I caught wind of the Beaufort International Film Festival (BIFF) on an exploratory visit here last Spring. We had missed it, but the flags were still flapping up by USCB. When we were deciding where to relocate, the existence of such a cultural event was definitely in the plus column. My nagging fear wasmoving to a cultural backwater after enjoying great museums, music, and events as a local reality in big cities for my entire adult life. It’s great to realize that in least one regard my fear was unfounded. I now know that every year I’ll get to bask in glory of an annual injection of creative filmmaking excellence. Whew.
Knowing I was going to write something up about the festival I decided to focus on short films. I ended up watching sixteen shorts. I enjoyed fifteen of them, affirmed the artistry of eight, and loved four immensely. I hadn’t seen that many short films in a concentrated time since my own documentary short Hidden in Plain Sight screened at the Cleveland International Film Festival in 2015. After this stretch my love affair with the form has been rekindled, and the magic that can be packed into just a few minutes of quality storytelling and attention to detail is rich and rewarding.
Right out of the gate the first film I saw, Lovesick, reinforced sturdy clichés of serious festival fair: a foreign film (Denmark) set in a mental institution with a weighty meditation on wanting. A patient falls for a nurse and over the course of a New Year’s Eve party we see close ups of desperation, desire, tenderness and a touch of humor. Great start.
The first film I loved was in the late Wednesday afternoon block and also dealt with a mental condition, this time dementia. 4th Dementia was a clever take on the tragedy of slipping away and inhabiting alternate states. Nellie is losing her grip on this particular time and place and ends up searching for her husband Lou in several different dimensions, inhabiting fantastically well realized scenes as a Jewish mob boss, a free–spirited hippie, a superhero in a student film and more. The harsh reality of families watching her decline was subtle but strong; and the final scene where she gets to be with her true love in the here and now was poignant and on-point. Lou and Nellie danced in the moment to the tune of a love that would not be forgotten, dementia be damned.
The final film of the Friday morning block was an unexpected stunner. Neither Donkey Nor Horse is based on the true story of the very real 1910 Manchurian Plague, which claimed 60,000 lives and led to the first wearing of PPE masks after it was determined to be pneumonic (thus spread by air) rather than carried by rats. The heart of the story, which ended up winning the award for best short film, was young Doctor Wu Lien-teh (Christopher Pang) facing prejudice from both traditional Chinese medicine healers and Western doctors during his search for answers about the outbreak.
Director Robert Wang masterfully built tension and drama with a visually incredible scene in the sick ward as Wu takes in the full extent of suffering and intuitively realizes what could be happening. An illicit autopsy later it’s confirmed that this is something new and medicine leaps into a new age. Script-wise,this significant transition is handled with grace in a scene where Wu relates the idea of the earth’s Chi energy being another form of the bacteria he has documented in his western-oriented microscope.
In the chat after the movie with Co-Film Festival Director Ron Tucker, Director Wang revealed that actor Christopher Pang found out subsequent to being cast in the role that Dr. Wu was actually his great grand uncle (art imitating life and all that). As a side note, Tucker did a fabulous job with all the chats I saw with movie folks. He was inquisitive, receptive, and engaging.
My third rave goes out to The Long Walk Home, a squirm-inducing exposition of a female teacher sexually exploiting her young teen student. The action centers on a single day but in a series of well-timed flashbacks, we see the grooming that took place. As the inevitable comes to pass it gets more and more uncomfortable, since we aren’t immediately sure what the relationship is at the start of the film. It was based on a true story that took place over a couple of years and both the director, Jeremy Folmer, and now adult victim spoke after the film. The value and truth on display in both the film and the discussion represent the power of film as cultural currency and social illuminator. The adult survivor mentioned the healing he got from years of therapy and reflection, and how important it was for him to speak about it today. Folmer’s decision to have the final minutes go by in silence as the boy walked home was brilliant.
The fourth film that contributed to my falling back in love with shorts was Jackie Oudney’s What I Am, a reawakening of identity story from the UK. A nasty fall causes Caroline, a house cleaner, to become amnesiac and without any references to the contrary she assumes she is home and enjoys the lavish digs, fine wines, and beautiful clothes she finds after she comes to. Then the real homeowner returns, and Caroline has to come to terms with a very different identity. She is adrift and wounded, rejecting help from her daughter and moping about her modest flat. Then she discovers a cache of poems that she has written and gets to know herself.
The film affirms self-acceptance and even if the message is not new, the crisp economy of its execution, the use of music (Sweet Caroline especially), the likability of our heroine, and an underlying hopefulness writ large in just 26 minutes elevates it to special. In a prerecorded segment shown right after the writer/director Oudney mentions the class aspect to the story and relates how she got heavyweight Scottish actor Brian Cox to sign on as Executive Producer, itself an example of hopeful belief.
My hope is that next year’s festival will produce similar magical moments of luminous filmmaking, and I certainly believe it will.
