Ten for Grandpa

            Ten for Grandpa breaks the barrier of the fourth wall in a way that truly enhances the storyline. By bypassing the inherent separation between the actors on screen and the audience, the film creates a sense of unreality that makes the premise – a grandson questioning the mysterious grandfather he never met – seem natural. The ethereal camerawork and transitions between sets help to further this natural feeling.

            In the first scene in which we are introduced to our adult narrator, the camera tracks backward with the grandson moving seamlessly along with it. The lack of a walking gait gives a “floating” trait to the movement, which makes him seem disconnected to the actions going on behind him. I imagine the grandson’s questions to be ones that he never expects to be answered, ones that he knows can’t be answered. However, he delves into the stories he’s been told and his own memory to ask them – and this shot evokes the dreamlike quality that we associate with recalling memories and stories.

            The next transition serves the same purpose. With the shot of the grandson as a fetus fading into the television screen of his grandmother’s television screen, the director again calls upon the state of self-dialogue we enter during memory access. In a dream or conversation with one’s conscience, there are no concrete transitions between two scenes, and no logical progression from one time period to a different one. The changes simply slide through without us ever realizing anything was strange. The simple blurring from the shot of the fetus to the shot of the television screen is an example of one of these changes.

            With this careful camerawork and clever transitions, Ten for Grandpa paints an accurate picture of something that can rarely be painted at all – imagined conversations. By accepting the curious rules of our own imaginations, the director made the setting and premise easy to grasp.

Watch here: Ten for Grandpa

Crazy Hands

               Crazy Hands achieves what many comedies strive for: using a whimsical and amusing situation to make a point about how life works.

               Our nameless character is introduced to us in bed, disheveled and folded up in a cramped environment. As he moves through his dilapidated apartment, the small touches on the set reveal to us this stranger’s position in life. The sink full of opaque, dirty water implies that he has given up on maintaining appearance or cleanliness, the peeling wallpaper and harsh light imbue a sense of rodent-like persistence, and the singular picture on the wall hints at a lack of close friends. All in all, we are presented with a portrait of a man who has no place in society.

               His “crazy hands” serve as a metaphor for that which we have no control over: we can change our appearance, we can pretend and act like we enjoy what is accepted or attractive to society, but at the end of the day we are who we are. He cannot control his flailing digits any more than we can control how we feel. The lack of control over his own true self makes him an unsung hero, a protagonist whom we can all empathize with on a level we’d rather not divulge to the public.

               His interaction with the woman on the bench reinforces this metaphor. While nobody else speaks throughout the film, his frantic grunting and searching eyes show how desperate he is for someone to accept him or show to him what he can do to “cure” himself. He tries to touch her and his hands deny him the ability to do so, resulting in his eventual humiliation – but such is life.

               At the pub, he can scarcely have a drink – and what activity is more normal and accepted than a drink among friends? But again, his hands, representative of what is true and right through his eyes, deny him this semblance of normality.

               Finally, however, through his defeated slumping and by pure chance, he happens upon a piano. This instrument accepts his hands as closely as any lover, and they intertwine to create beautiful music – an anthem of triumph and a symbol of his discovery of his true self. In fact, it is more of a final recognition of what he has had with him all along. His wide eyed surprise is the first moment of happiness we see on his face, making his rather greasy and grotesque features childlike for a moment. Noticeably, while he erupts into laughter, nobody else in the pub joins along or shows any reaction at all. This is where Crazy Hands makes its final point: extrinsic recognition of one’s talents is not what matters. The only thing that we should seek for in life is intrinsic contentment.

               With this overarching metaphor, Crazy Hands transcends it’s designation as an amusing short film and verges on poignant. While providing a good-feeling chuckle, Crazy Hands simultaneously etches out a profound little truth. 

Watch here: Crazy Hands

Brink

               In his short film Brink, Shawn Christensen uses a very extraordinary plot device to tell a very simple love story. The sparing application of dialogue and thoughtful use of focus makes the typical tale of a man finally telling a woman he loves her quite touching.

               Basically, the impetus for our character’s actions is the loss of Earth’s gravity. With little time left for his own survival, Jeremy chooses to seek out Evelyn, the love of his life since the 4^th grade, in order to confess his feelings for her before he loses the chance forever. Importantly, the heart of the film lies in the character’s interaction – not the wild situation that they find themselves in.

               Christensen is able to do this by recognizing the limitations of his work. With such short film duration, it would be difficult for him to show us that Jeremy and Evelyn have a deep connection that we should ultimately care about. He very well could have packed in dialogue explaining their past, or how many times Jeremy tries to convey his feelings, or why they were denied happiness together – but he doesn’t. Instead, the only dialogue we hear is Jeremy reading over his letter in the opening of the film. While the words are simple, the heartfelt delivery and the fact that we are receiving a subjective view into his inner voice make the lines powerful. When Jeremy and Evelyn finally meet, no more words are necessary. Their tentative actions and eventual kiss let our imaginations fill in their past and how important they must be to each other. Understated acting performances and beautiful imagery work wonders in ways that words never could.

               A shallow depth of field throughout the film adds to the focus on the character’s interaction. Literally, the focus is on Jeremy and Evelyn’s faces – and nothing else. We see them walk towards each other, hold each other, and talk to each other in a haze of blurred sunlight and indistinct city views. While other people are present, they merely serve as backdrops to Jeremy and Evelyn’s relationship. This conspicuously dreamlike quality enhances the intensity of the dramatic narrative.

Watch here: Brink

Portal: No Escape

               Portal: No Escape presents remarkably sophisticated special effects and action sequences for a fan-made film based on a video game. However, while more subtle and difficult to notice, the deliberate decisions with camera angle and image were just as remarkable.

               The very first shot showcases how these techniques contribute to the storytelling. The blurred, out-of-focus image of harsh fluorescent lights and featureless concrete seem to almost anticipate some sort of action. The fact that nothing the viewer can see is yet in focus implies that soon enough there will be someone or something to fill that void – which makes the sudden introduction of our female lead that much more striking. When she sits up into the frame, gasping in confusion and the moment of waking, our expectation is instantly satisfied and we relate to the human face (which is received by the camera fully in focus). We are forced into our protagonist’s reality in much the same manner that she is, and thus this single shot sets the stage for the entire story.

               Another intelligent display of camera use appears throughout the nameless woman’s stay in her prison cell. For the duration of the cell scenes, the shots are either angled downwards (as we see in the creative “security camera” shots) or face-to face with the character. We are never allowed to see the ceiling, which mentally shrinks the room and grants an atmosphere of claustrophobia to this segment of the film. This in turn makes us feel as emotionally trapped as she is, allowing us to empathize with her predicament of being physically trapped.

               The one point in the short where I felt let down was the beginning of the escape sequence. After the long, repetitive and emotionally isolated scenes of the woman’s imprisonment, the abrupt inclusion of other people seems almost underwhelming. The lack of other humans for such a long period fostered an eerie sense of foreboding. Where did the food in the slot come from? Why was our main character stuck where she was? The unknown was far more psychologically disconcerting than a handful of uniformed men. If these men had to be included, they should have had a more meaningful entrance, rather than simply stepping in front of the camera while the woman attempts her escape. Better yet, the film should have been made true to the videogame it was inspired by and refrained from having other characters at all. The result would have been the continuation of that aura of confusion and dread.

Watch here: Portal: No Escape