Within the world of animation, most experimentation occurs within short format productions, whether they are high-budgeted commercials, low-budgeted independent shorts or something in between. The growing number of short film festivals around the world attest to the vitality of these works, but there are few other venues for exhibition of them or even written reviews. As a result, distribution tends to be difficult and irregular. On a regular basis, Animation World Magazine will highlight some of the most interesting with short, descriptive overviews.

If you have the QuickTime plug-in, you can view a clip from each film by simply clicking the image.

Amfraid (2004), 7:00, directed by Anne Sophie Bertrand, Thibault Debeurme, Sophie Van De Velde and Pascal Verkindt (France). Contact: Annabel Sebag, Premium Films, 130 Rue de Turenne 75003 Paris, France [E] animation@premium-films.com

City Paradise (2004), 5:58, directed by Gaëlle Denis (France). Contact: Passion Pictures [T] +44.207.323.9933 [E] info@passion-pictures.com

Sunaba (The Sandbox) (2005), 5:30, directed by Kory Juul, U.S. Contact: Meticulous [T] 510.619.9095 [E] jmpa@meticulous.com

The Fan and the Flower (2006), 7:00, directed by Bill Plympton (U.S.). Contact: [E] plymptoons@aol.com

Hadacol Christmas (2005), 12:00, directed by Brent Green (U.S.). Contact: Brent Green [E] brent@nervousfilms.com [W] www.nervousfilms.com

Not ’fraid… not ’fraid… Amfraid. © Premium Films.

Amfraid
For a preschooler, spending the evening with Grandma can be pretty horrifying. Taking that concept and running with it is Amfraid, the 2003 diploma project for four animators at France’s Supinfocom. One dark and stormy night an old woman is alone knitting in her miniature gothic nightmare of a house, a no-right-angles estate perched on a clifftop with a completely incongruous tower attached. Into the scene comes a young boy in corduroy and a striped sweater, dropped off by his parents, and though he tries to leap back out the front door and escape he remains trapped inside as their car speeds away.

The old woman presents a home-cooked meal of, apparently, Porridge à la Yellow Rain Slicker, a bilious glop that is either attracting or producing horseflies. The boy sensibly pushes it away. Later he’s playing with blocks as Grandma knits, and one of the flies buzzes past him into the hallway beyond. The boy decides to play Intrepid Hunter, and he steals an extra knitting needle and makes chase.

The main hall sits at the bottom of a rickety staircase spiraling up to inky doom. Up the boy goes, chasing the fly as it alights on one landing after another. Half a flight up, though, the fly lands in a spider web and the boy happens to look down at the shadow of Grandma thrown by the light of the fireplace. She’s heard the tiny cries of the trapped fly, and has suddenly grown eight huge legs out of her back. The boy doesn’t like where this is headed, so he flees up the stairs as quickly and quietly as he can — but the grillwork sprouts inquisitive and tangly feelers, the stair steps tilt and fall away, and he falls into a giant suspended spider web.

Up comes arachnid Grandma to get her fresh meat — and the boy wakes. He’s still on the bottom step, needle in hand. He tiptoes back to the living room to check for Grandma, but sees only her empty rocking chair. He makes for the door and — well, this being the genre it is, you can guess the outcome, but there’s a final juicy reveal that delivers a nicely macabre topper to the proceedings.

Amfraid is another great example of how CGI is no longer a style, it’s every style. In the digital realm, given enough time and skill you can WayBack to any era and pitch a tent at UPA, Zagreb or Lotte Reiniger’s studio, possibly all at once. Amfraid lives somewhere between Paul Berry’s The Sandman and the PXL This! festival, animated strictly on twos with no motion blur. The stop-motion effect is amiably retro, enhanced by an overlaid patina of coarse grain and models and sets that are shaded to look like painted mahogany.

Unusually for even a mute short like this, there isn’t so much as a grunt or gasp from any character, and the sound design and music carry more than their share of the emotional weight. Amfraid wants to be screened in a dark theater, with its nods to Vertigo and creepy happenings going on just at the edge of the proscenium frame. This sinister short is yet another winning product of the hothouse/arthouse/powerhouse Supinfocom, famed secondary school and genius factory, the source of such modern classics as Overtime, Workin’ Progress and Tim Tom.