It's a great truth of art that how something is said is often just as important as what a piece intends to convey. The medium may be as essential to a sculpture as its form; brushstrokes can say as much as the image they constitute. This is true in narrative storytelling as well, where every writer has great opportunity to mold words like clay, and in cinema, where visuals can enhance that same creativity. This is the space that 'January hymn' plays in, and it excels.
Filmmaker Katherine Canty wrote and directed this short, and has stated very simply that it is an expression of grief. That's all the more that needs to be said, for it's up to the viewer to decide what they really get out of it. For that fact, I would encourage anyone reading a review to find it to watch for themselves before proceeding.
Canty also edited 'January hymn' herself, and it's in that process especially that the film is most expressive. While there are several scenes depicted here, much of the short's length is broken up such that it may jump from one scene to the next, and back again, almost one shot at a time; there's only one scene that lingers for more than 1 minute. It's very jarring upon first watch, to be sure, and yet that's kind of the point: Who among us hasn't been burdened by such ponderous thoughts, grief or otherwise, that our perception of the world around us has seemed fractured?
That deliberate construction is echoed in all other aspects of the film. Scenes shot in natural light are noticeably filmed under muted grey skies, or when the sun is only on the horizon. Other scenes are filmed in considerable darkness, with dim lighting that showcases only the actors, or the table they sit at, and enshrouds all else in shadow. There is no music; sound is minimized, with only a couple instances of sudden noise that jar the protagonist out of their thoughts, and us viewers out of our complacency. Dialogue, too, is sparse, and interspersed with long stretches of weighty silence.
If such heavily artful and artfully heavy consideration of grief seems unwieldy, the final three shots tie the film together very succinctly and with unexpectedly plain emotion. Even this ending is difficult to parse upon first viewing, but with even one subsequent pass, we get so much more out of it.
This is a great example of a short film with minimal narrative, and that conveys far more with how it is put together. I wasn't sure what to expect before I started watching, but now I only want to watch it again. 'January hymn' was a very pleasant surprise, and on its strength alone I look forward to hopefully seeing more features from Katherine Canty.
Filmmaker Katherine Canty wrote and directed this short, and has stated very simply that it is an expression of grief. That's all the more that needs to be said, for it's up to the viewer to decide what they really get out of it. For that fact, I would encourage anyone reading a review to find it to watch for themselves before proceeding.
Canty also edited 'January hymn' herself, and it's in that process especially that the film is most expressive. While there are several scenes depicted here, much of the short's length is broken up such that it may jump from one scene to the next, and back again, almost one shot at a time; there's only one scene that lingers for more than 1 minute. It's very jarring upon first watch, to be sure, and yet that's kind of the point: Who among us hasn't been burdened by such ponderous thoughts, grief or otherwise, that our perception of the world around us has seemed fractured?
That deliberate construction is echoed in all other aspects of the film. Scenes shot in natural light are noticeably filmed under muted grey skies, or when the sun is only on the horizon. Other scenes are filmed in considerable darkness, with dim lighting that showcases only the actors, or the table they sit at, and enshrouds all else in shadow. There is no music; sound is minimized, with only a couple instances of sudden noise that jar the protagonist out of their thoughts, and us viewers out of our complacency. Dialogue, too, is sparse, and interspersed with long stretches of weighty silence.
If such heavily artful and artfully heavy consideration of grief seems unwieldy, the final three shots tie the film together very succinctly and with unexpectedly plain emotion. Even this ending is difficult to parse upon first viewing, but with even one subsequent pass, we get so much more out of it.
This is a great example of a short film with minimal narrative, and that conveys far more with how it is put together. I wasn't sure what to expect before I started watching, but now I only want to watch it again. 'January hymn' was a very pleasant surprise, and on its strength alone I look forward to hopefully seeing more features from Katherine Canty.
