By Danny Flannery

If there is a common thread in the films of Originals Only, it’s that there is such a thing as being too close: to our art, to our subject, to our murder cases, to piss. If there’s another, it’s an indefinable Nathan Fielder-ness. Maybe my favorite trend in comedy, Fielder-ness is hard to pin down, but there’s a few key components: odd, wistful, usually cringe-inducing blends of fact and fiction, of wonder and crushing mundanity, and of revulsion for and curiosity with humanity. How To With John Wilson has it, The Chair Company has it, Tim Heidecker’s work to an extent has it, and nearly every film in Originals Only has it.

Drew The Diver

Andrew Stone’s Drew The Diver is the perfect starting point. Drew is excited to talk about his time diving in Hawaii. Really excited. “Are you doing okay, buddy?” excited. Through the entire short, the screen never breaks from footage of his trip as he rapturously tells a friend about manta rays, coral fish, sharks, and turtles, ignoring questions like “how are you making money” or “do you have any food in your fridge?” As someone with a terrible habit of avoiding problems (this review, in fact, is a day late), Drew’s capacity to compartmentalize brought intense waves of personal cringe, as his friend’s questions grew more and more dire, climbing all the way to “have you spoken to your son?” (Although, he has to admit, he does like the turtles).

The Piss Saga

Derek Milton’s documentary The Piss Saga provides the clearest example of the genre, with another essential element: an unwavering straight face. The opening lines describe the premise more succinctly than I could:

“For the past two years an electrical box in my neighborhood had been overrun with bottles of piss. And not your normal run-of-the-mill truck driver-sized bottle of piss, but an assortment of different sized bottles, different colors, and sometimes complimented with a hand-drawn note.”

Over roughly half an hour, Milton is driven by a single goal: to make contact with the mysterious piss bandit. Over months of covert field camera recordings, construction crew disguises, stake-outs, calls for tips, and leaving a white board near the electrical box, he soon begins exclusively referring to his elusive subject as an artist. By the end, his unerringly calm narration belies a near mania, as he calmly discusses his hunt in ways that frame him as part investigative reporter, part nature documentarian, and part deep admirer. I am not exaggerating when I say the film is beautiful.

Ocean City Vacation Daze: A Ken Burns Film

Ocean City Vacation Daze: A Ken Burns Film, directed by Chris Demone, offers another view into the mind of an increasingly haunted documentarian. Sort of.

This mockumentary follows Ken Burns (“actually, Chris Cullen,” per the credits) around a beach house rented with his wife and children. As the documentarian groggily roams the empty rooms, the film reveals a man completely subsumed by his own legacy. His alarm clock is now “the constant blare of the distant bugle,” while post-it notes from his family are written and narrated as the longing letters of a sorrowful Antebellum wife (my personal favorite laying in the fridge, reading simply “My Dearest Kenneth. We are out of milk. Your forever loving wife, Mrs. Ken Burns”). As he gazes from the deck, the site of his children making sandcastles is accompanied by stock audio of cannon fire and faint Dixie songs.

If this sounds like the film has exactly one joke, you’re correct. Yet over eight minutes that joke somehow builds into an oddly melancholy, hilarious portrait of a trapped artist. Post-credit interviews seem to agree, with one festival organizer giving a ringing endorsement: “They can’t all be winners.”

Lil Detectives: A Dish Best Served Cold

Rounding off the showcase, Lil Detectives: A Dish Best Served Cold is at first watch an odd duck. Directed by Chad Repko and starring Tristan Repko and Ethan Kent as the titular Lil Detectives, the film brings up an older but equally dear genre – the homemade YouTube skit. Watching the movie, my mind strayed to the original Lonely Island pilots, to Smosh, to that one friend from high school’s weird rap skit with 50 likes. These are all the highest compliments.

I cannot overstate my joy learning that this was the latest in a long series, dating back to when the Lil Detectives were, well, little. A Dish Best Served Cold then felt like I was being let in on a series of decade-long inside jokes. As our grizzled (former) child detectives work to solve a series of murders concerning the notorious Joey Meatballs, I found myself cackling at jokes that just shouldn’t be working, whether it’s the copious snorting of FunDip or the frequent, generic 70s funk-backed cuts to the outside of the police station. During the entire short – by far Repko’s longest in the series – I had two thoughts: first, this is the dumbest thing I’ve maybe ever seen; and second, I am utterly fascinated by these people. In that way, A Dish Best Served Cold may be the highlight of the entire showcase.

Be sure to check out Originals Only and a Q&A with the filmmakers Thursday, March 5, 1:15-3 p.m. at the Cambria Hotel. A second screening and Q&A will be held Sunday, March 8, 10-11:45 a.m. at the Gold Coast Theater.