Pocket Princess

Stop-motion animation is quite the rare format, particularly within the independent short film scene. The reason being that it not only takes an extended period of time to get right, but it’s a craft which requires such a specialist skill-set, and an outstanding level of patience from its creators. This in and of itself is reason enough to celebrate the completion of Olivia Loccisano’s Pocket Princess. But what’s even more impressive is the fact that it’s a deeply engaging, upsetting and oddly cinematic piece which feels fully finished. This tragic and haunting fable depicts a young girl whose mother dies, so she’s left in the care of her domineering, abusive uncle. In trying to escape her tortured life, the narrative takes some intriguing turns into the dark and fantastical. Its tagline, which reads “A film for children. Perhaps,” is certainly emblematic of the movie’s unique tone - horror from a child’s perspective.

There’s something fascinating about this choice of format in conjunction with the story. When you consider how, were this a live action work, it would feel unwatchably bleak; but then again, the specific style of claymation implemented is so icky, unnerving and hand-made, that it simultaneously distances us from the heavy content, while utilising the form to disrupt the audience’s psyche. When our characters are fully artificial, and the film chooses to draw attention to it visually, we find our stomachs turning at their expressions and mechanics. Namely, the disconcerting, blinking eyes of the figures captures human emotion and behaviour; however, the characteristics of its texture and movement is inherently jarring, its artifice immediately getting under the viewer’s skin.

Conceivably, one issue an audience may have with the picture is with its darkest content. It’s not for everybody, but then again, nothing should be. Depictions, certainly of things like child abuse, can prove very tricky. One can imagine how a viewer may repulse at its being represented through stop-motion, and could easily label it as glib or tasteless. This cognitive dissonance of such a playful, quirky aesthetic conflicting with the visceral material definitely throws you off at first. But I would argue that when you consider the story in isolation, what it offers is an allegorical nightmare with a layer of childlike imagination. Morbid, of course, but genuine. Additionally, the aesthetic proves successful because it’s never ironic, and treats the subject-matter with the appropriate level of validity. Yet one can understand if someone thought otherwise.

Great stop-motion work is such a special thing. As technology improves and becomes all the more prominent in art, it’s always refreshing when filmmakers opt for more classical, hands-on modes of storytelling. This should be considered a huge achievement for animators Sima Naseem, River Park, Lily Zhang and the rest of the team. And to any stop-motion enthusiasts, Pocket Princess is not one to miss. It’s a film which has been constructed from the ground up with incredible care, and this you can sense in every frame. An undeniably unique vision, backed up with a massively ambitious visual sensibility, this is everything an animated short film should be.