loco comedy shorts: the near side

LOCO comedy shorts are on the near side.

With a focus on intimacy and relationships, the humour is heartfelt and often dark in this selection but never less than revelatory my faves from this one were

My first Dick, Kate McCoid.

My Niece is turning 11 soon, and now having seen this short and remembering my own tween’ years, I feel it emotively authentic and am currently removing all social media, television, and printed material and leaving her with a Klaxon for entertainment. Her parents may feel otherwise. Curiosity and comedy of a burgeoning girl’s mind gel with the nervous energy of that age and the age of Aquarius illumination, for good or bad, that was Eurotrash. Hilarious and tender, and while aimed at an audience, I suspect in their ..urm…. the late 20s? I don’t know…something about women and age or something…#go see the film bye-bye.

Diomysus, Emily Morus-Jones.

While a poly may have many loves, you can’t help but share the beating heart of this film. It’s not ‘just’ that im Cisgender; I think that’s the term. I’m pretty shitty vanilla, aka ‘happy to be here!’ Most of the time, he is the ‘let people be what they are, just leave me out of it’ kind of man who thinks as he doesn’t get any of the flock of being, he should not be getting involved with other people’s problems. Emily totally upends that notion with an Aardman level of attention where the struggles of being polyamorous and the highs are brought to you anthropomorphically in a way you cant help but relate. With a collection of stories recorded and acted out by our furry friends who happily henson out their movements, it’s revelatory, illuminating, and so warm you can’t help but shed a tear for some of the stigma shared.

Nails and Beauty, Rhona Foster

I often worry about my appearance. I’ve never tried to be attractive. I’ve frequently binged on vouchers and groups in a bout of not being ugly. I’d like to say it’s about counselling or something psychological, but too many people tell me I’m ugly. The harshest incident was in my late 20s when a woman asked me why I was even in the club, being how ugly I was and I should leave. I find the beauticians a scary place. I once went in for a facial, and they took one look and put me in the wrong room for fat reduction. Frankly, I would give my eye teeth to attend Unit 21 as, first and foremost, this place has a totally welcoming and inclusive ensemble that can take our self-conscious lead and make her comfortable within the skin she is in, beauty spots and all. Bright and liberating without being coy about oneself. It’s a great watch.

Moustache man Sean Joseph Young.

Being a carer for your parents can be exhausting and debilitating. I recently read how it’s often ignored in the workplace as irrelevant. While others will accommodate child care, your difficulties and commitments can be seen as weaknesses. The need to mask it with ‘best foot forward’ to pay the bills and maintain a routine. Coupled with slights and insults from someone you love and can’t leave… it’s absurd. Sean puts this to the fore with a phenomenal performance from Josie Lawrence, showing the sudden twists of affection and aggression one may have to navigate. Our leads need to compartmentalise, and being enthusiastic while marginalised in the blink of an eye is a bleak and unflinching comedy that is worth your time and consideration, p.s. Phone your folks; you’re reading this on the phone. I said call them, not message…ffs. You know nothing.

The Lucky Man Laoisa Sexton

I was in Ennistymon for a cousin’s wedding. We stayed in a bed and breakfast near the church as there were only so many rooms in the house, so Mum stayed with my Aunt. I was Early 20s, and my Dad was in his 60s, and we went to the pub for dinner. The crowd took one look at my Indian father, declared me Mary’s boy in an instant and then proceeded to ask about his handsome son, My older brother, and why he couldn’t make it over, what with him doing his PhD and all. Lucky Man takes that awkwardness to a new level of absurdity and quiet bafflement as the locals, given their simple, comfortable seating, take on the not so blushing red with fury bride that finds herself in the pub with a sense of melancholy, thrift, and glamour smeared. You can’t help but feel for everyone in the room. Although special mention to the pearls of wisdom for the divorcee propping up the bar is the most succinct version of ‘Good luck to you, Leo Grande’ I’ve ever heard. It’s a dark tune of a film softly spoken that will leave you aching to listen to it again.