During this time, Overgård hardly speaks, save to mutter to himself. Beyond the howl of wind, composer Joseph Trapanese provides an ominous score to remind the viewer of this man’s desperate situation, even though it seems he has survival down pat. However, another crash that unfolds before his very eyes pushes him to do more than he would have done for himself. He rescues a young woman (Maria Thelma Smáradóttir) who is so badly injured, she hardly ever opens her eyes or speaks above a whisper. All she can do to affirm she still has a will to live is squeeze Overgård’s hand, an action the taskmaster asks of her regularly.
Were it not for this nearly dead woman, however, Overgård would have never set off on an adventure to find a clearing where rescue might be handier. Despite a couple of tense scenes featuring polar bears and treacherous crevices, Arctic is fundamentally about that greater will beyond us to do something and hence find meaning. Penna, who brings varied experience to filmmaking from his popularity as a YouTube creator, knows how to keep the pace despite the film’s minimalist feel. He never allows for contemplative, lingering shots, but chooses precise moments to cut away from the routine before things feel suffocatingly mundane.
It takes a lot to expect one character to carry a movie, as Smáradóttir’s unnamed woman offers little more than dead weight to Overgård. Yet Mikkelsen, who most will recognize as Hannibal Lecter in the TV series named after his character, never hams it up. There
A Night at the Garden proves the most egregious of all, even at its astoundingly short length of seven minutes. (The documentary program usually features films as long as 40 minutes, though this year's output thankfully clocks in at under 2.5 hours in total.) Director Marshall Curry has some worthy footage on his hands—that of American Nazis led by Fritz Kuhn and gathered in Madison Square Garden in 1939 to give speeches about mistrusting the media and freeing America from the influence of Jews. But Kuhn has no idea how to shape that footage into a compelling tale. The addition of overbearing music over the scenes, emphasizing a sense of horror and "timeliness" about the footage, is more than annoying. It's a lazy attempt at manipulation that nonetheless has worked on some viewers, given its Oscar nod.
Skye Fitzgerald and Bryn Mooser's Lifeboat then bounces between two
Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman's End Game falls into similar territory, looking into end-of-life care for a number of patients. "Grief isn't easy, but it can be poignant and gorgeous," one of the directors of the hospice project states, but the film doesn't quite know how to focus on exploring that theme, instead simply documenting those dealing with this state and never really pushing for depth.
Period. End of Sentence and Black Sheep are mostly able to overcome any issues they feature. The former, directed by Rayka Zehtabchi and Melissa Berton, really interestingly explores a village in India where women are able to make sanitary pads by a recently installed machine, additionally finding financial security by selling their own products. Aside from an insistence on featuring young adults laughing at the word "period" and a number of music cues that attempt to aim for a badass attitude, it's fascinating to get a glimpse into this society.
Black Sheep, directed by Ed Perkins and Jonathan Chinn, is the best of the bunch; a deeply intriguing look into the life of Cornelius Walker as a young man dealing with racism in his new community and adapting to survive within it. Where the Live-Action short Skin had no idea how to handle race, here Walker is allowed to narrate his own story, explaining how he "wanted to feel love, so yeah, just made friends with monsters." The results are occasionally breathtaking. An overbearing score and reenactments that veer between effective and melodramatic can't take away from the fact that it is genuinely compelling. Showing at Miami Beach Cinematheque. —Juan Antonio Barquin