by Gary M. Kramer, Staff Writer

Live Action Shorts Program 1, screening at the Philadelphia Film Festival, is a mix of narrative and documentary shorts, and a mixed bag.

The program opens with Bump, a comedy about a young man (writer/director Maziyar Khatam), who wants an apology after he is bumped into on the street by a stranger (Dylan Hatton). Both young men quickly get their backs up and play “Do you know who I am?” which scratches at the “Sorry, Not Sorry” attitudes here. But as the tension and insults escalate, Bump reveals itself to have very little to say about the lack of politeness that permeates society. The most interesting thing about Khatam’s film is that he shoots it from across the street so viewers may feel they are watching a kind of nature documentary. 

The Hungarian short, Craze, by Bianka Szelestey, has Lenke (Niké Kurta) and her partner Áron (Gergely Váradi) preparing to have guests over for dinner. He frets at her serving tiramisu again and complains about her hair getting all over the bathroom. Right before the company arrives, Áron tells Lenke he wants out of the relationship. She is taken aback by this news and tries to serve the meal without crumbling. Craze is gratifying as Lenke finds various coping mechanisms over the course of the night, one of which—a beautifully realized moment—is watching an ant on a flower find its way into Áron’s food. Szelestey films this short with intimacy, framing the actors in ways that expose their emotions, from Lenke crying in the kitchen to Áron smoking at the window. This is a fantastic short, and the best in the Live Action Shorts Program 1.

Stranger than Rotterdam with Sara Driver recounts the nerve-wracking experiences the producer of Jim Jarmusch’s, Stranger Than Paradise had trying to get the classic indie film made. The wild story—told entirely with puppets—involves securing and taking the only print of Robert Frank’s Cocksucker Blues to Rotterdam. The short is a drolly amusing story that champions Driver’s determination to get Stranger Than Paradise made back in the days when folks shot on film, there were crackdowns on pornography, and people did not like films made in black and white. And it also explains how Jim Jarmusch’s hair turned white. (Note: this coverage originally appeared back in January as part of my Sundance shorts report).

A Short Story, by Bi Gan, is an offbeat, imaginative tale full of wondrous images, from a mirror being broken to light drifting across a room to a door opening onto a moving train track to a hat floating in the air. The story is about a black cat who has no home or purpose, and encounters scarecrows, robots, a woman who eats “losing memory noodles” to forget her lover, and a demon comedy magician. It is all very stylish and open to interpretation. 

Kylie is a Los Angeles Times documentary about Kylie Jefferson, a Black ballerina who appeared in Tiny Pretty Things. Directed by Master Sterling aka Sterling Hampton, the short presents the graceful Kylie as she performs ballet moves literally on the streets of inner city Los Angeles and ingratiating as she speaks her mind about race in ballet and how she—and others—must hold themselves responsible. The short will make viewers want to see more of this ballerina on stage and off.

Closing out the program was writer/director Alice Rohrwacher’s overlong and underwhelming Le Pupille, about a group of young mostly orphan girls in a wartime Catholic boarding school during Christmas. The Mother Superior (Alba Rohrwacher) rules with an iron fist, washing out the girl’s mouths with soap when she catches them singing and dancing to music on the radio. When a woman (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi) implores the girls to pray for the man she loves, she delivers a 70-egg pudding cake which becomes a bone of contention for the Mother Superior—who needs to gift something to the Bishop for Christmas. Suffice it to say, this short is as treacly as a holiday dessert, full of cute reaction shots of the young girls. Boasting an executive producer credit from Alfonso Cuarón, and Disney distribution, Le Pupille is pure Oscar bait.