Away

Gints Zilbalodis
Gints Zilbalodis

In recent months, it’s been easy to project our lockdown lives onto pieces of work. Whether it’s a way of gleaming meaning from art, giving journalistic pieces a new angle, or simply trying to reaffirm the belief that cinema reflects society, this is now a prism through which experiences are filtered. 

It’s hard to look at Away, a dialogue-less animation wholly conceived and constructed by Latvian director Gints Zilbalodis, without being engulfed by the theme of solitude. From its opening shot, depicting a young man dangling from a parachute in a lone tree, there’s a haunting yet mystical quality, telling a basic story in a vast landscape. After the unnamed man gradually gets his bearings, he, with the company of a small yellow bird, plots his course back home, making sure to evade a dark spirit on the way. Rather luckily, he finds a compass and map next to a discarded motorcycle, allowing him to roam across the island at a much quicker pace. 

With its plot and mode of storytelling, comparisons with 2016’s The Red Turtle are inevitable, but Away is more indebted to video games like Journey and Shadow of the Colossus; the dark spirit itself, a hybrid between the Iron Giant and a creature from Spirited Away, lumbers around the map like a colossi. The sparse island boasts different terrains and climates, which are then compartmentalised further by the episodic structure, with hooped structures acting as stepping stones towards the final destination, akin to a checkpoint system or map marker. 

Thankfully, the unique renderings of the landscapes go some way to quelling the structural rigidity, with Zilbalodis opting for simple block-colouring over ultra-realism. Whether it’s a lush forest, snowy mountain or a shimmering lake, each location is vibrant and distinctive, which not only aids with the progression of the story but also provides the audience with anticipation as to how the next area is going to be stylised. With the coalescence of sweeping camera movements, a thrilling score and the gliding motorcycle, there are beautiful moments to be had here, with the film being at its best when the landscape is front and centre. 

Unfortunately, these moments are all too rare, with the film suffering multiple lulls in momentum during the 75-minute running time. The quieter moments, in which we see our protagonist performing menial tasks, don’t add anything to proceedings, with the visual style suffering when trying to capture physical movement. Faster animals, whether it be a fox or a rabbit, are choppily animated, an element not helped by the perplexing use of zooms. Conversely, the lead character is cumbersome in his movements, with any head-turning or grabbing motion being awkward. It could be that this is where the constraints of a one-man project rears its head, but given how sumptuous some production elements are, the shortcomings are all the more noticeable. 

Nevertheless, it’s still remarkable that Zilbalodis persevered for three years, undertaking every aspect of production. With a theatrical release under his belt, and an uncertain time regarding filming opportunities, this is now an apt time to share his unique vision and collaborate with other animators. Whilst no one would like to be seen capitalising on a flailing market, animation should be the one genre that can thrive in these times, whether it be in storytelling or technique. Away might not resonate wholly in the present, but it could set a sturdy template for the future.



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