The Oscar-Nominated Live-Action Shorts

As is often the case, this year's shorts categories contain some of the most daring, moving, and exciting filmmaking represented at the Oscars this year.  While major categories - especially Best Picture - tend toward familiar themes, stories, and genres (look at these white men make history!) - the short categories are diverse, unique, and exquisite.  That's why, every year, these categories give Oscar prognosticators trouble; it's hard to pick a favorite, let alone a "best."  Nonetheless, I'll delve into each category, starting with the live-action shorts.

The only nominee in the category that didn't particularly wow me is the Israeli Aya from directors Oded Binnun and Mihal Brezis.  That the film is - in my eyes - the weakest of the bunch, just goes to show what an exceptionally strong line-up we find ourselves with.  The film follows its eponymous heroine (if one wants to misuse such a term) as she somewhat accidentally, but more so purposefully, poses as a driver at the airport, leading to a rendezvous with a visiting musician.

After the set-up, which involves a couple of other drivers waiting for their clients, the film settles comfortably into a charming two-hander.  Sara Adler and Ulrich Thomsen have lovely chemistry, which is reached with more friction and bluntness than would likely be employed in an American venture with a similar premise.  Thomsen's character attempts to listen to music on the drive, but Aya demands his attention.  She wants to be seen, listened to, talked to, or she'll be glad to drop him and let him find another means of transportation.  The film builds beautifully, the polite air turning ragged and hot, all the way to a breathless finale with a perfect cap.

Aya's weakness is its length.  It runs for forty minutes, which gives the actors room to do some nuanced work, but also reveals the relative thinness of the plot.  A dialogue-driven character study such as this would be well-served by being leaner.

Michael Lennox's Boogaloo and Graham is the cutest of the nominees, and could ride its simple charms to a win.  It's got the adorable kids and sweet story that led last year's winner, Helium, to the prize.  The title refers to two chickens who are given to young brothers, who of course treasure them for the unique pets that they are.  The young actors are perfect: cute but never cloying, with a genuine chemistry with each other and their feathered friends.  The film is a lovely addition to the kids-and-pets canon, including a very sweet turn at the end that reveals what parents are willing to do for their kids.  It's the most purely enjoyable of the lot, but also has the least impact

One of the stand-outs of the line-up is Talkhon Hamzavi's Parvaneh, about an Afghani immigrant working in rural Swtizerland who ventures into the city to try to wire her family money via Western Union, but must find someone to help her when her request is denied.

Bringing together clashing cultures or characters is one of the most well-worn but still effective narrative maneuvers out there, and it is perfectly used here.  Parvaneh is the rare film that brings together two female characters and allows them to be interesting, strong characters who are in no way defined by their relationships to men.  Nissa Kashani makes a stunning screen debut here, doing a lot of subtle acting with her body language and facial expressions.  Her character is aptly named: Parvaneh means butterfly, and we get to watch as she comes out of her shell, and blooms thanks to the friendship of Cheryl Graf's Emely.  The film is a beautiful portrait of friendship, of womanhood, of identity.  It comments on immigration and culture without ever coming close to being didactic.  It's a finely tuned, universally resonant film.

It's somewhat difficult to articulate the hypnotic spell cast by Wei Hu's Butter Lamp, which finds a photographer and his assistant taking photos of Tibetan nomads against a variety of backdrops, including a photo of a bunch of Disney characters, an Olympic stadium scene, and various others.  The camera never moves.  The editing is simple, each shot cut to the taking of a photograph.  The interactions between the characters are natural, often funny, sometimes surprisingly poignant.  These images bring the wide world to this desolate path, creating jarring juxtapositions between simple people's lives as they travel, and the places that they'll likely never seen in real life.  But for that moment they're standing there, getting their pictures taken, they are transported.

It's magical to behold in a way that films rarely are.  It speaks to the process of filmmaking itself, and our experience of watching movies.  The backdrops, faded and on giant rolls, are amazing to behold for these nomads.  One older woman cannot stop staring at the temple displayed behind her, so anxious is she to actually go there and to show proper reverence.  It's the sort of visceral reaction to curated images that movie-goers rarely experience anymore.  We are numb to the spectacular.  Fantastical images are mundane, ordinary, even cliche.  We are spoiled here in America, where we can spend a few dollars to see anything we want (or find it for free online).  But in the remote mountain pathways of far-off countries, such sights retain their rarity, and their wonder.

It's impossible to deny the emotional wallop of Mat Kirkby's The Phone Call.  I was warned ahead of time, but I still wasn't prepared for the beautiful devastation of this film.  As it's the nominee most likely to make viewers cry (guilty), it's also likely to be many people's favorite (guilty again), and thus, the most likely winner.

Sally Hawkins is one of the most under-praised actresses working today.  Her performance in Happy-Go-Lucky is one of the finest of the past decade, and she has continued to turn in perfect performances in everything she's done, from her Oscar-nominated role in Blue Jasmine to her recent charming turn in Paddington.  Here, she gives one of her very best performances, and one of the finest performances I've seen in any film in recent memory.

Hawkins plays Heather, a help line operator who takes a phone call from a very distressed Stan (Jim Broadbent, who does wonders with his purely vocal performance).  Stan, mourning his wife, is on the verge of suicide, and Heather is determined to talk him through it.  The film plays like a thriller, so tense, so taut, every line carrying weight and the potential to alter things completely.  Hawkins, tethered to her desk by the phone, is a powerhouse of nuance, converting so much in every line delivery and shift in tone or expression.  How the film turns out, I shan't spoil, but it is a lovely, heart-busting thing.

In the coming days, I'll run down the animated and documentary shorts, as well.  Be sure to catch them when you can.  The shorts play in various art house theaters around the country, and usually release via iTunes and other services, as well.