2025 Tribeca Review Roundup: Part 1

All of us here at ShortStick believe that Tribeca holds one of the best curated and thought-out shorts programs. The quality of short films across the board remains fairly unmatched. Over the next week or two we will be reviewing some of our very favourites from the festival as we watch through every short, starting with these four gems.

Ovary-Acting, dir. Ida Melum

Ida Melum who in 2021 gave us her directorial debut in the form of BAFTA nominated Night of the Living Dread is back this season with Ovary-Acting. With visual and conceptual similarities, her specific style becomes instantly recognisable through the comedic and relatable anxious situations taking shape in the form of stop motion fabric dolls with exaggerated facial features.

The film follows Eva who attends her sister's baby shower. Feeling the societal expectation of reproducing while herself being unsure if she even wants to do so, Eva is clearly uncomfortable in the setting. The additional pressure from the attending family members does not help the situation and Eva finally snaps and locks herself in the bathroom.

From here the film takes a slight surrealist turn in which Eva for lack of a better term births her ovaries and uterus - aptly named Ovy - and proceeds to have a conversation with it. Taking the role of her “biological clock” Ovy clearly longs for a baby, adding fuel to the already frustrating fire burning in Eva’s mind.

While clearly unrealistic, the film hits many notes familiar to people around their thirties in today's society. From the risks involved, the commitment to each other and the family you build, the emotional rollercoaster, the external and internal pressure and cost to the environmental impact and pollution, the lack of freedom, etc. there is no shortage of arguments against pregnancy. But of course there are equal measures of positives, usually presented from the perspective of Ovy and the other side characters in the story.

The film tackles these heavy questions with a generous measure of comedic relief and charm, keeping an otherwise very complex conversation digestible and entertaining. It does not necessarily lean one way or the other, nor does not offer any answers. Instead, it allows these thoughts to stay complex and sways strongly in the way of allowing the doubts and questions to take up the space they need, a lesson I believe all parties could gain from learning.

Review by: Robin Hellgren

How I Learned to Die, dir. Manya Glassman

“I want it to be like a movie,” 16-year-old Iris says as she leans in for her first kiss. She pauses for her paramour to take out his retainer, a classic teen movie move, and then awkwardly puckers her lips. Iris is played with openhearted verve and youthful energy by charming newcomer Lola Darling, her striking face filling the frame as she turns directly to the camera, saying “let me provide some context.” Iris has a tumor growing in her third vertebra, which has left her bones brittle like eggshells, and at any moment her spine can collapse. Iris and her parents have run out of treatment options and decided to try a high-risk “Plan Z” surgery, leaving Iris with a 60% chance of complications following the surgery.

So, Iris makes a bucket list, writing down all the fun things she wants to do with the rest of her life, in case she “kicks the bucket” or dies from surgical complications. We’ve seen bucket list films before (starting with the 2007 Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman film that gave the idea of a “bucket list” its name) but rather than the typical film of elderly folks having a last few adventures, How I Learned to Die injects the idea with the energy of Iris’ youth. Iris tries to “live out my coming-of-age movie fantasy,” as she tries drinking her first alcohol, hangs out the passenger side of her best friend’s ride, staying out late and kissing boys, eating oatmeal cookies, trying her hardest to enjoy what might be the last few days of her teenage freedom, or even of her life.

How I Learned to Die was Executive Produced by master director Spike Lee, and his type of no-holds-barred creative energy can be seen across every restless frame of the film. Writer-director Manya Glassman tries everything, creating an effervescent melange of informational doodles on the screen, spliced-in still photos, wacky sound effects, flashback scenes, gushingly visceral documentary footage of spinal surgery, glamorous slow motion fantasy scenarios, and emotionally resonant grainy home videos of Iris and her parents in their happy and healthy past, combining all of these disparate elements together into a vibrant portrait of youth, family, and resilience.

When Iris is just about to go under anesthesia for her surgery, she only has good memories of her family, and an emotional montage shows lovingly composed portraits of all her friends and family set to Wisconsin band Bon Iver’s achingly beautiful song Blood Bank (Iris’ “usual playlist” for her never-ending medical procedures). Iris just wants to have a little fun before she dies but learns an unexpected lesson that the only important thing is being together, looking at each other. With How I Learned to Die, Glassman creates the same effect, the film is a mix of serious and fun, which makes for a light enjoyable watch that lands a serious emotional payoff.

Review by: Joshua Hunt

Money Talk$, dir. Tony Mucci

Inanimate objects don't get to tell their stories. We often forget, but there is a rich background and multiple meanings behind the everyday items in our lives. From this perspective, experienced music video director Tony Mucci, responsible for music videos featuring trap artists such as Trippie Redd, Polo G, Iann Dior, and Juice WRLD, delves into the stories behind a hundred-dollar bill. Mucci develops intertwining micro-stories that narrate a snippet of time of several people in New York on January 20th, 1981, the day of the Inauguration of then-American President Ronald Reagan. 

Mucci displays a kaleidoscopic structure to tell its story. There are multiple ways the same hundred-dollar bill can represent different lives. A woman (Francesca Scorsese) sees the $100 bill fly out her cab window. The introductory scene is reminiscent of noirs set in 1940s New York CIty. It is notable that his creative directing and style from Mucci comes from his long portfolio of music videos. The fast-paced cuts employ a fascinating rhythm to interest the audience in each of those short stories. He uses clever camera angles to create the sensation of dynamism from the chaos of New York City, positioning the cameras on the cab doors, peering out through miniature of a mouth with broken teeth, and even from the perspective of a stripper dancing upside down.

Additionally, the film displays a selection of engaging stories that hook the audience with the danger and impulse provoked by money. The director creates a consonance with the crimes of 1980s NYC. All of the characters defend their interests, even though they are morally questionable. Even a young boy corrupts himself with the attractiveness of impulsive consumption, buying a hundred dollars worth of Star Wars toys, such as a Millennium Falcon Lego set and a Darth Vader figure. The characters are always responding to their worst vices and addictions. The toy store cashier uses the dollar bill to buy drugs, resulting in the drug dealer spending it with a sex worker and circling the money to her pimp. It creates a spiral of that specific dollar bill to respond to the human necessity to feel pleasure, either by consuming, doing drugs, or through sex. It is an engrossing construction of its narrative.

The director's ability to create a universe and think about its possibilities in a cinematic manner is noteworthy. The camera movements employ references from 1940s noir films and 1970s New Hollywood criminal thrillers. Even the fixation of the young boy comes from Mucci’s love for Star Wars, a universe that led him to dive deep into the possibilities of filmmaking. The movements of the camera are intentional to create an impact on the audience and emphasize the actions of the characters. In this sense, the art directing and costume design work emulate a 1980s reality that is both credible and tangible. The detailed work on the sets and costumes of the characters immerse the audience into that very particular day in 1981.

In an impressive kaleidoscope of stories about greed, addictions, and constant seeking for pleasure, Tony Mucci engraves his name on the directors to watch list through his talented directing on Money Talk$.

Review by: Pedro Lima

RISE, dir. Jessica Rowlands

Tribeca welcomes RISE (dir. Jessica Rowlands) to the festival, whose inclusion notably marks the the first time a film from Zimbabwe has ever been included in the festival lineup. Rowlands spent her formative years in Zimbabwe and it shows. She intimately and powerfully tells the story of boxing coach Tobias Mupfuti, who though his boxing academy and orphanage in Victoria Falls, provided housing and support to at-risk youths. The plot follows a young boy named Rise and his journey from living in a landfill in Zimbabwe to becoming a boxing prodigy with the help of a coach who, although reluctantly, decides to train him. 

Child actor Sikhanyiso Ngwenya’s story is somewhat echoed in that of Rise’s. The actor was discovered through a street casting at eight years old in a local township and has gone on to win Zimbabwe’s National Arts Merit Award (NAMA) for Outstanding Actor. Paired with actor Tongayi Chirisa (Transformers: Rise of the Beasts), the two have exceptional chemistry that exceeds the typical coach-trainee relationship - it almost mirrors a father and son bond. The moments they share while doing something as mundane as eating a meal together become true highlights of the film. They tenderly learn each other's history, conquer fears, and also make funny memories that will have you laughing alongside them. It is in these moments that Sikhanyiso's natural charisma and acting range truly shows as he switches from serious to joyous and playful in seconds.

Shot in Zimbabwe and anchored by an all-African cast and crew, RISE gives off a warm glow of energy. This is aided by not only the acting but also by its look and sound. The cinematography from DOP Jacques Naudé is impressive, especially in its use of lighting. No matter what time of day, whether it's boxing training against the backdrop of a sunrise, natural lighting through diner windows, a trickle of light through Coach’s hair as we stare up at him, or the dim lighting of a nighttime train ride, the subjects are always highlighted and in focus. The use of colours to build the aesthetic is artful. One of my favourite shots of the short is a head-on shot of a brown archway framed by a lavender-colored wall. Rise is centered in the frame, slouched  against a bright yellow wall as he spots Tongayi Chirisa's character. We see him run off towards the man who will become his coach in the reflection of a mirror. It doubles as a narrative device; Rise looks up to Coach and wants to be like him. We see him running towards him in the mirror just as he runs towards that goal. Sound-wise, energy is injected throughout using interludes of artists, many from Zimbabwe, including Victoria Falls' own Mokoomba and Zimdancehall artists like Nutty O and Jah Signal. 

RISE is not only a story about the compassionate work of boxing coach Tobias Mupfuti, but a heartfelt story of conquering your fears and not letting past hurt stop you from letting someone in, because who knows, they might just change your life as much as you have the ability to change theirs.

Review by: Brandon MacMurray