Tenet: First viewing notes

I watched Tent in the UK on Saturday 29th August.

With people are still being cautious as lockdown eases, I imagine most screenings were, like mine, barely full. The film is also yet to be released in the US. A weird result of this is that online discussion of the film is still at a very early stage, and simply Googling for some explanations yields a long list of clickbait articles from mainstream publications that give basic plot summaries and even get certain details wrong!


One useful resource is this more detailed summary of the film, which serves as a useful recap and explains some details you may have missed.

In the absence of good discussion, I thought I should just lay out what I’ve been able to figure out myself and the questions I still have at this point. It certainly seems like Christopher Nolan is the kind of guy to plan all this stuff out carefully, so there probably is some sense to be made here!

Plot details that were weird on a first viewing

In the initial Opera scene, The Protagonist (John David Washington) is saved by someone firing inverted rounds, who has some sort of distinctive orange tag. This turns out to be Neil (Robert Pattinson). It seems very open quite where or when he came from, or what he was doing. Presumably acting under later-timeline-Protagonists orders, or possibly even trying to acquire The 9th Piece of the Algorithm in the first place? I’m not sure how to figure it out, but it also doesn’t really matter.

There’s a whole bit about what the protagonist was really trying to do and why did it go wrong, made harder to understand by the (apparently deliberate) muffled mixing of the dialogue. It seems like they are working in concert with some Ukrainian special forces to extract a compromised double-agent and what they believe to be some plutonium. However, some of the Ukrainian forces have gone ‘rogue’; this is why we see one of them helping the terrorists, and why we some of them kidnap the protagonist and torture him. Presumably this was also part of Sator’s gambit to obtain this 9th piece of the algorithm, but I’m not quite clear on that.

When the protagonist meets Neil, it’s a bit odd – he knows he drinks diet coke! He brushes it off but we know something is up. It turns out Neil has been interacting with a future-version of the protagonist all along. It’s not clear if Neil has travelled back a long way for this mission, or if later on the protagonist gravels back a long way to recruit Neil, but I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s a bit more odd that presumably Neil is briefed on how to interact: “Don’t tell me anything about Tenet or who you really are, but feel free to drop weird hints that might make me distrust you initially”.

The car chase has something odd going on, and it turns out this is because a key part of it isn’t shown to us when we go through it ‘forwards’. What we missed was the protagonist taking the 9th Piece out of the case, then seeing himself in the silver car – and presumably out of intuition, he throws the piece into that car.

Not understanding what has happened, when the protagonist goes on to invert, he gets into the silver car, not realising that the 9th Piece is in it. he rejoins the car chase, and the piece ‘throws itself’ out the window back into his original self’s hands. Only then does he realise how it all works.

I don’t particularly understand how Sator was then able to figure out where the 9th piece ended up, but given he was doing a temporal pincer movement, it’s easy to imagine he could have figured it out.

The palindromic interrogation scene is kind of deliciously mad – Sator, moving backwards in time, is trying to get information out of the protagonist, who is moving forwards in time. Again, I could barely catch the dialogue, as it’s broadcast over a reversing-radio and the audio is hard to make out. The only way to really make sense of this is I think to carefully read through the script forwards and back, but right now I just assume it makes some kind of sense.

There’s some complicated stuff to do with injuries. While inverted and travelling back to Oslo, the protagonist has pain in his arm, which gradually becomes worse, then a bleeding wound; this all then leads up to the point when he is fighting with himself, and gets stabbed in the arm with a lock pick. So, while travelling backwards, healing goes backwards – okay. How does this then work with how they are able to keep Kat alive after she gets shot? I don’t follow that yet.

Edit 1: A thought experiment: you build a clock and set it to midnight. You wait for 1 hour, then enter an inverter with the clock, and come out going backwards. You wait for one hour (going backwards in time), looking through the glass and seeing yourself manufacturing the clock (it looks like you are dismantling it). What time does the inverted clock show now? Midnight, or 2pm? I’m not actually sure, and you really need to know that to think through the injury logic!

In the final battle, there’s some complicated stuff with Neil. The protagonist needs to get through a gate; on the other side he sees the dead body of someone with a blue arm-band and that orange ‘tag’. That person then gets un-shot… and turns out to be Neil, who understood how this all worked and travelled back there to make sure the door got opened, even though he knew he would die. The only part I don’t understand here is the mechanics of opening the door for the protagonist… if he’s travelling backwards, does that mean he did it by closing the door?!


There are some questions about exactly what does and doesn’t work when you’re inverted. It’s shown that you can’t breathe normal air – they say something like ‘the lung’s valves don’t work’? That seems odd though, what about your heart’s valves? I would presume the action of breathing increases entropy; if you try to do it with non-inverted air, I guess that’s a contradiction in chemistry/entropy, so that’s fair enough. Heart valves are fine because your blood is also inverted!

It’s not shown in the film, but what does this mean for eating, and to recall Red Dwarf’s take on the genre, excreting?! I presume you can only digest inverted food, but probably excreting is fine as everything inside of you is also inverted?! I can understand why they wouldn’t show this, although I did wonder about how they had enough food and air to survive going backwards in time for multiple days. Perhaps they have a small inverting ‘pump’ that can convert air and liquid food?!

Still, this doesn’t seem quite consistent with the injury problem – if you are inverted, the entropy of your body is now going backwards too. That means wounds should heal, not develop. I guess unless they were caused by something going the other direction in time? I definitely need to think that through more carefully…

Finally, one of the interesting ideas in arrow-of-time discussion is that the reason we perceive time as moving in the direction of increasing entropy is purely that creating a memory is an entropy-increasing act. So how are humans able to remember things while inverted? Actually this probably works just fine – whichever way around you are, entropy in your body is increasing in the same direction you are forming memories, so this is fine.

Entropy war

One big problem to resolve with the premise is to figure out what happens when the entropy of objects moving in opposite directions collide. Regular glass has increasing entropy; what happens when it is shot with an inverted bullet? As we see, a hole gets ‘fixed’ as the bullet comes out of it. So if we trace that glass backwards in time, was the hole there all along? Was the glass installed with a  hole in it?!

One part of the film’s exposition does cover it, but I don’t remember it clearly and haven’t found a transliteration of it online yet. The general idea conveyed is that the overall entropy of the world kind of ‘outweighs’ small-scale reverse entropy. You have a paradox in the form of an inverse bullet firing, and intact glass being manufactured and installed; the overall entropy of the world ‘wins’ (they use some analogy like ‘pissing in the wind’ I think). So presumably that means over a period of time, the bullet holes weirdly form themselves, before being undone again.

That’s sort of okay, and you clearly have to deal with this problem somehow; the weirder part is the crashed silver car from the car chase. How did that wreck get there? Did it just… appear? Is the Tenet organisation trying to keep things tidy, and they had to recover the wreck… while travelling backwards in time… so from a forwards perspective some backwards-moving people put the wreck on the road?!

This rabbit hole is actually crucial, because the whole point of the time-war is that the future wants to reverse the entire world, killing everyone alive today. If everything is always consistent, the protagonist points out, then we already know the future fails to do this, because we’re here. But the ‘piss in the wind’ rule (I wish they’d used a different analogy!) means this isn’t so; if the entropy running backwards is ‘strong’ or ‘big’ enough somehow, it would ‘win’ over the current direction of entropy, and we would die. I really want to go over the dialogue from that scene again…

Edit 2: There’s a further question to this.I can imagine the evil future folk formulating their plan. They write a letter for Sator. They watch an inverted version of themselves apparently digging up an old container and pulling the letter out, then walk backwards into an inverter; they themselves walk forwards into the inverter with the letter. They come out going backwards, and from that point of view they put the letter in the container and bury it. The letter is now inverted through time for Sator to discover. But… where is the letter in the time before Sator gets it? Presumably the instructions include the fact that he needs to bury it again to be consistent with the future, that’s fine – but where was it a year before he got it? Couldn’t someone else end up finding it as it continues to move back in time?!

The Master Plan

While I could follow the moment-to-moment action, I was left a bit confused about the bigger picture. How exactly would Sator’s death lead to the end of the world?

Reading up on things, this is now clear. The ‘evil’ future is communicating with Sator, trying to have him recover all 9 pieces of the Algorithm, then bury them somewhere secure, so that they can later dig that up and use it. Sator has a kind of insurance policy. He has a dead-man’s handle; if he is killed, it will broadcast the GPS co-ordinates of the location to ‘posterity’, meaning the future will then know where it is and be able to recover it. So it’s only safe to kill him if you can make sure the algorithm doesn’t end up buried at those co-ordinates – which the protagonist and his Tenet pals are eventually able to do

The other part that is really just skimmed over: why does the evil ‘future’ want to reverse entropy? They imply climate change is the reason. It almost comes across like a kind of petty revenge for climate change, but it would make more sense if the plan is to actually reverse climate change by reversing the entropy of the earth (or the solar system, or the universe?!). However, that doesn’t quite work – if the entropy of the whole world is now going backwards… then that doesn’t mean CO2 is putting itself back into coal-fired power stations that are turning reverse-electricity into coal that they then ‘bury’. If entropy is reversed all over, then everything keeps moving ‘forwards’ in the normal way. Perhaps the future’s plan is more complicated than we are told, or perhaps I’m not remembering it right… either way it doesn’t quite make sense to me yet.

The Final Twist

One cute theory I’ve seen out there is that perhaps Kat’s son Max is actually… Neil! This would explain the slightly weird emphasis on saving this boy’s life (considered in the film roughly on a par with saving the entire world). But I don’t think it quite adds up other than being ‘nice to think about’ sort of idea. In particular Neil’s actions in response to Kat don’t really match up with this idea. I don’t see any strong evidence for this idea.

Annecy festival 2020 – My Best of the Fest

Going to a short-film festival in a new city is one of my favourite things: it’s the most efficient mind-broadening experience I’ve found. (I previously wrote about that in the context of the Anilogue film festival in Budapest).

With the world in lockdown, the annual festival of animation at Annecy pivoted to take place entirely online. On the one hand, this removes the joy of travel-based adventures – staying in a new place, eating different food, navigating a new public transport system and so on. On the other hand, free from the constraints of scheduling, the scope to consume an incredible range of animations in a short space of time is huge!

One part of the full Annecy online offering

The offer of €15 for access to all of this content from 15th-30th June 2020 is a great deal. Writing this on the 20th, I’ve already consumed over 24+ hours of it. Here’s the highlights of what I’ve seen so far, split into three categories for the shorts (Story, Personal, and Abstract) and then the features.

But first, a sublime highlight from the ‘best of 2019’ selection: Maestro, also known more prosaically as “Opera sung by animals”. Two minutes of exactly that; perfection.


Undone: The Hospital

Computer-assisted rotoscoping could be viewed as a form of ‘cheating’ in animation, but what really matters is what you do with it. In Undone things start out fairly simple, but once the mind-bending segues and loops start up, the medium really comes into its own. We got to see the first episode, which ended as many such shorts do with a tantalising choice. Unlike other shorts, Undone has 7 more episodes to explore that choice, although it unfortunately requires Amazon Prime to view.

If you like films about the nature of reality but don’t like supporting a monopolistic digital behemoth, this leaves you in a tough spot. I’m adding it to my list of such content to attempt to binge in the course of a free trial at some point in the future!


L’Odyssée de Choum

Superficially similar to rotoscoping, I’ve seen ever-more impressive animations that appear to take CG as a base, and then through a combination of textures, filters, and techniques beyond my understanding, render each frame as if it were lovingly painted for a picture-book of some sort.

This seems to be the method in L’Odyssée de Choum, possibly hybridised with more traditional 2D animation – it’s delightfully hard to be sure. Perfect if you like nice stories about animals with a beautiful aesthetic.


The Zillas have a picnic

At the shorter end of the spectrum, Christian Schmidt gets some excellent mileage out of the image of cute roaring kaiju with a translation in a speech bubble. Would be perfect without the uncomfortable moment of horribly-suffering-animal-as-humour near the end.


“Rebooted” by Michael Shanks is a fun and affectionate homage to the techniques of animation in film through the decades. Although it mostly revels in putting stop-motion in a live-action setting, it’s fun (and much rarer) to see cel animation in that context! Happily you can watch the whole thing right here:


A category for animations that are the singular idiosyncratic vision of one person, or at least feel that way to me.

Genius Loci

My favourite kind of short film to discover – really beautiful painterly animation, sliding between representation, abstraction and metaphor, with an empathetic core that leaves a lasting impression. I felt like the entry price of the festival was worth it for this 16-minute film alone.


Sweet Night

Lia Bertel’s Sweet Night is a beautifully transportive animation: a cerulean, warm-feeling night, the howls of a yeti(?) in the distance, and animal companionship on a dream-like journey. The animation is not as showy as some others in this list, but it excels in that essential aspect of the form: the perfect combination of pictures and sound to create a strong, fascinating impression.


Something to Remember

An animation by Niki Lindroth von Bahr that feels like a strange, vaguely disturbing dream: animals in slightly disconcerting settings sing some sort of lullaby (presumably in Swedish?). Reminds me of the kind of strange thing I might happen upon on Channel 4 late at night in the 90’s.


My Galactic Twin Galaction

One of the ways a personal animation can convey a distinctive ‘voice’ is with a… distinctive voice. That’s what works for My Galactic Twin Galaction by Sasha Svirsky, starring Sasha Svirsky. Rather than tell a story, it’s more like an animated stream-of-consciousness thought-process on how an animation might go. The (I guess) naïve animation style would usually be off-putting, but actually fits well with the idea. The trailer just shows the part in which Svirsky suddenly gets excited about being called upon to fight evil forces and starts singing about it:

Midnight Gospel: Mouse of Silver

It turns out this is a whole 8-episode series available on Netflix right now, and it makes me very disappointed that their algorithm only seems interested in repeatedly putting the same anime and genre B-movies in front of me every time I browse it, when there must be all sorts of amazing stuff like this hidden in their catalogue.

Pendleton Ward (creator of Adventure Time) teams up with Duncan Trussell (who I only knew as the guy who told the story of Tesla vs. Edison while drunk) to produce a… er… very hard to describe, amazing thing.

The format of the series seems to be that they take one of Trussell’s podcast interviews from the past decade, then with some deft editing and in some cases bringing back the interviewee for some scripted lines, weave it into a sort of trippy universe-hopping animation filled with ideas.

The festival showed the episode “Mouse of Silver”, which from what I’ve seen so far is probably the most affecting, concerning as it does an incredibly personal interview of Trussell’s mother Deneen Fendig, when they both know she is close to death after a long battle with cancer. Perhaps that sounds depressing, but it is deeply moving to hear Fendig and Trussell discussing her mindful approach to life, while facing death with clarity, lightness and humour – all while a surreal range of (I assume) Ward’s animation ideas take place as part of the discussion in their own right.

You can get a slight flavour of the thing from this teaser, but it doesn’t really do it justice:


4:3 by Ross Hogg

I do enjoy a nice synaesthetic abstract animation; 4:3 by Ross Hogg gets there with treated film and a playful approach, and you can watch it in full here:

A similar technique (I suspect), but a looser connection to the music, was used in Jodie Mack’s 2008 animation to Four Tet’s “A Joy”:


The excellently curated Black Box strand at the Edinburgh Film Festival was my introduction to purely abstract film. The Annecy equivalent is the ‘off limits’ selection, and Gábor Ulrich’s Dune is a great example of this kind of thing – a top-down view of what appears to be animated white-on-black dune grass, blowing in strange hypnotic patterns in the wind, with a slightly unnerving soundtrack.

This does not appear to be viewable anywhere even in part. However, many of the animators made videos introducing/discussing their work for the festival, and Ulrich’s version perfectly matched the tone of the work:

A Mind Sang / A Mãe De Sangue

The optical illusion of an ambigious image is a very old idea; I haven’t seen a serious attempt to explore that idea in an animated form before though. Vier Nev tries out all sorts of ideas in this short film, and while not all are successful, some are really impressive. You can get a taste of it from the trailer:

Feature-length animations

True North

Animation can be used to cover some very difficult topics, portraying uncomfortable scenes with the slight remove from reality that the animated form affords.

Using a form of CG that appears to be inspired by stop-motion models, True North tells a story inspired by testimonies from survivors of North Korea’s political prison camps, and would be a very hard watch indeed were it told using live action. Nonetheless it conveys the harsh reality, taking place right now, in a way that the occasionally glimpsed newspaper headline can barely begin to evoke.

More information: https://www.truenorth.watch/

Ginger’s Tale

Traditional 2D animation is now very rarely seen at feature length, so it’s always lovely to see something pop up. A Russian production, Ginger’s Tale has some fun and distinctive character designs animated beautifully. That said, the storytelling is rather flawed, and feels like it needed a few more drafts: some (important) characters are rather too thinly drawn, and the plot takes some fairly abrupt turns that aren’t really driven by believable character choices.

It’s also a musical! In the Annecy ‘masterclass’ session, John Clements and Ron Musker (directors of The Little Mermaid, Aladdin and Moana among others) shared something they were taught: if you can take a song out of the movie and the story still makes sense, then the song isn’t doing what it should. Unfortunately, that is rather the case with the songs in Ginger’s Tale.

I can’t be too down on it though – as a fan of 2D animation, it was genuinely a joy to watch, and has a memorably plucky and energetic female protagonist in the form of Ginger.

More information: https://ogonekfilm.ru/en/



Like the shorts listed in the ‘personal’ section above, Lava is the singular vision of Argentinian Ayar Blasco. A sub-genre I have a soft-spot for is “specific and unusual profession saves the world” (made famous by the Dan Brown’s novels in which the world is saved and/or mysteries solved by a professor of history and art); in the case of Lava, it falls to Tattoo artists to save the world from a fascinatingly off-kilter global threat.

A consistently engaging watch, it is only really undermined by a (mercifully somewhat brief) crass racial caricature.


Wrapping up

One thread that came through in several of the masterclasses and discussions was that this is actually a kind of new golden age for animation:

  • Through the internet and digital tools, animation has never been so accessible
  • The content wars in streaming services are leading to all sorts of new animation being commissioned – especially now Disney has taken their huge archive over to their own platform
  • With the world in lockdown, animation seems to be the best-placed form of video that can carry on being produced almost unhindered!

I’m very excited to be able to follow up on the work of some of the artists listed above, and am very grateful to the Annecy festival organisers for the remarkably fast and effective work involved in putting a festival online.

Anilogue in Budapest 2018 – my Best of the Fest and the City

How do you holiday?

The possibilities, if you really think about it, are overwhelming. You could visit every village in Yorkshire that has a funny name and interview strangers about nomenclature. You could systematically visit every city in the world with a population greater than one million in alphabetical order, consuming only media in that city that begin with the same letter. You could stage a murder mystery party with friends on the actual Orient Express.

The problem with any of these ideas is that they only make you (or me at least) feel more strongly that there’s an even better idea out there that you’re missing out on. Obviously if you also have children, things are further complicated.

So, here’s my generic quite-interesting-holiday generator that feels fairly optimal:

  • Pick something you love (animation, juggling, poker, murder mysteries)
  • Find a list of places in the world where that thing is being celebrated in the next year (a festival, convention, tournament or whatever)
  • Pick a date and destination from that list, and do sightseeing in the day and the thing you love in the evening

Clare and I love animation, and needed a holiday before Christmas; consultation of festival listing websites like this one meant we ended up in Budapest in late November 2018, to attend the Anilogue animation festival.

Also: European Train Travel

If you’re travelling within Europe, I maximally endorse The Man In Seat 61, a website by Mark Smith, who uses his extensive rail experience and appetite for railway-based research to maintain this incredible resource, covering the best routes in Europe and how to buy tickets. Including getting from London to Budapest via Eurostar and sleeper train:

Budapest crash course

As a moderately well-travelled UK resident, I am embarrassingly ignorant of Eastern Europe. Visiting Budapest was a great way to start putting that right. Here’s an extremely terse list of the things I found most insightful:

  • Budapest occupies a strategic position on the Danube in the middle of the Pannonian/Carpathian Basin, a useful geographical feature to reference when making sense of Eastern Europe on a map
  • For purely frivolous reasons I enjoy the fact that Budapest was formed by joining the two historic towns of Buda and Pest (on the West and East banks of the Danube respectively)
  • Buda was built on the Vár, a distinctive steep and lozenge-shaped hill. It appears much more strategically advantageous than it actually is, as throughout history it was taken and re-taken, “ ravaged and rebuilt 86 times over seven centuries”, according to the Rough Guide.

  • Hungarian (or Magyar) is a Finno-Ugric language, which places it amazingly far from the Indo-European languages most Europeans (or indeed most people in the world) would be familiar with. Don’t expect to figure thing out by similarity to any French, German, Latin or Greek you may know!
  • Hungary entered WWII as an Axis power in 1941, sought peace with the allies in 1943, leading to a Nazi coup to install a puppet fascist government, which then transitioned directly and tragically to a brutal Stalinist regime after the war. A revolution in 1956 was brutally suppressed, and the first free elections were in 1990. The scars of this recent history were palpable in much of the art, the beautiful-but-battle-damaged architecture and the museums that we visited.
  • Lots of mysterious staircases:

If you’re planning to go, I would recommend the following two things slightly off the beaten tourist track.

The Flippermuseum / Pinball museum

Everything you would hope it could be: 140+ pinball and other arcade machines from all eras, all playable for free for as long as you want, covered by one very reasonable entrance fee.

An interesting trend you can experience here is that over decades pinball machine design tended towards faster movement but also greater player agency.

The Labyrinth

Two kilometers of poorly lit and unsupervised tunnels, with an optional detour you can take entirely in pitch blackness; warm, damp, and with some creepy mannequins to encounter. You can tell from that if you’ll love it or hate it. Also, surprise cinema screening sub-cave:

Anilogue Animation Film Festival

We caught four of the feature-length animations shown as part of the festival’s competition:

Dilili in Paris (2018) 1h 35m, trailer

Director Michel Ocelot’s series of African folk-tale Kirikou films saw him graduate from a traditional 2D animation style to a sort of 3D cell-shaded version that surprisingly maintained their idiosyncratic charm. Dilili transposes the action to Paris, maintains the precocious child protagonist, and adds real-world photography to the backgrounds, which some might regard as cheating and others as efficient, but most importantly is aesthetically interesting.

The story requires a certain amount of suspension-of-disbelief as it takes in just about everyone who was anyone in Belle Epoque Paris, and like the best children’s stories gets surprisingly dark at times. While I’d sooner re-watch a Kirikou, I’m nonetheless extremely interested to see what Ocelot does next.

Seder-Masochism (2018) 1h 18m, not-very-representative trailer

Nina Paley’s debut feature Sita Sings the Blues entwined a personal story of love and loss with the Ramayana as told and discussed by several Indian storytellers, accompanied by some brilliantly-chosen out-of-copyright songs by Annette Hanshaw. The nature of copyright was something Paley studied and wrote about extensively, and that’s at least partly why the film is available for free.

Her long-awaited (by us at least) follow-up Seder-Masochism takes a somewhat similar approach by juxtaposing the story of Moses with her childhood experience of the traditional Jewish Seder, as recounted by interviews with her father – again with some extremely well-chosen songs, this time from a range of more recent artists, in a direct challenge to the restrictions of copyright law as it stands.

Overall though the result seemed less successful, assuming quite a lot of knowledge by the viewer, and ending up somewhat unevenly weighted. It doesn’t help that there are ten plagues to get through, each animated with amazingly ridiculous aplomb to a range of surprising music choices.

The film tacitly addresses the fascinating topic of how an ancient history of goddess-worship was supplanted by more patriarchal religions in multiple cultures. The musical format elevates this to a visceral feeling of an ancient and epic tragedy, but begs many more questions – fortunately there’s a bibliography at the end.

Similarly, the topic of Paley’s own upbringing and relationship with her parents doesn’t dig too deep, and one senses that she is limited by the range of the (now 7-year old) recordings of her father she had available.

If you haven’t already, you should at minimum watch This Land is Mine to see the kind of effect Paley is so great at creating.

Virus Tropical (2017) 1h 37m, trailer

Instantly recognisable in style and tone as an autobiographical coming-of-age story that started life as a graphic novel, Virus Tropical finds a way to breathe animated life into the idiosyncratic caricatures of Power Paola’s original comic, retaining the charm without merely puppeteering cutouts. Being based on real life, the story is strangely meandering, but told with a judicious economy that holds the attention throughout and leaves a strangely lasting impression of life growing up in South America.

Funan (2018), 1h 24min, trailer

Denis Do’s directorial debut Funan draws from the harrowing real-life experience of his own mother, trying to survive and keep her family together through the Khmer Rouge’s brutal regime. It was particularly haunting to see in Budapest, having read and seen so much about Hungary’s double occupation. Most importantly, I think a film like this paints a vivid picture of day-to-day life in such a regime that history exhibits barely begin to evoke.

Another Day of Life (2018) 1h 25min, trailer

The ultimate winner of the festival’s feature-length competition, and another film on regime change, this time covering one reporter’s experience of the outbreak of civil war in Angola (1975-2002), which quickly became (another) proxy battle in the Cold War. The film joins the dots all the way from geopolitics to ground-level reality, and also powerfully intercuts live-action interviews with some of the participants in these events. Where Waltz With Bashir cut in live action at the very end to bring the message home, Another Day of Life does well to round out some of these characters and ground the story by intercutting more regularly.

The film is rendered with a fascinating take on the cell-shaded 3D style, backed up with motion captured performances. The result is visually arresting, especially on some of the dreamlike interludes, but has one major shortcoming: in a simpler animation we easily accept that the voices are emitted by the characters you see, but in some sort of uncanny valley effect, Another Day Of Life fails to achieve this, and the combined effect is a little less than the sum of the parts.

Short Animations

Art in general and animation in particular is fascinating for the range of creative possibility, but also frequently disappointing: faced with the possibility of creating anything, the average human (or typical artist) is seemingly interested in visualising just one thing: naked people.

Having seen a lot of short animations over a fair few festivals, there are also a few standard tropes that now rarely evoke much interest:

  1. The protagonist suffers through a series of nightmarish scenes
  2. Cute creatures struggle and suffer, procreating only to pass on the suffering
  3. Sexual objectification with a male gaze

Skipping over those (although some amount of (3) is depressingly hard to avoid entirely), a few highlights stood out:

Łukasz Rusinek’s music video, Ohoho (Vimeo) was my overall favourite. From the perfectly musical gait through to judiciously timed glitching, it’s a synaesthetic joy, even if a little (3) sneaks in there:

Vojtěch Domlátil’s Waves experiments with the idea of combining time-lapse photography from rolling fields with the sounds of water, to increasingly fascinating effect:

Something of a reversal of trope (1):  SOLAR WALK by Réka Bucsi. Available in full on Vimeo; trailer on YouTube:

Directed by Lucia Bulgheroni, Inanimate gets very meta with the stop-motion ouvre, and is well worth seeking out for an epic and exquisitely planned wide shot at the climax, which the trailer only begins to hint at:

In Jon Frickey’s Neko No Hi (Cat Days), a young boy is surprisingly diagnosed with cat flu, compellingly conveyed by the doctor using an outline drawing of a cat with a molecule in it. Here’s a trailer:

Georges Schwitzgebel’s The Battle Of San Romano brings Paolo Uccello’s 15th Century painting to life in a mind-boggling loop, which you can glimpse for a tantalising moment about 19s into the Anilogue 2018 trailer:

I’ve seen semi-abstract rotoscoping used to beautiful effect a few times, most notably in Ralf Hildenbeutel’s 2-minute Disco, but never before at the scale of Zbigniew Czapla’s Strange Case, which you can glimpse from this trailer:

In conclusion

Anilogue was a lovely animation festival, although the weekday afternoon shorts screenings were surprisingly poorly attended. Perhaps this was due to the programme being published only a few days in advance, or possibly being in conflict with the simultaneously held Israeli film festival. On the plus side this did mean we got to have some interesting conversations with two of the jurors (Piotr Kardasz and Veljko Popović).

Through the history and art explicitly on show and implicitly embedded in the battle-damaged city, Budapest reads as a plea to humanity: to learn from history, and to strive for peaceful, democratic power transitions. Those lessons are just as urgent now, especially in Hungary, to the point that I would specifically recommend checking the gov.uk travel advice before planning a trip there, as the current political trajectory is looking depressingly familiar.

– Tim Mannveille tweets as @metatim and also wrote about IDFA 2016 and Tricky Women 2011.

Maintaining a Genial Epoch