Following the passing of their mother, Turlough is planning on selling the family farm. This is much to the consternation of his brother, Lorcan, who wishes to keep the farm. Lorcan has Down’s Syndrome and Turlough plans to leave him in the care of their aunt. After returning from the funeral, Father O’Shea mentions that the coroner found a list in their mother’s jeans before she passed. It was a list of things she hoped to do before she died. Lorcan becomes determined to achieve every one of these goals, dragging his mother’s ashes along for each activity, no matter how impractical. Turlough reluctantly agrees.
I’ve seen people complain that “An Irish Goodbye” is cutesy or cloying. This surprises me, as the short’s humor struck me as nicely surreal and refreshingly vulgar. The last wishes the brothers fulfill include such sights as doing Tai Chi with an urn, sending it on a balloon ride (which nearly gets away from them), and posing for a still life painting with the container. Solidifying 2023 as the year the Academy noticed Irish profanity, the word “feckin’” and “dick” are thrown around frequently. I really appreciate how the brothers’ relationship is depicted. Lorcan is not reduced to a caricature or an inspirationally disadvantaged plot point. He’s rough-around-the-edges, creative, funny, and self-determined. Overall, “An Irish Goodbye” made me laugh a surprising number of times. I mean, how many Oscar-nominated short films include fart jokes and then attempt to make them a part of the story’s emotional center?
But, yes, this is a sentimental story. It’s about two brothers, in a stressful time, choosing to stand by each other when all they really want is to be left alone. That means it’s about love, which we also see in the central premise of the boys’ attempts to complete their mom’s journey. The acting is effective all around, the cinematography is nice, and the soundtrack is pretty. This one worked for me. [7/10]
Set in an Inuit village in the mountains of Greenland, “Ivalu” follows Pipaluk, a young girl living with her father and grandmother. Her sister, the titular character, has mysteriously vanished. Ahead of a visit to her school by the Queen of Denmark, Pipaluk sets out to find Ivalu. She is guided by visions and dreams of a black bird, seemingly inspired by her sister's fascination with local mythology. As she journeys into the snowbound wilderness, Pipaluk reconsiders her own memories of the last few days.
It seems every year, at least one of the Oscar-nominated live-action shorts features an endangered or dead child. “Ivalu” is entry in this inexplicably common occurrence. I'll say this about the short. The cinematography is lovely. The aerial shots of the snowy Greenlandic mountain ranges or ice-covered lakes are very pretty. The way memories, dreams, and reality interweave create a nicely contemplative feeling to the proceedings, which further supported by Pipaluk's narration and a sparse musical score. Rooting so much of the story in native mythology creates a sense of cultural specificity that I enjoyed.
However, this is another example of a short using a horrible, real world issue more as a plot point, than as an earnest attempt to bring attention to this topic. It doesn't even make sense within the logic of the short. Pipaluk already knows the information that is revealed to us, the audience, near the end. It's kept from the viewer until the most dramatic point. Which, when it comes to a sensitive subject like child abuse, borders on the tactless in my eyes. It also leads to a rather dramatically limp conclusion, that seems to suggest there's nothing much that can be done about these things. It's a disappointing conclusion to a short that starts off strong and clearly has an interesting point of view. [6/10]
This Norwegian film, set around Christmas time, begins with a short woman named Ebba standing in the snow at a train station. After the train stops, the driver tells her he can't let her on alone. Undeterred, Ebba climbs in and begins driving the tram herself. Awkwardly stopping at the next station, a transwoman is among the people who climb aboard. After an abrupt stop removes the woman's wig, she begins to be harassed by another passenger. Ebba can only watch for so long before she feels the need to intervene.
“Night Ride” starts off well enough. Director Eirik Tveiten and cinematographer Vegard Landsverk display a strong visual sense, the snowy nighttime setting immediately establishing a certain feeling and tone. I also like Morten Rognskog's quirky musical score, which sets up quickly enough that this story is going to take an unexpected turn.
Unfortunately, that turn is towards clueless social commentary. “Night Ride” is yet another example of a well-intentioned but ultimately oblivious attempt at trans representation. The obvious problem here is that we never learn anything about the transwoman at the story's center. She exists solely to define the cisgendered main character, to teach her a lesson about kindness and responsibility to her fellow humans. I think there's some point here about how, as a little person, Ebba can relate to the passenger's status as an outsider or something. It's clumsy, is my point. And it doesn't help that the script focuses a little too much on the abusive language the harasser on the train throw around. As nice as “Night Ride” looks, during a time when trans people are more persecuted than ever, we really don't need films like this that frame their struggles only in the context of how it effects cisgendered people. [5/10]
Perhaps the most high-profile of the live action shorts is “Le pupille,” which is directed by acclaimed Italian director Alice Rohrwacher, produced by Alfonso Cuaron, and received a plum release on Disney+. It takes place at a strict Catholic school during World War II. As Christmas approaches, the nuns attempt to organize the girls for the yearly nativity play. Yet the girls, one rebellious soul named Serafina in particular, keep getting distracted. They hear a pop song on the radio by accident, the racy lyrics lingering in Serafina's head. An eccentric woman barges into the school to prayer. The Mother Superior has prepared a decadent cake after Christmas dinner, as part of a moral lesson. Serafina doesn't go along with the crowd.
By far the cutest of this year's nominated shorts, “Le pupille” is definitely attempting to capture a certain anarchistic, child-like spirit. There are multiple scenes of the girls talking directly to the camera, singing songs that explain some of the set-ups and location. This returns for the coda. These are interspersed with shots of hand-drawn notes, counting down the days to Christmas. All the characters are somewhat exaggerated, with one of the nuns getting a cartoonish mustache drawn on their face. It's very whimsical, which is reflected in the naturalistic performance the film gets out of the young girls playing its characters. There's even a cute dog that plays a key role.
It's well assembled, with some excellent production design and cinematography. The main takeaway I got from “Le pupille” is its reflections on Catholic guilt. Mother Superior makes a demand of the girls to teach them a lesson in charity and humility. Yet anything they sacrifice is just being done to impress a church elder. By rebelling against this standard, Serafina shows a more humanistic approach tot he idea of charity. One that's based not in guilt and spiritual responsibility but merely in helping people out. It's a good lesson, even if it can't do much to keep the short from feeling rather wispy and overlong, even at only 38 minutes. [6/10]
A teenage Iranian girl arrives at a Luxembourg airport, a distinctive red suitcase being her only piece of luggage. Inside are countless illustrations and drawings. On her cellphone are messages from her father, saying that “her husband” is waiting for her. She soon spots the older, hirsute man carrying a bouquet of flowers. The girl lets her hair down, in hopes that her husband-in-waiting won’t notice her. She continues to make her way out of the airport, towards a bus outside, attempting to avoid detection by the man she has been promised to the entire time.
“The Red Suitcase” is an economic little thriller. It puts us directly in the headspace of its young protagonist. From the minute we see her cowering from the baggage checkers, we are on her side. We never learn too many details about this clearly arranged marriage she’s found herself in, though it seems evident that it wasn’t her idea. From what we see of her father’s messages, he genuinely cares about her… But still seems content to practically sell his daughter – the proposed husband mentions money a lot during his enraged phone calls – and to keep her imprisoned in a patriarchal system. This set-up allows the film to comment on the social issues facing women in countries like Iran without being too heavy-handed about it.
The short film is also well directed by Cyrus Neshvad. The camera remains tight on our heroine’s face, as she often hides out or just barely misses being detected by the man. I suppose it pushes plausibility that the would-be husband is always just over her shoulder, nearly spotting her every time. Yet it does keep the suspense rolling high, while also getting us to relate strongly with her plight. I also like that Neshvad decorates the airport with images of western woman, usually in some state of undress, selling make-up or bras. As if to contrast with the protagonist, a girl from a culture who can’t even show her hair. This comes into focus in the final shot, following a sad but not hopeless ending. Well done. [7/10]
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