High Maintenance by Arsa Dhima

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYhGO8WHqz0

            Dhima has created a film that speaks volumes about relationships and gender. In regards to relationships, the woman's quickness to terminate the marriage for a new "model" operates as a direct parallel to our cultures expendable view of relationships. As divorce rates in our society climb, marriages are entered hastily and treated loosely. Dhima seems to commenting on the fact that marriages are often viewed as consumer relationships. As the woman's desires and expectations change, so must her mate or model. The viewer can infer from her Internet shopping for the replacement husband that she was afforded the same freedom of choice of her first model/husband. As a result, the viewer knows that her first husband, at some point in time, represented the woman's desires for a mate.  The woman's callousness toward such a drastic life change, mechanically kissing the old husband being hauled away while transferring the wedding band to her new model, confirms Dhirma's commentary on our culture's lightheartedness toward something so intimate and emotionally impactful.

            I also thought Dhirma's attention to sound was a powerful component in her film. For example, the opening scene of the couple chewing in stereo, revealed the "robotic" nature of their intimacy. The truth Dhirma seemed to be aiming at is how rote relationships can become if spouses become too self-involved and disconnected. In this way, the fantasy of each spouse's robotic nature becomes not only great science fiction, but a warning to all those who've neglected their spouse's needs.

            Gender played a powerful role in the physical choices and actions of Dhima's characters, as well. For example, the last scene shows the new rugged, adventurous male, massaging his elated wife, while asking her to recount her day. It would appear that she's found the perfect model husband, a balance of masculine spontaneity and romantic sensitivity, but his ulterior motives are revealed when she herself is ironically powered down so that he can drink a beer, smoke, and watch TV in peace. Dhirma seems to not only be espousing some gender stereotypes, but she also seems to be saying that no matter how acutely a potential mate meets our checklist, they will still be flawed, because they will still be human.

"The Most Beautiful Thing" by Cameron Covell

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IP8psM4LWXk

            Cameron Covell creates character need from the first scene. Framing Brandon in the empty courtyard on the iron seats foreshadows the eventual filling of that seat, but before Emily fills the seat, it symbolizes the boy's feelings of isolation and estrangement from his peers, which the viewer can only infer either from his somewhat scrawny stature, glasses, or the scar from his cleft lip. Even where the title appears, over Emily's eventual placement, hints at what our protagonist longs for.

            I also was drawn in by Covell's attention to camera angles. The camera almost stalks Brandon's lonely monotony, his classmates blurred and shrinking in the lens' periphery. Everywhere Brandon looks in the opening shots, there are people interacting and connecting at an arms length who are seemingly oblivious to his existence.

            The prom flyer's prompt and subtle placement amplifies the character's desperation for acceptance and intimacy. The viewer, too, senses this need and wants it for the lonely protagonist.

            Brandon's innocence and awkwardness are made evident when he stumbles on the couple kissing. Even at home Brandon seems forgotten, which only adds to his already lamentable plight.

             I love the complete change in tone when Emily enters Brandon's life. Covell chose the perfect musical track as the background for the friendship montage that ensues after they meet for the first time. It creates a brilliant contrast from the somber ambient music that starts the film with its upbeat rhythm under a distorted, major chord progression.

            Every film needs a villain, and the brash young blonde who pushes himself onto Emily embodies it well. His emergence adds needed tension and struggle to the film. Love and intimacy are never achieved without struggle or sacrifice so why should this hero be any different.

            Regardless of each character's social "limitation" or "deficiency," they're able to find someone who redeems and even loves them for those things. Covell does an amazing job of expressing the inexpressible through these character's need and desperation for each other. There's something empowering in this film. Emily's willingness to make herself vulnerable in front of Brandon shows that even love can overcome our own inhibitions and social scarring.

Sniffer by Bobbie Peers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bop_UJ3kmog

What an odd, yet memorable and nuanced film. The consistent hum of the soundtrack matches the monotonous expressions of the characters, especially the main character's expressionless and almost comatose look. Drudgery seemed to be one of the underlying tensions in Peers' film. One element that suggested this, aside from the steady hum in the background, was the silence the characters had adopted. Throughout the film, no words are spoken in reaction to or in acknowledgement of anything that's taking place. After floating to the ceiling, the husband chooses to pull down a light fixture rather than call to his wife, who, upon noticing her husband's location, exhibits no alarm, but calmly lowers and fastens him in bed. Later, neither spouse utters even a pleasantry when the husband leaves for work. Peers builds on this pattern of apathy to the climactic scene when the pigeon falls dead amidst the indifferent deodorant test subjects and our main character's carbon copied coworkers in lab coats. All stand in careless acknowledgement as the receptionist attempts to throw the deceased bird away, until the main character, to that point indifferent toward anything or anyone is stirred to action, rescuing the bird from the room's disinterest, monochromaticity, and callous. He then wanders, somewhat aimlessly outside, the pigeons limp head and neck dangling from his hands, when a flock of pigeons interrupt his wandering, the lifeless bird mysteriously gone, like his own indifference. The man seems to awaken from his stoicism, abandoning his gravity boots for the sky in a beautiful metaphor for self-actualization.

I also have to comment on Peers use of setting. There's a mystery and fantastic element to the nature of these character's environment that add another layer of tension to the story. The inexplicable nature of the atmosphere's lack of gravity is such a brilliant addition to the narrative, because without it, the culminating scene and several other tensions couldn't be achieved. Peers seems to be illustrating that no matter where a civilization or people exist, no matter how unconventional their surroundings, monotony and tedium can still erode their passion and pleasure.

Late Bloomer by Clay McLeod Chapman

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3gNQ2KYCb4

This film is a comedic and psychedelic journey through the death of a young man's innocence. The power of this film for me was in the protagonist's highbrow, poetic language contrasting the adolescent baseness of its content. Unlike Peers characters, whose absence of expression was necessary for drawing out the film's underlying tensions, Chapman's characters amplified their facial expressions to help draw out the film's comedic intent. For example, the main character becomes manic as his discomfort and arousal increase during the lecture.

Like Peers, McLeod uses elements of fantasy in his story to add tension and intrigue to the film. For example, the girl's erotic dancing in their desks, the animated chalk genitals, and the eventual student orgy, all illustrate the speaker's inner and physical stimulation. These fantastic elements help to build the film's tone and illustrate the protagonist's struggle, much like the husband in "Sniffer," whose gravity boots and midnight levitation mirror the weight of his life's tedium and drudgery.

Natives by Jason Kobl

            Jason Kobl's characters are rich and clearly defined, adding to the film tensions. The father's misunderstanding and disapproval of his daughter's sexuality is ironic when paired with his clearly Native American roots. The Native Americans were a misunderstood and judged people by early settlers. This underlying tension amplifies his judgement of his daughter and causes an increased sympathy for the women's relationship in the viewer.  The mother's unwillingness to hug her daugher's girlfriend sets the tone for the visit, each callous word and gesture highlighting the girlfriend's role as the victim. Not only does the woman's parents keep the girlfriend at an arm's length, but the woman herself becomes cool and embarrassed of their union. The viewer realizes that her discomfort stems from the subtle yet palpable disapproval of the parents. The girlfriend is further shown as the victim through her nervous, yet heartfelt, attempts to connect with the parents, be it her gushing over her love for Lost or attempting to make a religious connection at dinner over the name for god, the viewer can't help but rally into her corner.

            As the film progresses, the viewer notices the daughter's desperate attempts to share her wealth with her parents, and her parent's stubborn resistance of it. Maybe, her parents hold some resentment over her abandoning the place she grew up. For instance, at dinner, the father expresses his daughter's talents and there usefulness in recent town struggles. He follows the compliment by passive aggressively calling her, in essence, too good for the town, having left for New York. This moment definitely reflects some tension surrounding her departure from home, which maybe they assume to be tied to the revelation of her unconventional sexuality.

            In the end, the girlfriend's idealism over coming out to her lover's parents combined with the her lover's seemingly defeated resolution that her parents could never understand and accept them despite their spiritual inclinations drives a wedge through their relationship.

            In regards to creative decisions, I love the way the film starts with the girlfriend walking in the sun sublimely eating an ice cream and ends with the two women standing in the still evening on the train platform. It's creates a beautiful imagistic dichotomy between the hopefulness of the main character verses her eventual disillusionment.

The Anti-Social Network

The tone of this film begins with a purely comedic image of the main character checking in to a social network at a funeral. The character's obsession with Facebook is visually represented by social networking icons and features that have become so embedded in his mind that they've bled into his reality. The ridiculous and fantastic nature is believable and comical at the same time. The viewer believes that although he/she may not know anyone whose obsession has seeped into their daily consciousness, that by no means rules out the possibility of someone existing with a dependency as such.  A powerful scene that Shackleford uses to epitomize our culture's obsession with technology is the main character trolling his social network on his couch, while the arbitrary flash and buzz of the TV entertain the kittens and his smart phone keeps him company on an adjacent couch cushion. This inability to find contentment in one endeavor seems to be an epidemic in contemporary culture. It's sad to watch our main character miss real human connections while his over active news feed like consciousness scrolls from stimulus to stimulus. He ditches his friend at the bar to chase girls, he blows off his responsibilities at work to scroll his news feed, and climactically he nearly squanders a possible love interest all in the name of technological impulses.  I love that the love interest represents the counterpoint to the main character's disconnection from reality. She creates the opposing force in the plot, trying to coerce him from his dependency by convicting him of his futile attempts at omnipresence that are only resulting in his mental absence from the human connection and intimacy he's been seeking via technology.

There's a clear connection between the technology-smitten man and the free spirited girlfriend from Kobl's Natives. Both characters become fixated on things to a fault. The Romeo of Social Media Facebook obsession drives a wedge between him connecting on his date, while the girlfriend's desperate need for her lover's parents approval creates distance between them and seemingly dissolves their union.

Death of the Right Fielder by Stuart Dybek

It's fascinating that Dybek's able to spin a whole story around a dead character. It's amazing how every detail stems from the unlikely death of this "outsider." Dybek definitely allows his imagination to run with the possible causes of the right fielder's death. Although his imagination is indulged in the story, every tangent he ventures is visceral and laced with powerful imagery that drives the narrative forward. For example, "he'd had an allergic reaction to a bee sting, been struck by a single bolt of lightning from a freak, instantaneous electric storm, ingested too strong a dose of insecticide from the grass blades he chewed on..." Regardless of the likelihood of these scenarios, the imagery and relationship to the tone and content make them plausible and appropriate. From Dybek's controlled indulgence, I can glean that our imagination should be followed within the boundaries of the narrative at hand. If our imagination doesn't serve the story, we will have to make each detail subservient to the characters and narrative world we're in, after the fact.

A powerful by product of the narrative and characters in Dybek's story is the reality of social ostracism. The right fielder seemed to represent those people who exist on the fringes of society, present but unnoticed. The speaker regrets this truth, "perhaps we didn't want to eradicate it completely--a part of us was resting there. Perhaps we wanted the new right fielder, whoever he'd be, to notice and wonder about who played there before him, realizing he was now the only link between past and future that mattered" (Shapard 38).

Blackberries by Leslie Norris

Norris tells so much about these three characters through simple, yet beautiful imagery. The mother's conventional nature is revealed at the barbershop when she says, "we thought it was time for him to look like a little boy. His hair grows so quickly" (Shapard 40). He reveals her frugality when she purchases the hat, commenting ""Oh, I hope so," his mother said. "It's expensive enough"" (Shapard 41). This is an important detail that Norris uses to build tension later in the story when the boy is collecting blueberries with his father. The mother's rigidity climaxes at the end of the story when she chastises the husband and son for filling the hat with blueberries. It's amazing the way Norris teases out this tension between the husband and wife.

The dynamics in the relationship between the mother and her son verses the father and his son is so different. The boy leaning against his father's knee at dinner shows his ease and affection for him, while the mother's interactions with her son seem calculated and mechanical throughout the day. For instance, keeping his cap in the bag, putting it in his drawer, is extremely telling of her sterility. The father's impulsivity and romantic gesture solidifies their incompatibility, which is the real tension in the story.