Rebels review: triumphantly reinventing animation
Music is a weapon that can be used to fight monstrous robots in Federico Moreno Breser’s short, sweet, very stylish and energetic narrative-driven production, which injects traditional motion picture language with a fervid spirit of reinvention. In every scene Breser asks: how can cinematic storytelling be spatialised? How can traditional elements be reworked, from the ground up, in VR? These questions are explored with verve and audacity, resulting in a thrillingly colourful experience created using the illustration and animation tool Quill. I’d love to see this world extended beyond Rebels’ lithe nine-ish minute runtime—although some of its joy comes from its briskness.
The story pairs a dystopian premise with a fun message about celebrating musical expression. In an alternate world populated by anthropomorphized animals, and patrolled by military droids, an authoritarian government has made playing music illegal, cracking down on deviants who dare to perform or listen to toe-tappin’ tunes with oppressive legislation called “The Darwin Code.” Rebels begins with the virtual camera inching towards a retro television set broadcasting a news bulletin reporting that “the last of the musical instruments have been destroyed,” before the protagonist—a rabbit named Herb (voice of Aleks Le)—launches into voice-over narration.
Creator: Federico Moreno Breser
Year of release: 2021
Available on: Quest headets
Experienced on: Meta Quest 2 and Meta Quest 3
“I don’t even remember when it happened,” he begins, reflecting on the moment when everything became “worse, way worse” after the powers that be prohibited “sports, movies, video games, clubs, good food, music.” These words are accompanied by visions of a neon, Blade Runner-ish city patrolled by flying laser-zapping bots. This opening couldn’t be any more indebted to film and television, reinstating the frame (via the appearance of the TV set) then launching a familiar vococentric structure. But it doesn’t take long—just seconds—before it becomes clear Breser has constructed a work that could only have been made in virtual reality.
We’re placed in environments that don’t just surround us, but extend past our bodies in slightly intrusive ways, reiterating depth and spatiality. There are times when the drama is framed off, relegated to a boxed-in viewing area, but these moments are smartly staged. For instance a flashback shows Herb in a booth-like space, strapped into intrusive machinery, being brainwashed with propaganda. We can only observe him through a glass window; the fact he’s immovable and inaccessible is narratively justified and visually interesting.
More invigorating are the moments when the protagonist runs, escapes, or fights droids by blasting his trumpet. These are executed with unpredictable splashiness. Sometimes the various spatial embellishments are excitingly vertical: we see Herb for instance fall through the air from a high up place, the virtual camera following his plummeting. Later, there’s a beautifully visceral moment in which the virtual camera hangs by the side of a train, as if attached by mounting arm to a carriage, as it whooshes along, with Herb leaning his body out of it, the wind pushing against his face as he sizes up a foe ahead of him.
Every cut is highly dramatic; there are no soft cuts or jump cuts. Every cut in fact dramatically redefines the environment. Unlike most filmmakers, Breser wants these cuts to have a displacing effect; he wants to keep rearranging our perspective. Rebels is a springy, sprightly joy from start to finish.