A cancer ward, a dance school and a particularly grisly fisherman are the subjects of three new short films.
We’ve been taking a look at three of the short films competing for BAFTA recognition as awards season hots up. Take a look below for reviews of chemotherapy comedy-drama My Week With Maisy, a cross-section of Irish dance and religion in Clodagh, and a melancholy look at the world’s bleakest profession in Corpse Fishing.
My Week With Maisy
Director: Mika Simmons
Joanna Lumley stars as a grumpy woman beginning chemotherapy alongside curious young inpatient, Maisy (Ellie-Mae Siame), in a big-hearted, if slightly twee, chalk-and-cheese comedy drama.
Set entirely in a salmon-pink hospital room, there’s a touch of the Wes Anderson pastel palette to proceedings as the camera frames our pair in a symmetrical two-shot. Mrs Foster (Lumley) is uptight and put-together, heavily jewelled broaches glistening on a series of navy-blue blazers. Maisy wears the same golden-yellow onesie and is a firm believer in her dad’s favourite philosophy: “People should say what they mean”.
As the older woman warms to her endearing young companion, it’s not much of a struggle to see where this might be heading. Beginning her journey as a committed homophobe (one of her first lines tells us she’s fallen out with her son after he moved in with his boyfriend), she starts to soften at lightning speed. Though Lumley and Siame make for a sweet double-act, their relationship struggles to find room to grow despite a comparatively lengthy 18-minute runtime. Well-intentioned and perfectly likeable though it is, My Week With Maisy unfortunately proves a little too clichéd to land with real emotional force.
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Clodagh
Director: Portia A Buckley
A stern and devout dance school instructor (Bríd Ní Neachtain) struggles to reconcile her passion with her religious conviction when a talented young Irish dancer (Katelyn Rose Downey) turns out to live a house over the County Cork border in a brilliantly intimate drama.
Beautifully shot on film in a 4:3 ratio, there’s a tightness and a physicality to Buckley and cinematographer Jomo Fray’s work that proves completely engrossing. From the slow zoom to the back of Downey’s head as she studies the steps acted out in front of her to the satisfying clacks of dance shoes on a gym floor, the story is studied with a closeness and an eye for detail that completely belies its small scale.
The stunning technical craft does overshadow the script slightly, which has a tendency to overstate the drama just a touch (“I’ve never felt so alive,” Jim Kitson’s fiddle player cries, which would feel like an overreaction even if he wasn’t sat in the pews of an empty church), but the heart of the story still compels. Despite a perfectly modest subject matter, Clodagh still stands out as one of the most visually stunning shorts you’ll see this year.
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Corpse Fishing
Director: Jean Liu
Eking out a living selling novelty lights and cigarettes on a South China pier, Yan (Harmonie He) sees her customers scatter as a foul-smelling boat drifts into her reverie. Its owner (Jizhong Zhang) is a body fisherman – trawling the grim depths of the river for unfortunate souls and selling them back to their families.
Despite his trade, ‘Old Bo’ seems a friendly enough sort. When he learns Yan’s father is missing, and that three bodies on his trawler meet his description, he makes her a deal: she joins him on his mission for three days; for each day that passes, she can check the identity of one corpse.
In spite of its morbid subject matter, inspired by the very real industry of the title, Corpse Fishing is a classic but compelling tale of two outsiders struggling along in an impossible world. “This is a God-awful place,” Bo tells his new companion. “But everywhere is awful,” comes the reply.
Still, moments of melancholic human connection bleed through the bleached grey cinematography. Harmonie He in particular is a stand-out, her piercing gaze proving completely magnetic from the off. The simple poetry of the dialogue lulls us into a compelling, thoughtful rhythm; like gentle waves carrying a cargo we’d much rather ignore.
