Short films are always a highlight of the film festival calendar, and as we’ve been saying on this site for years, it’s such a shame that they don’t often get seen outside of the festival circuit – with the odd exception, such as ABCs of Death. Hopes were high that this would kickstart a new appetite for short films to get releases, but sadly, so far, it hasn’t happened. The Small Gauge Trauma collection of ten short films would work brilliantly well in the form they’re presented in here: they’re varied, they’re without exception brilliantly done, and a couple of the films in question achieve what features often cannot – the element of surprise. We get technology anxiety, body horror, new mythologies and new treatments of old mythologies, science fiction and lashings of dystopia across the collection.
With a well-known British cast, Aria satirises our surveillance and high-tech society with a young couple setting up a new smart home system (Aria being a version of Alexa, and look out for Natasia Demetriou as the friendly product guide). There are a few teething troubles, but then Tom (Daniel Lawrence Taylor) keeps getting notifications at night that the doorbell is detecting something. The film plays up the divisive potential of this kind of technology, with one partner affected by the phenomena far more than the other, and there’s a funny, dark and surreal conclusion to it all. Thumb has a lot going on in the background which is only explored to a degree, but there’s more than enough in this narrative to justify a longer film; after the death of her performance artist mother, ‘Thumb’ (Kate Adams) has taken on her estate. Packing and going through her things brings up details of this tense relationship, which she explains to her mother’s former partner Red (DeMorge Brown). Steadily, it seems that her mother’s spirit hasn’t gone anywhere, and has more demands to make on Thumb: there are some surreal touches here, and all in all it’s an examination on where performance begins and ends, with a very grisly punchline.
One of my two absolute favourites in this collection, The Tenant does everything which you would hope of a short film. It’s a terrific calling card, very unsettling and creepy. A woman awakes with a strange pain in her leg. As she limps through her day, she’s approached by a stranger who tells her that the reason she’s limping is because the ghost of an old woman has attached itself to her; she gives her advice on what she needs to do to get rid of it. The woman is scornful, but as events unfold, she begins to believe the advice she was given. A neat, economical piece of horror, the final scene of this is perfection. Another Spanish language film, The Darkness commences with a woman dragging herself from a body of water. She is in some kind of trance; automaton-like, she gathers her things and makes for civilisation, arriving at a school where, it seems, she works. Why was she in the water? What has happened? The principal is unsurprised to see her, but their dynamic is about to shift: there are a number of intricacies in this story, and I enjoyed what the film didn’t explain, as it provides more than enough for the audience to fill in those blanks.
Habitat reverts to the terrors of technology, blending outdated tech with a version of the world where you collect ‘clicks’ in order to make purchases – the spirit of Black Mirror is strong with this one. A man sits, alone, obeying the commands of adverts and website promising him a killer prize when he gets up to 100,000,000 clicks – and he’s nearly there. The film grows increasingly oddball and disturbing, eventually becoming a satire about loneliness and the horror of the mundane. There’s much to unpack and consider here. Tropaion continues in a dystopian vein, explaining that our word ‘trophy’ comes from the notion of the tropaion, a tribute to victory raised at the battlefield where prisoners – living and dead – would be attached to it. A young girl living amongst a small group of disorientated, scared people tends to her brother, but whatever is in the woods demands some sort of tribute. This film hangs onto its mysteries and it’s very understated, but it’s a beautiful, stark vision.
Laika grapples with one of the toughest real-life stories of the space race, which in itself takes some bravery; when the Soviets sent a living dog into orbit, they sent a terrified animal to a slow death in the name of progress. It’s a story which made me cry as a child, still does so now, and its bold handling as a basis for a particularly dark piece of sci-fi is inspired here. Watching the shuttle blast off, a child called Oleg will one day become an astronaut, and we’re thrown straight into the mayhem of a terrible accident at the ISS, with Oleg barely escaping into a pod. But something is accompanying him. The tense, effective opening scenes here are worthy of any sci-fi blockbuster, and whilst there are a few seconds of CGI which didn’t work so well, the film overall is incredibly strong and unsettling, whilst also being vindicatory. An overwhelming, ambitious piece of film.
The Relic feels very much as though its world-building could be explored much further, possibly in a feature-length film, but what it provides as a short film is engaging in its own right. Starting mid-event, a person is being brought back to a remote shelter covered in blood; another member of the party is missing, and there are hints of a ‘something’ monstrous in pursuit. The wintry setting crossed with the rising paranoia and tension, not to mention the practical SFX, calls to mind The Thing: the addition of some creative moments of body horror reinforce the feeling that there is a lot here still to explore. The Last Marriage shifts the tone dramatically, offering a well-observed black comedy against a backdrop of our old friend, the zombie outbreak. In rural Sweden, a husband and wife bicker about their domestic situation, where if chores aren’t done there is quite a lot at stake: that electric fence isn’t going to maintain itself. Things get worse: Marie (Emma Molin) thinks she might want a divorce. Janne (Christopher Wagelin) is a little put out by this, seeing as how he’s probably the last man on Earth. Gently funny and well observed, The Last Marriage shows how much character development can happen with a great script and good performances.
You’re Dead, Hélène closes this collection, and keeps the surprises coming. Starting as something very caustically funny, it shifts its tone incredibly successfully throughout, becoming quite moving as it does so. We start with a couple at a cinema screening; the problem is Maxime’s girlfriend has already passed away, but won’t part ways with him. He is at a loss, unsure how to ever move on: channelling Nina Forever, Hélène seems to enjoy his dissatisfaction, interfering in all his plans. Things grow darker and darker as he tries his hardest to get on with his life, before becoming rather poignant: we are made privy to the chain of events which brought both characters to this point. With a few clear nods to existing horror classics along the way, this is a sure fire festival success, but in its own right it’s a superb piece of storytelling.