The creative journey of an indie animated feature can be a very trying and taken great length of time. Now and then, we screened our rough cut of My Little WORLD to group of friends. The responses that we get allow us a chance to assess how our film might come across to a viewer. We are most grateful to the many responses over time; they truly inspire us to stay on course.
Last month, we received an extensive response from our friend Kyoung Kim, an artist and a writer. We thought to share her writing with you.
Remembering My Little WORLD-
It has been several years since I had the privilege of seeing a rough cut of Mike Nguyen’s My Little World. At the time, knowing that I was an MFA writing student moonlighting as a wanna-be-animator at the back of his BFA1 Introduction to Animation class at CalArts, Mike asked if I would write a response with my immediate impressions of his film. Honored by the request, I gladly said yes. However, I have somewhat embarrassingly failed to do so until now.
It is not without trying that I have not kept my promise. Over the years, I have made numerous attempts to write about what I saw and experienced, but each time I drafted a response to the film, it didn’t seem right. What I wrote felt forced, written in a way, a form that met the requirements of a “review,” but the words I put down on the page seemed to grow rather than shrink the distance in expressing what I actually felt sitting watching My Little World. My writing, oafish and lacking precision and elegance, did not even closely merit the honest and sensitively-wrought labor of love that is Mike’s film. So I abandoned my drafts and whenever I ran into Mike afterwards, even though I was no longer a student of his, it was never without a sense of sheepish guilt.
This is neither an excuse nor a sorry explanation for why it has taken me so long to write about My Little World. It is just the truth. A truth that I believe touches on how rare and special Mike’s film is.
We live in a time and space that values efficiency, immediacy, the instantaneous above all else. These are the virtues of our present age; that which we are taught to desire, achieve, and exalt. The faster, the better–because it allows for more. More of everything. Because quantity is king. We are more-than-willingly bombarded with information and images from countless sources, because overload, sensory and otherwise, is the objective; its reception and regurgitation at work, at home, at parties, over meals, over drinks, over the telephone and text and the internet, come first and foremost. Glut and excess reign supreme and are equated with genius and success. Simplicity, editing, processing, patience do not make the top ten list of current popular values, if they make the list at all.
When I saw Mike’s film, it had already been seven or eight years in the making, and even today it continues to be a work in progress. Traditional hand-drawn animation in its very nature eschews our frenetic contemporary condition. At the same time, just because something takes hours/days/months/years/decades/a lifetime to complete, does not mean that one maintains the same level of passion and dedication throughout. By the end, or more often somewhere in the middle, laziness, apathy, and/or cynicism sets in, corners are cut, and compromises made, and it can be seen and felt by all who encounter the work. However, if any of these struggles have been part of Mike’s journey in making My Little World, one is none the wiser when watching it.
Mike’s film is infused with a sublimity that is unique to memory. It is timeless, not only because the characters, imagery, and story are classic or because it has been created over an extended period of time, but because in all aspects, it embodies the specific imaginations that only come with careful remembrance. I can no longer tell you the film’s exact plotline, the characters’ names, and I even forgot the film’s title (which I had to look up in order to write this), but I can still recall how when watching My Little World, I felt immersed not within the head, but the heart of one remembering.
Much like dreams, time serves as life’s filter. Even if we cannot or do not recognize it in our present, hindsight attunes us to what we truly hold dear. Time allows us to sieve out much of life’s inconsequential minutiae; through the slow and sometimes painful process of forgetting, we are left not so much with what is pragmatically important or necessary, but instead, with an awareness of what we most profoundly care about and love.
Even as a rough cut, what one encounters in My Little World is a total trust in time’s distillation of the past. But My Little World is not simply nostalgia. From execution to content, it reminds us that innocence is not the exclusive domain of childhood. If we nurture it, it can continue to exist and mature with us into beautiful wonderment. My Little World is a practicing, a meditation, and a celebration of the small, quieter things that with dedication, discipline, and faith in every day living, grow into the truly extraordinary. Even now, My Little World reminds me to breathe, look around, slow down, and enjoy life’s grace.
And so, perhaps it is not only appropriate that it has taken so long for me to find a way to write a response to Mike’s film, but as it should be.
I cannot tell you the last movie I saw or even what I ate for lunch on Monday, but even after four years, I can recall My Little World the way one does dreams right after awaking from a delicious nap. A young boy gazing at a photograph. Rain and a phalanx of twirling umbrellas. Girls and boys not playing, but dancing, arabesquing, flying soccer through a mixture of pencil, ink, and paints of muted but still vibrant, softly glowing color. Children riding buffaloes. A small energetic dog. A girl befriending the boy. Friendly but determined competition, sweeping fast breaks breathing life. Melancholy. Longing. Love. Giant rabbits. Cloud-like rabbits, enveloping a house, somewhere between dream and consciousness. Summer. Children in boats drifting down a river to a soccer tournament. Buffaloes and rabbits. An aunt. A girl befriends the boy. The boy and the rabbits running, in a confrontation of sorts. There is a look of surprise, of understanding. And then I see the outside of the boy’s house. The air is starting to cool and the night is clear, full of stars, the rabbits departed. A sigh.
- Kyoung Kim, 4 January 2012













