Carla's Island (1981)

Last time, when I looked at Robert Abel and Associates' groundbreaking 1985 commercial on the virtues of canned ingredients, I made the obligatory comment on how computer animation has advanced massively since the days of its early pioneers, so naturally what was fresh and cutting-edge back then might look creaky and archaic now.  Here, I'd like to skip such any comments and focus entirely on the utter, undiluted charms of Carla's Island, a short film created by computer scientist Nelson Max while working at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in 1981.  I am absolutely in love with this film; a project which, Max recounts, was borne partly out of his jealousy on viewing Loren Carpenter's 1980 film Vol Libre, as well as a fascination with water waves and a passion to recreate some of their essence in computer animation (without Max's tireless efforts to pin down just the right mathematical equations, there'd certainly be no Moana, Finding Dory or Lava).

Carla's Island was designed to showcase how computer generated imagery could be used to simulate the movements of ocean waves and various atmospheric changes.  As such, it has no real plot to speak of, consisting merely of a series of transitions from one atmospheric state to the next.  Over the course of a few minutes, we see extracts from the day in the life of two Pacific islands, the serenity of the opening scene gradually giving way to looming storm clouds and choppier wave movements, before the sun finally sets and leaves the islands shrouded in the gentle glow of a crescent moon.  Then, in a playful post-credits epilogue, we see a solitary shark fin piercing the waters in the light of a brand new day (giving the film something of a punchline, although it also builds on the sense that these digitally-rendered islands are a thriving ecosystem in themselves).  The beauty lies in its gentle simplicity, in its careful attention to detail (check out the various ways in which light interacts with those waves throughout) and in its warm appreciation for the elegance and marvel of everyday cycles.  Overall, what makes Carla's Island such a treasure is that it feels every inch a labour of love - love not merely for the technology involved and for making advancements where that was concerned, but love for bringing these two simple islands to life and giving them such a distinct sense of mood and character.  These are qualities which still endure, and keep the film engaging in an age where seeing CGI accomplish the basics doesn't offer quite as much novelty in itself.

Also adding immeasurably to the character of the film is Carla Winter's wonderfully kitschy soundtrack.  She provides a bit of context to her contribution (as well as the real-life inspiration for the film's setting) here: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/carlas-island-dream-come-true-carla-winter