You may very well have felt all these things that I felt. But you didn't, because unless you were part of a single elderly couple, you were not there. And that is unfortunate.
For all the criticism of the festival's lack of slickness that could be levied against it (and I was TOTALLY prepared to levy that shallow critique), the festival's seven films were almost to the minute excellent. While I have very little experience with short films, the compelling variety of the festival made a case that a collection like Manhattan Short could serve not just as a competition for the few cinephiles, but as an introduction to the moving novella to the many entertainment seekers.
The first film, "Baghead," pulled no punches. Described by director Alberto Corredor as a story of a shapeshifter who is one thing, then another, we are given a vignette reminiscent of Neil Gaiman's opening scenario to American Gods, but with a mourning husband who is significantly less compassionate and understanding than Shadow. It is filmed both beautifully and creepily, and the performances submitted by all parties (but particularly Natalie Oliver's Lisa and Julian Seeger's Gatekeeper) are convincing and gripping for its fifteen minute run. Meanwhile, writer Lorcan Reilly should be commended for writing a genuinely good story about how grief and anger can bring out a special kind of ugliness in a person.
Fire in Cardboard City
Following the base horror of "Baghead," viewers were given comic relief in Phil Brough's mostly-animated "Fire in Cardboard City." This absurdist cartoon asks the not-insignificant question: "what if our children's creations are not as happy as the absolute worst scenarios in "Toy Story," and then proceeds to deliver the answers in a sometimes tragic, sometimes confetti producing, and consistently funny and well-timed way.
Clocking in at less than nine minutes, this was the shortest film of the evening and the only comedy, but it had no problem leaving a lasting impression on the audience. It also had the most intricate credits, which for a film of its scope was no small thing.
Home Shopper
Dev Patel's directorial debut "Home Shopper" presented the closest thing to Hollywood's submission to Manhattan Short, and for the most part it didn't disappoint. Presenting the story of the end of a marriage between a very neat, mail-order obsessed stay-at-home wife and her unpleasant working stiff husband, this film is paced excellently, even if it suffers a bit from heavy exposition at parts. Patel's choices in shots make for a real surprising turn midway through and then a series of hilarious and macabre uses of TV miracle products were bolstered by an incredibly sympathetic Sophie Kargman and a very funny, if off-brand Armie Hammer selling goofy wares on the tube.
Her
Americans likely don't know much about life in Kosovo, and More Raca's "Her" is made to tell you that things you think don't happen in the world's more "civilized" (read: white) parts are, in fact, happening. This gray world of domestic violence, arranged marriages, and desperation left at least one viewer wondering about the problem of male-dominated societies and familial oppression, and while (spoiler) the suffering women escape in the end and appear genuinely happy to do so, the viewer couldn't avoid worrying what was going to happen to them when they inevitably got caught down the road.
Two Strangers Who Meet Five Times
This British short film, which tackles racism in the UK, would be easy to write off as a heavy version of a very light, feel-good story of redemption and forgiveness. That is absolutely how I was inclined to feel at the end of Marcus Markou's nearly trite film. But the truth is that Markou found that sweet spot where sentimentalism and familiarity lick the heels of cliché without diving in entirely. The result is a short film that is genuinely heartening and fulfilling.
Equally responsible for the films power are its principal actors. Laurence Spellman portrays a white man who exhibits petty racism toward a man who becomes a potential employer at a make-or-break moment, while Sargon Yelda is a powerful but brown man in the United Kingdom. Yelda's character gets revenge for Spellman's racist slights, but also allows forgiveness when Spellman's broken future self identifies his past mistakes and apologizes for them.
Someone
It is difficult to make a movie that matters set in World War 2. It is harder still to make the hero German. Marco Gadge's "Someone" succeeds in 14 minutes where many have failed in hours.
As Red Army soldiers occupy Berlin and commit horrible crimes against the civilian population in retaliation for what was done to them on the front, a stone faced Fabienne Haller takes the brunt of a young Russian war criminal and decided for herself that her suffering will be the end of the barbarism of the war. Utilizing a documentary-style interview interspersed with a highly stylized period shoot, this short film gives a human face to the children of Nazis, a monstrous face to the young cannon fodder of the front, and a rare principled stance to an enemy officer in a time of war.
Cuchotage
Two Hungarian interpreters have their hearts set on a beautiful conference attendee and find themselves on a collision course with wackiness!
This semi-romantic comedy probably offered the least of the short films in the festival, but was amusing and submitted solid acting performances by the entire cast. While the finale was a bit predictable, it was nonetheless satisfying to see the goofs in the audio booth fumble their shots at romance with Andrea Osvárt.
Fauve
Holy shit, folks. "Fauve" is tough to watch. This French Canadian drama follows two latch-key kids who have dirty mouths and very few inhibitions. When unsupervised stupid boy behavior turns into a horrific accident and death, Félix Grenier's Tyler shows with skill that matches genuinely great performances how childhood tough guy exteriors can crumble in an instant and be replaced with horrified fragility and infantile sadness and panic.
This film, directed by Jérémy Comte, is painful to watch in its climax. In it, I imagine most boys--most people could see themselves, and how their mistakes throughout their lives could have easily put them in the cement-covered shoes of Alexandre Perreault's Benjamin, flailing and sinking in a surface mine pit, watching the world slip away.
Lacrimosa
"Lacrimosa" was the festivals final film, and to me, the weakest. While some of the film's technical achievements were impressive, it had a very specific aesthetic that felt very 1990s--a sort of hybrid of a Tori Amos song and what an art student would imagine for an Ace of Base video. If you like this aesthetic (and over nine million Americans did at some point), then this film is probably a charming dreamscape with a dark, emotional finale that still brings hope. For me it was a bit of a predictable anti-climax to an otherwise really fabulous series.
This is not to take away from Tanja Mairitsch's filmmaking abilities. I am certain she achieved the majority of her vision with this film. I am just the wrong audience for it.
In the end, the 21st Manhattan Short Film Festival was a genuine, under-the-radar joy. A perfectly curated blend of tension and tenderness, comedy and comity, it is a testament to the festival's founding director Nicholas Mason's success. It is no wonder that Manhattan Short finalists have garnered a handful of Academy Award nods over the years. The real wonder is why more people aren't going to see it when they can every year.
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