FILM / Captain Canada's Movie Rodeo / February 2021 / Gabriel Ricard
Image © Netflix
It’s February. I’m still thinking about New Year’s resolutions. I don’t really like them as a concept, and yet here we are.
Some of them are more appealing to me than others. Among the ones related to whatever I’m watching, reading, or listening to is the ongoing desire to watch more short subject movies. The Criterion Channel is still a great place to find this stuff, but there is also YouTube and a variety of other sources One thing I’ve grown to appreciate about short subjects is how they can be more demanding than feature-length releases. You have to go more out of your way to seek them out, since many outlets don’t carry them in great supply.
Furthermore, since we’re also talking about movies that are generally 20 minutes or less, there is also the demand for a stronger focus from the audience. You can have moments of passivity in a 90 or 300-minute movie. The luxury of time in movies that are often just 10 or so minutes simply does not exist. These stories have to hit the ground running, hard, and leave you entertained, stunned or even transformed by the time they end. Those qualities are impressive to me.
Last year, I reviewed some of the short movies I caught on Criterion and elsewhere. I thought it would be worth revisiting the concept, going through stuff I’ve seen recently, and giving these movies the attention I generally devote to features. This is not a specific list of any kind. These are just five worthwhile, new-to-me short films that I’d like to ramble about for a few hundred words.
Princess Nicotine; or, the Smoke Fairy (1909): B+
More than just a huge bucket of “What-the-hell-is-going-on”, Princess Nicotine is fast-paced, visually clever, and hilariously bizarre. It is a good example of the appeal and respect that should still be given to silent movies, which tend to be ignored (I’m certainly guilty of that).
Directed by J. Stuart Blackton, who founded the early hitmaker Vitagraph Studios, the “trick” film (a name given to silent movies which featured special effects) involves a man trying to smoke, and the insane little fairy creatures who decide to make his life a living hell.
That’s pretty much it, as the movie is only a little over 5 minutes. Yet over that span of time, Princess Nicotine is a strong combination of craft and performance. Quite frankly, the inventiveness here looks and moves better than at least some modern CGI. If you want to start strong on a silent film education, put this on the schedule.
And, if you’re like me, and you need a resource to appreciate just deep silent movies are, check out Fritzi Kramer and Movies Silently. Her work in this area has been invaluable to me.
T (2019): A-
If this mesmerizing, sometimes painfully compelling short is any indication of things, Keisha Rae Witherspoon is going to be a big goddamn deal. T is storytelling at its most agonizing and wondrous, with a pace and visual style that leaves you more keenly tuned in to the larger world.
The film follows three different individuals, each participating in a festival crafted around their grief for those they have lost, or who have been taken from them. The grief, which is perhaps too simple a word to describe these people, is expressed through clothing. T-shirts and other pieces, with each telling a story that manages to express a whole lifetime.
The social undercurrent of these stories, set in Miami, is impossible to ignore. Witherspoon brings a remarkable light to people who are profoundly and powerfully alive.
Betty Tells Her Story (1972): A+
Seen by many as one of the best short films of all time, Betty Tells Her Story really does deliver a timeless experience for the viewer. There is something to the way Betty twice relates a deceptively simple story about a dress she wanted that I suspect can reach anyone at any point in time.
Or at any point in their life. The content of the story, which addresses issues including body image and the soft-spoken, anxious energy of beauty culture, has a lot to offer. I’m mindful of these things, and of just how different the two versions of the same story are.
That part seems to obsess me just a little more. Betty Tells Her Story is a lot of really cool things. Perhaps most significantly, at least to me, is that it is one of the most disturbing depictions of human language and communication I have ever seen.
Cab Calloway’s Hi-De-Ho (1934): A+
Cab Calloway’s Hi-De-Ho is an utterly fucking electrifying performance of the iconic singer and performer Cab Calloway. It is also one of the best arguments for film preservation I could ever show you.
The story has Cab as a man running around with a train porter’s beautiful wife (Fredi Washington, another great talent who never got their due). While just a setup to get to Calloway tearing through "Zaz-zuh-zaz" and "The Lady with the Fan" at Harlem’s legendary Cotton Club, Calloway shows the same charisma and appeal he would bring decades later to The Blues Brothers. The music itself showcases one of the greats at his absolute best, making the ten-minute running time frustratingly short.
Filmed in 1934, we are lucky indeed that this has been kept in the shape it’s in. This is a history lesson with a furious, beautiful pulse.
What Did Jack Do? (2017): A+
I’m glad cynicism hasn’t robbed me of the ability to watch something like David Lynch’s Netflix-exclusive short What Did Jack Do?, and think “Wow that was mighty goddamn weird, David. Thank you.”
I suppose the surprise of What Did Jack Do? Is that it’s all fairly straightforward. A homicide detective (Lynch, who truly excels at playing distinctive variations of himself) interrogates a talking capuchin monkey. The monkey is defensive, shifting to hostile, and various modes of haunted amusement at his situation. Lynch’s detective has a downright soothing 1940s energy. These elements banter back and forth for seventeen minutes, and then it simply ends as you suspect it might.
And that’s fine. Like many David Lynch projects, the journey itself is probably better to focus on than what you may or may not get at the end. This journey in particular amounts to one of the funniest movies David Lynch has ever made.
Gabriel Ricard writes, edits, and occasionally acts. His books Love and Quarters and Bondage Night are available through Moran Press, in addition to A Ludicrous Split (Alien Buddha Press) and Clouds of Hungry Dogs (Kleft Jaw Press). He is also a writer, performer, and producer with Belligerent Prom Queen Productions. He lives on a horrible place called Long Island.