bites

Historically, a feature-length film or feature was the main event in a program of movies shown at a theatre. A short film or short was a programmed movie that was briefer than the feature. Interesting! I have some thoughts about that. Anyway, let’s explore some bites!

Strange Bedfellows (2021) — 11 mins

This bite is meta, but in a charming way!

The plan was for it to be about puppetry, but Max found that the puppeteers’ relationship was just too interesting not to be spotlit. So for a few cycles, we observe them being perfectly quirky in their home, and then listen to Max and Monica talking (over the phone) about it. The one relationship somehow affects the other.

And vice versa! The puppeteers listen to Max and Monica’s recorded conversations as they reenact them with their own puppets!

It’s sweet to watch a couple appreciate themselves, just as it’s sweet to hear another one learn more about themselves. Thoughtful moviemaking transitions scenes and sways tone with a wink.

Fight or Flight (2022) — 14 mins

Always thoughtful; often stunning. This is a hearty bite.

Its fighter and flier is Denise. Her job? Navigating a small plane into the Colorado wilderness. Caring for wildlife, repopulating lakes, that sort of thing.

As she explains her purview—and how dangerous it can be, and how she is the first woman to do it—we are shown beauty. Calm preparation for the miracle of flight. Gorgeous and gorgeously-framed terrain, as varied as rock and as big as sky. Smart moviemaking flits between cameras at various points inside and outside the plane, helping us to feel like we’re the ones floating, or free-falling.

This is empowering and pretty stuff, folks. Especially so when past and present collide.

Denise’s journey to the skies, we learn, had begun with trauma. Daydreams about flying were the way to escape a living nightmare.

Somewhere along the line, though, escape became acknowledgement, became engagement. And now, maybe, resolution . . .

Candied Lips (2022) — 7 mins

Steve enjoys working at the local candy store. When a particular girl walks in—and to his dismay, right back out—he’s sent into a sugar high. Inspired, he redecorates the place. But will she ever be back to see it?

This bite is sweet and light. Color themes and production schemes transport us to a nice moment, in a nice beach town, at that nicest time of the year. Dreamy music adds to the relaxed, positive vibe.

We Won’t Forget (2021) — 14 mins

I won’t either.

The party went into full swing like any other: the din of greetings; the crossing conversations; the cliques seeking comparative quiet.

And then the swing rocked faster. Too fast, as one of our group began to go through something. What had started as eccentric (but understandable) life-of-the-party behavior spiraled.

It’s all subtle, but recognizable. Ever so tight framing; sounds a decibel higher than you’d like—these and other moviemaking techniques bring us into a space as real as any party we’ve been to.

The approach is impressive. As is the acting, genuine and fluid. Our lead presents a moving experience—one that each attendee reacts differently to, and not always in positive ways.

The movie makes you think about a lot: groupthink, pride, mental health, and social media, for a few. All this, packed into a story that is as mesmerizing as it is believable. Discomfort aside, I’m glad I went to this party. 

Double Exposed (2021) — 4 mins

This bite packs a punch.

Director Julie Buck narrates over her grandfather’s double-exposed home movies; watching them brings back memories of her family, but also has her questioning just how memories are made.

Her questions are personal, but universal. As we watch Grandma rounding up the kids or that guy skiing down a mountain, we can’t help but wonder. Can movies be a physical connection to people we’ve lost? Is what we see what we felt? 

And after the flesh is gone, might movies be the only thing that’s real? 

Or might movies, by showing us one thing, be hiding another?

Footsteps (2021) — 13 mins

This is a wonderful, informative bite about foley artistry—the art of making sounds to add to a movie.

We’re eased silently into the basics, spending most of our time at a studio far, far away from Hollywood. Here, the artists let their hoards of junk (ahem, tools) and passion run free.

The younger ones can hardly contain themselves. It is a beautiful thing to behold, and frankly, jealousy-inducing.

You’ll find that watching people fake noise to layer on top of fake images is, somehow, deeply satisfying. It almost feels like completing a puzzle, or skipping a rock. Oh, the things we can do!

Il Gatto (The Cat) (2021) — 7 mins

A man hears a knock at his door, and opens it to find a talking head and a dead cat. So begins his frightening journey through fear and dimensions.

Black-and-white, pencil-line-heavy animation makes the gore palatable, and so this bite is more psychological horror than anything else. But the standout is its soundwork. It is loud and authentic, and draws us into an uncomfortable place. Very well done.

Icebound (2021) — 8 mins

What a heart-pounding adventure. A man goes out into the freeze to rescue someone.

With animation, sound, and story as terrifying as they are beautiful, you’ll find yourself buried in your screen for some time.

Little Miss Sumo (2018) — 19 mins

Kon ain’t little. Kon ain’t scared. Kon’s been winning sumo since grade school.

Problem is, there’s no way for women to go pro. Tradition thinks sumo is for men only.

So we follow Kon on a double struggle. As she trains to win her next match, she tries to raise awareness of gender inequality. Watching sumos do their thing is entertaining enough, but Kon’s ebullience and determination put some meat on these bones.

Canvas (2020) — 9 mins

An old painter has lost something, and so, lost his will to paint. This doesn’t stop his granddaughter from giving him big hugs and sharing her drawings with him.

Colors and frames add to the mood here. Half-empty spaces, golden sunsets—these mix promise with ending. This is a story meant to pull at your heartstrings, but it’s a bit on the nose.

Pip (2018) — 5 mins

Pip’s just a pup who wants to help the visually-impaired. He goes to school to learn the basics, but is having trouble. Maybe, he doesn’t have what it takes? Maybe.

If you’re in the mood for family-friendly (and cuteness), this bite’s for you.

In My Room (2020) — 20 mins

A quarantine movie if there ever was one. Stuck in the apartment with our lead, we look around, sit with boredom, and reminisce about the past.

There’s no story here, just a string of images created out of necessity. All are simple; some are gorgeous. Have you ever really watched the sky? The wind kissing your neighbor’s hair? Have you ever thought about what your grandmother must’ve gone through before she met you?

It’s not exciting, but here, static shots remind us of the ever-changing beauty and complexity of things.

After Skid Row (2022) — 22 mins

Gangster Granni is exceptional. Not because she eats with scissors or used to rob banks, but because she lives in an apartment.

Yep, you read that right. This gangster is actually a good-natured Nebraskan cowgirl named Brandi, and after years of living homeless on skid row, she’s made it out. This is a big deal.

Why? Maybe we’ll find out. Truly it’s difficult not to be captivated when she, in that child-like voice, exclaims she might be a little nuts, or when she speaks about how her own family left her to slide into the skid. These same things also make it hard to witness Brandi and the trauma she carries.

The moviemaking here is (blessedly) tender and respectful, keeping us close while maintaining distance, and giving us momentary sighs of relief (like when Brandi works on her drawings or we meet friends she has made along the way).

Smooth and professional as it is, at its core it’s a confrontation. A bit like staying at the dinner table to finish our vegetables. We must engage with this other soul, listen to her and feel with her—and recognize how things as simple as apathy and judgment can destroy a life.

At first I was taken aback; soon after I was moved and curious; by the end I was worried, about how easily and often this happens. About how it might happen to me.

Chimes (2019) — 15 mins

When a couple explores a house to perhaps purchase, it becomes clear there are problems: They do not see eye to eye about their son. But this is a side story for much of the movie. When the realtor can’t answer why so many owners have left this new house behind recently, we shift timelines. A morbid show of past owners’ problems is what’s for dinner.

This concept is neat, and brings a spark to an otherwise dull story. However the ending is written poorly, and rather than leaving things open to interpretation, doesn’t seem to understand itself what’s happening. This lack of clarity takes us out of a story that’s minimally engaging to begin with, so your time might be better spent elsewhere.

Workshop (2020) — 17 mins

Agh! You just feel . . . and it’s hard . . . but you just can’t express it . . .

Until now. Here at the workshop, we channel your venting and teach you how to confront your difficult parents.

With deadpan, subtle, and silly style, this movie explores young yearnings. It’s a delight, so sign yourself up.

Lorena, Light-footed Woman (2019) — 28 mins

Light-footed is right! Lorena wins ultramarathons—in sandals!

It’s fun to watch people decked out in cushy sneakers and neon gear line up next to Lorena, with her billowy, old-fashioned skirt. And it’s heartwarming to learn that she has won many races. But aside from that and some pretty pictures and places, this documentary doesn’t give us much.

So Lorena comes from an indigenous community and runs in traditional clothing. Great. But why does she run, and why is she so good? What goes through her mind? And what happens if she wears out her sandals?

There is nothing wrong with a movie leaving us curious. But here, the few interesting facts that are shared are drawn out, and many other things it’d be nice to know are omitted.

Shangri-La (2021) — 10 mins

The Great Depression is tough times. But how about, on top of that, you’re not allowed to love your loved one freely?

This short is a woman’s confession about that. About her desire to love; her yearning for the freedom that white skin brings; her visions of her free self.

The tone is dark, both figuratively and literally. Images and ideas lay before us in Earth tones, with triumphant but hesitant music reminding us how precarious feelings can be.

There are brief moments when this bite feels nothing other than an advertisement for clothing. But most often, it is intimacy. And the ending is poetry itself.

Tribes (2020) — 10 mins

The subway is always full of surprises, and this is a laugh-out-loud one. It’s a semi-dark, semi-sweet story of three friends deciding who to rob.

Throwing around as many f bombs as identity politics, this bite pokes fun at the ways people rationalize their behavior. It gets sillier and more meaningful with each passing moment, perfectly balancing the heavy with the light.

Cold Meridian (2020) — 6 mins

This is the kind of bite you’d see in a temporary exhibition of a modern art museum. The timeline and settings are unclear; still images alternate with video; whispers and ASMR feature heavily over a black-and-white backdrop.

So what’s going on? Also unclear. Hair gets washed, some people dance while others sit at laptops. This may be a thought-provoking movie packed with ideas, but it’s tough to tell without hearing context from the moviemakers—and even harder when you only watch it once.

Among Us (2020) — 12 mins

There’s a virus on the ship, one that makes its host a murderer. Tensions run high as the crew tries to figure out who’s infected.

Production quality and acting here aren’t the best. And it’s tough to connect with the characters: Sure the stakes are high and decisions need to be made quickly, but we’ve learned nothing about these people. That said, the story is engaging enough for twelve minutes.

Nimic (2020) — 12 mins

A man goes about his day: food, family, work. An interaction with a stranger makes us rethink whether the day is his.

This is the kind of bite that can turn people off of bites. It’s an interesting premise, shot effectively and stylishly, but underdeveloped. We’re left with a lot of questions on one hand, and essentially no answers on the other.

硬币 (The Coin) (2020) — 7 mins

This bite is sweet. The lead tells us about a family tradition involving a coin and some dumplings, while creative imagery shows us how the tradition has affected her through the years.

There’s a (worthwhile) journey here, though the whole piece feels like home. Wooly design is as comforting as it is impressive. Definitely one to add to the family cookbook.