I don’t think I’ve ever seen a film quite like Harry Plowden’s animated short All Gucci My Broski. If I were to point to another artist for reference of Plowden’s sensibility Ralph Bakshi, or maybe Charlie Kaufman would come to mind, purely on a level of neuroses, but even they don’t feel quite right. I think that’s because there’s an ugly Englishness to Plowden’s tone, with the story he’s weaving feeling like it’s been plucked from the streets around him. Something similar can said of the design of his animation too, which has a tactile roughness to it that rejects smooth edges and perfect forms in favour of blurry, faceless characters placed in hazy environments. As a short, it really feels special and has firmly made Plowden one to watch within the future of British animation. With the short arriving online this week, DN spoke with Plowden about creating his uncomfortable tone, mining his embarrassment for material, and his preference for tactility over perfection.
Having spent a lot of time in the last few years sinking my teeth into animation, as a worldwide art form, I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like All Gucci My Broski. Where did the making of this film begin for you?
The idea for All Gucci My Broski initially came from wanting to embarrass myself as much as possible. I had previously made a small, personal film about men and nightclubs called i hope this film isn’t about me, and remember being very nervous when going to screenings of it. After that, I made a Hollywood thriller parody called Violence, and remember not being nervous when going to screenings, not because of confidence, but because the film wasn’t really about ‘me’. I wanted to marry these films together, making something that was full of fun twists and turns, but also personally excruciating to watch in a room full of people. I thought the perfect way to set the tone for this was for the opening to be me getting my willy out. Although in the end this isn’t exactly what happens on screen, that opening line in the script set me off on the path of All Gucci.
I thought it could be interesting to show the inner thoughts of a ‘normal’ male character, and question the line between comedic relatability and dark misogyny.
It’s a dark, difficult-to-watch yet, ultimately, comedic short.
The writing mainly centred around a statistic I saw about the very high percentage of rape in the UK that was committed by someone the victim already knew, whether that be a friend, partner, or ex, whereas films about male violence are usually about serial killers and strangers in dark alleys. I thought it could be interesting to show the inner thoughts of a ‘normal’ male character and question the line between comedic relatability and dark misogyny.
What draws you to making work that is uncomfortable or as you said “excruciating to watch in a room full of people”?
I think that feeling of embarrassment at something you’ve made is a crucial feeling, as it means you’re exposing something personal about yourself to the world, which for me is what art is all about and how art brings people together.
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Do you have any stylistic or general artistic influences that you find yourself drawing from?
Michael Haneke is a big influence on my filmmaking, and I thought this story could really come to life through his way of just watching morally ambiguous people simply exist. This influence is what formed the overall structure of the writing, as well as the recurring use of long, wide takes in the animation. I then went about collecting as many thoughts and moments from personal experience, friends, and the news, to get a bunch of bits I could string together in the film.
Riffing in the moment really helped getting myself even more embarrassed, as randomly speaking is much more freeing than typing down words.
It’s your voice in the film, does that process of hearing yourself lead to any changes in how the short plays out?
After writing a first draft, I always instantly pick up a microphone. My rewriting exists in me recording all the voices for the script myself, tweaking bits when hearing it aloud, and then gradually building up the sound design and rhythm of the whole film. It’s so useful to hear the script back with the sound effects to get a sense of which bits work and which bits don’t before getting stuck into animating.
For this film especially, riffing in the moment really helped getting myself even more embarrassed, as randomly speaking is much more freeing than typing down words. Then, as I was building up the animation, I went round to lots of friends’ houses with a microphone to replace my temporary recordings. I used a bedsheet hanging over a couple of light stands to try and make a similar enough recording environment in each room. Again, we would riff off the script to keep a chatty naturalness.
The originality I mentioned in my first question also has to do with the visual style, in what ways were you seeking to create a style that conceptually connected to your story?
The animation style came from wanting to emphasise the life-like messiness of the script and themes. Having the inner thoughts also painted into the frame was initially a practical idea, to clearly show when the inner voice was happening due to the characters not having faces, but I fell in love with doing it due to it just adding so much more mess and clutter on screen. I always keep a handmade feel when animating as although I love the infinite possibilities of animation, I never want the audience to feel like what they’re watching isn’t a part of the real world we live in. This is particularly essential for this story, so the paper texture, scruffy edges and little mistakes are all a constant visual reminder of this. Using live action at the start and end further emphasises this idea, while also reflecting how I want this animation to feel like a hidden world of inner thoughts that aren’t usually said out loud.
I never want the audience to feel like what they’re watching isn’t a part of the real world we live in.
What tools or software did you use to animate everything?
Having said all this about handmade animation, the film was actually ‘painted’ in Photoshop, and I then have an appropriately messy workflow which involves exporting the layers into Final Cut, which is where the previously mentioned audio edit is. The full process of animating and editing took roughly five months while working at the same time.
I read that animation was an art form you found properly during lockdown, had you dabbled with it prior to then? And how long did it take you to get to grips with it?
Yep, I’d wanted to make a film with the spare time lockdown gave me, and making an animation felt like the best way to do that. I’d dabbled with rotoscope prior to lockdown but had never tried traditional 2D animation. I watched some YouTube tutorials, but then most importantly made sure to write a short film where the animation being a bit ropey was an intrinsic part of the story, so no one would notice my newbie-ness.
I learnt a lot making that film, caught the animation bug, and since then have gradually made my animations more complicated as I’ve learnt more through further YouTube videos and my own practice. The main thing I learnt though was the importance of synthesising style and story, which is something I’ve been told All Gucci does well. It still has a looser style to mask my animated shortcomings, but doesn’t necessarily feel like an expense has been spared.
How’s the future of your animation looking at present? Would you ever consider making a feature?
Yep, 100%! I’m currently writing a feature film that is All Gucci-esque, set in a party hostel abroad but crossed with a noir-y thriller. It’s mostly live-action, but with extended animated sections, and bits of animation throughout. I’ve been doing various tests with mates for the animation and live-action styles, so once I’ve finished writing the feature version, my plan is to strip a proof of concept short film out of it, which would then be my next project.
