Soul Töd - Animation Outline
Music - 1917 Italian mandolin recording, 78rpm played at 45rpm
Italic text represents translation from the narrator/characters.
Man in dark green room, window blinds drawn, TV on, door closed.
Mia animo mortis. My soul is dead.
Ii batas al la muro. It sticks to the wall.
Mia animo pikas. My soul stinks.
Miaj internaj demonoj malaperis. My inner demon is gone.
Television is running poorly received broadcast.
The mail slot has a note appear, it retracts.
He opens the door.
A screaming mouth is there. Spit sprays. Teeth threaten. The note is on the tongue.
No response. Man takes the note. Closes the door.
It is dripping and illegible.
He opens the door again. The screaming continues, uninterrupted. He puts the note back on the tongue and closes the door.
He is drenched in spit. He goes to the bathroom. A giant eye is peering into the window.
He looks in the broken mirror.
Rasulo prizorgos ĉi tiun salaton. A shave will take care of this mess.
He leaves through the back of his house. Demons encircle all houses on his street, screaming into the front door as they embrace the building.
He goes to a barber shop. The pole is slowly spinning, the white stripe unraveling onto the ground, the red area oozing out.
One man is there ahead of him in the chair. He has a marble eye.
Mia okulo ofendas min. My eye offends me.
The barber approaches him from behind, and in a shot to mimic Un Chien d’Anadalou, looks out the window at a cloud bisecting the sun, then draws his razor over the marble eye of the customer. The blade cracks and splits.
The customer stands.
Via klingo estas tiel obtuza kiel via spriteco Your blade is as dull as your wit.
He plucks out his marble eye and slams it into the forehead of the barber. It sets off a blaze of psychedelic colors behind him.
Mia bardisto havis religian sperton. Li komencis preĝejon. My barber had a religious experience. He started a church.
The skies are bright and cheerful, the church is surrounded by marble eyes and broken razors. The barber, now aglow with his marble eye in the center of his forehead, preaches a sermon.
Mia okulo lasas aeron al mia cerbo por ke miaj oreloj kantu. My eye lets air to my brain so my ears can sing.
Kristaloj dissiris miajn pensojn kaj la koloroj estas bongustaj. Crystals shred my thoughts and the colors are delicious.
Morta animo ne povas kanti, barba vizago kasas niajn cikatrojn. A dead soul cannot sing, a bearded face hides our inner scars.
Kuketoj felicigas min. Cookies make me happy.
Ciu laudo al kuketoj. All praise to cookies.
Liaj vortoj estis potencaj. Unu post unu, la demonoj komencis foriri. His words were powerful. One by one, the demons started to leave.
We see the reverse of the earlier shots, with the embracing demons slowly pfft’ing into dust as he walks home.
The man gets another note in the mail slot. He opens the door. It is a sunny day, no screaming demon mouth. He reads the note. It is junk mail.
Mi nun ne devas fari mian lavilon. I don’t have to do my laundry as often now.
Mi pensas, ke mi kreskos barbon. I think I’ll grow a beard.
Mankas al mi demonoj. I miss my demons.
Fade to black.
Voice in the dark:
Surbaze de la rakonto, "La Bloto", de Francesca Kafka
Grava financado de Koseraj Eksteruloj de Beogrado
Perceptita de Jim Middleton