Okay, fellow travelers through the flickering landscapes of videotape, let's dim the lights and slide something truly unique into the VCR. Tonight, we're not hitting the blockbuster aisle. Instead, we're venturing into that fascinating, sometimes dimly lit corner of the video store where experimental animation lived – the kind of tapes you might have rented out of sheer curiosity, only to find yourself mesmerized, maybe even a little disturbed. We're talking about Piotr Dumała's 1982 short film, Mój Partner (My Partner). Forget slick cel animation; this is something altogether different, something visceral that feels scraped directly from the subconscious onto the screen.
### Etched in Plaster, Etched in Mind
The first thing that strikes you about My Partner isn't necessarily the narrative – which is intentionally ambiguous – but the texture. Dumała, a master of Polish animation who would later give us haunting adaptations like Crime and Punishment (2000), pioneered a laborious technique here involving engraving and painting on plaster blocks. Imagine scratching images into wet plaster, filming a frame or two, then altering the image slightly, scraping away, adding paint, filming again. The result is a constantly shifting, morphing visual field. Lines aren't clean; they tremble with organic life. Figures emerge from and dissolve back into the textured background, their forms fluid, unstable. It feels less like watching a film and more like witnessing a troubled dream solidify, moment by painstaking moment. This technique isn't just a visual gimmick; it's intrinsically linked to the film's themes.
### The Unsettling Dance of Identity
At its heart, My Partner explores the complex, often fraught, relationship between two male figures. Are they lovers? Competitors? Two halves of the same self? Dumała leaves it open, forcing us to confront the ambiguity. We see them embrace, merge, separate, wrestle, observe each other. Their interactions are intimate yet tinged with tension, sometimes violence. The plaster technique perfectly mirrors this psychological terrain. As the figures blend into one another, their identities literally blur on screen. When they pull apart, fragments of one seem to linger on the other, residue left behind. It’s a powerful visual metaphor for how relationships shape, define, and sometimes threaten our sense of self. There's a claustrophobia to their shared space, an intensity that feels deeply personal yet universally resonant. Doesn't this push-pull, this merging and conflicting, echo the complexities we find in our own closest bonds?
### Echoes from Behind the Iron Curtain
It's worth remembering the context: this is Polish animation from the early 1980s. While not overtly political, the film emerged from an artistic environment known for its sophisticated, often somber, and allegorical works – animation wasn't just for kids. Artists often used the medium to explore psychological and existential themes that might have been more difficult to tackle directly. Dumała's dedication to his unique, time-consuming method speaks volumes about the artistic integrity valued in that scene. Reportedly, creating just a few seconds of animation using this plaster technique could take an entire day's work. That dedication is palpable; every frame feels deliberate, weighted with effort and meaning. You won't find slick shortcuts here, just raw, tactile artistry. Did finding films like this on tape ever make you pause and appreciate the sheer labor involved, especially compared to the more polished mainstream fare?
### Beyond Narrative: An Atmospheric Immersion
My Partner isn't driven by plot in a conventional sense. It’s an atmospheric piece, an immersion into a state of being. The sound design, often minimal and unsettling, complements the visuals perfectly. The lack of dialogue forces us to read the emotions purely through the movement, the composition, the very texture of the animation. It’s a film that bypasses the analytical part of the brain and hits somewhere deeper, more primal. It asks questions rather than providing answers: What does it mean to be truly connected to another person? Where does one self end and the other begin? Can intimacy exist without conflict?
Its short runtime (around 8 minutes) belies its impact. It’s the kind of film that lingers, the shifting, scraped images replaying in your mind's eye long after the tape clicks off. It might not have been the tape you rented for a Friday night party, but perhaps it was the one you watched alone, late at night, feeling like you'd stumbled upon a secret language of cinema.
***
Rating: 8/10
Justification: While its experimental nature and lack of traditional narrative might make it inaccessible to some, My Partner is a masterclass in visual storytelling and technique. The unique plaster animation is stunningly realized and perfectly serves the film's ambiguous exploration of identity and relationships. Its power lies in its atmosphere and its ability to evoke complex emotions wordlessly. It's a challenging but deeply rewarding piece of animation history, earning an 8 for its artistic vision, technical innovation, and lasting psychological resonance.
Final Thought: My Partner reminds us that animation can be far more than entertainment; it can be a profound, unsettling, and deeply personal art form, capable of scratching away surfaces to reveal the complex textures of human connection. A true gem for those willing to look beyond the mainstream cartoon.