A Song for the Whales
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TITLE “A Song for the Whales” by Lorenzo Fresta*
STUDIO/SCHOOL CalArts
FILM REVIEW by Leo Barton
The line of duty, no matter if it is personal, corporate, national or global, is wrought with ethical concerns. Most prominently, how and when can one stand up for their beliefs when outnumbered and, literally or metaphorically, outgunned? Of course, if recent history has taught us anything, it is that standing up for ones ethical and moral concerns is a must for bettering the modern world.
This is a theme A Song for the Whales grabs with both hands, and weaves into the fabric of its concise and carefully understated fable-like tale. We open with little context; a tall obelisk-like idol towering over a group of unified, red-clothed bodies, huddled near the sea. But two bodies stand out, wearing white. One big (Aidan) and one small (Eileen). These two characters serve as diametric opposites. Aidan is the clear leader, but folds to the pressures of the faceless red crowd, while little Eileen calls out his actions, remaining ideologically steadfast despite her miniature physique hindering her ability to act.
As Aidan performs a summoning tune—the titular song for the whales—which draws the animals to the ocean’s edge he looks over the innocent creatures which clearly have trust for this man. Harpoon in hand, with the mass of red bodies goading him on, Eileen’s message finally breaks through. Ethical responsibility trumps societal pressure once again.
Narratively, thanks to A Song for the Whales’ taking the form of a parable—free of temporal or special specificity—its messages are manifold. First, most viewers will grasp the themes of environmental responsibility, but the provocative themes can extend, as already mentioned, across the entire spectrum of events where one must overrule injustices.
The shire resonance of A Song for the Whales is supported by, simply put, fantastic filmmaking. The animation style, which allows the glory of line-art to shine through, is captivating, fitting and perfectly straddles the line between drawn detail and simplicity. Colours pop, forms are distinct, movements clear and emotions powerful. For me, one of the most memorable aspects of the art style is the brilliantly anonymous mob—whose faces are composed of a simple white mask with a black eye-slit (a perfect icon for the anonymity of societal pressures).
Beyond what we see, the narrative paces itself satisfyingly allowing apt time for a quiet introduction which slowly builds to an exciting flourish that leads us into a brief epilogue. However, if I were to split hairs, I would critique the overly-reflective tone which spans the first two minutes—which provides us with time and space to think without yet provoking much thought. However, such a critique would fail to acknowledge the fantastic contrast such a tone makes between the film’s major acts.
The audio space is rich, with well-crafted music playing a key role in the delivery of character, narrative and theme. The brief blurts of dialogue are also effective thanks to the Nordic (or Nordic-inspired) language adding an additional level to the mythology of the piece. Yet, again to split hairs, the dialogue could have been placed within the world slightly better in order to truly convince me that these where the characters speaking, not a voice actor in a booth.
“The animation style, which allows the glory of line-art to shine through, is captivating, fitting and perfectly straddles the line between drawn detail and simplicity. Colours pop, forms are distinct, movements clear and emotions powerful. ”
Being both universal and profound is a unbelievably rare in media, yet A Song for the Whales somehow manages this in its brief five-minutes of screen time. Through its captivating style, rich parable-like narrative and ever-relevant themes it is clear that Lorenzo Fresta has something special.
LEO BARTON is a filmmaker and freelance writer keen to explore the expansive definition of “cinema”—from traditional narrative filmmaking to abstract VR experiences. Working within the collective audio-visual platform Cinema Not Cinema he endeavours to produce, distribute and discuss an array of cinematic works, drawing the expansive fringes of Cinema together in one place.
