The Oscar for Best Documentary Short Can’t Go to These Cute Kids
As the years pass and the line between professional filmmakers and indie creators continues to blur, documentaries have become all the more fascinating. Here is a genre of film where preconceived notions must be shunned entirely. No two documentaries are entirely the same, and no level of prior success or industry establishment can predict which docs will or will not be good. This is functional filmmaking that only needs to answer two questions: Do you have a legitimate story, and are you able to tell it well?
This year’s collection of Oscar-nominated documentary short films all pass that first test. There are plenty of interesting stories at play here. These five shorts have succinct subjects that are fairly simple to understand, even for the most documentary-averse viewer. Whether or not the filmmakers behind these docs can tell these stories well, however, is another matter entirely. Two of the films up for Oscar gold in 2024 fall prey to the dreaded traps of nauseating self-importance. These selections present themselves with such puzzling construction or lack of conviction that their filmmakers seem to think their mere existence is enough to do all the narrative heavy lifting. Documentaries might be an accessible form of filmmaking, but that doesn’t mean simply stitching together footage is enough to create something truly moving or important.
Those bungles are all the more noticeable when stacked against three excellent category contenders that surely had Academy voters torn. These films wisely narrow their focus to avoid tackling subjects too big to discuss in a short documentary film. Of course, that doesn’t mean that these shorts don’t have their eyes on the bigger picture. The best brief docs can make viewers consider broad topics and prickly themes while keeping their rhythm pleasant and engaging. Three of the 2024 nominees accomplish this marvelously, but one major standout clears the competition by a mile. Forget slow and steady—these films are small and mighty.
The Barber of Little Rock
One of the best things about the documentary short category is that it’s usually pretty easy to access a little dose of something hopeful and impactful. Take The Barber of Little Rock, a streaming documentary from The New Yorker: It’s the length of your favorite half-hour sitcom, but so much more moving. The film follows Arkansas barber Arlo Washington as he prepares to open the next branch of his nonprofit CDFI (community development financial institution), People Trust.
While the film’s title references the role of the barber in the Black community—which is not solely a barber, but can also be a therapist, friend, or spiritual guide—it also refers to how Washington got his start. It was in his role as a barber that he saw the effects of wealth disparity within Little Rock, stretching far past his childhood. It was also where he made his first loan to a loyal customer of 20 years. Washington decided to go bigger, establishing his own nonprofit to award small business and personal loans to Little Rock residents who were disenfranchised by the racial wage gap and political redlining. The film is a joyous look at the power of community action and the ripple effect that one person can have on an entire city, even with big banks staring them down. The Barber of Little Rock reminds us that no situation has to be permanent, so long as we have others to look to in times of trouble.
The Barber of Little Rock is now streaming on YouTube.
Nǎi Nai and Wài Pó
Move over, Saltburn! There’s a much more affecting film in which people gather around a TV to watch Superbad together, and this one stars two lovable grannies. Nǎi Nai and Wài Pó is the story of filmmaker Sean Wang’s two grandmothers: Chang Li Hua, his 83-year-old maternal grandma, and Yi Yan Feu, his 94-year-old paternal nan. Yi Yan and Chang Li live together and spend their days exercising, reading the newspaper, singing, looking through old photo albums, and farting.
Yes, farting. But even when Nǎi Nai and Wài Pó falls back on some juvenile jokes between these two captivating characters, it deftly weaves in plenty of emotional heft to accompany them. Both grandmothers view their age differently, with Chang Li a bit more active and invigorated, while Yi Yan is more content to drift through the days. They brighten when they get to see their grandson, but are unafraid to talk about death, and how they are spending their final years. The film has some truly beautiful ruminations on life, death, health, and relationships in only 17 minutes. It’s a deeply personal project, which ultimately does feel more like a gorgeously shot home movie than it does a documentary. But that doesn’t Nǎi Nai and Wài Pó any less enchanting.
Nǎi Nai and Wài Pó is now streaming on Disney+ and Hulu.
The Last Repair Shop
This year’s documentary short selections are much more personal and less abstract than last year’s nominees. The 2024 slate focuses more on stories about people than about institutions or conflict, though those certainly find their way into these stories too—these are, after all, documentaries! The Last Repair Shop, far and away the best nominee in this year’s group, skillfully combines individual stories with a universal message for a 40-minute short that could easily extend itself to feature length without losing any of its heart or charm.
The film focuses on the relationship between young music students in Los Angeles and the dedicated craftspeople who repair their instruments at no cost. The Los Angeles Unified School District is one of the few school districts in America that still offers musical instruments and their repair to students entirely for free. While the budgets for art programs all around the country are being slashed, the lovely people who toil in the instrument repair workshop feel proud to do their jobs because of the impact that they know music can have on children. All the repair people have different reasons for wanting to do their jobs, just like all of the kids have different reasons for playing instruments. It turns out, there’s plenty of thematic crossover between all of these motives, and it makes for a sincerely intimate and life-affirming story about the power of music and paying it forward. These people aren’t just repairing instruments, they’re repairing hearts. And for that, they—and The Last Repair Shop—deserve Oscar gold.
The Last Repair Shop is now streaming on YouTube.
The ABCs of Book Banning
For every documentary short about selfless humans who want to do right by others to make the world a better place, there’s one that thinks it’s conveying that same message, only to completely botch the execution. In 2024, The ABCs of Book Banning is that short. It’s not that the film isn’t trying to shed light on an important topic; banning books from school libraries is still an extremely prevalent tactic to keep pertinent information about how the world works away from students. But The ABCs of Book Banning does little to actually communicate the gravity of these incidents beyond sticking a camera in a child’s face and asking them about the subject at hand.
This selection is not completely meritless—hopefully, anything nominated for an Oscar wouldn’t be. (Although, Green Book did win Best Picture, so!) Seeing kids 10 and under talk about subjects like racial equality and LGBTQ+ rights with such candor and knowledge will give even the most nihilistic viewer hope for a brighter future. But The ABCs of Book Banning has little to offer beyond those soundbites. Most of the film is pull quotes from banned books, trying to convince the viewer of something most of us probably already know: These books are challenged because they speak the truth. Once it has presented that fact, The ABCs of Book Banning fails to wade into the conversation any deeper. Unfortunately for kids around the country, there is so much more to the fight to stop book bans that need to be addressed to make this documentary a viable winner.
The ABCs of Book Banning is streaming on Paramount+.
Island in Between
The most stereotypically “documentary” selection out of this year’s five nominees, Island in Between is a fascinating but rather cold and emotionally distant look at the perils of propaganda. Focusing on Kinmen, the titular island between China and Taiwan, which have historically had a tumultuous relationship with one another, to say the least. Taiwanese filmmaker S. Leo Chiang returns to the country from the United States to examine his affection for Kinmen and Taiwan, as well as the complicated affection that he, his family, and countless others have for their home.
The documentary is certainly personal for Chiang, but that’s not enough to create much of a pull for the viewer. Chiang neglects to look outwardly long enough to find a way to communicate the nuance of his thorny relationship with Kinmen and the Chinese mainland, which sits just a short ferry ride away from the island. Chiang has some interesting thoughts about propaganda, and how jarring it was when China opened up its borders to Taiwan residents. He saw that it was the division between political ideals that kept these two countries so separate, when in reality, Chinese and Taiwanese residents are just as close in personal values as they are in physical proximity. But the discrepancy between what a government tells its citizens and what is the truth is not a new phenomenon, and Island in Between can’t find a fresh perspective to make Chiang’s film a memorable addition to the conversation.
Island in Between is streaming on YouTube.
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