In this animated riff of Beowulf reset in the post-apocalypse, 9 depicts a people-less, post-war future to the last chilling detail. © Shane Acker.

9
9 is the latest short from Shane Acker, the gentleman responsible for the viscerally memorable Spike & Mike Sick & Twisted festival fave, The Hangnail. 9 is CGI, in contrast to the traditionally-animated Hangnail, and, in addition to his digital talents, it showcases something else you may not have seen before from this multitalented artist — a painstaking, lyrical attention to set design appropriate to the animator’s other MFA degree, earned in the field of architecture.

In this animated riff on Beowulf, reset in a frame both post-apocalyptic and miniaturized (literally and figuratively), a mouse-sized humanoid figure made of burlap is introduced setting a trap for an unknown predator. In a reverie set in a beautifully realized urban landscape blighted by war and strewn with loose bricks and the detritus of industrialized society, the miniature man, who has the number 9 written in black ink on his back, remembers an afternoon spent foraging with his mentor, 5. 5 walks with a cane that was once a churchkey from a sardine tin, and together they remove an unbroken light bulb from an abandoned desk lamp. 5 roots around inside his burlap exterior for a wire and a watch battery, and in no time at all they’ve got an improvised torch.

Suddenly 5 starts to radiate light the color of glow-in-the-dark watch hands. It’s an early warning system of sorts, which means the beast is coming. 9 hides as 5 prepares to defend himself with a staff sporting X-Acto blades on either end, but the beast gets the drop on him. It’s a demon cat, all armatures and springs with a feline skull in front. The cat steals 5’s soul, storing it in a glowing marble-sized metal shell that’s the twin to 5’s early warning system, with which 9 escapes in terror.

Now, in the present, 9 looks up in alarm as the warning lights up yet again, and it’s time to lure the beast into his trap. He runs into an abandoned library with a gaping hole of broken bricks, concrete and torn rebar. His Grendel follows in hot pursuit. In a taut and suspenseful action sequence, 9 manages to bring the monster into the dark recesses of the rubble-filled room and, step by step, puts his desperate plan to kill the beast into action.

Acker’s depiction of a people-less, post-war future has been realized to the last chilling detail. Drawing inspiration from documentary photos of Europe circa 1945, he’s captured the bed-in-the-street, car-in-the-living-room chaos of a carpet-bombed metropolis to a T. His characters are equally compelling; built from cloth and held together with zippers, buttons, and safety pins, these are human souls in tiny bodies improvised sui generis from the leftover junk of a burned-out world. Their personalities, driven by fear and fraternal love in equal amounts, are communicated completely in pantomime thanks to Acker’s strong acting. The short originated with UCLA’s Animation Workshop, and deserves to make it to home video soon, as it more than justifies an afternoon of still-framing enjoyment.