The Oscar-Nominated Animated Shorts

2015 was a marvelous year for animation.  After The LEGO Movie, the animated front looked pretty grim, but as the year continued, we received a slew of releases using different media, giving us one of the strongest animated line-ups in years (that The LEGO Movie missed an Oscar nomination is a travesty, though all of the nominated films are deserving).

In typically fine form, the animated shorts matched their lengthier brethren in quality and creativity.  Here, we have a wonderful mix of thoughtful, sweet, gutting, and imaginative short films.

First up is Torill Kove's Me and My Moulton, a charmingly drawn film that looks and like a storybook come to life.  The bold colors and strong lines that make up its supremely geometric world, coupled with narration that feels like it was ripped from Amelie.  The film's easy digestibility belies its heftier narrative aims.

The film's narrator reflects on her childhood, when she and her sisters envied everyone around them as they zipped by on bicycles.  Similarly, they envy their friends who have plush carpet and normal furnishings in their apartments, or fathers who are manly and do yard work shirtless.  It's a classic case of "the grass is always greener," but Me and My Moulton traces the moments when the lawn next door becomes noticeably more brown.  The neighbor girl's life is thrown into disarray, the bike received is not the one desired, and the reckless honesty of childhood is sacrificed for the sake of polite gratitude.  Childhood evaporates not all at once, but in chunks as life doesn't go as planned and we're forced to roll with the unexpected slips and punches and disappointments.

The most aesthetically pleasing in the category is Robert Kondo and Daisuke "Dice" Tsutsumi's The Dam Keeper.  The film is digitally painted, but takes on the appearance of pastels, with some truly invigorating flourishes and lovely tricks of light.  Unfortunately, the visuals don't quite make up for the somewhat lackluster story, but so it goes.

The Dam Keeper combines some classic arcs and themes.  A little pig is the eponymous worker, who must wind up the windmill-equipped dam to keep the giant cloud of darkness at bay, lest it swallow the town.  Though he does this essential duty, the other animals in town bully and tease him, partially because his work leaves him so messy.  That is, until the lovely, artistic Fox joins his class at school, and the two strike up an unlikely friendship.

The film is gorgeous to look at, and unfolds almost entirely in pantomime.  The opening and closing narration saps some of the power, spelling out the symbolic nature of the darkness, which - one might be able to guess without even watching - mirrors Pig's emotional state (kind of like The Babadook).  Nonetheless, it's a sweet story that is gorgeous to look at.

It's perhaps ironic that the shortest of the nominees has the most directors.  Marieke Blauuw, Joris Oprins, and Job Roggeveen share writer-director credit on A Single Life, which clocks in at barely over two minutes.  I always appreciate the shorts that pack a lot of punch in a limited time; that sort of economy is increasingly rare in the cinematic world, where creative types are often self-indulgent to the peril of their creations.

A Single Life finds a woman chowing down on a pizza in her tiny apartment.  A knock at the door signals the arrival of a record featuring the song "A Single Life," which is insanely catchy.  When she puts the record on and a skip causes her piece of pizza to vanish, she tinkers with the machine and discovers that it's a time travel device.  As the song plays and the record skips, she is transported to different times in her life, including childhood and old age.  It's a nifty trick, and allows for some hilarious visual gags.

One of the things I love about A Single Life is that its length and subject matter leave it open for interpretation.  Is it a rebuke to get outside and live life rather than stay in the confines of one's abode?  Is it a celebration of independence, an affirmation of a solitary life lived well?  Is it an inspirational message that - though one might be alone now - that won't always be the case?  The exquisite details in the various backgrounds give heft to these and other theories.  It's an absolute treat.

I wouldn't be surprised to discover Michel Gondry had something to do with Daisy Jacobs' stunningly realized The Bigger Picture, which is endlessly fascinating to look at.  The characters' heads and torsos appear to be painted on the walls, while their limbs reach out into space, creating a bizarre hybrid of two- and three-dimensional art, which is then complemented by dramatic camera movement and other creative flourishes.

The film centers on two brothers who are caring for their elderly mother: one who is there day-in, day-out, and feels like his efforts are unappreciated and one who pops in when convenient and is the golden boy.  It's heavy subject matter handled with a light touch, thanks mostly to the nifty animation.  It's also one of the most succinct nominees (barely over seven minutes), which makes all that it accomplishes stylistically and substantially all the more impressive.  It's a lovely marriage of form and function, being irrevocably connected to the spaces we inhabit, trying to burst out, but never managing to really sever the ties that bind.

The most-seen and, in my opinion, the best of the nominees comes from Disney.  Patrick Osborne's Feast played in front of Big Hero 6, and it matched its counterpart in quality and heart, which is no easy task, considering how much Baymax made me cry.

Feast is a perfectly-conceived and -realized story.  It chronicles the love story and heartbreak of a man via the meals he feeds his dog.  While the dog scarfs down all manner of delicious goods plopped in his bowl, the human drama unfolds in the background.  As the happy days come to an end, the dog's obliviousness to his owner's woes fades, and he becomes determined to mend the fractured relationship.  It's a testament to the canine world's claim to being man's best friend, and a hilarious portrait of a dog's dream coming true: there's nothing better than human food that finds its way to the floor.

In addition to being a creative angle and plain adorable, Feast is also gorgeous.  The animation is some of the most lovely the Mouse House has ever produced, a fascinating blend of hand-drawn sensibility and computer-animation dazzle; it seems like the next step from the impressive work achieved with Paperman.

As far as prediction the category, I have a hunch Feast will take home the prize.  It's a film that's impossible not to love, and it has the Disney marketing machine behind it, too.  But these categories are always tough to call, so any of the nominees could make it to the podium.