Short films have been central to some of the most celebrated moments of
British cinema history - from the 1930s documentary movement through Free Cinema
to 1970s experimental film. Many of our major directors have launched their
careers with short films: Ridley Scott with Boy and Bicycle (1965), Ken Russell
with Amelia and the Angel (1958), Lynne Ramsey with Gasman (1997) and Shane
Meadows with Where's the Money Ronnie! (1995). Shorts predate feature length
production by over a decade, and they have been the form of choice for films as
diverse as newsreels, cartoons, advertising, technical films, music promos,
corporate video, cine-magazines, sponsored filmmaking, student films, gallery
installations and amateur cinematography.
Attempting to summarise such diversity is almost impossible - even the length
of a short film varies widely; some films last 15 seconds, others 45 minutes.
However, there are a number of inherent traits that all short films share - the
drive to be succinct, the opportunity for technical and formal innovation and
the potential to influence and revitalise the mainstream industry. Often these
traits have resulted in new kinds of filmmaking, simultaneously mounting a
challenge to established film practice in the UK.
In the early years of film production, all films were short. Feature length
production developed as the cinema industry became established, with purpose
built venues and complete film programmes. Emerging from the music hall
tradition, the pre-1920s silent era programme was full of short items, from
newsreels to adventure serials, comedy to natural history, cine-magazines to
dramas. But as the silent era progressed, feature production was increasingly
favoured by the major studios. The cinema programme changed accordingly,
relegating shorter films to the status of supporting items in the programme. In
Britain these shorts enjoyed a long life, through sponsored filmmaking (such as Mining Review, 1947-83) information films (such as COI's Green
Cross Code campaign, 1971-83) and cine-magazines (such as Look at Life,
1959-68). But during the 1970s, the arrival of the blockbuster movie killed the
mixed programme. With the exception of some children's movies, few cinemas now
show anything by way of supporting items beyond a few adverts and trailers.
Instead, short films have migrated to other media - chiefly television and
the internet - but with mixed results. In the UK, television has been absolutely
central to the success of short films like the Wallace and Gromit series
(1989-95), which reached a kind of popularity usually associated with features.
But this is unique; TV still schedules most of its short films at off-peak
times. On the internet, short films enjoy huge popularity but must work hard to
be seen as more than disposable distractions; the unlimited access that the web
provides rarely replaces the kudos of a theatrical screening or television
broadcast. In the UK, generally, short film is ubiquitous. It thrives in popular
culture through advertising, pop videos and electronic media, but all of them
are often dismissed as ephemeral.
This cultural indifference towards the short form is, however, misleading.
Although marginal when compared to the economic and social reach of television
and feature production, short films are at the heart of the UK moving image
industry. For many years they have provided a regular training ground for
newcomers to the industry. Advertising and music video, in particular, are a
continued source of employment for industry professionals and these highly
budgeted areas are often credited with fostering technical and formal
innovation. Indeed, British short films have often been the site of technical
innovation, from early sound-on-film systems such as De Forest Phonofilm's Billy
Merson Sings 'Desdemona' (1927), through obscure cinematographic experiments
like The Door in the Wall (Glenn H. Alvey Jr, 1956) to the use of 'bullet-time'
in Björk's Army of Me video (Michel Gondry, 1995). In their drive for clarity
and brevity, short films also cultivate a much admired structural dexterity. One
of our greatest film practitioners, Humphrey Jennings, worked largely in short
film; his poetic approach both nurtured and suited the form's demand for
succinctness.
In general, the production context for short films - less pressured than
features, with fewer financial or career consequences at stake - allows
filmmakers a greater freedom of expression as they develop their craft. Shorts
are often seen as a more democratic form of filmmaking and the UK has a strong
tradition of fostering the talent of new filmmakers. From the BFI Experimental
Film Fund and the UK Film Council's digital shorts initiative to the setting up
of the London Film School and National Film and Television School, new
filmmakers have been in constant training for many years and shorts are the
films that usually emerge. Elsewhere, previously under-represented groups - from
amateur filmmakers (for example, the Institute of Amateur Cinematographers), to
film collectives (such as Amber, Sankofa or Black Audio Film Collective) and
children (via the lottery funded digital initiative, First Light Movies) - have
had the opportunity to experiment with form and develop an alternative voice
through short film.
But despite their potential for innovation and oppositional rhetoric, many
short films can be conservative and repetitive. The routine form of production
and quick turnaround, along with the convenience of filmic cliché and the desire
to maximise audiences, means that many short films are compromised. Today,
funding bodies tend to encourage standardisation through strict production
criteria that can homogenise productions. Financers, film schools and production
companies are often interested in developing the filmmaking talent as much as
the individual films, with the effect that many shorts are criticised as
'calling cards' - vehicles for filmmakers to tout their skills - rather than
accomplished works in their own right. Others criticise the increased
democratisation of digital technology and the sloppy filmmaking it encourages,
concluding that more films mean lower standards. But both objections are too
general to bite. A more plausible criticism is that many of today's short films have
lost either their ability or their ambition to challenge the existing industry
and their audiences.
Nevertheless, the short form is essential to the debate around contemporary filmmaking.
The diversity of short film production means that the films resist
generalisation, but are also contradictory. Despite offering a constant
potential for innovation - especially with the advent of digital technology -
shorts are often constrained by the sponsors, funding and commissioning bodies
upon which they depend. At once innovative and conservative, democratic and
elitist, central to UK production yet marginal in distribution, shorts
filmmaking can be read as an index of British film culture.
Dylan Cave
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