Filmspiration

Here are 3 very special short films that have left a distinct mark on me (and my artistic career) over the past 6 or so years.

The Butterfly Dragon (2010)

The Butterfly Dragon (2010) by UNSW graduate Sushan Yue is a fantasy animated silent short film featuring hand-drawn, monochrome reverse light-on-dark art. The story is richly symbolic, and its wordless structure leaves many intriguing details up to the viewer’s interpretation. Together with the instrumental soundtrack, it is a masterful musical evocation of wonder and pathos. 


The story’s protagonist, a young and adventurous unnamed creature discovers a magical butterfly that leads them away from their comfortable nesting place.


When the two are alone, the butterfly transforms into a dragon and leads the curious youth further into the woods.


The butterfly dragon arrives at the cliff side of a ravine and flies over. The youth, determined to follow, braces them self and takes a leap of faith. However, it is nowhere far enough to reach the other side, and they fall … but the butterfly dragon turns back and flies down to catch them.


The youth wakes up with his new friend on the other side. The butterfly dragon smiles and gives them a blank mask, and a glowing ‘essence’ for the youth to decorate the mask. The youth returns to their sleepy guardian, and proudly dons their dragon mask. In that moment, a new butterfly dragon in born.


My interpretation of the film is twofold: the mysterious butterfly dragon represents the hopes and dreams of the young creature, as well as coming-of-age – the young creature’s blossomed self. When the young creature is confronted with the gaping divide across which the butterfly dragon awaits, they make an attempt to jump across that I can only describe as a whole-hearted leap of faith. 


The choice of instrumental soundtrack in my opinion perfectly compliments and adds emotional depth to the piece. All in all, this is a film that has a special place in my heart, as a timeless and wordless expression of embracing all that the future holds.


SHELL (2011)

SHELL (2011) is a short romantic film directed by Wesley Chan from Wong Fu Productions.

"Our lives are shaped by our experiences. Our experiences are preserved in our memories. But what if we had a chance to remember things that we never actually experienced? "Shell" explores this idea through a quiet conversation. If you could look through a window that softened the edge between reality and fiction, what would you want to see? What would you want to remember?" (Shell, 2011

An earlier but definitive work of Wong Fu, this film came out when I was entering high school and opened my eyes to the visual and narrative potential of a 6-minute film. In particular, Chan demonstrates mastery in visualizing a cerebral concept, framing lush and intimate compositions,  taking a subtle & tasteful approach to the romance genre and perhaps most notably, a breathtaking use of golden hour glow.


In a quiet evening after dinner, the male protagonist experiences "flashbacks" before being joined by his female friend on the apartment floor.


He asks her briefly about her last relationship, in which she says she doesn't remember if she loved him. They engage in a quiet conversation about how a memory is like the ocean captured in a shell. They debate about the value of being able to have memories of things yet to be experienced. Two contrasting personalities and worldviews are revealed: one "likes their stories based on reality" and believes that memories are only worth their weight in reality, and the other likes fiction, thinking that "it's just nice to be able to decide what happens". 


The girl gives the protagonist a chance to depict the memory he would like to have. The viewer is taken in to a lush sunset world, in which the two are in love. 


He whispers something secret in her ear, and she looks at him in a new light. She takes off his glasses, and leans in for a kiss -- when the protagonist cuts off his dream sequence, saying "it doesn't matter". 


However, the girl is listening. She turns towards him for the first time, and picks up the story by reenacting his ending scene. Then, in the darkened apartment floor, "fiction becomes reality". 

This short film stuck with me since 2011, perhaps partially because of how simple yet profound the concept was, and how paradoxically understated yet evocative the cinematography. WongFu's films are known to be character-based and although this one revolves around a lushly-depicted world, it is no exception. The story portrayed in the film unfolds in a duration very similar to the actual length of the film; that is, it is the portrayal of one conversation, one lingering moment. However in that moment, worlds of differences are revealed between the characters, and even character development -- notably, the girl's perception of the protagonist changes from one who, unlike her, is "neutral and safe, preferring fiction" to someone she could possibly love. 

Plain diagetic sounds of the apartment and non-diagetic sounds in the form of dreamy instrumentals signify the transitions between scenes of reality and "unlived memory". The very beautiful instrumentals build in emotionality toward the climax of the protagonist's fantasy, before vanishing from his self-dismissal. However, when the girl in the apartment turns and takes off the protagonist's glasses, the instrumentals slowly return -- marking the coalescing of a romantic fantasy with reality. 

All in all, Shell (2011) is a highly creative take on the genre of romance, in many aspects transcending it with intellectual and philosophical depth. Having been created nearly a decade ago, it was far ahead of its time in online standards of storytelling and production quality. It is also in my opinion, one of relatively few works of art to achieve the balance of being as visually beautiful as it is intellectually stimulating -- both to an exceptionally high degree. 


MOTH+FLAME (2013)

MOTH+FLAME (2013) is a silent short film by Peter Simonite (Vimeo). I was first 'drawn' to this film by the stunning visual design and the slightly eerie, ambivalent atmosphere. The film in a nutshell is as titled; it uses visual metaphor to compare a human attraction (namely a pursuit) to that of a moth to a flame.

There are many minute details to discover in this richly-detailed short, but one notable feature is the use of selective details to convey the analogous connection being made.



The film opens to a slow-motion macro of a moth in the dark. 


The moth cuts to a young male covered in white substance ('dust'), seemingly waiting in a pale world of dust. This suggests that the dormant male represents a moth.


Next, colour appears vibrantly in the scene of a beautiful lady with a piercing gaze, standing in a plant and candle-filled room holding a light in her hands.


She plays with this light in her fingers and allows some rays to shine through.


The scene immediately cuts to the dusty male, who 'awakens' at the first ray of warm light shining through the blinds.


The macro moth flaps its wings in a pearlescent display, as if to take off like a bird.


The male bikes through the city at night, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.


He pays no attention to passerbys, who appear as if to be in a separate world. Slow-motion scenes of a water ripple (not pictured) and accompanying rain begins to wash off the white particles surrounding the tireless biker.  


Meanwhile, the girl stands immovable with her light in open hands, seemingly waiting for something with an unsettling calm. Her room is full of lit candles, suggesting an otherworldly or fantastical realm in which she is a god.


Sure enough, two males arrive at her abode, to whom she smiles slyly before shining rays of light on the visitors' faces, who become immobilized statues. Here the atmosphere takes a more ominous turn.


Scenes alternate between the girl and the biking male at increasing speed. A closeup of the girl's piercing gaze features sparks dancing in her diluting pupils, as the audience comes to realize the potential malice inside the beautiful eyes.


In a classic low angle, the now-soaked and dustless male arrives at the lit apartment -- supposedly the source of light that first reached his window.


Inside, the girl looks on with an increasing predatory gaze, her blinding powers in full force.


In bird's eye view, the male races up the flights of stairs, which quickly zoom out to to include a surreal number of stairs -- a never-ending climb. The audience comes to face a sense of dread, in knowledge of the imminent danger that the male is rushing towards.


A dramatic circling light casts phases of shadows across the girl's visage at high speed. Her knowing expression is ominous and almost villainous, like that of a predator about to devour their prey.


The male finally arrives, only to be the third victim of the female's light.


The slow-motion ending scene shows the girl exhaling smoke for the first time -- confirming her true identity. The absence of the males suggest that they were ultimately devoured by the deadly flame. 

The use of a repeating, somewhat melancholic orchestral instrumental was crucial in determining the genre of this film. It is easy, upon first viewing, to get carried away by the mesmerizing details and mistake the work to simply be an aesthetic music video of sorts. However, many strong ideas about relationships are created by the comparison of a moth helplessly drawn to a flame that will devour it. 

This is a film I have watched numerous times from 2013 to now, in which I am still noticing new details and subtle connections that captivate and unsettle me. One critique I have is the somewhat excessive repetition of certain similar scenes in proportion with its essentially singular concept, that do not seem to contribute meaning to the story and may in fact increase impact if they were omitted, by shortening the film. 

All in all, I think MOTH+FLAME does an ingenious job of captivating viewers with all its visual elements and cinematography.. thus making 'moths' out of us. 



Comments