Still: Mother's Child - Naomi Noir

“REM Sleep is a personal film that explores the human condition—particularly within the context of the Middle East, where war, suffering, and death are part of everyday life,” director Husam Zakaraya tells SEE NL of his new short animation, selected for Annecy Graduation Competition.

Via a series of mainly monochrome, despair-laden, yet intensely lyrical images we are granted access to the singular thoughts, reflections and recollections of the filmmaker. The 2D film is part digital and part hand-drawn using acrylic paint and charcoal.

“It is partly inspired by the 2013 Tadamon massacre, in which regime-affiliated soldiers executed 41 civilians and threw their bodies into a pre-dug pit before setting them on fire,” says Zakaraya. “This atrocity only came to light in 2022, when I was already safely living in the Netherlands. That distance in time and space gave the event an even more profound emotional impact. It brought back fragmented memories and allowed me to understand things I had seen but couldn’t fully process at the time.”

Among the film’s stark images, we see a bee transform into an attack helicopter; a man, hands tied behind his back, awaiting his execution; a dung beetle struggling to move its dung ball; a baby desperately feeding from its mother’s breast; two desperate faces emitting a silent scream, and a birdcage to which the previously liberated occupant returns. All the visuals are accompanied by an array of associated sounds, and a rhythmical soundtrack of percussion and sonorous cello.

“I chose not to depict this tragedy in a literal way. Instead, I approached it through layered storytelling, rich symbolism, and a poetic, emotional cinematic language,” Zakaraya tells SEE NL, adding how, although rooted in a Syrian context, the questions the film raises resonate with current global crises, such as those in Ukraine or Gaza.

“If I could express what I wanted to say in words, I wouldn’t have needed to make the film. I believe the ambiguity and symbolism in the images, sound, and music allow each viewer to create their own emotional response - shaped by their background, culture, and intuition. I deeply value that diversity of interpretation.”

The opening caption of Leticia van Neerven’s animated short The Virtue of Voice explains how the film doesn’t seek to justify the desperate crimes that the film describes. Nevertheless, it does attempt to trace the origins of criminal tendency within the perpetrator, sometimes even back to the womb. And to allow for all voices to be heard, no matter how painful or comfortable the process may turn out to be.

The first crime involves Jolanda, who shook her crying baby to death, while the second concerns Ruben who is convicted of paedophilia. In both instances, significant psychological trauma and abuse in early life may have contributed to the individuals' later development into adults capable of carrying out such horrific acts.

“The Virtue of Voice explores a sensitive and often controversial topic—one that many find difficult to discuss openly,” director van Neerven agrees. “Conversations about convicted criminals are frequently driven by strong emotions and polarized opinions. In this film, I share two real-life stories of individuals who have been convicted of crimes, alongside an interview with a criminologist who offers a professional, objective perspective on the events. Through this balanced approach, my goal is to encourage thoughtful dialogue and highlight the importance of open discussion as a step toward understanding and reducing crime in our society.”

“Since completing the film, it has been screened at several festivals, and I plan to continue its distribution through additional festival platforms,” she adds.

“Its selection at the Annecy Animation Festival has been especially valuable in gaining visibility. I also intend to share the film with criminology professionals, aiming to use it as an educational resource. In doing so, I hope to reach a wider audience and ensure the film has a meaningful impact.”

In Naomi Noir’s short animation Mother's Child, that world premiered at Berlinale this year, Mary is the 24/7 carer of a grown-up son whose needs are as fundamental as it gets. She lives in a house that she doesn't have the time to clean, with a Rottweiler that eats from discarded, oversized, shit-filled adult nappies. And she must deal with an impenetrable, Kafkaesque social care system which refuses to listen to her entreaties, let alone offer any tangible support.

Mary loves her son very much but, as is graphically shown in Noir’s short animation, she is literally drowning in stress and angst, and at times of greatest need her eyelashes extend to cling onto her boy.

The project has a very personal undertow for the director, who grew up in the Dutch countryside with a brother who has severe mental and physical disabilities.

“I have always seen my mother struggle, ever since I was young, with loads of administration and the very insane and dreary phone calls she would always have, having to explain my brother's condition,” says Noir.

“I always felt my mother felt very misunderstood in our daily lives while taking care of my brother. And at some point, I felt I needed to show people this insight - but it's quite hard to explain something that is really only experienced within the privacy of the four walls of a home.”

The resulting Mother’s Child is a bold and uncompromising work, rendered in stark lines and blasts of vivid colour, and akin to the animated works of noted British animators Gerald Scarfe and Ralph Steadman.

“I like to make my stories surreal and fictional. For me that enables me to express core feelings, in this case Mary's feelings. And that's why I like to play with dream sequences when you can escape from reality but also get closer to how a character is actually feeling.”

Find out more about Annecy here.