“Tank Fairy,” the latest short film from director Erich Rettstadt, opens with a definition for workers known in Taiwan as “song wa di se.” Their job is to deliver gas tanks door-to-door, and the definition comes with a reminder that they are “usually male, pot-belied, and lacking in glamour.”
“Tank Fairy” is screening at New Filmmakers Los Angeles
Immediately, this gendered expectation is subverted with the introduction of the titular Tank Fairy (Marian Mesula), a larger-than-life woman who delivers her propane with the unapologetic swagger of a drag performer. Her bright red lipstick and flamboyant nails come as a shock to those who encounter her, including a ten-year-old boy named Jojo (Ryan Lin) who undergoes a personal awakening after she comes to his house for a routine delivery. Soon, Jojo begins to explore his own forms of self-expression, but his defiance of gender norms worries his stern mother (Danielle Yen).
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The short uses only a few lines of dialogue to tell its story of acceptance and confidence. Instead, it relies on a Utjung Tjakivalid cover of Bonnie Tyler's “I Need a Hero” to do the heavy lifting. The use of a song recorded for 1984's “Footloose” is maybe too on-the-nose, but “Tank Fairy” pushes that film's themes of personal freedom even further by explicitly tying them to LGBTQ+ issues. The bubblegum color scheme and humor aren't particularly novel on their own, and plenty of music videos over the past decade have balanced camp value with YouTube-era self-awareness, but there's a vulnerability to the story that elevates all of the fun. The triumphant sweetness of the dancing is palpable because this material is clearly important to Rettstadt, whose approach is infectiously upbeat.
None of it would work if the performers weren't up to task. Luckily, they have what it takes. Marian Mesula plays the Tank Fairy like a live-action cartoon, only communicating with her dance moves and the occasional “hi” or “bye.” In Mesula's hands, what could have been an annoying character becomes a symbol for carefree self-love. As her young protégé, Ryan Lin shines. His go-for-broke dancing matches the zany momentum of the music and his newfound fairy godmother. The choreography when the two of them perform together is the highlight of the short.
The film won't be for everyone. Its post MTV-maximalism may be grating for some, and the script isn't interested in exploring the important issues it raises past simple TV commercial payoffs. Regardless, it's an injection of feel-good adrenaline that never overstays its welcome at ten minutes. It's yet to be seen if Rettstadt will be able to extend this style into something longer or more nuanced in the future, but he's crafted a breezy, joyous celebration of queer identity with “Tank Fairy.”
