“Letter to a Pig” concerns a Holocaust survivor telling his story to a classroom. About how, as a young boy, he hid from pursuing Nazi officers inside a pig sty and only escaped because a pig stood in front of his hiding spot. The kids listening are apathetic, save for a young girl. As the man describes how the events of his childhood haunt him to this day, the girl begins to imagine herself and her classmates in a similar situation. A dream-like sequence follows, with a pig once again front and center..
“Letter to a Pig” is probably most notable for its visual style. The film employs an intriguing mixture of live action and animation. Actual actors are rotoscoped over, with only their arms and eyes remaining untouched. The rest of the animation is sketchy and monochromatic, often presenting the rest of their faces as squiggling lines or the environments as charcoal layers of black and grey. The only use of color in the film is the pig itself, which are brought to life in vivid and earthy pinks. As the film grows more surreal, the contrast between its realistic and more stylized elements become more interesting. If nothing else, this approach does accurately capture the off-center feel of a dream.
While the film has been critically acclaimed for its look, I wish the story in “Letter to a Pig” resonated with me more. At first, the old man expresses gratitude to the pig, an animal he previously regarded with disgust, for saving his life. Yet, as he describes the shadow the memory of the Holocaust cast over his life, his words become angrier and more bitter. In the following fantasy, the pig is aligned with the Nazis that persecuted the man. Which is a strange shift, that points towards the film's final, redemptive moments. “Letter to a Pig” is a story about letting go of generational trauma, about children moving past the hate and resentment that drove people before them. Yet the way the film muddles the meaning of its various symbols, and its odd decision to use the Holocaust as background to send this message, is unsatisfying. Is “Letter to a Pig” suggesting we should forgive Nazis? Or that simply all people are born innocent? Either way, the film seems more concerned with how to present its symbols than investing than with any coherent meaning or emotional resonance. [6/10]
“Ninety-Five Senses” is also about an old man talking about his life. His conversation centers on each of the five senses and a specific memory connected to each. His discussion of sight rambles off onto a rant about how cell phones are changing human eyesight. His reminiscence on smell turns into a recounting of a traumatic incident with his grandmother. The man is nearly deaf, which caused a chain reaction of horrible events in his young adulthood. His thoughts on taste centers on the meal he's having in that moment, ad the particular circumstances of its preparation, while his words about touch lead to him thinking about a brief encounter he had with a woman recently. “Ninety-Five Senses” ends with a reflection on unavoidable mortality and what could have been if our lives were different.
I usually go into these short films knowing very little about them. This means I didn't know “Ninety-Five Senses” was co-directed by Jared Hess, the guy who made “Napoleon Dynamite” and “Nacho Libre.” Nor did I know it starred Tim Blake Nelson. Moreover, I had no idea where its story was going. This begins apparently as a grouchy old man discussing the maudlin relics of his childhood that he's nostalgic for, such as Highlights Magazine or the smell of the local video store when he was a kid. He also bitches about kids and their damn cell phones, which comes off as especially petty. Yet this proceeds a sudden swerve in a very dark direction, his reflections on the senses suddenly having a lot more meaning. The final minutes even re-contextualize the bitter rantings of an old man, into a forlorn sigh for the life he might have led.
The less you know about it, the more effective it will be. And “Ninety-Five Senses” is effective, growing sadder as it comes to its final moment, without loosing a certain sense of folksy humor. Nelson's voiceover is naturally the perfect choice for this particular mixture. Meanwhile, the film's animation shifts between colorful, expressionistic painted cells to more bright and crisp cartooning, the images blending and twisting in delightful and intriguing ways. I like it when a movie can surprise me, make me laugh, and make me misty-eyed all in equal measure like this. I really didn't think the “Gentlemen Broncos” guy had this in him... [8/10]
“Our Uniform” comes from Iranian filmmaker Yegane Moghaddam, who recounts her childhood growing up in Tehran. She specifically focuses on her years in an all-girls school, where all the students had to wear full hijab. She found this restrictive, often testing her teachers by revealing a little bit of her hair. She also found that the constricting uniform forced her into the role of a female at a young age, limiting her ability to express any other feelings or desires she might have. As she's gotten older and traveled the world, she's found other places where people are allowed to let their clothes reflect their actual personalities.
Considering its concerned with clothing and how they reflect on people, “Our Uniform” has a really clever visual gimmick. The film's loose, cartoony animation is projected onto actual fabric. The characters on-screen interact with the various textures. Such as when a teacher is shown walking up and down a length of measuring tape. Or faces and figures emerging from sleeves and pockets. This is probably most interesting when the film literally goes inside Yegane's head and reveals her secret wants and wishes.
While “Our Uniform” opens with a disclaimer that it's not meant to be against the wearing of a hijab, it's clearly a film about how women are placed in societal boxes and controlled from a young age. This is most apparent in a sequence where the students are made to repeat chants against the USA, Israel, and England. Or the isolation the girls feel, as their school is all the way in the middle of nowhere and requires a long daily bus ride. Yet I truly don't think “Our Uniform” is trying to make any ground political statements. Rather, it reflects Moghaddam's personal feelings and convictions. In that regard, it's pretty interesting. [7/10]
Childhood recollection seems to be a connecting theme in this year's animated shorts, though “Pachyderm” takes it in a much darker direction. The French short has Louise, as an adult, looking back on her past. During the summers, when she was nine years old, she would stay with her grandparents. Though outwardly, it would appear that everything is fine – her grandfather takes her for bike rides, lets her swim down by the river – it soon becomes apparent that a horrible secret is hiding under this exterior. Shortly afterwards, Louise's grandfather dies. She returns to the old home as an adult but still finds it difficult to bury the memories of her time there.
Any time a filmmaker tackles a distressing, sensitive, real world topic, there's always the question of how one portrays such a subject without trivializing or sensationalizing it. “Pachyderm” so subtly approaches its premise that the main point practically moves into subtext. Louise is afraid to sleep in her room, describing a sensation of being watched. Her grandfather kisses her finger after she cuts it, tells her she's pretty, that she's a big girl now. All seemingly innocent interactions. By the time she's swimming partially nude in the river, while her grandfather watches intently, you start to fear the worst. The film never outright says this little girl is being sexually abused by her grandfather, pushing everything explict to the margins, yet that's clearly what's happening.
By handling this premise in such an understated manner, “Pachyderm” speaks to how abuse like this is ignored by those that could stop it. How, sadly, commonplace this is. By constantly portraying how small the girl is, especially against her grandfather's massive hands or looming shadow, we are put more intimately into her victimized mindset. The visuals combine water color style backgrounds, which invoke a warm nostalgia, with more realistic, CGI characters, bringing home the feeling of realism. A haunting musical score further makes this an especially chilling viewing experience. “Pachyderm” – whose title comes from a prominently featured elephant tusk – is easily the most unsettling of this year's batch of animated nominees. [8/10]
The most high-profile of this year's animated shorts if “War is Over!,” which naturally draws its title from the John Lennon and Yoko Ono Christmas single/anti-war song. (The short's full title is, in fact, “WAR IS OVER! Inspired by the Music of John and Yoko.” Yoko and Sean Lennon were producers on the film too.) Seemingly set near Christmas and during the First World War, it concerns rival factions on the battle front. Across the trenches, two soldiers send a messenger pigeon back and forth. They are playing a chess game, writing each other's moves on a little piece of paper and sending it away Eventually, the two sides march on one another, the soldiers coming to blows on the battlefield. As their pigeon flies overhead, they recognize one another.
It seems every year, the slate of animated shorts at the Oscars always includes one horribly sappy film, that pleads for its own importance by tugging at the heartstrings in the most ham-fisted fashion possible. Just based on the title – and the fact that it's based on a song that's also hugely self-important – I figured “War Is Over!” was this year's example. Yep. The minute the film's premise is introduced, you can easily see where it is headed. Of course, the two far-off friends will find each on the battlefield and put aside their differences. As if things aren't sentimental enough already, an endangered animal is also introduced. As the title comes up and everyone stops fighting, the obvious observation that all men are brothers and war is a pointless exercise is hammered home. (This is despite World War I ending in November of 1918, meaning the final battle and the Christmas holiday never crossed over.)
What does it say about the war and the need for peace? Not a whole lot, other than one is good and the other is bad. We never get a sense of who these men are or if they even believe in the cause they're fighting for. Their Pixar style designs don't even give us much in the way of personality. The comparison between war and a chess game is shallow. You wait the entire short for the titular song to drop, meaning its appearance makes no impression. The only thing “War Is Over!” seems to really be arguing for is its own sappiness. Which, when combined with the marquee names in its title, means I fully expect it to win the Oscar. [5/10]
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