Breathtaking but slippery animated function

The world, as we know, crumbles.

Increasing assets, the climate and the continued expansion of the unchecked state violence have all of us on us. It is far from a happy state, but in this difficult but inevitable reality in which filmmaker Félix Dufour-Laperrière does not exist in “Death does not exist”. This is how an engagement with his work has to begin.

Despite his title, this is an impressionistic film very much about how death exists and will pursue us after the moment of loss. Although the subtext does not make 100% explicit, it is based on significantly modern fears about how the world has become of balance. With a simple, but often breathtaking animation to life that can resemble a children's book with a nightmarish tone, it is a fable that urges us to look at death in the eyes and to cling to what we appreciate about life. Although it is difficult to fully arrest your film, Dufour-Laperrière deals with what happens if you risk everything to change the world, just to discover the costs that you can lose everything.

In the fourteen -day sidebar of directors at the directors' film festival, “Death does not exist” begin with a group of activists who want to attack a gated mansion and his wealthy residents. The potential attackers seem to be nervous and anxious about what will happen, but they still proceed.

A few painfully short stock exchanges are used to outline their way of thinking, and then the world of attackers falls apart when their life ends in an exchange of shots that are interrupted by non -red blood, but to a worrying, unexpected yellow. It is like a painting or a representation of violence, although it is very real for the members of the group.

As one of the activists, Hélène, who leaves others and withdraws into the wilderness, she is persecuted by another member of the party, Manon, who offers her the chance instead of running away.

While the film increasingly goes to this only choice, “death does not exist” is never a grade. It bursts with layers of complex emotions and visceral, lively pictures. Dufour-Laperrière is not afraid to conquer terrible violence and uses a changing color palette to make the destruction to make the much more urgent.

“Are you lost?” A young girl asks Hélène when she wanders through the wilderness, the question not only a feeling of topographical uncertainty, but also an emotional. The film feels increasingly unbound from the time when it moves backwards and forwards from the opening slate and, with this framework, requires the costs of a movement that uses violence. Can you save those who love you or require you to lose them entirely? How is your existence shaped when you make this jump?

Interestingly, “death does not exist” neither expressly condemned a way nor supports or a way. It never speaks to the audience or judges how it sinks into deeper, often surreal considerations about how we continue when everything is torn apart.

This can be felt when Hélène encounters a sheep that is torn from coyotes to pieces before it rose. We see every detail and hear every crispiness when life kills and then comes back. The animation here is macabre and yet still beautiful and takes over a fascinating quality because we see the choice that Hélène and we all have to meet.

In every beautifully animated frame, the film made painfully clear that there is no avoidance of this reality. Although the film still has the feeling of losing part of its response by not fully portraying the specific motivations of the group, we feel the urgency of the crisis in Hélène's eyes. No matter how much we want to move away from the upcoming destruction, there is no retreat to the wilderness for one of us.

Although “death does not exist” is a fairly short feature that only runs 72 minutes, it is a film with great ideas and expansive existential questions. Even if the presentation is simple, it bears a quiet poetic force. It is melancholic, often fascinating and ultimately moves, as we ask us to think about the painful decision that faces the world.

The fact that it finally returns where it started to lead us through the striking incident only makes it much more effective when it opens the aching wound in his heart. Dufour-Laperrière ultimately does not offer simple answers, but immerse us in reality that there is none. In a table from the Tableau equipment, he finds a truthful, honest beauty in our decaying world.