Rob Munday
As a child, the grown-ups in your life have an enigmatic quality that seems illogical once we’re adults ourselves. Whether they seem scarier, stronger or braver than our developing minds could ever imagine, it’s a turning point in a child’s life when they realise that they are just flawed humans, like everyone else. For some, those immature impressions aren’t imagined and are in fact very real – you should be able to trust the adults in your life, but unfortunately, this isn’t always the case. Much like in Stéphanie Clément imposing animated short Pachyderme, where a woman looks back at her childhood stays with her grandparents with a mix of nostalgia and anguish.
“I don’t like it when my parents leave me”
An oddly tranquil film, Pachyderme opens with scenes of a young 9yr-old girl, Louise, being dropped at her grandparents rural house for a 10-day “holiday”. As we watch her solemnly sit on a swing in the backyard, the voice over explains “I don’t like it when my parents leave me”, a line which conjures the beginning of the unease that permeates the 11-minute short. At first, we think the girl’s concerns may stem from the strange environment of her grandparents home or their overly strict cleaning regime, but as the film unfolds we soon learn that there truly was something to fear in that house.
With the haze of summer a constant presence throughout the film, as our young protagonist learns to ride her bike without stabilsers and takes afternoon swims in the lake, there’s a coming-of-age feel to the storyline of Pachyderm that’s difficult to ignore. With this sub-genre usually focused on the transition from childhood to adulthood it doesn’t seem like a particularly ill-fitting label to apply, but Clément’s poetic approach means the short doesn’t fit perfectly into this category either.
The grandfather’s oversized hands dwarf Louise’s delicate appendage.
Pachyderm is a surprising short, packed with complex emotions and narrative depth, which is why classification doesn’t come easily. I could easily wax lyrical about the masterful twists the story takes and the palpable tension it builds over its short run-time, but Clément’s film is one that needs to be experienced to truly appreciate the brilliance of the filmmaking on show.
The genius of the short isn’t just in Marc Rius’ sharp script however, as the film’s striking aesthetic perfectly compliments the narrative, helping to build both that aforementioned nostalgia and tension. Revealing, in an interview on lepolyester.com, that she aimed to create “a mixed feeling of sweetness and unease” with her visuals, Clément’s clever use of framing helps to paint a portrait of a young girl trapped in her situation. As we watch Louise’s actions through windows, doorways and corridors we’re given the impression she can’t see any real escape from these particular circumstances. While the colour palette feels borrowed from aged photo albums, again, introducing a sense of recollection to the storytelling that only works to amplify the true horrors hidden at the heart of the film.
A short that impresses with its stunning visuals and leaves a reverberating impact with its narrative, despite Pachyderme’s impressive festival run – it played Annecy and won the Best Short award at the 2022 Manchester Animation Festival – the first time I watched Clément’s short was when it was sent our way by Miyu Distribution. Maybe it’s the freshness of that viewing that’s leading to my excitement over the short, but I think it could well be one of the best shorts I’ve seen this year. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it over the last couple of days and that shot of the grandfather’s hand dwarfing the young girl’s (see above) is one I think I’ll never forget.
Having won the Light in Motion Award for Best Short Animation film at the Foyle Film Festival in 2022, Clément’s film has now qualified for Oscar consideration. In my eyes, it’s going to be a very difficult film to beat.