SSF: “Moving On”

Last updated on: January 14, 2015 at 5:21 pm by Joseph Susanka

SSF: “Moving On” 2015-01-14T17:21:38-07:00 Joseph Susanka

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“Time always unwinding, all these dead lines in my mind.”

This week’s entry, a mesmerizing shot that appeared in my feedreader on Friday:

The short’s director is Ainslie Henderson, and the band is named James. But I’ll be honest: The words didn’t even register the first couple of times I watched, so fascinated was I by the imagery. (Eventually, I noticed the music. And liked it well enough. And since it provided this film’s raison d’etre, I’m happy it exists. But it’s a very distant second, in my mind.)

On the one hand, the technical mastery on display is mind-blowing to me. As I have remarked in the past, creating in this particular animation style is virtually impossible for me to imagine. My kids make 20-30 second stop-motion Lego films with my iPad, and the amount of patience necessary for those amazes me. For something like this, though? Impossible.

Setting those (impressive, but largely mechanical) details aside, the thing about the short that really grabbed my attention was how much emotion and power is wrung out of its faceless, vagariously-shaped, whimsical characters. The interaction between the mother and her sick child made me tear up a bit — translation: a ton — the moment when the child lets her know it’s time to “Move on” and that’s OK is wonderfully, wrenchingly powerful, and the final twitch upon the thread is just the sort of final shot I love: a firm hint, but nothing more.

I’m not quite sure what the short is getting at, really. And I’m not sure the song’s words help all that much. “When this cycle ends, will it start again, will we recognize old friends?” hints at maybe some sort of reincarnational reality, I suppose. Or not.

The blog post from Henderson and lead-singer Tim Booth on the genesis and making of the short doesn’t help all that much, either. Booth recounts the way in which his mother’s death was “clearly a birth of some kind and that description caught Ainslie’s imagination,” but that’s still pretty fuzzy.

Either way, the heartfelt, heart-string-tugging exchange between the mother and child is really evocative, beautiful stuff.

Please don’t get me started, looking backwards, to move on.
Strong yet openhearted, accept leaving when leaving’s come.
God, didn’t see it coming, never said I love you, hope you knew.
Now my bags packed, my sails are tight and my course is marked by stars,
I’m on my way, soon be moving on my way, leave a little light on, leave a little light on,
I’m on my way, soon be moving on my way, leave a little light on, leave a little light on.
Time always unwinding, all these dead lines in my mind.
Seeds and dreams we planted, took for granted, didn’t prove.
Walking down this road will my pulse beat slow, hope to have you close at hand.
When this cycle ends, will it start again, will we recognize old friends?
I’m on my way, soon be moving on my way, leave a little light on, leave a little light on.
I’m on my way, on my way, on my way, leave a light on, leave a little light on.
I’m on my way, soon be moving on my way, leave a little light on, leave a little light on.
I’m on my way, on my way, on my way, on my way.
Leave a light on, leave a little light on, leave a little light on.

(HT: ThisIsColossal. And to my sister, who sent it my way the moment she saw it. My tastes are, apparently, predictable. But if this is the sort of thing people expect me to like, I’m fine with being predictable.)

Attribution(s): All artwork, publicity images, and stills are the property of their respective creators and/or distributors.

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