Author: James Chiang

I love animated short films. They really don’t get enough attention because there’s not much promotional or financial benefit to them being made. But making short films matter because that’s where a lot of the truly individual and original ideas are explored and take form. The following selections are some of my favorites — films that are fun, creative and often deeply and surprisingly intelligent. Unlike many of the big studio “experimental” shorts, they’re neither preachy, cliché, or impart the kind of forced sentimentality that can feel manipulative. These films instead, are simply made as art for art’s sake — a vision of an idea that must simply be expressed; they’re entirely absent of the typical utilitarian intentions such as the testing of new technologies or winning publicity grabbing Oscars. Don’t get me wrong, I love many of the “commercial” studio short films that have been made — the likes of Chuck Jones’ Warner Bros short What’s Opera Doc, Pixar’s Jerry’s Game, Disney’s PaperMan, and Aardman’s The Wrong Trousers are some of the best animated short films ever made — but here I want to focus on those films created by the independent animator, an artist who must depend on grants and commit years worth of time and personal resources to make his art all while doing it mostly with his/her own hands. It’s a huge act of bravery and generosity that the world — including the larger art/animation world — barely acknowledges. I believe the art and spirit of animation started here and we shouldn’t forget our roots. There’s always been a kind bold yet naive will and innocence to the independent animated short and that is what makes them so darn good.

Note: The short films here are fully uploaded in their entirety, so please enjoy!

The Big Snit (Directed by Richard Condie)

Richard Condies smartly crafted film is almost cruelly underrated. Strange yet realistic, funny yet biting, it’s a film that holds every moment of your attention. Brilliantly written and directed, The Big Snit is one of the standout pictures to come out of the NFB (National Film Board of Canada) system. It looks, without sentamentality or flourish, at the truths of marriage and all the things that make it so mundanely comfortable, yet always teetering on the edge of conflict and escape. So much happens on the day to day of life and marriage that most of us forget about the relationship itself. Instead, we get pre-occupied with our routines which can be as strange and arbitrary as “sawing an armchair” or “shaking your eyes”. The Big Snit is altogther both absurdly funny and remarkably touching, and the ending is just fabulous.

Neighbours (directed by Norman Mclaren)

Although Norman McLaren’s 1952 film uses still photography, it still feels like and qualifies as an animated film because of the way the imagery is treated, that is, exactly like animation. Here, the staccato-like imagery, which mimics key frames of storytelling, give the common scene an awkward reality, empowering the idea by letting key posing tell the story and even distorting natural reality (such as defying gravity) — a privilege usually reserved for the animator. A great visual disseration about the merits of being a good neighbour — asking what can be shared and what must be divided in ownership — Norman McLaren’s playful film presents with absolute clarity the futility of violence and one-upmanship. From the opening scene where the two men are sitting apart reading identical newspapers with the headlines “Peace Certain if No War” to the final scene of the two men lying in their graves side by side, Neighbours pokes great fun at mankind’s ridiculous yet seemingly helpless inability to get along. Perhaps we are doomed to be a species that will always have its house divided.

The Man Who Planted Trees (directed by Federic Back)

Federic Back’s magnificent Oscar-winning film, The Man Who Planted Trees, could not be more significant especially in light of our current environmental crisis. Narrated by the late Christopher Plummer, it tells of a shepard — a man of stewardship — who feels destined to preserve the land and forests. It’s a moving film that’s both a definition and representation of what a life with purpose and contribution means, namely, a life of being a giver rather than just a taker. Such a message most apt in our need to address the excessive material and individual selfishness of mankind today. It’s also a film that in many ways representative of the artist himself, a man who took the lonely track of life, spending his entire existence to serve his craft and to serve nature. Back, who animated the entire film in colored pencil every frame by hand, is the consummate artist with a deep passion and skill. And here, he uses it all to present a story with great gravitational force. There are few animators who I admire more than this great and most humane master of animation.

The Sweater (directed by Sheldon Cohen)

I love films that are so deeply personal. That they are also cultural and historic speak to us in ways that are inexplicable. Sheldon Cohen’s very magical story about childhood as a young boy growing up in French Canada is exactly that kind of film, filled with truth, nostalgia and wonder that makes you nod and smile as you re-live that journey with him. And here, it is the journey of being a die-hard Hockey fan of one’s favourite team and then being cruelly denied the right to express oneself. The opportunity to be exactly like the hero you grew up admiring is every child’s dream and obsession and part of the joyful blend of reality and fantasy while growing up. The Sweater might be remembered as a Canadian classic adored by all who love the sport of hockey but it really represents the kind of childhood wonder we all like to hold onto.

Mindscape (Directed by Jacques Drouin)

Jacques Drouin’s beautiful 1976 short film Mindscape is a truly avant garde work of art. Completely silent, yet stunningly powerful, it’s a film that dwelves deep into the subconcious. Choosing to animate the film entirely on his own using a pin-screen, Drouin is able to it give off a kind of dream-like elegance that can only be achieved with this technique, a way of working that is so meticulous that it entails a tremendous faith in the process and precise control of the medium. The transitions between frames radiate despite it’s black and white palette giving it a quality that is both moody yet mysterious, smolderingly perfect for its theme and thematic score. To me, it’s a film that you feel with your eyes, and to date, only the illustrated works of children’s book creator Chris Van Allsburg give me similar impressions.

The Cat Came Back (Directed by Cordell Barker)

Based on Harry S. Miller’s century-old folk song of the same name, The Cat Came Back is a visual delight. Whimsical and silly, it actually foretells the caution to be taken when presented with things outside of one’s control. Here, Mr. Johnson gets a visit from a cat from no where and the more he tries to rid himself of the annoying yet cunning visitor, the more attached and determined the cat becomes to return to his abode. The cartoon style, which is reminiscent of Richard Condies’ hand-drawn cartooniness, is perfect for the tale capturing the madness of man with the googly eyes and wirey single strand of hair constrasted against the near-symmetrical design of the aggravating feline who appears both sublimely demonic yet innocently vacant. Altogether, with its fabulous pacing and camera work, The Cat Came Back is a great comic expression of manic obsession and fate.

When The Day Breaks (Directed by Wendy Tilby and Amanda Forbis)

A strange yet beautiful story of a woman (a pig in an anthromorphized world) who witnesses the death of a man (a rooster) while going about the regular routines of a daily life in what could be absolutly anywhere, a city that could be any city. Winner of the Canne’s Palme D’or for best short film When the Day Breaks is a seemingly dark yet stunning film about the mundaness of life and the significance of small actions and moments. All the little details matter — what we do each day — buying groceries, cooking, shaving, going about our work — is what makes up our lives and who we are, and yet it all seems so very random, happens ever so quickly and over much too soon. While the dreamy paintings and tidy camera relay an electric yet thick-aired atmosphere and keep the film moving briskly, the bevy of songs and living sounds — like that of dripping water and four-legged footsteps — flow in and out with the imagery giving the film an effervescent and yet impermanent feel, a perfect merger of sight and sound that accentuates both the wonder and brevity of human experience.

Plympmania (Directed by Bill Plympton)

Bill Plympton is a great animator; he’s immensely skilled as a draftsman, an excellent designer, super inventive with the camera/composition and just so delightfullly creative. His work is so incredibly fresh while working with very intelligent and mature material. One can say that he does adult animation without the need to fill it with cheap sex or violence. His work doesn’t depend on trite tactics but instead relies on brilliant timing, playful shape changes and marvelous contrast. He plays with your mind by playing with his drawings as they morph, distort and transform in almost a stream of consciousness manner. I simply don’t know how or even if he plans out his animations for they feel so alive and surprising. Each frame of his animation unfolds into another with unexpected delight. I find his work brilliant and incredibly creative while at the same time very human because it is so absurdly accurate yet disturbing. What great fun it is to witness the display of Plymton’s unique mastery of the craft. I wanted to showcase his famous film “Your Face” which is accompanied perfectly by Maureen McElheron’s wonderful song but couldn’t find a version that I could link to. So instead, I’ve attached his short collection Plympmania, which is almost as visually delicious.

To see more Favorite Films go here.