I began my second day of the online edition of the 2024 Sundance Film Festival by finishing out the animated short film package I had started on the first day and continuing on with four more feature films touching on themes of grief and connection, technology and authenticity. After getting a little waylaid my first day with a broken projector and household errands, day two allowed me to finally feel like the festival was finally under way.
Starting off with the four feature films…
Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain is a far richer and much more moving film than I first expected. It understands the ways in which mental health, grief, and generational trauma can intersect and manifest within people in vastly different ways – sometimes in ways that can cause jealousy or bitterness to creep into relationships. Revisiting the past to begin healing the present (or at least to begin making things better for the next generation) is a beautiful, subtle thread that runs throughout. Connection and reconnection are shown to be the way to find your way through your pain, no matter how raw or how unremarkable it may seem. And the ways that the film captures real places, letting us sit with a past that has been erased or papered over, is incredibly powerful. All this, and it still manages to be an incredibly funny film with great performances from the entire cast.
Thea Hvistendahl’s Handling the Undead is a masterfully constructed, slow-burn of a horror film. I love the way it uses the narrative trappings of the zombie genre to explore grief, loss, and what it means to let go of (or try to hold onto) those you love. Told in three intersecting stories, all three narrative strands are exceptionally compelling, each dealing with different periods in the loss of a loved one. There’s a subtlety to all the performances that keeps the film emotionally grounded – especially helpful when the dead are literally coming back to life onscreen. The score is equally subtle, creating a quiet eeriness that works hand-in-hand with the unsettling visuals – low light and obstructed views keep us wary and afraid that something in lurking in the hidden spaces on screen. And yet, in the midst of the film’s disturbing beauty is a hope that keeps it from ever tipping into absolute despair.
Sam and Andy Suchero’s Love Me, the story of a weather buoy and a satellite falling in love, ended up being one of the most divisive films at this year’s Sundance, and I can totally understand why this wouldn’t work for everyone. But I was completely onboard from the film’s opening few seconds as the filmmakers show us the history of the Earth (the Big Bang through humanity obliterating ourselves) in hilarious Timelapse stop motion. The mix of techniques – computer animation, internet clips, live actors – creates a truly unique viewing experience as the film interrogates personal authenticity in an age where everything is posed and edited for public presentation. And by overlaying our own anxieties onto the technology we create, the film asks intriguing questions about the ethical responsibilities we have toward artificial intelligence and the information we send out into the world that will outlive us all.
Jazmin Jones’s Seeking Mavis Beacon is an exceptional documentary exploring the ways tech companies exploit the images and likenesses of Black bodies for profit without fairly compensating individuals, while at the same time acknowledging that these products end up providing much-needed representation for Black children. The film takes on the form of a detective story as Jones and her creative partner attempt to track down the model for the Mavis Beacon typing software, but their investigation has them exploring the nature of privacy, the gendered and racialized development of voice assistants, and what it means to ease yourself digitally. The filmmakers practice incredible transparency throughout the filmmaking process, and the use of archival material is outstanding. This is a film with so much on its mind that it can feel a bit muddled by the end, but anchoring the narrative in the participants and their personal journey keeps this more experimental documentary grounded.
Finally, some quick takes on the animated shorts…
- Daniel Zvereff’s Drago is comprised of gorgeous, hand drawn animation that conveys such a depth of emotion with each brushstroke we see, each shudder of the frame. It’s a simple, but deeply moving story of refugees relocating and building a new life for themselves – even if it isn’t the life they had planned.
- I can appreciate the craft and the surreal imagery at play in Kerstin Zemp and Bianca Caderas’s Matta and Matto. I can even appreciate the central idea that we long for human connection so much that we’re willing to sacrifice just about anything to make those connections. But the film is a thinly veiled COVID/anti-mask/anti-precaution metaphor. As someone who is medically vulnerable, who continues to be as high risk, who cannot just go out drop all my precautions because I face the very real possibility of death or further disability, I find this kind of patronizing filmmaking and propaganda to be incredibly frustrating and deeply offensive – no matter the skill or craft on display.
- Maks Rzontkowski’s Martyr’s Guidebook has a playful and cheeky tone throughout as it examines the ways we’re encouraged to sacrifice and martyr ourselves, to help others at the expense of our own needs so we can be a “good” person. The animation has a low-res, computer-generated quality mixed with the color saturation and image softness of 1960s Eastern European animation – making this work of magical realism feel like a fable from another time.
- Catapreta’s Dona Beatriz Ñsîmba Vita makes fascinating use of surrealism to retell a historical narrative, looking at the ways revolutionary leaders sacrifice themselves for their people. I appreciated the ghostly imagery used to depict the white oppressors and the solidity given to Dona Beatriz and her copies. I do think the film is missing some of the connective tissue that would help it hit on a deeper level.
- I love the mix of stop-motion and painted animation in Alisi Telengut’s Baigal Nuur – Lake Baikal, retelling of the formation of Lake Baikal. And pairing the gorgeous imagery with words from an endangered Mongolian dialect adds to the film’s beauty and poignancy.
- I normally have problems with animated shorts that are tests of animation software – seeing how far you can push it until it breaks down. Takeshi Murata and Christopher Rutledge’s Larry worked a bit better for me than most because of the extreme anxiety these animation loops create – we want to see Larry be able to waddle down the hall without breaking down or getting held back by an infinite number of his doubles. But he’s forever stuck.
- Flóra Anna Buda’s 27 is an outstanding short exploring the feelings of malaise for young adults living in a capitalist economy in which there are few economic prospects. The film captures the rich inner life of a young woman – her fears and anxieties, her fantasies and insecurities. And the animation is stunning.
