A shaky camera peers into the keyhole of a door. The rolling point of view touches upon a desk of papers and pauses at scrapbook. A series of photos flip past and settles upon Mandy Moore staring at the floor against a black background. The photos flip to Moore, wearing a maroon dress against the black background.
Moore, in a tank top and pants, walks next to a bus at the station. Across from her, another bus runs. The camera curves as she looks over her shoulder. In the city, the bus enters the road.
Slabs of hand drawn flower bushes and homes roll upwards as she continues to walk. She touches her heart and the neighborhood becomes real. In the evening, a crimson light covers her face for a moment on the roof. As she gazes over her shoulder, a star steaks across the sky.
The photos flip again. She folds her hands, cornered by office buildings on each side of her. Lasers flash by her as she stands in the hand drawn city again. A makeup-free Moore smiles to herself as a hand drawn building rotates behind her.
Photos flip from a scrapbook out of focus, scattering onto the family room floor, blurring the animation of Mandy Moore’s movements. There’s a brief glimpse of maroon on her dress. However, the photos are likely from the trashed pile, given she is scowling and standoffish in nearly every one.
With the zoom on at least 95% on her head, it obscures the details, pushing the houses and buses inward. Walking down the suburban street, she is an unearthly giant, hellbent on taking over. As though on a conveyor belt, a hand drawn set rolls upwards and then quickly turns to darkness. Other than a peace sign, which can be seen for a split second in a separate scene, a whole department’s months of work, which likely involved corrections and approvals, goes by unnoticed.
Director: Christopher Mills Year: 2003
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