From the world’s oldest festival of short films, Indian critic Meena Karnik looks at the evidence that the art of the short is much more than just a “shorter version of a feature film,” as a group of selected titles proves.
What exactly do we expect from a short film festival? What kind of films do we want to see? Is a short film merely a story told in fewer words or frames compared to a full-length feature film? Or is it about expressing emotions, experiences, and memories in a chosen form, using experimentation to go beyond traditional storytelling?
The 72nd Oberhausen International Short Film Festival provided answers to these questions. Founded within a decade of the conclusion of the Second World War, this festival brings together an entire gamut of the short film medium. It emphasizes the need to move beyond the simplistic definition of short film—as a shorter version of a feature film.
Instead, the works presented here reassert the need to examine this form as an independent genre.
The diversity of experiments and films from various countries highlighted the true purpose of such festivals, featuring a range of formats including fiction, documentaries, docudramas, and even pure comedy.
The films covered various themes; some directors shared personal stories, while others confronted their pasts or explored the concept of displacement. After viewing more than fifty films, a clear trend emerged: the majority of directors shunned conventional narratives to convey their messages. These directors were young and firm in their convictions, utilizing modern methods of expression. While not every film was a masterpiece or profoundly deep, a universal urge to experiment was evident across the board.
By doing away with dialogue and traditional character arcs, filmmakers utilized the energy of the image to communicate directly with the viewer’s subconscious.
A brilliant example is Dark Channel (黑洞洞), directed by Chinese filmmaker Yu Zhe. The film doesn’t have a traditional story. Instead it focuses on the ripples created in stagnant water inside a culvert. It captures the impact of a passing cyclist or a passerby walking through the water. These ripples sometimes look like electric currents or fleeting shapes. The film has the power to make the viewer simultaneously feel the confinement of the culvert and the openness of the water reflections, moving far beyond traditional narration.
Emilio Bianchic, on the other hand, uses a single physical action and transforms the screen into a mesmerizing dance performance. 5-6-7-8 is a masterful nine-and-a-half minute film, in which he choreographs dances so powerfully that it creates an illusion of a conventional dance. The plot follows a makeup artist who, after an electric shock, transforms into a dancing star and journeys toward success through mesmerizing “finger” dancing.
The Walnut of Knowledge (dir. Niaz Sagari) follows a search for roots and ancestors in Iran while An Open Field (dir. Teboho Edkins) is a documentary that gives voice to the director’s personal grief. Flow! (Teêmba!, dir. Kagoma Ya Twahirwa) traces the journey of a girl born after the Rwandan genocide who grew up enduring that inherited pain. And August and the War (August och kriget, dir. Leandro Netzell Ceron and Samori Tovatt) features distinct Swedish humor.
The documentary that left a lasting impression was An Autobiography of My Diabetes by Matthew Lancit. It is rare to see someone view his own illness with such detachment and without a hint of self-pity while conveying the severity of the condition.
“After the making of my previous film (Play Dead!), some unfinished business remained on my desktop. Home movies and various body horror films from my childhood cluttered my computer screen. Part medical treatise, part self-anamnesis, and a mashup tinged with nostalgia, this video essay reclaims the images emanating from my computer screen to the everyday gaze of a diabetic,” says the director of this documentary.
I am personally not a fan of “body horror” but this film effectively juxtaposes this genre with the physical effects of the disease on the director’s own body. This effective handling of the subject matter is highly commendable and novel to say the least.
Meena Karnik
© FIPRESCI 2026