Au 8ème Jour: A Threaded World Undone
by Aayushi A.
The first of the eight minutes of Au 8ème Jour (2023) is spent in an almost hypnotic journey into its threaded world. Backdropped by a stunningly haunting instrumental, we are led through a tunnel of cotton clouds interspersed with colorful strings that make up the fabric of life in the film. We are soon treated to vibrant snapshots of what life looks like in this world: a school of fish swimming past a cushiony reef under the sun’s rays, large birds flying between blue mountains covered with trees, a patchwork purple frog looking at its next meal. Common in all of these moments are the threads falling from each of the creatures—threads that come together like rainwater to a river and flow across the landscapes. An outlier in a world that looks so much like ours, these threads form the foundation of this animated short.
Agathe Sénéchal and Alicia Massez’s Au 8ème Jour finds root in the symbolism of threads as mediums of connection and life, using a truly unique animation style that stitches this story together. The way the animators breathed life into the eyes of the animals is remarkable—the baby elephant and the orangutan with child, in particular, come to mind. All the threads of life come together at what seems to be the spooled heart of the world. Though all these creatures and all this life inhabit the world so differently, they share the same origin. There is a kind of familiarity in their essence. The art calls to mind ragdolls and stuffed animals, symbols that hearken back to childhood and innocence. It reminds us of the simplicity of the story being told: We are all created the same.
Just as life is all the same, so is our ruin. The disruption of the balance of the world comes about very similarly to the way it was created—with a single thread. Though the reason for this disruption is never explicitly made clear in the film, the implications echo the dynamic of mankind and our environment. Haven’t we created, and ruined, a world for ourselves as well?
One can argue that the film is too simple, merely presenting a problem and leaving it at that. However, Au 8ème Jour is a story that shines in its lack of embellishment. It doesn’t claim to be something it’s not. Rather than carry much weight in the progression of the story, its strengths lie in the stunning visuals and musical score. Though not a single word is said during the eight minutes of the short, the film is anything but quiet. The sounds of life start simple and meditative, somehow still feeling larger than life. As the crux of the story approaches, the score becomes faster and louder by bringing in more instruments—a repeating piano melody and violin coming to a head match the tension of fate on the eighth day. And when the music drops down again! It’s almost predictable in its journey yet still so raw and emotional.
The last scene of the film is evocative of the first, a quiet setting with traces of the life that was there; however, this time the viewer moves backward as they leave the threaded world. As we come back to square one in a visit that is brief but no less impactful, it makes you wonder what you’ve come back to. Sure, this film isn’t a transformative criticism of the way we choose to treat this world and it isn’t a moving call to action—maybe it’s just a way to strip us down to the basics and remember what we are here for. Au 8ème Jour is a truly gorgeous vignette of the world we live in, a reminder that life is something to protect.