Emily is 4 years old, and the world is a colourful playground to her. "Do you like my cars?" she questions innocently at strangers who whisk her away to the near future where society (or at least its upper classes) has looked towards cloning in order to prolong life and in some rare vestiges, aspects of humanity. Her third generation descendant suddenly arrives from this future and dubs her Emily Prime. It's a strangely endearing name even with its clearly sci-fi sound, and it bestows an importance to this child that the society of a century later very dearly treasures. It's that little joy she finds in calling out some of the few words she knows in colours, and having such a vast and complex system instantly switch to cater to her demands. That sort of delight is long gone in the future. I am reminded of the almost incomprehensible Boo from "Monster's Inc.", also voiced by a young girl.
This short film is Hertzfeldt's first venture into digital animation and the transitions is smooth and serving. It's still very much in his own style - the strange structure of the Outernet are visualised in simple colour washes and squiggly erratic lines, and both Emily's are still crude stick figures with a straightforward range of movement. But it's again oddly appropriate; Hertzfeldt manages to elicit the deepest emotions from these simplistic representations of humans. There's that stunning shot of a red mountain range hugging the sheer ocean - or it could well be clouds drifting ethereally above a streaked orange sunset. It's in stark contrast to the simply 2d black outlines of Emily and her husband David, and sense a struggle to comprehend the sheer beauty of such a naturalistic and raw setting - or it could be just the inability to fully revisit such a nostalgic and painful memory. We mustn't get too caught up in this, the future Emily warns, but breaks her own heeding of advice.
Within herself there is the constant struggle for that old joy and youthful spirit and abandon and the more eternal rational approach of preservation of memory. She opens up a gallery of anonymous memories, but it seems this isn't for archival purposes, but rather to draw attention to their fleeting and precious nature. That isn't enough. She must travel back in time in search of an even more precious and intensely personal memory of her mother. Throughout the film she gives a guided tour of Emily Prime's future life as well as a crucial warning of the longevity and sadness of it. Julia Pott's voice work is monotone and detached despite the yearning of the mission, in clear contrast to Mae's innocence and naivety. She hasn't been tainted yet, but we can sense the sadness of the inevitability of this from Emily. "You will feel a deep longing for something you cannot remember," thus her desperate quest into the past. In spite of the marvelous technological advancements, the increasingly bizarre and impressive ways in which humanity will go to in order to extend and persevere (in in that, ironically losing sense of what humanity is), this is what Emily yearns for. A walk with Mommy.
Upon the end of this mission, Emily bids her goodbyes and transports Emily Prime back to current day. With a zap she is in a snowy billowing field, dark and foreboding mountains in the distance. Yet as the sentimental classical strings piece chime in, her face is innocent, nonchalant. Emily realises her mistake and with another zap, she is back in her bare white home, which is eagerly welcomed. "What a happy day it isssss," she sings playfully. In lesser hands this might scream tonal inconsistency (then again, we have that dry humorous letter - "Oh god oh god oh god", or the rather ugly method of preservation for the less wealthy) but Hertzfeldt pulls it off masterfully. It's a little funny to see her so unconcerned about the whole episode, and a little sad because we know of what she is to become.
(Originally 9/10)
This short film is Hertzfeldt's first venture into digital animation and the transitions is smooth and serving. It's still very much in his own style - the strange structure of the Outernet are visualised in simple colour washes and squiggly erratic lines, and both Emily's are still crude stick figures with a straightforward range of movement. But it's again oddly appropriate; Hertzfeldt manages to elicit the deepest emotions from these simplistic representations of humans. There's that stunning shot of a red mountain range hugging the sheer ocean - or it could well be clouds drifting ethereally above a streaked orange sunset. It's in stark contrast to the simply 2d black outlines of Emily and her husband David, and sense a struggle to comprehend the sheer beauty of such a naturalistic and raw setting - or it could be just the inability to fully revisit such a nostalgic and painful memory. We mustn't get too caught up in this, the future Emily warns, but breaks her own heeding of advice.
Within herself there is the constant struggle for that old joy and youthful spirit and abandon and the more eternal rational approach of preservation of memory. She opens up a gallery of anonymous memories, but it seems this isn't for archival purposes, but rather to draw attention to their fleeting and precious nature. That isn't enough. She must travel back in time in search of an even more precious and intensely personal memory of her mother. Throughout the film she gives a guided tour of Emily Prime's future life as well as a crucial warning of the longevity and sadness of it. Julia Pott's voice work is monotone and detached despite the yearning of the mission, in clear contrast to Mae's innocence and naivety. She hasn't been tainted yet, but we can sense the sadness of the inevitability of this from Emily. "You will feel a deep longing for something you cannot remember," thus her desperate quest into the past. In spite of the marvelous technological advancements, the increasingly bizarre and impressive ways in which humanity will go to in order to extend and persevere (in in that, ironically losing sense of what humanity is), this is what Emily yearns for. A walk with Mommy.
Upon the end of this mission, Emily bids her goodbyes and transports Emily Prime back to current day. With a zap she is in a snowy billowing field, dark and foreboding mountains in the distance. Yet as the sentimental classical strings piece chime in, her face is innocent, nonchalant. Emily realises her mistake and with another zap, she is back in her bare white home, which is eagerly welcomed. "What a happy day it isssss," she sings playfully. In lesser hands this might scream tonal inconsistency (then again, we have that dry humorous letter - "Oh god oh god oh god", or the rather ugly method of preservation for the less wealthy) but Hertzfeldt pulls it off masterfully. It's a little funny to see her so unconcerned about the whole episode, and a little sad because we know of what she is to become.
(Originally 9/10)