Serafima Serafimova

Unless you’re in the film industry, or you’ve seen shorts like The Secret World of Foley, Footsteps or Death of The Sound Man, it’s likely that the term foley artist doesn’t mean much to you. These are the people who create and masterfully blend layers of sound – the part of the film that the audience is least consciously aware of, but which is invaluable in shaping a convincing world where films live and breathe a life of their own. Foley artists possess artistry and imagination and watching them work is nothing short of extraordinary, and the lead character in today’s feature is no exception. This talented foley artist, however, also happens to have an unhealthy obsession with his neighbour from across the street. 

It might seem inaccurate, even inappropriate, to call a film about loneliness, voyeurism and stalking ‘charming’, but it also happens to be the perfect word to describe Lucy. Directed by Roberto Gutierrez, the fifteen-minute short does a brilliant job of turning a villainous character into a loveable one, in part, thanks to the pointed direction and sharp editing, but also, rather fittingly, thanks to the pitch-perfect sound design by Jesús Guevara. The film fascinates by offering a peek into the lesser known world of foley, and captivates with its exquisite cinematography and dramatic storytelling. Much like the handiwork of a foley wizard, watching Lucy is like trying to follow an elusive magic trick, and as such, deserves to be seen and heard on the biggest and best device you can get your hands on.

Foley artist Raul is played by Luigi Sciamanna

The story follows Raúl  – a lonely, middle-aged foley artist who becomes obsessed with a woman he calls Lucy. He secretly films her daily life from across the street and spends his own time adding sounds to the footage. One day, he captures on tape the moment Lucy finds out that her partner is cheating on her and throws him out. Seeing her in this vulnerable state, Raúl’s obsession intensifies and the line between imagination and reality starts to blur and disappear.    

I must confess that I am a huge fan of films that reveal the secrets of sound design and sound editing. Even though Lucy is a drama, one of the things it does so well is what other documentaries on the subject usually do – it challenges the assumption that sound is simply recorded along with the visuals when, in fact, it very often isn’t, and is instead added afterwards. Watching Raúl, as he creates the soundscape to his neighbour’s life is utterly enchanting – his painstaking attention to detail, his determination to get every sound perfectly right and his palpable passion. These are winning human qualities that we, the audience, naturally find appealing and so it becomes quite difficult to dislike this lonely, sweet, middle-aged man, regardless of the fact that his actions are less than savoury.

Raul’s neighbour Lucy, played by Eloisa Maturen

The film’s production values also deserve a shoutout. Every shot is beautifully lit and graded with bright, contrasting colours and a subtle sepia wash, giving the film a retro vibe. There is also a dreamy, surreal quality to the aesthetic, as if the entire film is filtered through the imagination of its central character, and as his delusions around this one-sided relationship worsen, so do the colours, lighting and composition become more otherworldly and spellbinding. 

Then, of course there’s the sound design. We can assume, with a level of certainty, that the sounds which Raúl is recording to Lucy’s tapes in the film, were actually added in after shooting the scenes, by Guevara – the film’s sound designer. And whilst trying to wrap your head around it might be difficult, one thing is crystal clear – Lucy was a labour of love and no corners were cut. And the result speaks volumes.