Oscar Doc Shorts 2024: The Good, The Great, the Meh
A close look at the five nominated films in the Documentary Short category -- one of them a winner no matter who wins.
Note to readers: A reminder that tomorrow night, Thursday March 7, at 7 p.m. Iâm hosting a Zoom conversation to pre-game the Oscars for English for New Bostonians, a non-profit organization that ensures access to high-quality English classes so that adult immigrants have the ability to pursue their aspirations and contribute to the Commonwealth. (The organization's mission statement is here.) Tickets are $50 and all proceeds go to ENB; you can register for the Oscar talk here. Who will win? What's the inside line? Who will slap who? It'll be a fun evening for a worthy cause.
Yes, the Oscars are (finally) this coming Sunday night, and just because I no longer write for the Boston Globe doesnât mean Iâve stopped putting out an annual list of Academy Award predictions, if only from muscle memory. I do enjoy the process: It gives me an excuse to cast a beady/appreciative eye over the categories, to point readers to films and performances they may have overlooked, and to call BS where BS is called for. My prediction cheat sheet will be posted Friday; until then, Iâll finish up my sojourn through the short film categories by focusing on the documentaries.
Of which there is one clear stand-out, and if it doesnât win, then something is screwy somewhere. âThe Last Repair Shopâ (â â â â) is a heartbreaker and an uplifter about a hospital for musical instruments in Los Angeles. The cityâs Los Angeles Unified School District is one of the few public school systems remaining in America that provides instruments â over 80,000 of them â to students free of charge, and the craftspeople who work in a downtown warehouse repairing violins, tubas, clarinets, and pianos that have seen a lot of living over the years are the subject of Ben Proudfootâs and Kris Bowersâ 40-minute documentary. Actually, the kids are the focus of whatâs going on here â the repairmen and -women of the shop acknowledge that theyâre not just fixing instruments but buoying and rescuing young lives, and the delightful interviews with students confirm this. But âThe Last Repair Shopâ is not only about repairing childrenâs instruments or their hopes for the future but the lives of the craftspeople who work there. The meat of the film is their backstories: A gay manâs long-delayed coming out, a Mexican single motherâs struggle to make it in America, an easygoing dude who picked up a guitar as a kid only to wind up touring the world and opening for Elvis â he works at the warehouse as a way of giving back â and an Armenian immigrant who fled ethnic violence in Azerbaijan to become a piano tuner and the repair shopâs foreman.
It's not just their narratives but the simple, head-on way theyâre presented that may have you snuffling through tears. âThe Last Repair Shopâ is an exemplary model of documentary storytelling, full of heart but never sappy, undergirded by smart, unobtrusive cinematography and editing, graced with a lyrical score, and, in general, beautifully directed. Itâs one of those movies that makes you feel better about the world, and God knows we could use more of those. A co-production of the Los Angeles Times, the filmâs streaming on Disney+ and available on YouTube. In fact â what the hell â here it is:
If âThe Last Repair Shopâ werenât in this horse race, Iâd say the Oscar should go to âThe Barber of Little Rockâ (â â â 1/2), another doc about people providing hope where hope is in short supply. In this case that person is Arlo Washington (above), a mild-mannered superhero whose Washington Barber College has licensed over 1,500 haircutters over the years, and whose People Trust is a non-profit credit union that runs out of a converted shipping container in a parking lot and provides business loans for people whoâve been turned down by banks. Which in Arkansas usually means theyâre Black. Co-directors John Hoffman and Christine Turner underscore this countryâs racial wealth gap by capturing the half of Little Rock cut off by Interstate 630 â the half with no banks or services but plenty of boarded up houses â and they show the need and the pride that people like Arlo Washington deal with every day and have dedicated their lives to addressing. In their struggle to open a business or buy a house, the people he serves are reaching for something America has steadfastly refused to grant them: Ownership. A fine film, itâs co-produced by The New Yorker and can be seen at the magazineâs website with an accompanying article, or on YouTube:
âNai Nai & WĂ i PĂłâ (â â â, streaming on Disney+ and Hulu) is pretty straightforward, being Sean Wangâs portrait of his two grandmothers, 83-year-old Chang Li Hua and 94-year-old Yi Yan Fuei â two feisty survivors who have seen a lot of history, known a great deal of struggle, and now share an apartment like a geriatric comedy act. The short is sweet and ingratiating, nothing more but certainly nothing less. S. Leo Chiangâs âIsland In Betweenâ (â â 1/2) is a meditation on personal and national belonging that focuses on the islands of Kinmen, which are part of Taiwan but sit ten miles off the coast of Mainland China. Chiang looks to the past â the Taiwan Strait Crises of the 1950s â and to the uncertain political future, with his own status as a rootless multinational part of a brooding present. The filmâs heartfelt but diffuse, stranded between journalism and memory play. A product of The New York Timesâ Op-Doc series, it can be viewed at the Times website or on YouTube:
The surprising disappointment of the five Documentary Short nominees is âThe ABCs of Book Banningâ (â 1/2, streaming on Paramount+), a ham-fisted broadside against book censorship in public libraries and schools â surprising only because itâs directed by Sheila Nevins, who revolutionized the field of non-fiction film in four decades overseeing documentary production at Home Box Office. (Full disclosure: I worked down the hall from her during my years at HBO in the 1980s.) The womanâs a legend and deservedly so; the documentary as it exists today âa commercially viable form of information, entertainment, and persuasion â is in large part her creation or due to her influence. But, oy, this film. Interviews with young children whoâve been handed banned books and then asked to talk about them have the feel of pre-selected testimony â the kids are savvy and articulate but you sense that anyone who didnât toe the line didnât make it out of the editing room. The selections chosen from some of the books are disingenuously mild: If youâve actually read the acclaimed graphic novel âGenderqueer,â for instance, youâd know itâs fine for teenagers but awfully explicit for 9- and 10-year-olds like the ones shown here. âABCsâ is a cheery, condescending scold, and its subtext is that anyone objecting to these books isnât an even slightly concerned parent but a MAGA goose-stepper ready to torch the bonfire. It doesnât even preach to the converted all that well â Iâm as converted as they get to the idea that reading should be absolutely and totally free, but I found myself looking for holes in the filmâs argument out of sheer exasperation.
Did âThe ABCs of Book Banningâ get nominated because the documentary branch of the Academy feels its director deserves to be honored for all she has done for the medium? Maybe. Is that enough for it to win now that the general voting membership has a say? Possibly. But that would be a disservice to the four other films â and a crime against âThe Last Repair Shop.â
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