As the diabolical Professor Crowly (sic) in The Music of John Low, Bengt Westin leaves an impression. Crowly is sinister in his methodical mannerisms, hands hovering protectively over his grimoire as he scrutinizes John Low, trying to size up his adversary. Later, his eyes exude a suicidal glee over the prospect of imminent death. And hysterical joy at the sight of his baby monster.

Crowly looks like an occult scholar who is both evil and slightly bent.

He is one of 2019's most charismatic and memorable villains, and the reason Bengt Westin wins for Best Supporting Actor.

Mary awakes at night. Answers the doorbell. No one there. She is surprised to find her lover in bed. When did he come home? They make love. She awakes again and discovers the infant AntiChrist in a black draped crib in her living room. When did she give birth?

We presume it's the infant AntiChrist. Nothing is explained. Dialog is minimal. Annunciation is a scant story told in strange incidents and symbolic images. Insects, swirling liquids, a blood red ocean, dancing flames, etc., are intercut with events. Freudian images associated with sex and the subconscious. Religious images of sin and Satan.

Despite the scant story (I suspect the film is a "proof of concept"), we can fill in the blanks. We know what's going on because we've seen Rosemary's Baby.

One of many avant-garde shorts we received this year, Annunciation eschews dialog in favor of images -- beautiful and compelling -- to depict what might merely be a nightmare. This conceit is reinforced by Argento-inspired colored lights, and is also what makes those lights aesthetically appropriate. Compositions are arresting and similarly surreal, interacting nicely with the set decor (e.g., the lamps swinging to geometric precision, from no natural cause) and the symbolic images. Split screens are among the film's other cinematic bag of tricks.

That this is a nightmare is hinted by Mary, who asks her lover if he's had a nightmare. Either way, real or surreal, Annunciation is a visual delight. Had Dario Argento directed Rosemary's Baby, the result might be Annunciation.

Carlo Madoglio wins for Best Cinematography.

Saori feels trapped in her marriage. Every day, little things eat away at her soul. Cleaning up after her husband, Keisuke. Washing his undies. Listening to his boring tales from work. His loud workouts in the morning. His annoying laughter at the TV. His hideous snoring at night. It's piling up inside of Saori. Ready to explode.

Saori, Piling Up opens as a mundane domestic drama, shot in an appropriately banal fashion. But as Saori's grievances pile up, the cinematic techniques intensify to parallel her anxieties.

Sound is an active participant. Saori's emotional woes have given her tinnitus. We hear the ringing in her ears as we see Keisuke's curled lips in closeup, laboriously enunciating as he tries to be understood. We can see how Saori might find him annoying. As the film progresses, the volume grows unstable, heightening or lowering to extremes. Abstract sound effects are used toward the end, paralleling the introduction of surreal images.

Less a story than a profile of psychological disintegration (that seems to be a common theme this year), Saori, Piling Up relies heavily upon surreal visuals, distorted sounds, and aggressive editing to depict a discontented housewife's interior struggles.

Jun Koyama wins for Best Sound Design.

Saori, Piling Up is one of many avant-garde films we received this year. What begins as a straight narrative devolves into an increasingly subjective view of Saori's boorish husband and her suffocating marriage. Sound destabilizes and assaults us. Repulsive, surreal images -- all in Saori's head -- are introduced.

Editing supports this subjective perspective. Early in the film, shots are longer, creating a slow pace to reflect the story's mundane milieu. But as the story continues, the pace quickens, shots shortening as Saori's frustrations "pile up" until she boils over and finally "explodes" (so to speak).

Editing functions in a creative manner, actively working with sound and images to support the film's story, characters, and themes.

Soichi Umezawa wins for Best Editing.

The Baby Farmer isn't merely weird. It has layers of weirdness. A woman is carrying a giant larva. It's her baby. She doesn't think that a giant baby larva is all that unusual. She wants to bring it to a restaurant. She has to be told that no proper eatery would allow her to bring that thing in with her.

Who tells her this? A lady vampire. This vampire is pressuring the mother to give her larva to a "baby farmer," who turns out to be an elderly woman in white. Does this woman own a larva "farm"?

Not much is explained in The Baby Farmer, another "proof of concept" film. But this one doesn't just lack closure, it lacks a setup. It's a piece of free floating weirdness. Not unlike some of David Lynch's short works. Or certain scenes from some of Lynch's longer works.

The Baby Farmer has other Lynchian aspects. Its soundtrack features Jerkcurb's "Walking in the Air," which sounds like something Lynch would select. Then there is the production design. The film appears to be set in the 1940s -- a favorite Lynchian period. The props, costumes, and set decor, create an ambiance of surreal, dislocated weirdness. They not only suggest an era, they establish a mood.

James Saxe wins for Best Production Design.

A truck driver is told that workers at a construction site have found a "strange" mound of dirt. It's his job to haul it away. The driver's son has foreboding visions about the mound -- that it contains something not of this world -- but who would believe him?

With the mound securely (they think) locked in the back of the truck, father and son drive off.

Filmed in Malaysia, Cargo appears to be a "proof of concept" short film. It feels that the real story begins after the film ends. The monster emerges from the mound and kills some people, whereupon father and son hurry off to save their skins. Leaving the monster behind.

And now the real killing starts, we think.

Although Cargo isn't too original on story or style, its monster is impressive. A dark, hulking, gangly creature that camouflages itself within the rocky dirt mound, and emerges from hiding at opportune moments. We won't show it to you. That would spoil the surprise.

But it's worthy enough to win Jorik Dozy the Best Visual Effects award.

Every year we receive some films with gory make-up effects. Some are well crafted. Some even show a bit of originality. But the make-up effects in Saori, Piling Up are wildly original.

The film doesn't use make-up effects in the normal manner. Characters suffer no gory injuries, and there is no actual monster. Rather, make-up effects are used in a concrete yet surreal manner to depict Saori's inner rage. She buries bloody, gelatinous lumps embedded with kitchen utensils and other domestic icons. Her dog excretes Keisuke's bloody, rubbery head. Saori wields ... well, some of it is hard to describe.

The make-up effects in Saori, Piling Up are as slickly crafted as those in any film we saw this year. They are more original. And they are not arbitrary. Not the usual scary monster. Rather, they are drawn organically from, and reinforce, the film's story, characters, and themes.

Natsumi Kameyama, Keiko Nakanishi & Masato Kato win for Best Make-Up Effects.

This seems like an easy choice, but that doesn't make it any less appropriate. As its title implies, music is a key component to The Music of John Low. It informs the character of Low, a violinist turned private eye. His embrace, abandonment, and return to the violin form part of his character arc, paralleling his relationship to the outside world.

Music also does much to set the mood. Rather than directly amplifying events on screen (dark, dramatic tones during horrific events), the soundtrack opts for contrasts. Brutal incidents are accompanied by an uplifting pastoral lyricism. It's not an entirely original conceit (see the use of classical music in Hardware). But it works.

This is an award for Best Music Soundtrack, not for Best Music. How the music relates to, and aesthetically supports, events on screen is a key factor in deciding the winner. Yes, John Low's violin music is beautiful. But more importantly, it aesthetically supports the story, characters, emotional sensibility, and themes.

Hakan Liden & Ronny Rasmusson win for Best Music Soundtrack.