Best Picks of The Month

After a teenager confesses her love to her legal guardian, the tenderness they once shared quickly turns bitter.

Director’s Vision

What struck me most about Félixe’s lyrical prowess on “Ellipse” was the uncanny depth with which she deconstructs a toxic relationship (one of friendship, one of love; of both) where two people wrestle with the power dynamics of the dominant and the dominated.

Although the roles are firmly established in the opening scene, the line blurs as the song progresses. Felixe’s graceful exploration of this evolution warranted a symbolically-driven imagery and ideological montage.

The story of Emma confessing her love to Sandrine, her legal guardian, is ultimately rooted in a sad truth: that of LGBTQ+ teens seeking to flee their conservative small hometowns for the sake of finding inclusivity in “the big city”.

Sandrine: older, wiser and traditionally-minded, rejects Emma’s love even if her feelings are reciprocal. Instead, Sandrine opts to hide behind a facade, which Emma sees as the betrayal of their unspoken love and of one’s own integrity. The gesture sends Emma on a journey to reclaim her identity and find a community that she could proudly call home.

The non-linear storytelling is steered by the emotions Emma associates to her memories: some of beauty, some of pain, all out of order and guided by heart rather than logic.Through symbolic imagery (Emma digging a grave to bury a handheld mirror and the artist, Félixe, being buried alive with a plastic bag covering her face), Emma’s memories take on a new role: that of shepherding her quest of unburdening.

While the mirror visually represents Emma’s past, it’s the recurrence of one sound: the shovel hitting the dirt, that gives Emma the strength to push onwards and ultimately find her voice.

October 2020 Best Picks of The Month Selection