Chelsea Lupkin
At the core of ALONE, an experimental short from acclaimed production company Animal, is a contradiction: we watch people, as they behave, while alone. But that very concept, alone, means that no one is there to watch. It is artifice therefore, like all film is, but the premise plays to the scopophilia that is an intrinsic appeal of the film-viewing experience, and unlocks a powerful intimacy, provoking a humanist empathy that makes for a special experience.
In ALONE, there are scenes you will wish were longer, and others that you wish you could look away from. This ability to summon a visceral reaction in the viewer is what makes director Phinehas Hodges’ film a standout. There is a deep-seated fascination that each of us, as humans, possess for each other, and an equally deep-seated insecurity we harbor within ourselves. We can be gross, brave, depressed, and downright strange when nobody’s watching, and we wonder, but most often forget, that others can be too—after all it’s those moments when we’re alone that we are in our most natural state. Hodges’ collects these stolen, private moments, pushing past appropriate boundaries to give us a fly-on-the-wall perspective into “being human.”
Hodges explains how the film’s meaning was found through the process of making it: “I honestly set out at first to make a video that I felt had the potential to be viral – a comedy, in fact, about what we do when no one is watching. As we filmed, that changed, and eventually I wanted the people watching to experience the liberation I did when I was filming it. The realization of how similar we are and how unique. I personally felt like, I guess I’m actually not that strange. The things I do fell well within the norm. Which was liberating in its own way.”
ALONE showcases the freedom of being isolated. When no one is looking, we behave differently and Hodges cheekily points it out as certain people are literally caught with their pants down. There’s both an uncanny, comedic darkness to this film and an inspirational edge, thanks to how relatable the various events on screen are. A particularly poignant scene is of a cross-dresser putting on her fake eyelashes and tucking away her manhood. Another captures a man who wrestles with his cat while playing pretend—it is guaranteed to make you feel less ashamed of yourself. The film has a reassuring way of making you feel like your own quirks are utterly normal and justified. It’s a freeing experience.
You might have curiosity about the production process. Hodges shed light on how each person was captured: “Our crew was always small, 3 people max, as getting non actors comfortable meant getting to know them. We viewed everyone as collaborators and asked them to share with us some of what they personally did when no one was around. A lot of times I would sit down with the ‘talent’ for half an hour before we started shooting and tell them my inspiration and intentions for the piece, and after that I found they were a lot more ready to be vulnerable and open about what they did. Sometimes we left the camera running in the room and monitored remotely. We always shot long takes—sometimes 7-10 minutes.”
The second half of the film builds with a crescendo of emotional highs and finally lands on an open casket that is then closed. There’s a certain finality to this last state of isolation that Hodges equates to freedom. While not a subtle symbol, it’s a powerful end to what is a quite unique, very affecting, and ultimately highly recommended non-narrative short.