Hall Calls for Short Shorts

Forgetting.rec

We're opening this year's Hall Calls for Short Shorts!

Following on from the success of previous years' little numbers, we're once again inviting you to send us your short short films.

If last year's creative gauntlet was to make a short short film on cinema of resistance, this year we'd like one on forgetting.rec.

This year is a particularly special edition: we’re celebrating 30 years!

So we’d like you to think about all we’ve experienced, remembered and forgotten over these three decades.

Give your imagination free rein to capture the essence of life and stop time in its tracks. Conjure up waves of nostalgia, wallow in reminiscence and dive into the past to summon up all we’ve shared over this time.

That should give all budding filmmakers something to work with!

Remember, short means short: 1 minute max.

So that's your summer homework sorted, then.

We'll make a playlist out of the short shorts that catch our eye from all the entries received to screen on our YouTube channel and in the Hall at the CCCB during the festival.

You could win a festival pass and a one-year Pro plan from MyAirBridge, as well as other mystery prizes...

You've got until 18 September to rummage in your archive or dash off something new.

Remember: short shorts must be no more than 1 minute long.

Best of luck!

To get your creative juices flowing, we leave you with this short story by the much-loved and greatly missed Jean-Claude Carrière, who passed away in his sleep on 9 February 2021 in his sumptuous house in a hidden corner of the Pigalle district in Paris:

“What Remains When All Else Is Forgotten”

There was once a small town that was home to a Jewish community with a longstanding tradition of holding a mysterious ceremony in the local forest every thirty years. On his deathbed, the old rabbi passed on the closely guarded secrets of this ritual to the new rabbi.

On the appointed date, the new rabbi led a group of worshippers into the forest and carried out the ceremony exactly as instructed in precisely the right spot. And then everyone went back home.

The years passed. Thirty years later it was once again time to hold the ceremony. By now, though, the rabbi had died and so the few remaining worshippers from the previous occasion ventured into the forest with a group of new members and another rabbi.

Deep in the forest, they struggled to find the exact spot. “It’s this clearing,” someone would say. “No it’s not,” someone else would retort. Still unconvinced that they had found the right place, they finally agreed on a spot to hold the ceremony before returning home.

Thirty years later, only a handful of the new members remained. Led by yet another rabbi, and with a clutch of young converts in tow, they once again headed off into the forest. This time they couldn’t find a single clearing. Everything looked completely different, their memories were all muddled up. They were even unclear as to how to carry out the ceremony. Was it this prayer that came first or that one? They no longer knew for sure.

They did their best and returned home.

Thirty years later, a new group, led by a new rabbi, ventured into the forest. They had heard tell of a special ceremony that used to be held there. On what day? They weren’t sure. Where? How? Impossible to know for certain.

After wandering around the forest for two hours in the pouring rain, the rabbi and company gave up and headed back to the town. They met up again at the synagogue.

One of the downhearted members said: “We’ve forgotten everything. Next time there won’t be any point in going into the forest at all.”

“It’s true,” said the rabbi. “We’ve forgotten all the details of the ceremony. But it’s not a complete waste of time. We still have good reason to be satisfied.”

“Why should we be satisfied?” asked the members.

“Because we can always tell the story.”

—Jean-Claude Carrière, Le Cercle des menteurs (The Circle of Liars)