13/12/2024 - The animated short film by Tan-Lui Chan tackles a "we live in a society" zeitgeist, inspired by coping mechanisms manifested during the Hong Kong protests and global pandemic of the last years

We live in a time where stuffing your face with processed food and streaming the process online is normalised. Mukbang, a genre that emerged in 2010s South Korea, is a phenomenon whereby a person consumes food while interacting with the audience via internet broadcast. We also live in a time where streaming BDSM-infused content of oneself has become an encouraged kink. It’s a form of self-expression that is equally popular amongst practitioners and voyeurs. All this is merely the starting point of Tan-Lui Chan’s latest socio-critical animated short Keep Out (2024), which played at Animateka in Ljubljana – except the "safe word" is long forgotten, the only way of showing appreciation is through heart emoji reactions, and sending one another fast food is considered a token of love.

Chan's eight-minute film focuses on individuals living in tiny, hermetically sealed rooms, away from the hazards of the outside world. Their only view of the external environment is through a small, round window beyond which steaming lava flows, indicating that everything outside of the room is dangerous and should be avoided. Human connection is limited to a shared network of live video streams, featuring anything from a masked man intimately engaging with a chicken-shaped doll to a panda eating hotdogs. Preferences can be expressed by hitting the like or dislike button.

In contrast to everyone else in the claustrophobic miniverse of screens, one chubby boy only streams footage of his three goldfish – a hidden allegory of a controlled class within social stratification. Despite receiving little attention compared to the perverse scenes of individuals in identical spaces, the boy persists with the monotonous fish scene. Everything changes after what seems like an innocent incident: the boy notices a mosquito in his room, but how did it get in?

The film's main strength is the intriguing story itself; the mellow 2D animation, while in some ways appropriate, fails to tap into the vibrant potential of the material. Ethereal soundscapes by Brian Ting (the film's co-writer) heighten the focus on the hikikomori-esque interiors inhabited by the characters. They resemble hamsters on a wheel, frantically trying to satisfy their need for physical intimacy with a diet of burgers and virtual-world validation.

According to Chan, Keep Out was inspired by a combination of events: the Hong Kong protests of 2019-2020 and the 2020-2021 global pandemic. While studying in the Czech Republic, Chan reinterpreted these events, observing how people escaped to pornographic videos, mukbangs and everything in between to distract themselves from reality. This led the Hong Kong-born animator to explore the trend of proliferating meaningless content and the excessive consumption of processed food.

What Keep Out most carefully examines is the nature of tyrannical societies. A group of people behind the camera, controlled by the streamers, must navigate a delicate balance: one wrong move results in a negative reaction, while a positive one often leads to a reward – usually in the form of junk food. All of this is surveilled by a mysterious male figure, the embodiment of evil, making decisions and dictating the loop.

An interesting nuance in the film is the recurring theme of filters, which point to the deceptive nature of the streamed videos. What appears voluptuous and luscious on the screen is something entirely different behind the camera. The false allure reflects the absurdity of a society that willingly consumes distorted realities.

Keep Out is encapsulated by its title. Chan's themes offer a clear example of a world where information is monitored and the way out is often impossible. Although largely exaggerated in the film, social media can still be a leading force in our daily lives, online platforms and governments – restricting and shaping much of the information we consume. In a society obsessed with approval and quick fixes, Chan’s film leaves the viewers with a poignant message: are we feeding ourselves? Or the system?