Insomnia is a b*tch. Horrific, unreasonable and relentless. But as is often the case, the most creative and inspiring work can come out of the most painful and challenging moments in life. And that’s exactly what Ida Melum, a self-confessed insomniac, has done with The Night Of The Living Dread. Drawing inspiration from the countless hours when she lay wide awake at night, haunted by an onslaught of negative thoughts, the talented director and animator has managed to transform this nightmare affliction into a gift for mesmerising storytelling. And the result is pure magic.
The Night Of The Living Dread perfectly balances chills with charm to bring to the fore the extraordinary power of shame. Every frame of every scene in the 11-minute BAFTA-nominated animation is crafted with flair and the voice work, lead by Jessica Dennis and Stephen Fry, is an absolute treat. Completed as a graduate project at NFTS, The Night Of The Living Dread is painfully funny and painfully relatable, and encourages the audience (whether we want to or not), to face our own embarrassing demons.
Ruby has trouble sleeping at night. And so the only thing the blue haired environmental scientist can do, as she lies wide awake next to her colour-changing mood lamp and insomnia-themed books, is listen to the soothing recording of a man’s voice (Fry) that guides her through a sleep meditation. But when a power cut interrupts her nightly ritual, Ruby is suddenly left alone with her thoughts in the deafening silence of the night. The setting is ominous and when a shadow creeps up behind her we expect to be spooked, but as the protagonist reaches for a weapon to defend herself against the intruder and instead brings out her vibrator, the tone swiftly shifts from horror to hilarity. Soon after, Ruby is visited by five versions of her younger self, forcing her to relive and finally confront some of the most embarrassing moments from her past.
“I love making films about everyday life and having fun with it” – Melum shared in an interview with Directors Notes. – “I was always fascinated about how I could have a normal day, or go to a party and enjoy myself, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, my mind would race and replay every little awkward encounter I had. I never imagined the film would resonate with such a broad audience. Hopefully it’s a little reminder to us all that we are all awkward and embarrassing at times, and not to take ourselves too seriously.”
The craft on display is dazzling. The puppets have the soft, fluffy textures of the T-shirt fabric they were made from, completed with hand-drawn eyebrows and mouths to bring their facial expressions to life. Milly White’s set design of each scene is so intricate and thoughtfully put together, with the different memories having their own district colour scheme and look (thanks to some stellar work from DoP Charlie Jenkins), it demands a second, even a third watch to ensure that every easter egg is unveiled and every detail is appreciated.
By bringing to light the hold that shame has over us, The Night Of The Living Dread naturally stirs our own shameful memories awake. What makes the film an absolute delight though, beyond its ability to create an instant emotional link between the audience and all the versions of its protagonist, is the way it zooms in on the hair-thin line that separates fear and humour, vulnerability and strength, self-hate and self-acceptance. So perhaps the key to finally getting rid of the shameful skeletons in our closets, is not to fear them but to poke fun at them. Maybe then we can finally put them to bed.