And He USED His Digimon Powar!

I don't watch many short films (uh, under 30-ish minutes) compared to feature length, but here are some thoughts on two that are thematically similar.

Powers of Ten [s] (1968)

Rating ... A- (80)

Since I view contemporary cinema at a snail's pace these days, typically late via DVD, I'm often asked why I bother to snag movies with abysmal word of mouth. Coincidentally my listology is also most chided when it comes to outliers like Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events or Aquamarine; even given citation of specific instances where filmmaking techniques were used to convey meaning, I'll receive a blanket argument to the contrary stating that silly / childish / immature tone betrays the film's lack of Serious Artistic Intent. (I will also take this opportunity to confirm that I prefer anime and cartoons to normal television. #diggingone'sowngrave ) How can I answer both queries? By quoting a man who already has.

" They're not experimental films; they're not really films. They're just attempts to get across an idea. "
- Charles Eames

That man also happens to be co-director of an educational short film called Powers of Ten a number of folks probably saw in middle school algebra as a tool for visually demonstrating orders of magnitude. And that film is destined to appear alongside 2001: A Space Odyssey when I sufficiently delve into 1968 and post the results. Can we agree that this blasphemy waiting to happen will be the most extreme example of our dilemma?

The logic makes sense at least. Educational films are didactic in nature, and a film that's didactic in how it portrays factual information, human relationships, or social commentary is going to be bashed for heavy-handedness by more than just me. But one has to be careful about preconceptions, especially considering interpreting film is about praising substance over form.

So what is Powers of Ten anyways? Put simply, it's a lengthy trick shot that zooms out from a picnic in Chicago that begins with a one meter by one meter square on the screen. Every ten seconds we see another box, this time with a side length equal to the last but increased by a power of ten. By the time we're out in distant space, the film hastily rewinds and performs the same journey again, but this time zooming inwards, with the dimensions of each box being reduced by a power of ten. Put even more simply, it's this.

In seventh grade I would have told you Powers of Ten was a film with solely pragmatic value, in addition to being a heck of a lot better than doing actual classwork. But here's a quote about space from the narrator, who more often than not is trying to provide concrete examples of just how far 10 to the 5th meters or 10 to the 15th meters is.

" This emptiness is normal. The richness of our own neighborhood is the exception. "
- Powers of Ten

The funny thing is, he's talking about the vastness not only of outer space dotted periodically by galaxies but also relative distance between particles at the atomic level. Moreover, he's talking about subtle optimism. Powers of Ten is initially a film about changing mathematical perspective, but equally one about changing human perspective. Do you derive your appreciation for life from an educational film that tells you you're one in 10 to 25th? Or from a real film's visual representation of human civilization as a blotch of light in a sea of darkness? Whichever your choice, Charles Eames got the idea across.


Baby Blue [s] (2007)

Rating ... A- (89)

For the sake of argument, let's say it managed to elude you that Powers of Ten was about anything other than a graphic depiction of forty different powers of ten. Baby Blue solves the problem of literal interpretation at the expense of figurative: don't literally have anything happen.

Or at least, not much of anything. Baby Blue is the fifteen minute anchor of Genius Party, a collection of animated shorts by animation studio 4°C . Two classmates skip school to wander around, uh. In Japan. Early next day one of them boards a train, moving away to somewhere else also in Japan.

Okay, there's more to it than that. The two students are childhood friends grown apart. He's moving away, and follows an unconscious impulse to tie up loose ends with her the night before. She's worried that their day trip might end up a clichéd farewell. He's worried about legacy; in time, memories of the guy who moved are washed away like the tide over footprints in the sand. She's worried that he's noticed her senior boyfriend. He's worried his attempt to reconnect will only cause further pangs of loneliness. They decide to ignore the future for one day and have an adventure.

Despite kicking over a bike cop and lobbing a hand grenade at some thugs, it's really not much of an adventure. They mostly just ride the metro and get lost. The ambient noise fades as they stray from society and they arrive at the beach after darkness has fallen.When they bid each other goodbye, he assures her it's not necessary for her to see him off. It's the adult thing to do.

But wait; she shows up anyway, bringing sparklers and the drastically decreased frame rate of a Perfect Moment. The light of the train against the darkened sky blurs through motion into particles before fading into the sameness of black. Maybe their mutual longing is more acute than either of them were willing to admit. Maybe a gesture of remembrance to close a relationship is merited, regardless of how it appears to the public. Subdued emotions are normal. The display of unchecked feeling to indicate what one person means to another is the exception.