Despite being short, I have to admit a prejudice against short things. Most short stories are either gimmicky or experimental; I can occasionally be persuaded to endorse the latter, but I can’t abide cheap tricks. Mainstream short films are even worse offenders. They’re rife with smartass concepts, stupid twist endings, and all manner of postadolescent male naiveté. So an all-shorts film festival, such as this round-the-clock marathon (noon to 10:00 p.m. every day) programmed by Seattle International Film Festival, should have me running for the exits. But in spite of the gimmicks (and there are plenty to be found here), something about the 1 Reel Film Festival pulls me in every time. Maybe it’s the AC.

All programs screen at McCaw Lecture Hall.

(*) Animalistic, Sat noon–1 pm

Little Red Riding Hood, the only local film in this hour-long set about smart and otherwise unnerving animals, is a stylish adaptation of the fairy tale. Filmed in black and white with intertitles and the obligatory revisionist ending, the movie’s got a cute Little Red, a grandmotherly wolf in local actor Eric Ray Anderson, and some wickedly delicious berries to one side of the wooded trail.

MTV Reinvigorated, Sat 2–3 pm

If you want to learn how to damage vinyl records so they scratch themselves (Bump Tick Scratch) or relive obscured parts of performances at EMP’s underage Sound Off! competition (the imaginatively titled Sound Off), this is your hour. Better, although a bit too baroque for my taste, is Stacy Harrison’s Gorgeous Labor of Love, which sets a Nick Cave–esque ballad to a riot of cirque-inspired images.

Fly Films, Sat 3:30–4:30 pm

SIFF’s quick-turn challenge turned out one atrocious movie this year (the super-earnest Maura’s War) and one decent movie (the quirky The Delivery). The rest are somewhere in-between.

Seasons of Love, Sat 4:30–5:30 pm

Circled Wagons is about sad Deaniacs in love. The pacing is ludicrous, but the concept is pretty funny. The Beautiful Lie is well acted and nicely edited, but do you really want to watch a beautiful girl mope around after cheating on her boyfriend and then finally decide to let him think she was raped? I thought not.

(*) Brent Hoff and Wholphin, Sat 7–8 pm

Brent Hoff, the curator of the McSweeney’s DVD publication Wholphin, has got his ear pressed tight to the ground. The first issue featured Spike Jonze’s documentary portrait of Al Gore (bodysurfing!) during the 2000 campaign, a little movie written by Miranda July (cuu-ute!), and some 1970s Iranian animation (!!). I don’t know what he’ll be screening here, but I’ll bet it’ll be good.

(*) Life: Choreographed, Sun 1–2 pm

If you missed Your Lights Are Out or Burning Badly at SIFF, you can catch it here. It’s an alternately elegant and neurotic modern-dance film (by Gaelen Hanson, formerly of 33 Fainting Spells, with an awesome Kinski score), featuring mimed nausea and a gorgeously worn ballroom dance floor.

(*) Best of SIFF—Jury Awards, Sun 3:30–4:30 pm

A huge crowd-pleaser at SIFF, Ringo is a creatively edited Western mashup, with John Wayne as the bad boy Ringo and Roy Rogers as his sheriff friend and rival. I don’t know about the rest of the selections, but SIFF jury members Jason Reitman (director of Thank You for Smoking) and George Wing (screenwriter for 50 First Dates) sure liked ’em.

Late Night Cable, Sun 8–9 pm

TTY is a locally produced movie about TTY phone sex—er, a serious ethical lapse at a relay telephone service for the deaf. It’s not as hilarious (or as sexy) as it seems to think it is. Oedipus is a modern adaptation of the Sophocles play, with mediocre verse (by Bristol poet Nathan Filer) and a tremendously engaging lead performance (also by Nathan Filer).

Pubescent Challenges, Mon noon–1 pm

Winner Take Steve is by Jared Hess. Yes, that Jared Hess. It’s a commercial for Nike, but if you’re a fan of skinny freckled boys who squint and look stupid, you won’t mind one bit.

(*) Frankly Female, Mon 5:30–6:30 pm

The Irish entry Undressing My Mother is the best short film I’ve seen so far this year. An uncomfortably close portrait of the (male) director’s naked mom, this six-minute short punts every other work of body-image art to the curb. Don’t miss it.