A kind of humorous send-up of anti-feminist women, their activism, and their demonisation of feminism and feminists. There is a sort of revelling in it all, having fun instead of feeling the cut, but the way it is shot is kind of confused and confusing. I respect the ‘fuck you’ feel of the film, but found its message got lost a little.
In this short documentary the filmmaker presents us with images of people on the Ukraine’s border with Russia, where Russia’s initial invasion almost 8 years ago led to an unsteady ceasefire. The film speaks up for victims of war, people who are not vying for geopolitical influence, but just trying to live their lives and protect their loved ones in a state of perpetual precariousness. Mothers hug their children, kids play in defensive sites, and people try to cope with the damage to their homes and the militarisation of their neighbourhoods.
The film also speaks to the rest of Ukraine, who were at the time as yet untouched by the war. It reminds them these are not some people in a far-away land whose war has been forgotten. Despite the truce, they are daily injured and sometimes killed by the ongoing spates of violence. They live in a warzone and need aid.
With a sardonic bemusement, this short documentary looks at the removal of statues of Lenin from Ukraine. In snippets throughout the film is interspersed footage of a séance taking place in the 80s Soviet Ukraine, where people sit very seriously around a makeshift ouija board and try to contact Lenin’s ghost.
Archival footage shows the erection of these statues, to the gaze of crowds of thousands, onlookers packing public squares to see, wrapped in red and pinned with badges, some holding up their own framed portraits of Lenin. While from this time and this place, there is the temptation to see it as entirely a product of Soviet authoritarianism, that obscures the genuine public emotion which brought many people to the streets, and led to hundreds of Lenin statues being erected across the country.
Similarly, contemporary scenes of their removal show crowds of people on the streets, people jockeying to see, desperate to get close. Only this time it is to stamp and break the iconographic monument. People are just as sincere in their rejection as they were in their embrace.
Lacking narration, editing makes the director’s point. While it would be easy to set the rise and fall of the statues as a rejoicing in the demise of Soviet hold over Ukraine, the film chooses to contrast the demolitions with archival images of crosses being pulled off churches, stars being pulled off synagogues, portraits of Christ being burned in the town square. It highlights a repetition of the need to erase the wrong thinking of the past, obliterate the mistakes of history, in a cycle which seems to just go round and round. Even in the shots of the Lenin statues coming down, you see swastikas spray-painted on the plinths, anarchist flags being flown alongside Ukrainian national flags, and it seems to ask, in the overthrow of the old ideology, what new one comes next?
Meanwhile the medium at the séance uses her upturned saucer on her sheet of paper with the letters spelt out in biro. She asks Lenin’s ghost if the country ever know peace, if its people will ever be free of hardship and suffering. Lenin spells back, “No”.
Sweet little short film about a woman talking to her grampa about coming to her wedding. He’s elderly and in a wheelchair but she is trying to encourage him to fly from Ukraine to England for her wedding to her English man. He jokes around with her, and when she tells him the English word for gran, he uses it to call to his wife, laughing. Just a lovely film that lets you sit in the home of a family with the filmmaker.
A short film about a professional Ukrainian weightlifter preparing for a major championship. The film contrasts his increasing physical mastery as he loses his grip on his inner turmoil and up-ends his life.
At the beginning of the film, he shares a flat with his happy, beautiful girlfriend, who is devoted to their fluffy, pregnant cat. Now, like I said in my review of The Dinner, whenever you see a beloved pet in one of these things, ding ding ding! The clock is ticking on it.
Then he gets a phone call from his mother informing him that his father has died. Despite her tears, he refuses to come home for the funeral. He tells her he has to train for the championship, but it’s obvious there’s a history of trauma there. He doesn’t even tell anyone about this, including his girlfriend. Instead he just becomes more intense in his training, more erratic in his behaviour, and eventually lashes out violently against his partner and their pet.
The final shot is of him practising his lift in the mirror, the flat dark and empty, him alone with this dream of strength. Well acted and well made, it is a grim story about toxic masculinity and how damaging it is for all involved.
Beautiful animated short film based on a Scots Gaelic folktale. A hunter sets out to kill a monstrous loch creature, but is transformed into a black dog. With the aid of a selkie, they set out on a journey to break the curse.
Gorgeous visual style, with really textured paper animation, and an absolutely beautiful score. Loved the use of silhouette – the majority of the film is in monochrome. In the same manner as folktales, in reduces things down to their essentials, yet at the same time builds a world that is resplendent and wonderous.
The hunter tries to slay the loch monster, but despite being beheaded, it does not die. Instead it curses the hunter to become a black dog. A selkie takes pity on it, and tells it how to break the curse, by going to an island in the centre of the loch, there to find a white deer, white bird, white fish, and white egg. In chasing after all these things on the island, the hunter is taken through the marvels of nature, the intricate and interconnected worlds of every ecosystem, sees life from the perspectives of those who live in other forms. While there are many lessons you could take away from the tale, one is that a good hunter must have a reverent appreciation and respect for all life.
Just a beautiful short film.
A mother is haunted by her dead daughter in short film Bahar. This is a ghost story about grief and guilt.
Narges is an Iranian-Glaswegian woman who lives in alone now her only surviving child has left for uni. She was widowed young, and had to raise her kids alone, and when her daughter Bahar was killed in a car accident at 6, it left her with only her son Navid. Now he is gone too, and the house has the uncomfortable stillness of an empty nest. Despite being quite conscientious of dusting Bahar’s room, she ignores the large patches of damp mould growing on her walls.
Whether the haunting is real or just in her mind, the marks on the walls have come to represent the shadow of Bahar in the home. Narges will wake from a dream of Bahar and mistake the marks on the wall for her standing by the bed. Her ghost is not frightening, it is longed for. But as Narges’s persistent cough reminds us, there is a price for holding on, and this way of clinging to the dead is unhealthy and harming her.
The haft-sin she put out for Nowruz has now sat too long. The symbols of renewal, and hope for life ahead, are starting to wilt and rot. The hyacinth petals curl, the apples are bruising, in the mirror we see reflections only of Bahar’s ghost. Bahar’s name itself means spring, expressing not only how was she cut down in her spring, at such a young age, but also that she represented new hope and life going forward for her mother, and her end was the end of those things for Narges. The rotting tableau embodies the stagnation of her grief, now garnering a corrupting air, which denies the natural cycle, and has left her hopeless.
Her son Navid visits home to spend Bahar’s birthday with his mother, but he has life pulling at his sleeve, whether it is friends or uni work. He tries to be there to support his mum, but the intensity of her grief a decade on shames him, as though he should feel guilty for moving on. It’s clear the way she is wed to her grief is not only harming her, but her son too.
She says, “Your maman joon used to tell me that having children was feeling guilty for every choice that you make”. Narges is stuck between the guilt of moving on from Bahar’s death, and the guilt of poisoning Navid’s life with her grief. Ultimately, she must a decide which she chooses.
An experimental short film combining dance, music and on-screen text to make a visual poem.
A dancer in trackies and a fleece dances by the seaside, while a figure in ancient folk costume looks on, and the words appear on the screen, a poem describing a dialogue debating notions of place, personhood and perspective. Sparingly designed electronic music hisses in the background, as shots of the wild and craggy landscape are interspersed with shots of the dancer, weather-whipped beside a moody and mercurial sea.
It’s weird, it’s like a music video for a poem.
A dialogueless, experimental and humorous short film about a Glaswegian woman coming home in buttoned-down business attire and transforming into a sexily clad ‘fox’, complete with ears and snout, before going out for the evening. The riotous violin music and lo-fi film style are reminiscent of early silent films, where farce and fantasy were an open playground. Also watching the the fox-woman apply makeup to her besnouted face gives a giggle at the performance of gender.
Red Room is a short horror film about two friends recounting an instant of possession of a third, something which has had a lasting effect on everyone involved.
So there are things about this that are great successes and things that are less so. And weirdly it was the opposite of the stuff I expected. Normally the hard part to do in horror is the scare, while setting up a group of likeable people is pretty easy. In Red Room, the best parts are the scare, the ominous growl from unmoving lips that you know you are supposed to feel in the centre of your chest rather than hear, the figure that presents as a human shape but is not. These things are all pulled off with aplomb, excellent use of lighting, colour, visual effect.
Instead it is the characters themselves that seem flat. It’s difficult because we only see them on the evening of the possession, and discussing it later, so there is no pre-event status quo established. It’s hard to see how things change when you miss the beginning and only have a middle and end. Also, Orla speaks throughout like a spooky witch/obnoxious student with their first tarot deck. Daniel seems forbearingly weary of this at every stage, although clearly a bit more upbeat in humouring it before Tom’s possession. By the time we first see Tom, he’s already in the grip of something supernatural. Neither are the relationships between the three established. They seem like friends, Orla claims Daniel fancies Tom but nothing indicates this besides the awkwardness of Daniel’s denial. Also, given the distance between Orla and Daniel, they both appear to have been friends of Tom’s, rather than with each other.
While I’m happy with leaving some stuff unanswered, like who or what possessed Tom, and how the supernatural draw started, I felt like some clarification on other things would have helped, like what happened to Tom? He collapses after his possession, but from the way Orla and Daniel discuss the incident, he does survive. While Orla needs to talk about what happened, and Daniel really doesn’t but provides her with a listening ear anyway, Tom’s reaction to the event is absent. Also, Orla and Daniel discuss the aftermath on the phone in this really static pose, so nothing is really being shown of their reaction, it’s all tell in the dialogue, with Orla describing herself as haunted as opposed to being shown to be haunted.
A qualified success, with really good visual horror, but hampered by underdeveloped interpersonal relationships between the characters.