Whilst the two short films, Elbows (2021) and Lips (2022) are not thematically linked – apart from perhaps, the perils of lending an ear – they still share something in common which goes beyond the fact that they’re both Black Octopus Productions releases. Namely, the basis for each of these understated and appallingly funny films feels incredibly British. It’s always seemed odd to this reviewer’s mind that the English language uses the German loan word ‘schadenfreude’ to describe something which already seems so British: perhaps, though, a slightly different British variant of schadenfreude is more a kind of joy in a shared and understood source of misery, and a relief that it’s happening to someone else. Maybe you don’t need a word for that. We certainly have a lot of books, TV and films which explore it, though, and Elbows and Lips feel like a part of it. It’s not for British folks, but it’s definitely of them.
Elbows is a bizarre skit on one of the most recognisable intrusions into our modern psyche – namely, a crap office job – only made horribly, perplexingly literal. Understandably, Nathan (John Thacker) doesn’t seem particularly engaged by his crap office job: he wears a blank-eyed look of boredom and dismay, he wheels around in his chair and he wastes time by looking around at all the other poor bastards, typing away. As he toys with a pen, twiddling it in his ear, he suddenly loses it: it can only be, he tries to reason, in his ear somehow. A pep talk from his boss distracts him momentarily from this problem, but then he has to act: so he calls – Dave. But, somehow, this only exacerbates things…
You can’t help but feel for poor old Nathan: every affirmative thing he tries to do ends badly, but he’s trying, he really is. Tellingly, everyone he turns to for help ends up part of the bigger problem; he’s harangued and cajoled by everyone around him and fittingly, his ultimate problem takes him back to the office for a little more humiliation. In some respects, the film edges towards body horror comedy (which surely is a thing), but holds back from making it about that: it’s more a literal representation of trying and failing to fit in nicely. Therefore, when it all ends at just the right point, it means we don’t lose focus on Nathan’s more existential plight – and it also shows a careful directorial hand, leaving us with something very funny and perhaps surprisingly understated.
You can watch Elbows for yourselves here.
We move on to Lips, whose protagonist is very much to be pitied because the fella is only trying to have a quiet pint. But of course, the desire for quiet acts like a beacon to people who can’t stay quiet: it was ever thus. Human annoyance expands to fill all available space – though, to be fair, not usually quite to this extent.
As Michael (James Dreyfus) tries very hard to just read his paper, he can’t help but notice when a guy turns up at the bar with no socks or shoes on, but – given the indications of this – he then tries especially hard to ignore him. It is, of course, simply not to be. The man is indefatigable, and a chat begins which unfolds a very peculiar, alarming tale. The nameless pub talker (Paul Dewdney) is a compelling speaker, yet it’s difficult to read him: is he for real? Is this a glorified preamble before he asks for something? But wherever you feel you’re going with it, he definitely draws you in to this unlikely yarn, as well as carrying the greatest share of the dialogue very well. But key to Dewdney’s success at this is in James Dreyfus’ performance as his captive audience. Dreyfus is representative of us all: he runs through irritation, tedium, disbelief, and finally helpless disgust in ways we all might.
The horror – and this film does contain horror – is really all in the sharp script, making for a super-subtle and very funny take on the subject matter. There are small plot resolutions along the way which show skill in bringing ideas together and overall, provide us with a grim but still humorous play on the cultural tradition of the ‘pub tale’. The next time a stranger sits at my table, I’m out the door.
You can see Lips via Black Octopus Productions by clicking here and following the instructions.