Director: Gints Zilbalodis
Writer: Gints Zilbalodis
Synopsis: A boy and a little bird are on a journey across a strange island trying to get back home.
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There’s an old African proverb that it takes a village to raise a child. The same could be said for movies. Anyone who has sat through the end credits of any movie will be able to attest to the sheer number of souls that had to come together to make what you see on screen. With that in mind, it is awe-inspiring that Away can be attributed almost entirely to one person: Gints Zilbalodis. From the story, to the animation, to the score itself, Zilbalodis is responsible for it all. Away is a labor of love which took him some three and a half years to make. That in itself is hugely impressive, but even more so when you realize Away manages to accomplish – with just one person – what many animations don’t with a whole army: a deeply layered, engrossing tale stuffed with pathos and warmth. It would be an impressive effort even without the knowledge that it did not take a village to raise this particular child.
Away sees an unnamed young man land on a strange, exotic island populated by all manner of birds, cats, and even turtles. It’s also home to a giant shadow creature who consumes all life before it. This leads to a chase of sorts, as the young man finds a motorcycle – and a bird for a companion – and sets off on a journey across the island with the shadow creature in tow. It is entirely dialogue-free, harking back to an older cinematic experience and even eerily reminiscent of video games along the lines of Journey or Shadow of the Colossus. The animation itself is a little too simplistic and doesn’t bear up too well under scrutiny but it feels of a piece with the minimalistic style Zilbalodis creates throughout. Even without the attention to detail the world feels vast and inviting, existing in a sort of fever dream which expands as the story goes on. It’s perhaps not surprising to note that Zilbalodis made most of the story up as he went along, for Away often feels like a freeform experiment without any real narrative structure to guide it along.
Perhaps its greatest quality is its ability to wring emotion from even the smallest moments. Our hero’s avian companion finds itself in danger often, and one particular moment where it falls from a cliff (too young to yet be able to fly) has your heart in your throat. It is surprisingly well done, with each small moment managing to forge a greater story of the cyclic nature of life – for who is that giant shadow creature if not a manifestation of death itself -, as well as the need for connection on the journey. That it manages all of this without so much as a word spoken, and backed up by Zalbalodis’ synth-heavy score, makes it all the more special.
Truly, it won’t be for everyone. Its determination to embrace minimalism will alienate younger viewers who have come to take for granted the sugar-pop style of Pixar and the heady rush of brilliant and detailed color they offer; so, too, will its glacial pacing challenge kids who expect to hear a pop classic in the background or a bombastic character as comic relief. But then, Away isn’t really for that kind of audience. It is unabashedly determined to stick to its principles, balancing light moments with often close-to-harrowing ones and allows for its most memorable moments to come through slowly, such as our protagonist’s relationship with his avian friend, which feels as real and unquestionable as anything with dialogue.
Away rewards full attention and commitment. It doesn’t demand either, and will not work to captivate an audience in the same way as animation powerhouses like Disney. But if you give in to its sleek, minimalist design and its simply told story, you’ll find much to love here. It is a triumph of love for the art-form and reminds us of the very human need for connection as a means of survival.
