The Best 100 Short Films of All Time
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
I’m going to cover other aspects of film in additional top one hundred lists, but the very final list that will analyze actual films as a whole is this one here. Short films have their own forms of constraint: you have to attract viewers, get points across, and have all ideas come to fruition in a limited amount of time. What is that duration, you may ask? Well, different institutions, companies, critics, and academics will have their own specifications, but I follow the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Science rules: any work that is forty minutes or less constitutes as a short film, and anything longer is a feature.
Some other regulations are as follows. I have covered “featurettes” — an older term used for the films in between shorts (one to two reels) and features (five or more) from the early days of cinema — in my ‘30s list, so you won’t find the films that made that list here. I also won’t have anything before 1920 here, since those have been covered in my list of one hundred important early films (anything from 1878 to 1919), but rest assured that you will find some silent classics here. Otherwise, anything is fair game. Live action, animation, and documentary shorts will all be found here. I didn’t include shorts in any of my other lists, so all sorts of works will be here. As long as these films are forty minutes or less, they can apply here.
What I will say is that you will find some great short stories, animated blips, or short subject documentaries, but you will also see that this list will contain the most amounts of experimental works out of any that I have written. Avant-garde filmmakers could really create their own worlds in these shorts, and you’ll find that many of their results are impossible to ignore. Nonetheless, whether these works are strange, normal, illustrated, vérité, concise or expansive, they are all incredible, and worthy of being spotlighted for a multitude of reasons. Here are the best one hundred short films of all time.
100. Ballet Mécanique
While cinema was still being figured out during the silent age, experiments like Ballet Mécanique were made, as guinea pigs to see how far the medium could go. In the case of this short, the results not only went the distance, but they surpassed time as well. To this day, this cinematographic hypothesis is mesmerizing to watch, with each portion of these unrelated images containing their own aesthetic universes. Like cubist designs having come to life, Ballet Mécanique is an early example of a project that viewed film purely as art, when most of the industry was trying to tell explicit stories.
99. The Act of Seeing with One's Own Eyes
The works of Stan Brakhage are largely interpretational, but something like The Act of Seeing with One’s Own Eyes feels a little bit more direct, especially with the dissections of real corpses at a morgue. You can view the morbid side of things, as these are all souls that have ended; these bodies are now not meant to be lived in, but rather explored now as artifacts. I think Brakhage would have opted for something more profound, like how the internal mechanisms of the human body is a work of art. Back in 1971, there weren’t many opportunities to see the insides of ourselves in such a way, but The Act of Seeing with One’s Own Eyes is still a fantastic analysis of biology fifty years later.
98. Your Face
Bill Plumpton’s animated exercise Your Face is all about the science of cinematic juxtapositions. A ballad is sung by a sketched man, whose face distorts and transforms into a variety of nightmarish incarnations, which makes the song sound a little haunting (more than endearing); this is when you may realize that the vocals are actually slowed down to the point of a slight warping (they’re actually by Maureen McElheron). It’s only three or so minutes long, but Your Face is mightily impactful; how can something this meaningful be this, well, unnerving? I personally find this short sweet, as if it embraces all of the good and the occasional bad within a loving relationship; for better or for worse, and in sickness and in health, right?
97. The Seahorse
Like any other work by Jean Painlevé, The Seahorse is more or less just an educational documentary, but it’s the way that he made his films that make them special. We get just a quarter of an hour to look at how seahorses live, survive, and get made. It’s as rudimentary as a documentary can be. However, each and every lesson gets turned into a brilliant excuse to just watch more of The Seahorse’s breathtaking cinematography, as we cannot fathom what the next step will look like. Using seahorses — one of the prettiest species of fish out there — as the focal point also doesn’t hurt, as Painlevé uses their illuminated bodies to make dazzling artworks against the pitch black backdrops of the ocean floor.
96. The Big Shave
Before Martin Scorsese took off as one of the greatest auteurs in American film history, he was already showing what he could do with the excessively graphic short The Big Shave. This is an exercise in tension and patience, as we watch a gentleman willingly decimate his own face by shaving too deeply. How much can we take as viewers? Well, Scorsese seemed to cap out the audience’s tolerance back in 1967 at about six minutes long, but maybe the viewers of today’s desensitized would could go for longer. For what it’s worth, Scorsese displayed how much he could do with so little, even before he had a chance to prove himself.
95. King-Size Canary
You can’t have a shorts list without at least one Tex Avery film, and I’m going with the gigantically hilarious King-Size Canary, which defies to go as hyperbolic as possible within its brief runtime. A quest to satisfy one’s hunger turns into a battle of greed and egotism, as various animals start drinking an elixir (that makes one grow larger) to out do one another. King-Size Canary isn’t afraid to get stupid, as it pushes the limitations of our expectations via the freedom of animation. I could only imagine that the film would go even further if Avery was given the runtime to do so; what a fantastically ridiculous film that would be.
94. A Movie
A Movie might seem like a basic idea, but Bruce Conner’s knowledge of all visual mediums is what leaves this short observation so affective. Yes, it is true that A Movie is, well, a movie, but it also contains a whole series of examples of what “a movie” can be. This ranges from its individual parts (newsreel footage, outtakes, features, and even pornography), to how they are assembled (the art of crosscutting has turned any combination of images into a film of some sort). Equal parts interesting and authentically moving (due to the more political statements made by some of these sequences), A Movie really does encapsulate all of the notions one would have whilst watching an entire feature.
93. Lucifer Rising
Kenneth Anger usually rebelled against conventional filmmaking practices with his works (you will find a number of examples on this list), but something like Lucifer Rising was his opportunity to try and share what he was interested in: the occult. Framing various satanic ceremonies in a way that feels like the film itself is in on the ritualistic practices, Anger’s efforts to turn his beliefs into art feel seamless, even with their jarring natures; I know the subject matter feels daunting, but I recommend watching this even just to see his artistic visions (you don’t have to agree with him).
92. Neighbours
Norman McLaren was a master of the short film medium, and you will see his name pop up occasionally on this list. One of his most popular works is Neighbours, where live action footage is compiled together in a way to mimic stop motion animation; that niche alone draws most viewers in. Then, you have the petty fight between two neighbours and a flower, and it’s as funny as it is baffling. As if we’re watching suburban Americans (or, erm, Canadians) being likened to idiotic cartoon characters, Neighbours and its infectious pixilation style is an amusing look at pride and the chasing of capitalistic dreams.
91. A Close Shave
After the stop motion opus The Wrong Trousers made Wallace and Gromit household names of animation, it was time to follow it up in any way. So, we got A Close Shave: an ambitious means to expand the universe made by Aardman Animations. Wallace falls in love, Gromit makes a new enemy, and we get Shaun the Sheep (who would end up getting his own show and film series). As wholesome and intricate as all of the best Aardman creations, A Close Shave is the cleverness you’d expect from the legendary studio, with surprise after surprise, gag after gag, and hug after hug.
90. The Black Hole
Like a short Twilight Zone episode, The Black Hole has a niche premise attached to a greater moral, and it runs with it the entire time: an office employee discovers that this piece of paper with the titular black hole can allow him to make an entrance into any solid object or room, which he gets creative with. Because of its identifiable nature (its main symbol is universal) and wise storytelling actions, The Black Hole has become somewhat of an online phenomenon, even when uploaded just as a GIF image (without sound, The Black Hole still gets its point across). It’s a story told in a way that anyone can get it and feel its impact.
89. Begone Dull Care
Film is the combination of sound and vision, right? Even the works of the silent age were usually accompanied by piano or other means of music (after a certain point). So, Norman McLaren decided to exploit this marriage with the help of animator Evelyn Lambart for Begone Dull Care. All you get are abstract, indecipherable images paired up with music by the Oscar Peterson trio, but that’s all you need. For eight minutes, Begone Dull Care feels like an interpretation of what one’s brain does when it hears music: subcortical swaying and pulsating. Feeling this sensation in this literal form feels almost like the impossible being achieved.
88. Day & Night
Pixar excels at its three dimensional animation; ever since Toy Story changed the animation medium, every studio has followed suit ever since, without quite comparing with the prestigious company. However, if Pixar was to ever indulge in two dimensional projects, Day & Night is probably as close as they will ever get. Two silhouettes are made up of different dimensions that contrast those of the other; not only do we have a wholesome show, but we also get some interesting visual contrasts to boot. It might not be apparent at first, but Day & Night is Pixar’s declaration of the studio’s mastering of the cinematic medium, showing that they understand the relationships between visuals and sounds in this aesthetic showcase.
87. Franz Kafka's It's a Wonderful Life
What two natures can go better together than the wholesome emotions of Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life, and the unorthodox works of literary giant Franz Kafka? Amalgamate both worlds together, and you get the wittily named Franz Kafka’s It’s a Wonderful Life: starring the only person who could be as charming as he is baffling, Richard E. Grant. Grant plays Kafka, who is experiencing writer’s block when working on The Metamorphosis (this title is especially relevant); so, he learns to embrace the conventional as a means of finishing a project, in one of the strangest dilemmas ever put to screen. The biggest oddity is that this is all the work of one Peter Capaldi, otherwise known to many as “the Doctor”, who actually won an Oscar for this experiment.
86. The Inner Eye
Satyajit Ray is a master of cinema in all aspects, so it only makes sense that even a short film of his would be worthy of celebration. The Inner Eye is a powerful documentary about modern art legend Benode Behari, who went completely blind. We get a synopsis of his career and influence on British Indian art, as well as a capturing of who he was when the film was made. Interestingly enough, The Inner Eye is both a podium for the artist to express himself in a whole new way, as well as a metaphysical reincarnation of his art — in a whole new way — for audiences across the world.
85. Mizugumo Monmon
If there was ever a cinematic wizard that could conjure up entire truths and lifetimes within illustrated minimalism, it would be Hayao Miyazaki. How does the animation genius function with the shortest of time constraints? You’d get something like Mizugumo Monmon: a romance between the titular water spider, and a strider who is intimidated by the former. The designs of this under-and-over water world are stunning, and seeing Miyazaki working with such minimalism feels like the ultimate spectacle. As heartwarming as any of his features, Mizugumo Monmon is a must see for any Studio Ghibli fan (or anyone at all, for that matter); you will be undeniably moved.
84. The Bakery Girl of Monceau
The works of Éric Rohmer are always quaint, and it’s not like the French New Wave legend didn’t work within the short film medium before. His best short film is easily The Bakery Girl of Monceau, which has enough depth and nuance to compete with his fully fledged features. Rohmer toys with fate here, as he places a bashful man amidst the curses of serendipity: should he wait to find the girl he has fallen in love with (a stranger, to clarify), or does he search and fall in love all over again? Isn’t the heart fickle? Isn’t the mind stupid? The Bakery Girl of Monceau is signature Rohmer bliss.
83. More
Music videos were getting perfected in the ‘90s (more on those on my best one hundred music videos list), but it only made sense that short films began to adapt the storytelling methods of these works (and vice versa). More feels like a mutt of both worlds, with a claymation dystopia set to the music of post punk legends New Order. In More, we find a success story that winds up being the tale of self sacrifice without any benefit at the end of the work day: a painful reality for many of us. In this grey, muddy, clay world, More’s point hits even harder, as we’re not staring directly at ourselves, but our defeated spirits that dwell inside of us.
82. Hotel Chevalier
The Darjeerling Limited is one of Wes Anderson’s more polarizing films (it certainly has its audiences), but it is this prologue that acts as the auteur’s final say on the matter. For some (like myself), Hotel Chevalier is the crux of what he was trying to reach with The Darjeerling Limited (which is a film about escapism); the paired short is the causation for this need to depart. Even on its own, Hotel Chevalier is condensed adoration and heartbreak, as a failing relationship is put on in full display. Even though we have Anderson’s typical quirks and aesthetic nature, Hotel Chevalier is some of his rawest storytelling to date.
81. The Way Things Go
With the use of websites like YouTube and other content holding platforms, the idea of a Rube Goldberg machine is not a foreign one; we’ve seen these never ending systems used as GIF images, endless loops, and even music videos. Still, there’s something special when such a creation is shot cinematically (rather than by one’s smartphone, let’s say), and the half hour The Way Things Go is one particularly magnificent example. Created in a way that you get a statement on industrialism and the banality of working hard over smartly, The Way Things Go is as meaningful as it is entertaining. Out of any art film of this nature, this one is one of the greats.
80. The Heart of the World
Guy Maddin’s fixation on silent cinema has always translated into his works, with some examples being more blatant than others. When it comes to the six minute The Heart of the World, this fascination is on full display. Feeling like a throwback to Metropolis with society’s split between its heart and mind (in various metaphorical ways), The Heart of the World is still full of Maddin’s eccentricities, and it feels like a historical artifact from a completely different dimension. Furthermore, Maddin is all about cinema first and foremost, hence his constant reworking of the medium’s various forms of old and new. The finale here is one that feels dear to him as a filmmaker, and transcendent of the very art form he continuously seeks to destroy.
79. Inspiration
Karel Zeman was often likened to Georges Méliès, because of his use of editing and production techniques to create magic. With that being said, I don’t know if his opus Inspiration is even magical, which implies a sense of illusion; I’d rather call it miraculous. A stop-motion animated classic done entirely with glass figurines, Inspiration is absolutely gorgeous to look at, and jaw-dropping on a technical level. Even without dialogue, you feel welcomed into this new, fragile, translucent world, and ten minutes is just enough time for you to feel like you have been fully immersed; you’ll still never want to leave this wonderland, mind you.
78. The Man Who Planted Trees
Frédéric Back already stunned the world with Crac: the tale of a tree that gets turned into a rocking chair. Six years later came the sister film The Man Who Planted Trees: another Academy Award winner for Back, and arguably the film he is best known for now. Based on Jean Giono’s story of the same name, this short film’s duration is telling. Crac is only fifteen minutes: humanity’s destruction of nature is swift. The Man Who Planted Trees is a half hour tale of a farmer who vows to repopulate a desolate landscape with trees. To undo this damage to our environment is a monumental task, but Back’s case is that you have to start somewhere (and that any success will be monumental).
77. Luxo Jr.
On one hand, Luxo Jr. is far from the greatest achievement of Pixar; its two minute story of a “parent” desk lamp and the titular “child” lamp can only tell so much. However, it’s the amount of work put into this short (which is one of the firsts of its kind, and the bar placement truly mattered) that makes this film so extraordinary. See Luxo Jr. less of a story and more like the experiment that it is, and you’ll see what I mean. Remember this is from 1986 when you notice the precise details on both lamps, the natural flow of their cables, and the usage of these appliances as a clever light source on a round object (the round ball Luxo Jr. plays with). You see CGI animation being pushed to its limits here, with shadows, reflections, movement, and just enough of a narrative to show how brilliant this then-new studio was bound to be.
76. Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome
Kenneth Anger tried again and again to not only change cinema, but to also create new forms of masses, all tethered to his devotion to Crawley-based occultism (often deemed “Satanism”, despite the lack of pure connectivity between the two). In one of his finer examples of such an occasion, Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome, Anger connects iconic figures from history, fiction, and religious texts, all in a neon-coloured purgatory. Even with zero context, Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome has enough aesthetic splendour to arrest audiences. Even in 2021, this short still feels like it is transmitted from another planet; one where Anger has witnessed a new reality, and has done his best to share it with us.
75. Geneviève
Canada’s answer to the rise of the French New Wave movement could be summed up in Michel Brault’s 1964 escapist fable Genviève. This Montrealian short brings two female teens (one named after the actress who plays her, Geneviève Bujold) dawdling around an annual carnival, and the short follows closely behind (in a pseudo vérité style). Featuring the wonder of The 400 Blows, the bleakness of Breathless, and the quirk of La Pointe Courte, Brault’s Geneviève was more than just evidence that the auteur was an attentive student: it was a major staple in the unorthodox cinema that was to come from Quebec. This was in the early stages of the province’s cinematic identity, so there was still an inherent poetry here (yet to be overtaken by rebellion).
74. The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom
Ten years later, Lucy Walker’s The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom offers signs of hope after devastation, trauma, and desperation. In context, the titular trees felt like the reincarnations of the many lives lost after one of the biggest tsunamis in recent memory, This documentary short can only be described as bittersweet, with the weight of the grieving felt at all times, and the exquisite cherry blossom trees being the rays of light in these darkest times. In 2021, we know more than enough about modern day major disasters of varying sorts, and we await our own cherry blossoms as symbols of perseverance; Walker’s documentation here only grows stronger and more gorgeous with time.
73. Wasp
Before Sean Baker was displaying impoverished areas of America that needed light shed on them, Andrea Arnold was serving a similar purpose over in Britain with her zeitgeist-churning short Wasp. Arnold’s powerful first project is more of an exhibition of the uphill battles of the lower class than an explicit story. A single mother, trying to provide for her four kids whilst still continue her own life as a young woman, is trying her best to juggle throughout these twenty six minutes. The titular wasp lingers around like the angel of death, or the weight of debt, or the nagging of responsibility, as it aims to strike at just the most effective moment. Arnold places us in a difficult position: is this a terrible mom, or is she deserving of a new life just as much as her kids are? The wasp, too, is trapped and awaiting freedom, and handling adversity poorly. Wasp is short, yet so effective.
72. À propos de Nice
The first work in Jean Vigo’s tragically short career is a major precursor to the best cinematic satires (and other forms of meta commentary). À propos de Nice promises to be an accurate, touching tribute to Nice, France. However, Vigo’s need to use film as a vehicle for his inner thoughts is on full display here, and this love letter quickly turns into an airing of grievances (of sorts), all with a tongue-in-cheek framing of the upper class (with the pain of poorer workers always lingering in the background). Twenty five minutes is all Vigo needed for this early slice of cinematic sarcasm to stick, and nearly ninety years later, it’s as sharp as ever.
71. Rejected
Don Hertzfeldt inadvertently helped make internet meme culture what it was when his absurd animated statement Rejected became the P2P viral sensation it was born to be. All walks of life were being shown this video file of spoons being too big, the betrayal of a silly hats club, and a “fish stick” with a bleeding anus. Were these actually proposed advertising bits that were tossed out and unloved? Luckily not: Hertzfeldt is extremely against this kind of promotional sellout behaviour. It was a message about the death of artistry within business. Part of this once mysterious short was a series of laughs that shaped all of us when the internet was still this endless playground of possibility. Rejected’s finale is a meta decimation of the animated medium that caves in on itself: what is unwanted by all is technically nonexistent.
70. Four Women
The sole song that Nina Simone wrote herself on her magnum opus Wild is the Wind is the slow burning “Four Women”, where she paints the lives of four black women adjusting to systemic racism in America in different ways; each new story makes the song grow in intensity, until Simone is fully belting out notes by the end of the track. Naturally, this song could only be paired up with some fitting interpretive dance, and Julie Dash placed dancer Linda Martina Young in a single room to embody all of the characters in her short film (aptly named after Simone’s track). Not quite a music video, Four Women is the digestion of hard truths that continued to sting ten years after Simone first penned the song; Dash’s incredible vision was a sign of her future greatness.
69. The Big Snit
Canada’s National Film Board has been the house for many interesting shorts, and one work that feels synonymous with the NFB acronym is The Big Snit. This goofy film — which could only be Canadian — features a quarrelling couple that are oblivious of the world-ending war that is going on outside. The dramatic irony is hilarious, but there’s something poetically touching about it, as if the only things that matter to these lovers exist within their own household. Life keeps going (kind of) in The Big Snit, as if menial disagreements won’t change the course of true adoration. Yes. Something as goofy as The Big Snit does have this huge of a heart.
68. Four Seasons
Artavazd Pelechian is sadly a name that isn’t tossed around too often. His gorgeous cinematic artistry has attracted the attention of many experimental directors over time, and this is an opportunity to get you introduced to what is perhaps his opus. Four Seasons (or Seasons of the Year, or The Seasons, or whatever name you find the film under) is his comparisons between the natural cycles of Mother Nature and the expectations humanity has placed on them. The stunning cinematography is part of the appeal, but feeling Pelechian’s notions towards natural beauty and humanity’s changing of them is an unforgettable experience.
67. The Snowman
Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman is a treasured children’s book with stunning pencil crayon illustrations, and enough winter-time magic to make each first snowfall of the year feel like the greatest moment for any kid. Sometimes, such direct adaptations may feel daunting: what can a different medium offer that the original didn’t already? Somehow, Dianne Jackson’s nearly identical short is maybe even more special. Maybe it’s seeing these illustrations come to life that was the final cherry on top (or the hat on the titular winter being). Now a Christmastime staple, The Snowman is a warm, moving, astonishing family film that will affect you no matter what your age is.
66. At Land
Once Maya Deren was onto her third film At Land, she was experiencing an identity crisis: who am I, and how am I representing myself through my art? She is washed up on the shore at the start of this short, unaware of how she got there. She finds new people and versions of herself, and cannot place a finger on how she knows (or if she knows) any of them. At Land isn’t an exploration as much as it is the aftermath of the years of one’s life that have just zipped past. In her signature groundbreaking surreal style, At Land is another Deren triumph: this authentically feels like a dream that has been captured on celluloid somehow, and Deren has gifted it to us to make our own.
65. The Cat Concerto
Picking just one Tom & Jerry short isn’t easy, but I think The Cat Concerto may be the winner. If the iconic cat and mouse are constantly battling one another (Jerry tricks Tom, and Tom tries to retaliate, usually with great failure), then what would it look like if they are accidentally complimenting each other musically? This zany duet (of sorts) is wonderful to listen to, but seeing the cartoonish shenanigans take place on screen is a whole different level of amusement. The music not stopping is an extra level of anxiety that courses through the short, and it only makes The Cat Concerto’s grand finale only that much sweeter.
64. Film
Film, while plainly named, is a match made in heaven. Playwright Samuel Beckett’s sole cinematic screenplay gets merged with Alan Schneider’s signature theatrical style in this meta statement on the silent era (and, thus, film altogether, hence the name). So, who stars in this self-aware experiment? Buster Keaton, of course, who was in urgent need of his own Sunset Boulevard, despite having a cameo in said film. This meta short has the silent legend confined in a filmic prison, with the camera’s lens being a perversive eye that won’t leave him alone. There’s almost zero sound at all, making this a nearly entirely visual treat; one moment occurs, and you will be on your toes for the remainder of the picture.
63. Balance
Short films can be the perfect outlet for great metaphors that need to exist in their own universe. Enter Balance by the Lauenstein twins: a seven minute symbol that can be applied to lives, business presentations, galleries, and more. Its simplistic visual style is just enough: you can see the floating platform, the small number of players, and the prize that their eyes are on. Strategy comes after greed in this creepy fable, as the ulterior motives of each person conflicts with the other (even if they seem to be working together). It’s painful — and yet so fulfilling — to see these empty souls fighting over this apparent treasure.
62. Land Without Bread
If you look at how prolific Luis Buñuel was as a director, it will feel strange to know that he had stopped directing for fourteen years between the ‘30s and ‘40s. His final release in the first phase of his career is the ethnofiction statement Land Without Bread, where Buñuel took the impoverished conditions of the streets of Spain and mixed them with his surreal creations. The result is a nightmarish look at systemic imbalances, as if one of Buñuel’s insane visions was a part of our reality (I’d argue that real life is much, much worse). Even after the break in his filmography, Buñuel would all but ease up on his disdain for the upper class from here on out.
61. The Phone Call
There are a number of recent shorts that miss the mark with what concise storytelling they could get away with (usually, not enough character building is done, or the build up to one specific, obvious scene feels forced). One of the much better examples is the Oscar winning film by Mat Kirby called The Phone Call. You only ever see one side of the conversation between a crisis hotline worker and a widower on the verge of committing suicide; you're left wondering and fearing the same thoughts that the counsellor is experiencing, and you can only read her true feelings through her expressions. There’s enough hidden or subliminal information that makes The Phone Call even more moving than it already is.
60. L’Étoile de mer
Man Ray insisted on changing photography, so it only made sense that he tried his hand at film as well. One of his finest works — of the very brief filmography he possesses — is L’Étoile de mer, otherwise known as The Starfish. While named after the invertebrate, this short is more or less an experiment on gazes and perspectives, as if we’re viewing the world through an aquarium wall, distorted by the water we reside in. Narratively, L’Étoile de mer makes as much sense as it does visually, but that’s the kind of world that Ray wanted to capture: one of slight familiarity and endless imagination.
59. What’s Opera, Doc?
One of the most acclaimed Looney Tunes related works, What’s Opera, Doc? is a full on suite of animation (with Bugs Bunny’s antics, of course). What sets this Elmer Fudd affair above the usual ones is the dedication to the more serious tributes to the opera scene: gorgeously illustrated backdrops, perfect musical and audible cues, and the guts to have this short end the way that it does: against the Looney Tunes code, but all in the name of pushing boundaries and fulfilling homages the right way. As silly as it is well executed, What’s Opera, Doc? will have you feeling like an expert in the opera field in seven minutes (well, sort of).
58. Statues Also Die
Such a strong statement on colonialism in a filmic essay would need the best photographical and philosophical minds in the ‘50s French scene. Naturally, a joint effort between Alain Resnais, Chris Marker, and Ghislain Cloquet would do the trick. All three made Statues Also Die: a poignant commentary about the erasure of African lives outside of art and entertainment. Polarizing upon release, yet as important today as it was nearly seventy years ago, Statues Also Die is as much of a celebration of legacies as it is a call to action: to stop devaluing lives outside of the ways you are amused by them. In half an hour, all three essayists say absolutely everything on the matter.
57. The Lunch Date
I adore shorts where an entire story, world, and lifetimes can be established in as little time as possible. The Lunch Date is the kind of film that is shown in film school to present concise and effective writing, and it’s easy to see why. In twelve minutes, we have two characters displayed (a judgmental woman who has missed her train, and a guy just wanting to have his lunch). We’re given a predicament: the man appears to have stolen the woman’s salad, and he is completely guiltless. By the twist at the end, you’ll feel like you've known these two for ages. Many feature films can’t figure it out in over one hundred minutes. The Lunch Date needn’t much time at all to stick.
56. Powers of Ten
In 2021, you can find fascinating videos and GIF images about the complexities of the universe and all within it. Back in the ‘60s and ‘70s, finding a film that could show you the view of planet Earth and the tiniest of atoms was a miracle. The Powers of Ten I’ve selected is a revised version that is the only release that you should prioritize. Even by today’s standards, Powers of Ten is exhilarating to watch, and is a major reminder of how small we all are in the grand scheme of things (and yet how intricate and brilliant we ourselves are individually).
55. Rain
Labeled as a documentary, Rain doesn’t really try to capture the world as it is. Rather, Mannus Franken and Joris Ivens have a completely different agenda here: to turn the simplest of everyday activities (with the titular weather phenomenon, of course) into absolute art. The large amounts of traffic of umbrellas and the splattering of rain droplets on the ground already is a visual feast, but this short uses up all of its twelve minutes to present as much cinematic beauty as possible. Cemented as a silent film staple that helped close out the final decade before talkies, Rain is a fine example of avant-garde filmmaking that pushed the envelope.
54. The Grandmother
Before Eraserhead, David Lynch had other statements to the world during his time as a film student. All of his insane shorts are worthwhile, but one in particular was the foreshadowing of his entire career, as well as the strongest early connection to the works of Francis Bacon (an artist Lynch greatly admires). The Grandmother is an earnest tale at heart, but told in such an uncomfortable way; Lynch captures the discomforts of being a growing child, and the loneliness of the abused impeccably. No matter what oddities appear on screen, every note of The Grandmother is full of authentic love, and it’s this hint of Lynch’s warmth that already placed him ahead of other experimental auteurs (even this early on).
53. Father and Daughter
The Red Turtle — one of the greatest animated features of all time — came about when Studio Ghibli approached animator Michaël Dudok de Wit to make a full length film. It’s easy to see why if you watch his gorgeous short Father and Daughter. Shown in a lush ink-heavy art style, this breathtaking love letter between the titular family members is impossible to not be moved by. Life, death, and rebirth are all over this short, which looks like it was made out of someone’s personal sketchbook; you won’t feel invasive, luckily. Watch these nine minutes once, and they will still stay with you forever.
52. Talking Heads
It’s amazing what the best simple premises can achieve. Krzysztof Kieslowski had one motive when making Talking Heads: to see how different answers to the same questions can be if you ask various generations. He asked a handful of participants (from young to one hundred years old) what they desired to achieve with their lives. The kids dream big, but the elderly look back and analyze how it all went (for better or for worse). Every age in between is all over the map. Talking Heads is so basic in its hypothesis, but its end results are an exquisite look at the different perceptions of time, what is valuable in life, and when our ambitions for ourselves will change.
51. The House Is Black
Even short films can be difficult to finish, and you will find a number of examples on this list. One such case is The House Is Black, where the leprosy crisis in Tebriz is put on full display. There is anger towards the neglect that society around Tebriz exhibits towards these sufferers, but also hope in religion. Still, the lack of help for these lives being featured without any hinderances was surely the wake up call that many people needed back in 1963. Forugh Farrokhzad was on her way to becoming one of Iran’s greatest cinematic voices, when she tragically died young in a car accident. The House Is Black was only a hint of what was to come, and even then she delivered one of the great documentary shorts.
50. Trevor
The second film in the famous Best Short Subject tie at the Academy Awards (next to Franz Kafka’s It’s a Wonderful Life, also on this list) is the moving coming-of-age tale Trevor. Peggy Rajski’s powerful short tells the candid revelations of a gay teenager who feels neglected by the world. This short has had enough push to be turned into various musical adaptations (a Broadway version is in the works), and has also resulted in the nonprofit crisis helpline The Trevor Project. External success aside, Trevor is a heartfelt story that is guaranteed to resonate with you, Diana Ross and all.
49. Illusions
A major topic of the film industry is the lack of diversity, which has clearly been a major problem for, well, the entire duration of cinema. Jump forty years ago to Julie Dash’s Illusions, which is also a flashback to forty years before during the Golden Age of Hollywood, and that’s eighty years of problematic history in just analyzing this film alone (going even further back would only result in more prejudicial horrors). In Dash’s ingenious short, you have an African American woman who has passed off as caucasian in order to work within the film industry. The idea is that film itself is an illusion of moving pictures, but it’s a damn shame that persons of colour have to perform their own miracles in order to be recognized.
48. The Music Box
You have to have at least one Laurel and Hardy classic on a list of shorts, and The Music Box may be their finest hour (well, half hour). The amount of nonsense that is derived from what is meant to be a simple installation of a player piano is endless. All of the shenanigans feel effortless as well, as if Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy were able to control the speed of objects in order to have the greatest slapstick timing. When you feel like a shtick has gone far enough, some resolution will occur and surprise you, reminding you of a hurdle you felt like you had already moved away from. Yes, The Music Box is the comedy duo performing at their peak level, and not once does its hilarity let up.
47. Presto
Despite Pixar’s reach to all ages and walks of life, their target audience has always been children, and it’s magical shorts like Presto that showcase this primary objective of theirs well. An illusionist and his rabbit don’t see eye to eye when it comes to the set they are currently partaking in, and they deal magical blows at once another. It’s silly humour, but Pixar always takes things up a notch via creativity and spirit. That goes without saying when it comes to Presto: an adorable, feisty short that is Pixar operating at its goofiest, and at their most fun.
46. Street of Crocodiles
Misery is contagious, and sometimes that sensation of apathy is what actually unites us (ironically). Street of Crocodiles, by Stephen and Timothy Quay, isn’t a story as much as it is a mood: an empty void within an industrial wasteland that cannot be filled with all of the nuts, bolts, and dirt in the world. These chilling twenty minutes encapsulate a lifeless Europe, where governments don’t care for their people, and lost souls cannot be saved. Morose through and through, Street of Crocodiles is still a major achievement in stop motion animation: the only life that these poor corpses can muster.
45. A Place to Stand
It’s astonishing to think that Canada was only one hundred years old in 1967, but it was right in the middle of the Swinging Sixties: a convenient time for someone like Christopher Chapman to be commissioned to represent the province of Ontario at the Montréal Expo that year. He made A Place to Stand, and specifically invented multi-dynamic images technology for this (having multiple shots on screen at once, each operating autonomously). This provincial celebration became a work of art that any nation could watch and find solace in, and everything from The Brady Bunch to 24 has been inspired by it since.
44. I’m Here
Her felt like a massive achievement for Spike Jonze as a director and a writer: as if he was accomplishing the visions of his music videos entirely on his own (he was Charlie Kaufman without Charlie Kaufman now). A stellar precursor to this film was the test run short I’m Here, which does feel quite similar in a multitude of ways. In this strange reality, there are computer humanoids that can experience feelings. Furthermore, they operate just like computers in our world do (with RAM and other essential parts), but entirely new components as well. I’m Here involves true cyber love, where adoration is exchanged and physical pieces are shareable, resulting in the greatest of sacrifices.
43. One Froggy Evening
Oh, what a sadistic short One Froggy Evening is, and yet it is sublime in its hilarity. Why do we enjoy the agony that the unnamed man experiences with his talented singing frog, who only sings whenever he feels like it, and when no one else is watching? Perhaps it is the irony that we can get away with hearing this frog when no one else can, and that the man is “proven” to be insane when he has done nothing wrong, that makes this evil short so amusing. It also helps that the frog has a fantastic selection of songs that we can enjoy, even if it always results in the damage of another.
42. The Last Farm
Winter is coming, and a family of farmers have to prepare for the pending offseason. Farms act as a fantastic symbol of life, seeing how crops rise and fall and continue this cycle again and again. That couldn’t be any more true in Rúnar Rúnarsson’s The Last Farm, where winter represents more than just the end of a successful summer. As the short film progresses and reveals its true natures, you may be floundering, knowing there’s nothing you can do. There’s something very bittersweet about the bigger picture, here: an acceptance that we all must face. In typical Icelandic fashion, the film deals with these dark realizations quite gorgeously, and full of spirit.
41. Cops
Like many silent comedies, Cops has its lead character (Buster Keaton’s “Young Man”) bumping into the most unlucky circumstances. What makes Cops one of the strongest comedies of this nature is how these moments are linked together, and they culminate in the biggest of hysterias. The Young Man keeps getting in trouble with the law, and his efforts to escape only result in more police officers wanting to catch him. This number grows and grows to stupid proportions: it’s like an entire town is trying to stop him now. The climax isn’t a relief as much as it is a resignation: the acknowledgement that Keaton and company have reached the zenith of nonsensical craziness. Cops is a fantastic exaggeration that will result in endless laughs.
40. The Tale of Tales
Yuri Norstein’s signature animation style is a magnificent translation of children’s picture books onto the big — or small — screen. His affectionate images have worked as a counteraction against the political climate of a then-modern day Russia; it is nostalgic of salad days (you’ll be seeing Norstein elsewhere on this list as well). One prime example is The Tale of Tales: a ‘70s fairy tale featuring a wolf trying to grasp onto the memories that are now fading away. The Tale of Tales is sweet enough for younger viewers to feel interested, but it is also deep and understanding enough for any older audiences to feel consoled.
39. Mothlight
I’m sure this will be a polarizing entry, especially given the short’s placement. I personally thing Stan Brakhage’s Mothlight is a startling revelation of cinema, especially because it is not a film in most senses of the word. Compiled entirely by pieces of nature (leaves, grass, petals) and translucent moth wings, Mothlight is an abstract experiment that questions what a motion picture can even be. Every object is held together by tape, with perforations so the final project can be projected. Here, the “film” itself becomes an artifact: an unorthodox perspective of an art form that most filmmakers wouldn’t dare attempt to this extent on a frequent basis.
38. Tango
Zbigniew Rybczyński’s Tango begins as a series of infectious visual and audible patterns. Every time a single action ends, another begins. Daily activities (playing, fixing a bulb, changing a diaper) and unusual events (including a robbery, and the replacement of a toilet) turn into a series of percussive rhythms, as the screen becomes a kaleidoscopic mess. This is life: the habitual and the unique will all muddle together within the blessings and curses of time and memory. Despite its repetitions, Tango never feels monotonous. In fact, it only continues to feel more and more euphoric, right until the dust has settled and your mind can be cleared. Life is a dance, and Tango has captured many of its steps.
37. J’Attendrai le suivant…
It’s amazing what the right words can do. Anyone can be sold on an advertisement, speech, or even a haiku. One of the shortest, well, shorts on this list, J’Attendrai le suivant… establishes its setting and players at extreme speeds (its build up, climax, and resolution all exist within four minutes, credits included). A passenger is entertained by a stranger with something major to say: he wants to share his life with someone to cure the mundanity of existence. This grows into a brilliant twist, that will have you feeling like you were a part of this whole illusion. We only live once, but there will always be a next train to redirect us.
36. Destino
There was a time when Walt Disney wanted to turn animation into art; Fantasia was released around such a moment. Salvador Dali had already been a part of the film industry in a few notable cases (another example will be found later on this list). The two together were working on Destino: ironically named, considering that the short just didn’t seem like its existence was meant to be (Disney’s animation studios were suffering financially). Nephew Roy E. Disney revived the project with director Dominique Monféry towards the end of the millennium, and Destino finally was born in 2003 (decades after its preproduction began). This dreamlike landscape and set of circumstances is evidence that the most imaginative animations are timeless.
35. Patriotism
Outside of the brilliant Mishima: A Life in in Four Chapters by Paul Schrader, the next best connection between author Yukio Mishima and cinema is the short film he co-directed with Domoto Masaki titled Patriotism. Reflective of the many ideologies he professed, Patriotism is a vicious short film that details political turmoil, and the extreme resolutions of rebellion. Mishima’s life would actually mirror this film, which he also starred in (and is based on one of his most popular stories), for better or for worse. Schrader’s film is a vibrant, spectacular depiction of Mishima’s life, but the best you’re going to get when it comes to a filmic biography (or autobiography) is this relentless short.
34. Black Panthers
Over fifty years before the massive overhaul to clear the stigmas surrounding the Black Panther party movement, Agnès Varda was there right on the front lines with the party itself. Her short of the same name has sadly aged all too well: there are still calls to action against the police brutality towards civilians, particularly persons of colour. Black Panthers was made at a time when the media was doing everything in its power to rally against the movement, so Varda’s now-current picture was actually rebellious for its time. Made with love, respect, and a call for justice, Black Panthers is a political documentary made in the hopes of peace and resolution.
33. Fireworks
Before the counterculture works we’d know him for, Kenneth Anger first made Fireworks: the earliest film of his that has survived (and that we know of). I’d dare say that this groundbreaking LGBTQ+ picture was not meant to rebel against filmmaking, but was rather his way of trying to get silent voices into the medium. It would succeed, considering that Fireworks would be the first film to contain a gay narrative in American cinema. Still told in Anger’s daring style, Fireworks depicts an entire spectrum of the homosexual experience of the late ‘40s, from hidden desires to graphic sexual violence. It’s a difficult film to process, but Anger’s incredible imagination turns darkness into experimental art.
32. Krakatau
Some experimental films aren’t about the stories they can supposedly tell, but rather the efforts taken to make them say anything at all. Krakatau, by Mariusz Grzegorzek, is compiled of unrelated footage, works of different gauges, and so many other conflicting elements, all in an effort to have audience members create their own connections. Named after the infamous volcano, Krakatau is meant to cause an eruption of your senses: jarring images, difficult cohesions, and other discomforts for eleven minutes. Combining surreality and anguish, Krakatau is an unforgettable temporary experience that will leave you scratching your head for hours (and perhaps trapped in your mind for even longer).
31. Steamboat Willie
Technically Plane Crazy was the very first film featuring good old Mickey Mouse (particularly when he wasn’t completely innocent), but Steamboat Willie gets all of the love for being one of the first animated films with synchronized sound. Walt Disney was working with his brother Roy Oliver, as well as Ub Iwerks (the designer of Mickey himself) on this short, of which feels like a Buster Keaton work in a cartoon realm (only if Keaton was mischievous and fully expressive, mind you). Steamboat Willie is frozen in time as a logo and artifact for Disney, but the short itself is more of a product of its time, rather than entirely synonymous with the animation studio as it is now. Nonetheless, this is where the magic truly began, and it remains intriguing in both film history and Disney’s origins.
30. An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge
An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge experienced wide exposure when it was featured as the sole episode of The Twilight Zone to not be made by Rod Serling and company. Here was a short that was too good to pass up, that inhabited the show’s themes of alternate realities, and was universal — despite being a French production — because it contained almost no dialogue. For over twenty spellbinding minutes, An Occurence at Owl Creek Bridge presents us with unreal fate, and the devastation of being brought back down to Earth; toss in the inevitabilities of death and comeuppance, and you have a harrowing episode.
29. Food
Jan Švankmajer’s stop motion commentary on the struggles of different classes, Food, will most certainly not leave you feeling hungry (despite the usual result of any film that is focused on dining). From poorer folks resorting to eating their own clothes (and the furniture and cutlery around them) to the elite eating themselves (including every, and I do mean every, part), Food is far from an appetizing picture. It is a three course menu of all walks of life, and the absurd ways that everyone can survive (since food is both a necessity and a delicacy, depending on who is chowing down). Food is incredibly effective, but it takes Švankmajer’s unique touch to sell these points with such creativity and imagination.
28. A Girl in the River: The Price of Forgiveness
Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy has forty minutes to give us the confessions of a Pakistani girl who has been permanently disfigured and traumatized once she survives an honour killing by her own family (including her father). It’s impossible to watch A Girl in the River: The Price of Forgiveness without feeling infuriated, even just seeing what has happened to a poor young adult with her entire life ahead of her. Furthermore, it is how society has placed her in the wrong for not forgiving her father and uncle for their attempted murder that will really send you through the roof. It’s not easy to watch A Girl in the River at all, but it is a must for all to witness and understand: injustice and double standards exist everywhere.
27. The Wrong Trousers
Wallace and Gromit — everyone’s favourite claymation protagonists — were already out and about with A Grand Day Out, but it was The Wrong Trousers that put them on the map and placed Aardman Animations within the great halls of animation history. Wallace’s silly inventions — including those darn titular trousers — and Gromit’s discovery of a penguin’s secret, evil desires clash throughout all of the picture, through the former’s disbelief of the bird’s schemes and the latter’s perseverance. As exciting as The Wrong Trousers can get, it’s entirely adorable and amusing, and it is fit for all ages and walks of life to have a few giggles with.
26. Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story
Todd Haynes’ first project ever is an independent film opus of epic proportions, which ushered in the second age of, well, The Carpenters. Karen Carpenter’s tragic passing from cardiac arrest (caused by her struggles with anorexia nervosa) was already grim, but there was a new perspective surrounding her entire career and death after Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story. Told entirely with Barbie dolls, and shot with the lowest quality equipment possible (which gives the film this uncomfortable feeling in 2021, especially considering its deterioration), Superstar is an inventive approach to tackling a serious topic that no Hollywood studio would be allowed to share. Considering its copyright issues and dismal nature that most services wouldn’t want to come anywhere near, Superstar is now passed around online, and each upload diminishes the quality of the film even more so. Karen’s ghost can be felt, and Superstar’s underground legacy is impossible to shake off.
25. Duck Amuck
Who needs to break a fourth wall when a fourth wall doesn’t even exist? Daffy Duck is experiencing the worst day of his life in Duck Amuck when the animator decides to provide him with unfortunate fates, awful circumstances, and extreme pains; all in the name of sadistic glory. Daffy clearly gets bothered, given his iconic lack of patience, and confronts the animator throughout the entire short (to be fair, he just wants to be given a fair shake). All of these antsy interactions lead up to a fantastic punch line: a forehead slapping “Of course!” for the ages. Duck Amuck is any cartoon aficionado’s greatest aspiration, and a barrel of laughs for everyone else.
24. C’était un rendez-vous
Claud Lelouch’s highly exhilarating short film C’était un rendez-vous is very basic in what kind of a film it is on paper: a camera is mounted onto a car that is speeding across the streets of Paris before most people are awake. The feeling is so liberating: you’ll feel like you are soaring throughout the film. Done in one shot, C’était un rendez-vous feels like it could only have either succeeded or fail; there is no second chance. You may be left wondering what it’s all for, but it won’t matter when you’re coasting at insane speeds that you may never experience in your actual life. Once you see the resolution and get that satisfying answer, C’était un rendez-vous transforms from an experience to a sensation.
23. Rosalie
A terrible event has taken place in this fictional short: Rosalie has killed her newborn child, and is now having to make her case as to why. Walerian Borowczyk’s unsettling Rosalie is told with the lone character facing the camera, and a blank canvas behind her; light radiates around her in the meantime, which drowns out her white clothing and renders her a talking head. Her monologue cuts to images and stop motion sequences, like a frantic mind darting from thought to thought. Despite the subject matter, I find myself transfixed by the whole ordeal. I cannot escape the underlying themes of abortion, the grief that is placed at the forefront, and the horror that looms all over this difficult conversation.
22. 10 Minutes
How long does it take some photographs to develop in the shop? Oh, roughly ten minutes. In Ahmed Imamović’s intense short (which is just slightly over the duration in its title), ten minutes can represent two different timelines. There’s that of a fortunate tourist, waiting to see what sights he has captured on camera. During his window, there is a look at the lives affected during the Bosnian War: a starkly different reality. For one person, ten minutes is a small amount of time to wait. For someone else, ten minutes could be an entire lifetime (or the only opportunity to save lives). Ten Minutes is gripping, but it’s incredibly eye opening, more importantly.
21. Hedgehog in the Fog
Fear can amplify anything around us for the worse, and Yuri Norstein’s magnum opus — the adorable and relatable Hedgehog in the Fog — knows this all too well. The titular woodland mammal is trying to find his best friend, but the inability to see around him has him lost and confronted by other beings and objects that only make this confusion worse. Despite the worst events that happen, the Hedgehog strives to keep going. Once a resolution is met, there is still the next dilemma: wondering about incidents that one has come across, which open up new doors of worry and fear. In a way, Hedgehog in the Fog is very bittersweet, and a reminder that solutions are always around the corner, but so is the next obstacle.
20. Kitchen Sink
Nobody likes a clogged drain, right? Well, Alison Maclean’s Kitchen Sink dares to go the extra mile and conjure up an entire nightmare out of the simple task of fishing out whatever is causing one plumbing problems. In this bite sized flick, the unthinkable happens, and it’s even painted out to be romantic to some twisted degree. For the most part, Kitchen Sink is the result of fears and woes pieced together. A surreal, unnatural vision for the ages, Maclean turns a familiar room into a prison, a drainage system into a portal, and the human body into its own bizarre, peculiar appliance.
19. Un Chant D'Amour
The only film that author Jean Genet ever made was the revolutionary Un chant d’amour, where homosexual lovers are split apart, treated as criminals, and imprisoned in cells right next to one another. Desires cannot be targeted by prejudice, but the system here is willing to turn love into punishment. This film is beyond moving, particularly because of its moments that are guaranteed to shock you. Despite being a novelist, Genet doesn’t use dialogue in Un chant d’amour; he knew that this was meant to be seen and understood by all walks of life. It was his way of getting audiences to acknowledge the gay community: all that is wanted is a chance to love, and so many acts of hatred will get in the way to destroy peace and joy (and even lives).
18. No Lies
No Lies is not a documentary (despite its vérité appearances), but it tells the story of truth for countless survivors. Mitchell Block created the short while he was still a student, with Shelby Leverington as the lead of this distressing confession. Block’s camera follows her around, invading her privacy while she prepares herself for the evening (both via makeup, and by preparing her defences to face the world). Eventually, Leverington’s character breaks and reveals what she is battling internally, and her personal traumas are guaranteed to destroy you. Shot like a conversation we are not meant to snoop in on, but a discussion the world needs to hear, No Lies is an important focus on the lasting effects of sexual violence.
17. Isle of Flowers
The first time I saw Jorge Furtado’s Isle of Flowers, I was immediately amused by the film’s desire to break down every single basic function as a science and history lesson; it felt so redundant, but it was detailed in an interesting way, so I didn’t mind. Humans are detailed as highly advanced beings caused by evolution, and it made me feel good in a weird way. As Isle of Flowers continues, its true intentions are revealed, and the arrogance of humanity is the real focus. The lack of love for other people is always evident, but it takes pictures like Isle of Flowers to introduce us to new, shocking ways. You come for the film’s unique nature, and leave forever affected.
16. Ritual in Transfigured Time
Typically, Maya Deren’s works could be described as surreal, or of a dream world that feels like it can be accessible. I feel like Ritual in Transfigured Time is a little different: as if it is pulled straight out of a dimension where hours, space, and other relationships we share do not exist. Like the shattering of a film set, common performances and positions don’t apply. Dances are either combined together (to create a busy, claustrophobic environment) or become frozen in time. In every way, the concept of motion pictures gets tested: at times, the two parts cannot coexist. It may be safe to call Ritual in Transfigured Time a filmic dream, but, in reality, its true nature is far more fascinating: the disruption of what we know about cinema.
15. The Hand
Stop motion animation is created by the tiny movements of figures (or other creations) by an artist’s hands. What would happen if the creator and their creation fight (particularly in the medium where one grants the other life)? The Hand is a sensational short by Jiří Trnka. The film is both imaginative and frightening: you won’t be able to stop feeling astonished by the creativity of the film, even during its more morbid, sadistic moments. The Hand feels like a cartoon for adults: all of the possibilities in the world, but catered to audiences that have felt backstabbed by “the man”. They say you shouldn’t ever bite the hand that feeds you, but Jiří Trnka’s opus is far more original than that maxim.
14. One Week
Some of the best silent films are the ones that are relatable, but the works that are metaphorically relatable yet conceptually unique are some of the finest of their time. One Week is such an example. You understand that Buster Keaton (the groom) and Sybil Seely (the bride) are newlyweds and are trying to jumpstart their life together. So, One Week presents a house that can be built in the length of time featured in the title. Of course, problems arise, and they’re all hilarious, but these are all build ups to the outrageous climax (which carries multiple punches). One Week is incredibly inventive comedy that presents its iconic stars at the top of their game.
13. La cabina
So a man wants to make a quick phone call in a booth in Antonio Mercero’s La cabina. That’s that. However, he seems to be stuck inside, and all of his attempts to break out are complete failures. What starts out as a minor pesky incident turns into the darkest fears of many, as if one is buried alive and no one can help. Well, in La cabina’s case, he becomes the latest news story: he is given the wrong kind of attention. You think it stops there, but that’s only the beginning. La cabina is relentless with where it is willing to go, and its many different twists and turns are impossible to predict.
12. Blood of the Beasts
When people hear the name of Georges Franju, they think of his horror classic Eyes Without a Face. However, that is far from his scariest film. No. That honour would go to Blood of the Beasts: one of the most disturbing cinematic experiences I’ve ever had. This documentary of the unethical, torturous practices that go on in slaughterhouses is certainly not for the faint of heart, but Franju refuses to shy away from the truth that he sets out to reveal. Often listed as a reason why people have gone vegan, Blood of the Beasts is a side of the meat-eating argument that all must be aware of: this goes beyond meal preferences.
11. Outer Space
One of the greatest cases of artistic, filmic appropriation, Peter Tscherkassky’s Outer Space is an experiment that transcends the medium in a myriad of ways. Clips from The Entity, starring Barbara Hershey (who “stars” here in a sense) are spliced together. They make some sense at first, but Hershey’s tribulations affect the film. Clips dissolve into one another. The footage warps. The film itself even breaks, with the soundtrack flooding what you see. This nightmare is not limited by the walls of cinema, or the barricades of a narrative. Parts pure art and unholy destruction, Outer Space is the kind of film that every cinephile deserves to see: you’ve never experienced the deconstruction of film quite like this.
10. Dimensions of Dialogue
Jan Švankmajer is an animation genius, whose bizarre style of claymation and pixilation will forever remain singular. Of all of his fascinating works, Dimensions of Dialogue may take the crown as his magnum opus. Ironically, he tries to communicate with his audience the problems with communication. This includes misinterpretations, malice, fetishism, and the blending of language. Of course, all of this is told in Švankmajer’s own incredible way, with faces merging into dough, objects failing to coexist with one another, and other brilliant metaphors. The ability to speak is one of evolution’s greatest achievements, but Dimensions of Dialogue reminds us that even this skill can elude us as simple animals.
9. Window Water Baby Moving
Stan Brakhage’s experimental shorts are known usually for their lack of sound of any sort, and that silence couldn’t be any louder than in the highly emotional journey found in Window Water Baby Moving. Brakhage films his then-wife Jane giving birth to their first daughter at home (after Brakhage was told filming wasn’t allowed in the hospital). Stan and Jane quarrelled with this idea: Jane didn’t want to really be on camera, and Stan couldn’t watch the birth without filming. The end result is a breathtaking capturing of the miracle of life. With no audio track, you can still “hear” the newborn’s cries, the gasps of relief, the cries of joy, and the wall of silence itself. Some amazing events leave rooms speechless to the point that you can hear a pin drop. Window Water Baby Moving is one of the only films to have that impossible “sound” as its score.
8. The Red Balloon
Live action shorts that carry their own miniature narrative worlds (and also weren’t experimental) weren’t too common after the silent era (and the comedy films of the Golden Age of Hollywood), so going back in time to find the best short story films of this nature feels a bit like a daunting task. The best example you can find is The Red Balloon, which feels like a Pixar story long before the studio was even a concept. The titular symbol is universal at this point, and the immediate draw for viewers. The unforgettable conclusion will bring you back to feeling like a child again; as for younger viewers, The Red Balloon will take them to a place of bliss they never knew existed.
7. World of Tomorrow
Over ten years after Rejected, Don Hertzfeldt would present us with another short (outside of the It’s Such a Beautiful Day “trilogy”) that would take the world by storm. This time, he wasn’t a part of meme culture. No. He was a highly respected filmmaker that was considered a science fiction game changer, with one of the most touching depictions of isolation in recent filmic memory. World of Tomorrow features his usual quirks (this time, the joyful ramblings of a young child are turned into a futuristic world), but it also places his awareness of existential dread and the beauty of devastation right at the forefront. You may giggle at first, but World of Tomorrow may possibly have you feeling more seen than any other film lately has.
6. Pas de deux
The most exquisite experiment that Norman McLaren ever pulled off is Pas de deux: quite possibly the strongest cinematic dance there ever was. Two ballet dancers are reprinted again and again and again, to the point that any of their movements create a hypnotic trail behind them. Ninety years before, Eadweard Muybridge accidentally created motion pictures by photographing horses running. It feels like McLaren was turning these moving images into their own version of this experiment, as evidence of how far film had come along at that point. Whatever the goal was, Pas de deux doesn’t need a story or a justifiable purpose. It’s simply too gorgeous to turn away from.
5. Un chien andalou
One philosophy I hold is this. New film students (or art aficionados) may be told that Un Chien Andalou is Salvador Dali’s transition to cinema. For cinephiles, this is where Luis Buñuel began, and his unforgettable brand of surrealism was already noticeable. Whoever you credit for the abstract images and disturbing events in this film, there’s no denying that Un Chien Andalou was a shock to the systems of all viewers back in 1929. In fact, it’s still stunning viewers to this day, from Pixies songs to its mandatory inclusion in every single introductory film class. You may come for the sliced eyeball scene, and leave being equally as stunned by, well, pretty much everything else.
4. La Jetée
Chris Marker is a world renowned film essayist, whose documentaries and think pieces are untouchable. However, he was also a photographer and writer first, and that plays into the greatest narrative he ever created. La Jetée is a short story told almost entirely with still images, yet they all feel like they have movement in your mind. A picture can say a thousand words, so this tome of context tells the story of a Paris after a hypothetical third World War. Time travel is possible, and the world is in a huge disarray even outside of this capability. At the heart of this miasma is a story of love, and Marker’s sci-fi romance is one of the greatest takes of adoration in cinematic history.
3. Scorpio Rising
To this day, Kenneth Anger’s Scorpio Rising is as influential as it is polarizing. His jarring juxtapositions between images of torture, Naziism, and the occult and mainstream pop music has been copied by filmmakers of all sorts, ranging from Scorsese and Tarantino to Noé and Korine. Furthermore, Scorpio Rising is one of the strongest LGBTQ+ films straight from the underground: an avant-garde mission that was impossible to ignore. The film sought to clash as much as it could: homosexuality with the narrow mindedness of neo Nazis, cohesion with a lack of explicit linearity, and art with pop culture. Scorpio Rising is Anger’s greatest mixture, and as much of a statement on the senseless worship of icons as it is iconic itself.
2. Night and Fog
One of the most daring achievements in cinematic history is Alain Resnais’ journey back to Auschwitz only ten years after the Holocaust ended. Even in 2021, discussing the atrocities that happened here is difficult to stomach, but Resnais decided that we mustn’t wait long at all to be reminded that humans are capable of these monstrosities. Night and Fog is relentless with what it shows, refusing to sugar coat any of its findings. It is virtually impossible to not feel sick or to not shed a tear watching this half hour documentary. Its revelations are far too enormous to ignore. That was Resnais’ point, though: we mustn’t ever forget the worst events of modern history.
1. Meshes of the Afternoon
Alexander Hammid had worked on a few films by the time his then-wife Maya Deren had come up with her first cinematic project: Meshes of the Afternoon. They both star in the film together, and they were both behind the camera as well as co-directors. This was Deren’s child through and through, as she wrote, produced, and edited the film entirely herself. She desired to tell the story of a never ending dream that couldn’t be broken no matter how many times one woke up; reality could barely play a part in this vision. Told without sound, Meshes of the Afternoon only had its visuals to guide us. Deren opted to take us into the deepest corridors of our psyche.
A variety of clues are left in this repetitive cycle of images, where a different path or amount of ground covered is explored each and every new version of the story. Still, there isn't any concrete certainty in Meshes of the Afternoon. What you get instead is the experience of an alternate reality crammed into fifteen minutes: the knowledge that there is this endless loop of unconsciousness, death, discovery, mysticism, and rebirth. On the topic of reincarnation, Meshes of the Afternoon was gifted new life by an added score by experimental musician Teiji Ito in 1959; Ito was Deren’s last husband until her death, and this unique circle of the film’s origin (Hammid) and its conclusion (Ito) is coincidentally reflective of the theme of endlessness and rediscovery through the familiar in the film.
The rest is history. Meshes of the Afternoon’s fractured storytelling, unnatural existences, and astounding vagueness has affected so many filmmakers and artists that dared to go further. The mirror-faced reaper alone has been referenced often, even in Janelle Monáe’s “Tightrope” music video (amongst other sources); the mainstream has also been blessed by Deren’s innovations. The film itself was made right in the middle of Hollywood’s quest to tell bigger, longer, and more ambitious stories. Here was a short that was even ten percent the length of other opuses at the time, but with all of the spark, scale, and everlasting effect of these larger works. All it took was a brilliant artistic mind, and that’s exactly what Deren had when she created Meshes of the Afternoon: the greatest short film of all time.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.