Ivan Kander
Even two and a half years removed from the initial COVID lockdowns in March 2020, I still struggle to really process those first few months of the Pandemic. It seems like a window to a previous life, or more to a point, a crack in time where one life ended and another began.
I’ve seen a lot of short films attempt to capture that particular epoch: the way it rendered us simultaneously bored and terrified, listless and anxious. Change from writer and director Abraham Felix very much fits into the short film “COVID canon”, of which there is ample supply. What sets the piece apart is how expertly it conveys the feeling of that time. “Vibes” are a hard thing to quantify in film criticism but, as a mood piece, Change is expertly rendered. I love how Felix just so fully paints this setting: it’s specific and highly personal. The film is measured, but never slow. And, the soundscape is a diegetic mix of media pundits and solitary faint New Orleans jazz music.
The latter of those two things—the incessant horn playing—is the only ostensible source of conflict in the piece. But, Change isn’t really about that either…it’s not a narrative-driven piece in a traditional sense. Rather, it’s just a specific hang-out session with this one character in this one place at this particular time. I realize that’s a dicey proposition (a lot of filmmakers attempt naturalism and end up with boredom instead), but there’s an auteur-esque minimalist sensibility on display here that kept me compelled, from the stunning cinematography and confident framing to the interesting production and set design choices. On paper, it doesn’t seem like this should work (e.g nothing really “happens”, there is no big emotional payoff), but somehow Felix conveys an experiential rumination of a time that feels so recent and, yet, also so far away.
A neighborly interaction in the height of the COVID pandemic
As you might expect, the film’s story is largely autobiographical: Felix experienced a similar thing in quarantine, finding himself distracted by the faint sound of music from an unknown neighbor floating through his walls.
As he relates:
“At first I sort of liked it. It was this strange reminder that as disconnected as we were, people were still out there doing things that made them feel alive and connected. It felt refreshing. But over time it became annoying. A nuisance. An interruption. A distraction. Then one day the music stopped. I went about life in quarantine. The cycle of chores, books, news, etc. Every day felt the same. Like time was standing still. Before I knew it, weeks had passed. One day I washed dishes and I started whistling absentmindedly. I realized mid-whistle that I was whistling the same song my neighbor stopped playing weeks before. The moment was quiet and profound to me. So it made me want to tell the story and really infuse a bit of human connection into a time in which we were all feeling disconnected.”
Felix is currently developing and writing his first narrative feature and is also directing a feature documentary about New Orleans public education.