The Waif of Persephone sounds bleak, but it is an absolute blast. Inspired by Fleischer Studios and Van Beuren Studios cartoons, the results look like Kricfalusi and Bill Wray partied with Aesop. © Nick Cross.

The Waif of Persephone
The final film in this installment of "FFF" also deals with human nature, and the probability that man will mess up just about anything, if given the opportunity. This notion is hardly a recent invention, as proven by The Waif of Persephone, which borrows its plot from Greek mythology.

Director Nick Cross created this cartoon as a narrative experiment, attempting to tell a story without dialogue, and to bring a story thousands of years old into the modern era through the language of cartoons. The animation is traditional 2D, drawn on paper and then finalized in Flash.

From the outset, Cross lets his audience know that this story is not for the faint of heart, as the ominous title credits appear onscreen accompanied by a suitably bombastic opening score. After that portentous introduction, a group of jolly forest elves create new life by planting a seed in the ground. The pixiesque yet sexy Persephone is born, and she celebrates her newfound life by magically causing plants to grow wherever she travels. Every creature in the forest, great and small, loves her.

Persephone's actions draw attention from the underworld, unfortunately, and she soon finds herself trapped by the devil himself. The elves vow to rescue her, but must make certain compromises to do so. And the consequences of those compromises affect the entire planet for all of time, forever.

Yes, it sounds like a bleak myth, and that description isn't likely to make you rush out to see this, but this film is an absolute blast. Cross draws inspiration from 1930s Fleischer Studios and Van Beuren Studios cartoons, and the result looks like John Kricfalusi and Bill Wray partied with Aesop and jammed on a 12-minute short. The character designs are terrific, the animation is snappy, and the plot twists range from the deliberately melodramatic to the even-more-deliberately absurd. It's highfalutin and low-brow at the same time, and I find myself hoping that Cross returns to the 1930s by way of Ancient Greece (or vice versa) in the near future.

Andrew Farago is the gallery manager and curator of San Francisco's Cartoon Art Museum and the creator of the weekly online comic serial The Chronicles of William Bazillion.