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Attend this program, and you’ll see some terrific short films. Whether what you’ll see can in every case be called a documentary, that’s another question.

The Animated Documentary Shorts program at this year’s Gimme Some Truth — a veritable orgy of documentary screenings, workshops and public discussions — is one of the best short collections I’ve seen. While many could be described as experimental, that doesn’t translate into what some might consider arty or douchey: this is a highly accessible slate.

What’s fascinating is, while the films are unfailingly outstanding as animation, are they always so successful as docs? Just what makes a doc a doc is one of the questions the program prompts. Yet whether some of these films are "true" documentaries or not doesn’t alter their respective ability to engage.

If many films look uncannily like Richard Linklater’s Waking Life (2001), it’s no coincidence — several are from the hand of Bob Sabiston, one of that film’s key creative talents. He in fact racks up a full third of the program’s content: Snack and Drink, Fourth Obstruction (Perfect Human: Cartoon) and Grasshopper.

The first feels equivalent to Picasso’s famous Cubist painting experiment, Les Demoiselles d’Avigonon, which was perhaps less about subject than was about using a subject as the excuse for technique. Sabiston follows what seems to be a mentally handicapped person into a convenience store, but his focus seems unsure.

His technique, however, is amazing just to behold. And the potential of the animated doc is showcased in Grasshopper, in which Sabitson uses heightened visuals to either ridicule or simply provide a benignly light-hearted frame for a park bench philosopher.

Which is it? I’m unsure, but the subject-visual counterpoint is hilarious. Yet one can’t help but wonder if Sabitson effectively undermines the man’s sometime-genuine wisdom.

Wait, wait — what do I mean by the animated doc’s "potential," you ask? Basically, animated technique allows for a broader range of visual expression. Now a documentarian can bring the power of graphic design to bear as well — not to mention present images that would otherwise be impossible.

Take the stark graphic simplicity of Marie-Josee Saint-Pierre’s Passages, which chronicles a complicated childbirth. Some of the fantastical visuals are near surrealistic, and the minimalist design — white outlines on a black background — lend the gripping story a focused power.

Another Saint-Pierre short, Sapporo, reverses the visual scheme — black lines on white — but appropriately chooses a Japanese Zen painter: it’s the same aesthetic sensibility on display. Of course, Saint-Pierre is also able to make the kanji characters jump and dance, and we’re reminded that animation’s primary magic lies in making things move. It’s like a graphic ballet.

Saint-Pierre’s third film in the program, McLaren’s Negatives, is perhaps the closest to a "traditional" doc, insofar as it grounds itself in offering an informative portrait of a real person: pioneering Canadian animator Norman McLaren. It uses photos, archival footage, and audio of McLaren himself to present the man as artist.

Yet again, we see the possibilities provided by the animated approach: when McLaren mentions he wanted to "visually interpret jazz," we’re provided a marriage and music that shows rather than tells us what he’s getting at. And in doing that, the short’s own form perfectly follows its function — thanks to its technique. It could be considered what’s called "expanded" documentary.

But what about Andrea Dorfman’s Flawed? Is it a doc, or an autobiographical essay or drama? Is there a difference? Certainly, it’s a charmer of an animated short — it used time-lapse photography to show the story coming to visual life from an artist’s hand, one painted image at a time, as Dorfman narrates.

The same question might be asked of Lisa Jackson’s Suckerfish and especially The Visit — although the former nonetheless utilizes conventional doc techniques like those seen in McLaren’s. And then what about the other Sabitson film, which feels experimental in its non-linear construction and only-hinted theme?

For the fair-weather documentary viewer, that these films inspire such questions is reason enough to go see them. You might just want to talk about them at length afterwards. At the very least, you’ll be entertained.

Gimme Some Truth: The Winnipeg Documentary Project 2010 runs from Oct. 21-24. For complete information on all screenings and events visit gimmesometruth.ca.