Strange Fruit, by Shimi Asresay and Hili Noy
Hello friends, it’s Friday, and it’s time for more patterns of 1’s and 0’s of particular note. This week, EVERYTHING IS MOVING!
I realized how many videos I generally go over for this thing, and how often I skip over them simply because I’ve already found a video to use for the week’s post. Well, no longer. This week, we’re looking at a small few of some of the best videos from independent artists and filmmakers.
And we’re doing it RIGHT. NOW.
LEFT
Growing up was weird. Much like the protagonist of LEFT, I generally tried to stay out of trouble in my adolescence. I often fell right into the thick of it, though, and that was usually thanks to having a friend like Neil. I suspect we’ve all known a Neil in our lives – headstrong, careless, and a magnet for trouble. And yet, Neil is your friend. You can’t tell him to buzz off, because, well he’s your friend. It’s concrete.
LEFT is, in my mind, an earnest look at the divergent paths friends taking growing up, and the consequences of poor choices. And it’s all told in a lovely and simplistic art style, and amazing Irish accents.
I mean, really amazing.
Strange Fruit
The short, unspoken story of Strange Fruit places us in a dark metaphor. A father and son spend their time on a peaceful-looking hill next to a tree. That’s until the son meets an unfamiliar-looking boy. A different-looking boy.
That difference is at the heart of Strange Fruit. The whole thing is an allegory for fear and racism, and the destruction they wrought. Make no mistake, this isn’t a happy story about the overcoming of one’s prejudice; it’s a stern, bitter tale about mankind’s own inhumanity.
Valley of the Dolls
Deep in the eastern woods of Shikoku, Japan, there’s a small, near-abandoned village named Nagoro.
And it’s populated almost entirely by dolls.
Valley of the Dolls is a documentary about the village, the dolls, and the dollmaker, a 64-year old woman named Ayano Tsukimi. Nagoro has been steadily abandoned by Tsukimi’s neighbours for years. And every time someone leaves Nagoro or dies, she creates a new puppet to replace them, and poses it somewhere in the village.
It’s an interesting story. It’s a sad story. And it’s a way-creepy village.