drawing from the genesis of the genre in the vein of Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. The sub-genre is a newer category, steampunk, which—for those unfamiliar with the term—is essentially a 19th century vision of the future where steam powers all. The allure is both a nostalgia for the Victorian-age aesthetic and a fascination with mechanics all set in a fantasy world with few limitations.

The unique style of animation is truly something to behold and reminiscent of the oldest surviving animated feature, The Adventures of Prince Achmed (1927). The simplified characters are reduced to silhouettes diverting our attention from the character to the action in the background—intricate workings of steampunk machinery and soft, ethereal skyscapes. Lucas created the characters out of various found materials and shot them in stop-motion—the silhouette effect, he says, was the result of a “happy accident” when a light blew out. The machines and backgrounds were created with the aid of a 3D computer rendering and all was composited together to created a very seamless, very unique combination.

Jasper Morello ran the festival circuit a couple years back until it reached the pinnacle of short film—an Oscar nomination— where I saw it for the first time. It did so well, that Lucas has three more Jasper adventures in the works. If you’ve already seen this film, it’s a great second-viewing. If you haven’t yet seen it, you’re in for a real treat.

She’s naturally enough concerned for her son in all respects, even including the possibility of his eloping with the Moonies. Moms worry themselves with things like that. Or flying saucers. She (and he) put down his problems to transferring from Catholic School to Public School. Traumas like that have a debilitating effect on one’s adolescence. Back to the disease. How exactly he acquired AIDS is not exactly clear, though it appears to be largely the responsibility of a contaminated hamburger consumed in the classroom. Hamburgers are the root of all evil and guilt for a good Catholic boy in a non-Catholic school.

Some homespun advice from Mom and semi-official advice later leads to further neurotic behavior: a period where they abstain from the cup at communion and instructions to her boy to stay clear of sharp toys. All goes well until he has cereal at his friend Ryan’s house. Ryan loses his trousers and throws a puppet at the boy’s face. It’s AIDS time again, and this time almost too much for mom and son to bear.

Made with Mirage, now TVPaint, the hilarious mix of styles—real images of hamburgers, paired with black and white movies contrasting with gaudy coloured animation conspire to share one modern nuclear family’s guilt. You’ll love it. Suburban angst.

Score: 7/10
A Sundance 10/10 film: now online

Carson Mell is not an action director, he specializes in a unique form of non-animation animation, and so it is the latter route which Field Notes from Dimension X: Oasis explores to satisfying effect; focusing on a weary inter-dimensional traveler as he struggles with isolation on a remote world he dubs “Oasis”.

Mell has been on a great run of late, teaming up with Wholphin to release his prior films, The Writer and Bobby Bird: The Devil in Denim, as part of that most excellent collection, and it is this association which lead to his film Chonto, finding a home in the Youtube Screening Room. Viewers who have seen any of these previous films will recognize Mell’s signature style in tact: colorful writing that carries the story, supplemented by inventive, cleanly illustrated images, barely moving against picturesque photo-backgrounds.

This lack of animation doesn’t work for everyone, but the simplicity allows Mell to work on his own, providing the freedom to follow his whims and to focus on his two great strengths as a writer and an illustrator. The illustrations are very cool, especially when he conjures up monsters, sexbots and other items from the imaginarium. The graphic style is well executed, though nothing remarkable to any Fantagraphic fan. His writing on the other hand is extremely interesting, and is surely what has made him a hit with the McSweeney’s set. One gets the feeling that Mell is really a writer who looks to film as a promotional tool. The intertextual synergy of Chonto with Mell’s debut novel Saguaro, a book which fleshes out the legend of Bobby Bird, seems to attest to that.

All in all Mell’s style does not work for everyone, and I myself have reservations regarding it. However Field Notes from Dimension X is his best work to date, and clocking in at under 5 minutes the opportunity cost is low. Therefore I recommend you check it out and decide for yourself if all the fuss is warranted.

Score: 6/10

A Sundance 10/10 film: currently offline

Magnetic Movie makes the ambitious attempt to visualize the intangible discoveries of today’s best scientists. Their explanations lay score to scenes of empty labs where these discoveries play out as erratic experiments that slowly grow out of control—a fitting analogy to the discoveries themselves.

A Sundance 10/10 film: now online

Thomas is our main character, a magician…of sorts. He is 25, lives at home, and maybe because of that he has the bratty petulance of a Napolean Dynamite. He also has illusions of grandeur that remind one of another famous comedic role, Will Arnett’s magician character G.O.B. in Arrested Development. Sadly his skills in magic seem to hew closely to G.O.B’s as well, but, the appearance of a pretty new neighbor provides the impetus to perhaps pull Thomas out of his rut

Due to the self-imposed parameters of this site, I rarely watch films over 12 minutes long, so it feels somewhat strange for me to call Instead of Abracadabra snappy, but it is a truly apt description. Scenes zip along with fierce economy, meaning that you are getting a feature’s worth of scenes and development compacted into that running time, which I find great. One of my great laments concerning modern comedy is the prevalence of exaggerated setups leading only to a mediocre laugh. The quality of the script for this film and the briskness of it’s timing, eliminated that concern for me.

The script frankly is just well-crafted. The scenes and their order make logical sense, nothing is rushed, and all the familiar structural components of the Hollywood style are nailed. Furthermore, elements and jokes established early in the film are satisfactorily tied into the conclusion. The buffoonery of Thomas is the main comedic engine, but strong writing and performances from the supporting characters impart plenty of quick hit laughs during expository moments. What i especially liked was, despite recognizing the formula, I still could be surprised. I’ll return to the comparison’s made above. The film establishes Thomas early on as an object of ridicule, similar to G.O.B. with his misguided flamboyance and rather pathetic skills, and throughout the film you wonder if that is the extent of his character and the purpose of the film—to be the actor of a farce—or whether he is more like Napolean; someone to laugh at surely, but also to empathize with, and whom is ultimately capable of transcendence. Eklund treats this question ambiguously throughout the film, which generates legitimate suspense in the climactic scene.

These strong components, paired with plus marks in acting and cinematography, easily overcome reservations regarding the film’s length. Since we are not originating these film choices like we do on our normal weekly basis, I feel no pressure to provide a positive review, (in fact I secretly am hoping for a bad film to pop up so that I can slam it, since I never get to do that) but (un)fortunately Instead of Abracadabra is superior entertainment. Grab it now, in case Sundance continues its habit of the last couple of years and make the film unavailable after today.

A Sundance 10/10 film: currently offline

That is the setup for ¡Perfecto!, a cute and quirky micro-budget film, submitted to YouTube and Sundance’s recently concluded Project:Direct competition—a viewer-submitted online comp that actually has some pedigree as far as its sponsors go, and a pretty neat prize for a payout, (VIP treatment at Sundance!), ensuring a strong field for once.

The film opens with the female lead, Vaden, primping herself in a wedding gown. Her Mom teases her by saying “Nice dress for a part-time waitress”, a throw away line that takes on new meaning later in the film. Hernan, the groom, addresses his soon to be in-laws in the living room, drawing nothing but blank stares from these country folk, for he is adressing them entirely in Spanish. An eldery man remarks in a straight deadpan that the police are outside the house.

So they are an odd couple. But how did this union come to be?

The film goes through a flashback to their meeting and romance, and this is the film’s strongest part. Vaden’s cheerful stream-of-conscious babbling is a perfect complement to the film itself which keeps humming along in a state of wonderful bemusement, propelled by brisk editing and a cheerful sountrack.

It is this sequence as well that we see the strongest technical components of the film. The scene in the restaurant is simply executed well. The set is well lit and interesting looking. The use of a lens adpater is present throughout the film, but has its most striking effect in this scene, and the editing during the shot reverse shot is spot on. During the courtship, the fact that the camera is handheld is noticeable, but mitigated by the brevity of the clips and the camera movement. Plus the use of foreground objects as wipes is a neat trick that fit the mood and brisk nature of scene to perfection.

A quick congratulations needs to given to Erin Fede as well, who wrote the screenplay and starred as Vaden. Her performance is immensely likable, and in short films, where there is little character development, the importance of instant likability cannot be overstated. The buoyent optimism of the character both in the script and on screen really allowed for the mood of the film to be achieved.

The film concludes with a twist of course, why else were the cops there? But by that time I was already sold on ¡Perfecto! Good mood, good acting, good execution leads to a good film. Congratulations on winning Project:Direct! Congratulations to Youtube for this, the second Project:Direct competition also. ¡Perfecto! at this point has received over 130,000 views, more than a film can hope to get at any festival except for maybe Tropfest. Still, this number fails to prove that narrative productions can as of yet compete for eyeballs on the level of popular viral vids which are YouTube’s bread and butter, but YouTube definitely sees the value in promoting this, so hopefully we can get there. If you have a fast connection I definitely encourage you to check the film out in YouTube’s new HD, by clicking the link right below the picture.

The film animates the interactions between its director, Chris Landreth, and a panhandling, ex-addict named Ryan Larkin. What elevates these interviews beyond simple sympathy, a mere portrait in degradation, is the relationship between the two. Ryan is a hero to Chris. An Oscar-nominated animator in his own right, Ryan Larkin is a man whose work in the 60’s and early 70’s “secured his place in the history of animated fimmaking” as the film states. But artistic and commercial frustration, paired with a debilitating addiction brought Ryan out onto the streets where Chris finds him.

While blessed with a fascinating subject in the figure of Ryan, Landreth finds more than mere tragedy, he finds a cautionary tale. The film emphasizes a kinship that Landreth feels towards Ryan, and finds him terrified. This emphasis on Landreth’s self-recognition is represented from the beginning as the film opens with him talking about his own failures. Thus the film morphs from what on first glance is a reclamation project, into as much of an examination of Landreth as of Ryan. Throughout the interviews he inserts himself into the work, and as a result the film becomes a meditation on the madness and sacrifice of the art.

This theme is represented verbally through the interviews and through Landreth’s voice-overs, but the film, as an animation, won most of its acclaim though its ability to impart these themes visually. The characters in the film are animated in realistic CG, but are damaged. Landreth has been mutated in a psychedelic fashion, and his fear of failure pops up periodically throughout the film as a literal entitiy, colorful strips which bind his head and face, blinding him. While Landreth has his scars, even missing part of his head, Ryan is simply lacking. In a literal sense. Ryan is represented more or less normally, but huge chunks of his face and head are simply missing. The metaphor is clear—The ravages of his lifestyle clearly have damaged him, but more sinisterly, it can be read that his art has in fact consumed him as well. That the self-destructive impulses of creativity, have hollowed Ryan out.

Ironically, in the film Ryan talks about his Oscar nomination. About how he lost out to Walt Disney. Later in the film he decries the lack of money as something that killed his animation career. The awarding of an Oscar to this film therefore brings out an added level depth when watching, and reiterates the importance of these awards to independent filmmakers, a point I made much more eloquently around this time last year. Thanks go out to the Youtube Screening Room for bringing Ryan to us for free in a way that still benefits the filmmakers. Youtube is really bringing great films into this series as the last couple of weeks have showcased Short of the Week 2008 faves, I Love Sarah Jane and The Bloody Olive. Thanks go to NFB Canada as well for their continued production support of great artists, but also for bringing some of their illustrious catalog to YouTube.

“If her web be art, then she is an artist of symmetry who walks on air…”

The simple, child-like illustration style draws much from Bourgeois’ spindly sculptures. The Spider won a 356: AIGA (American Institute of Graphic Artists) Award for motion graphics this year (where I found it online), so it speaks well to my design-conscious side. The motion is well-choreographed, moving and morphing in time and breaking dimensional boundaries at key moments to create a visual style who’s perceived simplicity is broken by a deep and textural world teeming just beneath the surface.

“And if it is true that the great themes are death and love, then surely she is preoccupied with greatness.”

The filmmaker, Juan Delcan (Nola Pictures), has said he’s interested in expanding this idea to other contemporary poems—perhaps enough for a feature.

The film moves effortlessly between passages of time, tracing the break-down of the relationship precipitated by and relived through an obsessive requirement to record events the two have shared. The greater Rob’s fear of losing her the more desperate is he to preserve Alice’s image.

The narrative is presented in flip book animation and live action. Narrated by Rob (Simon Perry) we watch as Alice attempts to wrestle him back to reality. “Can you just STOP for one minute to talk about this?” she writes. I can scarcely conceive of a form of flip book ignored in this classy film: conventional, hand machine operated, toilet tissue unravelled, images discarded on the floor, cascading in the air, even, at one stage, pasted to the London Underground wall behind Alice as she sits alone with the possessions removed from their apartment.

If the use of animation is extraordinary, the filming is subtle with a curiously detached quality about it. Many of the shots of Alice are full on portraits, reflecting her partner’s obsessive need to record their relationship. The walls of the apartment itself are white and at times it is as if the director has drained much of the colour from the action so that it echoes the flickering white paper of the flip books. Technically and artistically accomplished, Adjustment is beautifully edited, cutting from past to present almost as if the photographs and drawn images are shuffled into a different order, as indeed they are in the film.

The movie formed part of Ian’s graduation from the Royal College of Art in 2006. He also studied and taught Computer Animation at Bournemouth University. He is one of the UK’s young directors with huge potential.

That is the setup for Soft, a film which is lean, yet inventive and diverse in technique, a true coming out for a rising star, British writer/director Simon Ellis. Shot on film over 5 days for the sum of 50,000 pounds, the film is the product of a sponsorship by the UK Film Council and Film4 via their Cinema Extreme program, which identifies British film talent and supports their ability to step up to feature films by first tackling a professional short.

Based on the film’s reception, that decision to invest in Mr. Ellis, seems wise. Soft was the recipient of the 2008 International Jury Prize at Sundance, as well as Best of the Fest at the ’07 Palm Springs Short Film Fest. What Soft accomplishs to garner such acclaim is multi-fold: the film is novel and yet relatable, timeless yet extremely topical, and while so much of the film is about relationships and emotions, its defining moment is a thunderbolt of shocking action.

The conflict is at the heart of the film’s allure, and it is complex—simultaneously playing out on a physical as well as ethical level, defying easy resolution or second-guessing on the audience’s part. Moreover, the conflict is twofold—the man and son up against nameless aggression, but also the man and son versus each other, setting up a novel premise that is yet still universal. Who has not confronted bullying? Tension is masterfully manipulated through a slow burn pacing that pushes the film to its 13min runtime. In his 15 prior shorts Ellis had yet to break the 10min mark in length, and I generally agree with him in that doctrine, yet in an interview, Ellis responds “In my opinion, most short films are almost always too long but I felt this one needed room to breathe.” Soft benefits from that choice not only in atmospherics, but also in developing its characters.

The 13min runtime allows for a second stellar aspect of the film to shine through, which is its acting. The tension that is central to the film is largely generated from the performances, and the liberal employment of extreme facial close-ups to convey subtle notes of apprehension, dawning comprehension and resolve, that move the film forward. It is rare that a short film so wholly relies on performance and character development as Soft does, but so much of the story is interior. It is truly the change and growth in its characters outlook and reactions which define the story, the explicit action is merely the consummation of information already conveyed.

Finally the film is topical, in a way that surely has benefited its reception in the UK. Having spent some time in London over the last few years, I can attest to a rising hysteria amongst media outlets and evidently the public at large, over the rise of “Hoodies”, Ellis definitely plays off of existing fears to great effect by imagining a villainous force of randomly violent, hip-hop inspired youth to serve as the catalyst for his story. Histories of Hoodie-hysteria often trace the rise of the phenomena to the controversial use of CCTV cameras on London’s streets and public places. The high angle shot which opens and closes the film is obviously meant to evoke this current reality of constant surveillance. And yet while the hoodies of the film are villains, thugs delighting in the delivering of abuse, I read a moral to the film that ultimately is dismissive of the threat of hoodies—yes there exist bullies and maladjusted youngsters, but they are merely bullies, not a sinister new force. The real threat is the disconnect of a society from its youth. Elders chide and judge without understanding, while the youngsters scoff at their hypocrisy. This crisis is happening in the homes of communities, not on the streets.

All this adds up to a compelling film that deserves the accolades it has received so far. Unfortunately the success of Soft means that like so many of its festival brethren, it will be a while before we see a legit high-quality internet version. In the meantime enjoy this version which seems to have been recorded off French Tv, complete with subtitles. Oh well, it is worth it still.

Born from the ashes of the 9/11 attacks, Get Your War On began as an online comic strip that soon gained cult status in discussion forums. This past summer, the comic was developed into an animated web series. It’s the classic mix of popular politics and comedy delivered in a brash conversational style. In each episode, two corporate bees (accounts payable and accounts receivable) take a few moments out of their day to openly discuss and mock the political topics of the day.

A good GYWO episode to start with is The Watch List—it is the the first episode and displays the characters getting caught up in their own words, setting the tone for the rest of the series. Another “must-see” —The Surge, looks past all the political rhetoric and presents the question on many baffled minds, “What exactly was ‘the surge’?”

Stylistically,the animation follows closely the online comic with its simple, single-color line-drawings that read like a corporate brochure from the 80s. The minimalist approach downplays the visual candy many are accustomed to, and its staid appearance only heightens the outrageous dialogue. In fact, it’s all dialogue with almost no action—the two pace back and forth on the phone.

GYWO is syndicated on the comedy site 23/6 with new episodes released each week.

Watch Get Your War On online at: 23/6

Austin and Ingalls created their epic for Channel101, a weird hybrid of film festival, non-broadcast TV network, and drunk guys throwing popcorn at a screen. Each month, through their website and at a live screening in LA, ten films are shown and then subjected to the uncertain opinions of the audience. The five that receive the most votes become (or continue to be) prime time series, and the filmmakers have to come up with another segment quick. The Wright Stuff survived four weeks of this high pressure format. I’d have been happy if it had lasted ten times that number.

Filmed in black and white with only minimal concern for what looks real (yet with some surprisingly good effects), The Wright Stuff turns the clock back a hundred years. It’s vaudeville shtick on video and you couldn’t ask for better. The jokes are broad, the innuendo outlandish yet somehow innocent, and the stories are just coherent enough to support the gags, and there are a lot to support. It’s rapid fire. Almost every one hit my funny bone, but if a few don’t work for you, no problem as there will be twenty more in the next minute.

The writer/directors take on the lead roles of the overbearing white bread Wilbur and his milquetoast brother Orville. They lend the proper touch of absurdity to their characterizations, playing always to the audience. The rest of the cast keeps the wacky tone going, particularly Ethan Phillips (Neelix on Star Trek: Voyager) as an unstable President Teddy Roosevelt.

There’s no grand point being made. Austin and Ingalls have no agenda beyond making their audience laugh, and in that they succeed. This is pure entertainment.

The ten minute movie opens as a lone swimmer makes his way to an island in the “wide blue sea where people hide away”. Caroline uses a rich blue emulsion here though the next frames are engraved onto black as we meet the two reclusive sisters, Marie and Viola Ge. Seated in darkness, to the background sound of a ticking clock, family cat and Viola’s typewriter, the pair converse. Marie is clearly the dominant one. The entry of the stranger fresh from the sea throws the women into panic. Viola’s talent for writing compensates for a facial disfigurement, though the meeting with her greatest fan changes the dynamics of the home. The elder sister has hidden Viola from the outside world and fights to continue her role as protector. Harsh words are spoken, the fragile harmony of the island broken.

Using the visual themes of light and dark, this richly allegorical tale has dialogue written by Grant Heisler that resonates with symbol and inference. The gradual unraveling of the women’s situation is paralleled by the light forcing its way into their previously dark world, in a classic animation that is both compelling drama and work of art.

Shot on the street and in various check-cashing stores, Checkmate sketches the landscape of the check-cashing industry in Brooklyn. Why are there always jewelry stores next to check-cashing spots? Why is there 1 bank per 1,000 people in fancy Brooklyn Heights, but only 1 per 50,000 people in gritty Bushwick? In discursive style, Rafi and Dallas take us around the borough, talking to people on the street and walking us through the mechanics of the check-cashing spot to illustrate how this particular part of the cycle of debt operates. And we learn how the cycle changes. “Internets,” Dallas jokes, “you know you’ve made it when you go from check-cashing fees to ATM fees.” Ben Popken, an editor at consumerist.com, makes an appearance as a talking head, but it’s mostly Dallas and Rafi on camera, riffing on the absurdities of our new, “eff-ed the eff up” economy.

The Internets Celebrities (the name, by the way, is very much toungue in cheek) are doing something unique on YouTube: using it as vehicle for informed, pointed documentary-making. The rough style is part of the message, that this is off-the-cuff, not watered down. There’s no critical distance here, and the video itself has a loose style perfectly suited to embeddable online video. But the lack of obvious slickness obscures how slick Checkmate actually is—it’s a 10-minute video about “check-cashing” of all things, but it’s already had nearly half a million views. Are they indeed, as they claim, “the Woodward and Bernstein for the YouTube generation”?

John Coven, who spends his days as a storyboard artist on big budget Hollywood productions (3:10 to Yuma, X-Men, The Usual Suspects), is a master of focus. No one has his skill in distilling a standard genre storyline. I stumbled upon Repossessed (Foster on Film review), his follow-up to Out There, several years ago, and have watched it more than any other live-action short. It is the standard ghost story, the one that is re-told in feature after feature, condensed without loss to eight minutes. It was an amazing feat, one aided by his stars, JoBeth Williams (Poltergeist) and Juliet Landau (Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

Out There is Coven’s take on the alien abduction picture. Its scope is small, with little more than two actors facing each other across a room, but it covers all the bases. Jeff Fahey (veteran of every other B-movie you’ve ever seen) stars as a disturbed man who may be a victim of alien abduction. Dr. Gerard (Harry Shearer, best known as the voices of Flanders, Skinner, Smithers, Burns, and many others on The Simpsons) is a psychologist who specializes in such cases. Gerard’s tool is hypnotherapy, which in this case might reveal things best left hidden.

Yes, you’ve seen this tale before if you have any interest in science fiction. I’ve watched similar films as part of anthology television series as well as having seen numerous ninety-plus minute features covering the same ground. What Coven does, besides adding a nice dose of style, is cut out the fat, giving us a lean seven and a half minute short which is thoroughly enjoyable. It doesn’t hurt that it would be a pleasure to listen to Shearer read the phone book; the man just has one of those voices.

Out There isn’t going to stun you or make you rethink your life, but it will allow you to cross off any alien abduction movies from your Netflix list.

Genesis Antipode, produced, written, and directed by American J.R. Robinson in New Zealand, takes the post apocalyptic story to its character-driven basics. There’s a man and a woman, and the rest of the world is dead. Too bad she despises him. Told in two timelines, the human race is no more when the film begins. Jeffrey and Rebecca stay close to each other, outside of the city for fear of what may lie there. They had met before the fall of civilization, on a blind date. He was her intellectual superior, but in every other way, he lagged behind. Rebecca, an attractive, social woman, was repulsed by his inability to grasp even basic cultural norms. However Jeffrey, a dweebish scientist, thought things had gone swimmingly. He learns otherwise, and then everyone else dies.

This is one of the most compelling visions of a destroyed world you’ll find on film. It’s not exciting, but with believable acting and a far too believable situation, it sticks in your brain.

Genesis Antipode is both depressing and relaxing. Is there hope in its suggested future? That’s up to you to decide. It presents two people in the most awkward of situations and lets the audience imagine what they would do in their place.

Terminus hails from Spyfilms (also behind the Short of the Week 2007 favorite, Alive in Joburg) who has developed a great reputation for their seamless integration of lo-fi and hi-fi visualization techniques (DV + CG).

I caught up with Trevor (a Canadian filmmaker and recipient of many visual effects distinctions including 2 Emmy nominations) to ask him some questions about the film.

After Ringu, which is credited with kicking things off, Takashi Shimizu’s Ju-On movies are the most important and popular J-Horror works. They add hopelessness and desolation to the mix. In each of the seven films (Ju-On: The Curse 1 & 2, Ju-On: The Grudge 1, 2, & 3, and the American remakes, The Grudge 1 & 2), all directed by Shimizu, innocent, everyday people confront a curse, formed from the rage inherent in an act of extreme cruelty and betrayal, and there is nothing they can do but die. There’s no answer.

In general, I enjoy films where we follow protagonists that accomplish relevant goals, but those aren’t scary movies; the Ju-Ons are.  I screened the original The Curse films for an audience of about a hundred and fifty and spent the next day listening to how I had brought them nightmares and how they didn’t feel comfortable being alone. Now that’s horror. The latter films lost some of that edge, but that’s par for the course with any series.

Before Ju-On, there was Katasumi (In a Corner) and its sibling, 444-444-4444.  Shimizu’s career was just starting in 1998. He was signed on to create two segments for an anthology movie, Gakkô no kaidan G (School Ghost Stories G), but as the producers weren’t convinced of his skills, each had to be under five minutes.  He used this time effectively, laying the foundation for his features.  Though lacking the flair of the longer pictures, the two vignettes successful convey the same feeling of doom.

The more complex Katasumi presents two school girls, wearily completing the chore of feeding their class’s pet rabbit. When one cuts her finger, the other leaves to get a bandage. It’s never good to be left alone in a horror film, even a very short one, and that’s true here. When the absent girl returns, she finds the cages ripped open and her friend missing.  Unfortunately for her, she learns the one thing worse than being alone is abruptly discovering you’re not alone.  In 444-444-4444, a teenager finds a ringing cell phone and answers it. All he hears on the other end is the mewing of a cat. When he demands to know who is playing a trick on him, he gets his answer from an uncomfortably close source.

Katasumi and 444-444-4444 aren’t terrifying on their own, but are vital pieces in the unsolvable Ju-On puzzle.