The rest of the shorts I saw at the Film Festival are undeserving of their own entries, so irritatingly self-indulgent and mind-numbing were they.
Long Shadows (Josh Bonnett, 2009)
Mamori (Karl Lemieux, 2010)
These are indistinguishable in my memory almost a month after having seen them both back to back. Apparently I liked Mamori even less than Long Shadows, though I have no idea what prompted that small decision. Both are exercises in repetition of non-narrative black and white images with obnoxious musical scoring. Maybe I liked Mamori less because I seem to remember its soundtrack being played by a real, thoroughly hissy, 45 plugged into the speaker system. Either way, both were obnoxiously abrasive and seemed to serve no thematic or aesthetic purpose beyond annoyance of the audience.
April Snow (Lewis Klahr, 2010)
After 25 minutes of irritation, this almost seemed a promising respite. Opens to the delightful refrains of The Shangri-Las' "Out in the Street" -- a song so girl poppily perfect I was ready to hail this movie as a masterpiece just for having it (and following such languid torture exercises). Unfortunately, the sheen of pop luster wears off almost immediately, as the film fills itself with stop motion cut outs of mid-century kitsch and banal comments on the phoniness of this era. Also the song is only 2m49s and the video is 10 minutes, moving on to other stuff that was not nearly as enjoyable (or memorable, apparently)
Cry When It Happens (Laida Lertxundi, 2010)
Exactly what I was talking about in my earlier review of Me Broni Ba. A movie so bereft of aesthetic pleasure and thematic cohesion that it rests on its self-indulgent laurels of throwback '70s photography and inaccessibility. So mind-numbing I ended up skipping the movie I'd already paid to see afterwards, because it actually made me feel I needed a break from being in the cinema -- perhaps the only time I'd felt that way in my entire life. Thanks to you, Laida Lertxundi, I may never know if Over Your Cities Grass Will Grow is an awesome movie. THANKS A LOT, JERK.
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