TIFF Short Cuts Highlights: Programs 1 and 2

Over the next week we will be posting reviews for some of the best shorts seen in the Short Cuts Program . We start with Short Cuts Programs 1 and 2. Short Cuts 1 was an impressive start to the series. Although I was swept away in the seas of sweetgrass in Welima'q and completely engaged by the story-telling of Academy Award winning animator Torill Kove's Maybe Elephants, two shorts really stood out for us in this program: Amarela and Silent Panorama. Short Cuts Program 2 was perhaps my favourite of all 6 programs. Seeing the docu-narrative perfectly a strangeness on the big screen was absolutely breathtaking, in what was my favourite cinematography of all the programs. This program also had Percebes to kick it off, which is in the thick of the competition to shortlist for an animated Oscar this year. However, the two that have most stayed on my mind since seeing this program are Mercenaire and One Day This Kid. See our reviews of four highlights from these two programs below!

Silent Panorama, dir. Nicolas Piret

Belgian filmmaker Nicolas Piret is an exciting new voice in animation. After graduating from Royal Academy of Fine Arts and obtaining a master’s degree in animation at ENSAV La Cambre, he brings his latest short Silent Panorama to TIFF. Silent Panorama is a short that takes you on a simple yet engaging five minute journey. Drawn out on just a single sheet of paper it follows the adventure of two campers as they wander through the wilderness. 

Despite having the word silent in the title, the sound design is an integral part to the effectiveness of this short. Silent Panorama combines sounds heard by two campers, with visual sketching to allow the journey to unfold before your eyes. 

The sound of the wind, a tent being unzipped, bird calls, the rustling of grass or the creaking and snapping of a falling tree. All of these gave hints on where the action in the short was taking place in what sometimes felt like small tweaks of animation on a giant canvas. Seeing this on the big screen was a unique experience. It was almost as entertaining to see the entire crowd’s heads collectively searching for the changes in animation and following the campers through the grass.

Nicolas Piret uses many aids in the animation, from carefully placed “zoom-in boxes” to get a closer view of the action, to the light of the torch carried by the campers leaving breadcrumbs of their past journey across the sheet. Nicolas gets the most out of his one sheet of paper, leaving almost no part untouched as scenery is added and expands across the sheet. Overall, when the journey ends and the campers return back to their tent there is an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction seeing everything that unfolded now complete. 

Review by: Brandon MacMurray

Amarela, dir. André Hayato Saito

Brazil is known for being the country of football. We did not invent it but enchanted the world with dribbles, creativity, and efficiency. The only national team to participate in all twenty-two World Cup editions, the most successful team in the competition, winning five trophies. Amidst a country of two hundred million people, football may be the only thing that unites people in the same direction. Friends and family gather to see the Brazilian team on the field. In all the matches Brazil has played, there are three moments of shame in our history - the Maracanaço, a defeat against Uruguay in 1950 in the finals in Rio de Janeiro, the 2014 Brazil World Cup semi-final where Germany defeated Brazil 7 to 1 and the finally loss of France at the Stade de France in 1998. André Hayato Saito presents Amarela, his immigration tale about Erika (Melissa Uehara), a Japanese descendant girl who loves football. 

Saito sets his story on the eve and during this shocking loss. We see Erika participating in traditional fairs of Japanese culture, where descendants come together to celebrate the culture through dances, music, and food. The camera observes her inside a small bluish bath, which she dives into - a refuge from the pressure of the fairs. Rapidly, the director introduces the dynamic of that family. In a dinner scene, we learn all we need to know. They share details about Erika’s brother, Marcos (Naoki Takeda) and the work schedule at the family store. Calmly, we discover a little more about Erika and her background. São Paulo is home to the most extensive Japanese diaspora, formed by thousands of immigrants welcomed in the early 1900s. When Erika goes to watch the ultimate game with her friend Bianca (Lorena Castro), she suffers small outbreaks of violence regarding her identity, which escalates to an immense attack on who she is. 

The script by Saito carefully places the scenery, provoking diverse reflections. Erika hears that she should go back to Japan and not cheer for the Brazilian National team. The setting in the 1998 France World Cup led us to jump to the 2002 World Cup, hosted in Japan and South Korea, where Brazil got its fifth world title. In this sense, the film sets a painful note through the constant xenophobia against someone who is truthfully Brazilian. The country is built upon the work of foreign labor: Africans, Japanese, Italians, Lebanese, and others have contributed. There is nothing more Brazilian than miscegenation and decentness. By formatting his film into a coming-of-age story, Saito clashes the pains of growing with the questioning of identity. Erika is a Brazilian. She was born here, speaks Portuguese, and lives in São Paulo. But she is also Japanese. And the societal interactions make her question both identities.

Visually, the film possesses a certain shyness through its camera. It uses movements that drift away from other characters that are not family to Erika. The set design is typical of a 1990s Brazilian home: tube TV in front of large sofas in the living room. The house accommodates a family that takes care of a business. There are two TVs, an entertainment one and the footage one. The costumes bring the 1998 Brazilian national kits - the dark blue shirts that have become traumatic memorabilia of that loss. Also, the cinematography paints a timely portrait of that period. The texture of the lens emulates a bit of the 1990s look. Increasingly, it all blends into a growing tension that explodes in an emotional climax—the cry of pain, rejection, and violence. The technical work validates those feelings in the frames. All of this benefits from Melissa Uehara's astounding performance, a restrained work that hits the dramatic notes at the right time. She leaves the viewer with the final note of injustice for those cowardly acts that Erika has suffered. 

In the end, Amarela is as painful as the 1998 loss. Erika sees the team she loves to lose embarrassingly in a world title game. Saito delivers a bittersweet film. It has an inherent hope in its context, but the materiality of the frames on the screen is of horrid pain.

Review by: Pedro Lima

Mercenaire, dir. Pier-Philippe Chevigny

French-Canadian Director Pier-Philippe Chevigny is carving a path as an emerging director with thought-provoking takes on relevant social issues, particularly surrounding socioeconimcally challenged groups. He is a familiar face to the Short Cuts program at TIFF after his previous short film Rebel played in the 2019 program. Pier-Philippe’s latest feature film Richelieu received high acclaim and was nominated for six Canadian Screen Awards including Best Picture. Where Richelieu tackled the rights for migrant workers and the state of modern labour, his latest short Mercenaire discusses the reintegration of ex-convicts back into society. 

Pier-Philippe teams up again with Richelieu star Marc-André Grondin, who plays an ex-convict named David. We meet David on the floor of a pig slaughterhouse as he is being trained for his new position of killing the pigs. David is clearly disturbed with the process of performing this job. A note for future viewers: Rest assured, although graphic, no pigs were harmed during the making of this short. The pigs used are domesticated pigs and their handlers are present in the film as they are herded through the process. 

Mercenaire provides an empathetic portrait of reintegration. It is a testament to Marc-André’s convincing portrayal and Pier-Philippe’s direction of the camera. The camera stays directly with David for almost the whole short with shots that loom over his shoulder and to his side. In a Q+A after the film Pier-Philippe described how this choice is intentional. Throughout the short it shows how David is trapped in a corner with no where to go and no one he can turn to. There is a feeling of solitude with no one to help him through this battle. This allows the audience to step in as the only one in his corner. A friend that reaches out their hand, to touch his shoulder or to be by his side.

Mercenaire highlights the flaws of the system of integrating ex-convicts back into society and allows you to sit with David in his predicament. David is desperate for a job that will not stir up violence but has little options to do so. To do what is best for him and quit would be to fail the program, but to continue would be to feed his inner demons. Despite desperately wanting something new, he has no options. All of this escalates to a critical, intense climax on the slaughterhouse floor. With that, the audience is left to imagine and ponder what a world of just rehabilitation for ex-convicts would look like. 

Review by: Brandon MacMurray

One Day This Kid, dir. Alexander Farah

After being the editor on last years Best Canadian Short winner Motherland, Alexander Farah returns to TIFF as the writer/director of the outstanding One Day This Kid. Shot on 35 mm film and Inspired by the David Wojnarowicz text of the same name, One Day This Kid is a coming-of-age film that follows a similar structure to Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight and has hints of Charlotte Wells' Aftersun, but is able to remain unique and beautiful in its own way. 

One Day This Kid starts off with a nostalgic punch for us millennials, as the theme song of Tetris rings out from a gameboy that a boy named Hamed is playing in the backseat of a car. In a wholesome moment, Hamed’s dad returns to the car with slushies and shows Hamed how to pump gas into a car. 

Alexander Farah excels at character building, choosing subtle and crucial moments of Hamed’s childhood to create his narrative. As we learn that Hamed is curious or interested in other boys, you see small fractures in Hamed and his fathers relationship. In perhaps the best child performance of any of the shorts I saw at TIFF by Elyas Rahimi (helped along by Child Acting coach Athena Russell), you can feel the curiosity turned to confusion and shame when Hamed’s dad tells him he is watching “filth” on tv or that he is “embarrassed” by his son. 

Flash forward to Hamed in the present day where he is in a relationship with a man and estranged from his father. Massey Ahmar puts on an exquisite performance as the adult Hamed, as Alexander Farah elegantly connects moments in the present with Hamed’s past. In a Q+A after the program Alexander explains how crucial the sex scene between Hamed and his partner was to this film and how healing it would be for him to physically see brown on brown queer love represented. The connection and chemistry in this scene feels authentic. This is in part due to intimacy coordinator Courtenay Mayes who jumped right into this project fresh out of getting her credentials. 

One Day This Kid leaves you with a poignant ending as Massey Ahmar completely sells and delivers a final scene that had me choking up and teary-eyed. The competition for Best Canadian short is stiff this year, but if I had a vote, this would likely be my choice. 

Review by: Brandon MacMurray