Voices (1985)

Voices is a short film by Portland-based indie animator Joanna Priestley, which takes the form of an animated monologue, delivered by Priestley herself, on the subject of fear, anxiety and whether our thoughts and emotions are a reflection of the world we live in, or vice versa.  Priestley opens the film by inferring that she intends to do more than simply entertain the viewer with bright colours and cute cartoon characters, or to confound them with abstract symbolism that deliberately obscures what she is looking to say, but rather to address the viewer directly in as clear, intimate and as open a means as possible, a point illustrated by having her rotoscoped self-portrait dissolve temporarily into the underlying live action footage.  This is very much Priestley speaking straight from the heart.

The rotoscoped talking head technique was later revisited in Priestley's contribution to the compilation film Candyjam (1988), which she produced and directed with Joan Gratz, where it was used to entirely playful effect in humorously depicting the compulsions of a candy addict in denial ("Hey, good-looking bon bons!").  In Voices, we see Priestley utilising the freedom and flexibility of animation to make a point about the limitations (or lack of) of the human mind.  Priestley argues that our perception of ourselves and our environment is determined by what is already embedded in our minds, and illustrates this by having her animated counterpart morph continuously from one form to another as she discusses the anxieties all-too familiar to her own patterns of thinking (the use of rotoscoped animation to create a visual aesthetic that exists somewhere between reality and imagination is not too dissimilar to what would later be accomplished in Richard Linklater's feature film Waking Life).  For the most part, the short is lighthearted in tone, with the vibrant imagery reflecting the absurdities of Priestley's more irrational fears - the talking mirror which tauntingly vocalises her fear of aging while trying to escape from her grasp (Priestley's more creative and unconventional means of incorporating those cute cartoon characters she referenced earlier), the monstrous serpent who produces a barrage of incongruously mundane noises in demonstration of how a phobia of darkness can cause even the most benign of sounds to appear threatening.  Occasionally, the imagery takes on a more startling vibe, if only fleetingly - notably, its representation of a world defined by war, pain and famine as propagated by the media.

Voices' most curious arrives in the form of a non-verbal interlude following on from Priestley's musings about her self-image - we see Priestley (literally) go to pieces and reassemble as a Pablo Picasso-style portrait, before morphing into a jointed paper doll which dances against an abstract backdrop.  This is about the closest Priestly comes to that confounding symbolism she hinted earlier that he was seeking to avoid; significantly, this is the only portion of the short in which the titular "voices" are no longer the main driving force behind the action and the central figure is free to indulge in independent movement and expression.  It offers, one assumes, a fleeting glimpse of a soul unfettered by irrational worries, having rejected the aforementioned slew of meaningless concerns and embraced life in its flawed and chaotic glory.  Above all, Priestley seems keen to remind us that we should only take ourselves so seriously - a point summed up by having her animated portrait break out into spontaneous laughter as a teasing epilogue to her words.