15/07/2025 - Within the selection of Polish animated shorts, a poetic approach shone through common themes of loss, isolation and fragility

From an abstract meditation on ecological collapse (No Way Forward, No Way Back by Maciej Stepniewski), through a mythic tale of birth and lineage rooted in Polish folklore (The Grand Mother by Julia Hazuka), to a psychedelic satire of fitness culture (Rice and Chicken by Kamil Wojcik and Cat Kaczmarek), the O!PLA Focus on Poland vol. 12 programme at Fest Anča in Žilina once again delivered a rich variety of Polish animated shorts.

O!PLA is an annually selected vibrant collection of contemporary Polish animation, highlighting a broad spectrum of techniques, artistic styles and emotional storytelling. This year, showcasing the standout entries from the 12th edition of the O!PLA Animation Festival, the programme featured twelve shorts. Among them, some stood out thematically with a strong sense of loss, isolation and fragile connections that were carried through artistic, symbolic and introspective visual language. United by a poetic approach, they transform personal pain into universal reflection.

For instance, Paweł Prewencki’s LACK (2023) portrays an intensely personal journey through profound suffering. This mixed-media animation, combining 2D, 3D and charcoal drawing, follows parents ravaged by the loss of a child. Initially, the husband's emotionally numbed routine may seem disorienting, but as the story unfolds in three acts – “lack”, “lacking” and “I’m lacking you” – it all becomes painfully clear. Weaving between present and past, the story captures solitude, grief and rage. High-contrast monochrome cityscapes are used to externalise the characters’ internal turmoil, while a quickly fading image of a fragile, shimmering light in a crib confronts the audience with the void of a world where all known ways of coping collapse.

Wait For Me in the Dream (2023) by Natalia Durszewicz approaches the depths of pain with a softer, more impressionistic brushwork, highlighting the emotional erosion of an elderly couple. In this poetic, 2D animation, Bronka and Zygfryd become increasingly isolated from the world. As Bronka’s illness progresses, living on the top floor of a concrete block of flats and having only each other, with their children rarely visiting, their shared reality begins to fragment.

At first, the way the place is presented may conjure memories for some – the smell of an old gas stove in a claustrophobic kitchen, the view of lines of identical buildings visible from the windows framed by handmade lace curtains, drawers filled with old chocolates awaiting guests, the sound of worn-down slippers shuffling through the room. But as the story progresses, the cosiness of familiarity, colours and forms gradually fragment, too, along with illness-induced disorientation. That final journey is marked by regret, sorrow and even repulsion. Yet Bronka and Zygfryd cling to the enduring love they once shared.

Both of these short films place their characters in emotional solitude filled with grief – be it the one haunting daily life or the one looming. Relationships tested to breaking point under psychological strain are portrayed with skill and depth, delving into the fragility of human connection, with visual styles amplifying the resonating emotions. But one cannot help but wonder amidst the pain – will it ever get better?

And then there are the motionless, submerged figures resting on the sea floor in Julia Szkup’s Dayfall (2022): isolated, yet connected through their shared waiting. This minimalist, painted animation set in an eerie, dreamlike world is filled with anticipation – maybe for a transformation that might free them or by “simply” hoping for the sunlight.

With existential suspense, conveying subtle movement and atmosphere, and by focusing on texture and slow transformational visuals, this meditative piece explores fear, inertia and fragile hope. As such, Szkup’s still figures embody the protagonists from other films mentioned here – they all wait for a change or release. In this lingering, all these Polish animations find their quiet, universal truth.