THE STORY – Vincent and his father, Tomas, run the best glassworks in the country, but the onset of war turns their lives upside down. Vincent falls in love with Alliz, the daughter of a colonel, and they both must find the courage to confront their fathers.
THE CAST – Khaled Anam, Mooroo, Mariam Riaz Paracha, Ameed Riaz, Mahum Moazzam, Faiza Kazi, Dino Ali, Aysha Sheikh, Usman Riaz & Khalifa Sajeeruddin
THE TEAM – Usman Riaz (Director) & Moya O’Shea (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 98 Minutes
Form and function. Medium and message. Practice and purpose. The best art often follows when the artist works to ensure these principles are all aligned, resulting in a transcendent harmony that resonates with the audience. “The Glassworker” is one of those rare convergences of aesthetic beauty and clarity of vision. Usman Riaz’s gorgeous animated film tells a story about a father and son doing their best to make the world a little bit more tolerable with their meticulous, hand-made craft. Riaz wisely tells this tale using the meticulous, hand-made craft of traditional animation. In fact, it’s Pakistan’s first hand-drawn animated feature film ever, and as Walt Disney did with “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” Riaz creates a masterpiece on his very first try.
The title could refer to either the main character, Vincent, or his father, Tomas. As the film opens, Vincent is a grown man whose glassworking abilities are so well honed that an exhibition of his creations is about to debut. Tomas clearly worked hard to train Vincent in the ways of the family art form throughout his youth. After finding an old letter from his childhood friend Alliz, he’s consumed by memories and reflects upon the events that led him to where he is. Alliz is the daughter of the local military representative, Colonel Amano, who has to depart from his family to lead troops in a war encroaching upon the characters’ pastoral seaside town. While Alliz’s father has great affection for the “art” of combat, Tomas is a vocal opponent to the war, which causes both he and Vincent to be spurned by the town’s residents. And, of course, this parental disagreement makes it difficult for Vincent and Alliz to continue their friendship, although they do their very best. As they grow up, Alliz becomes a gifted concert violinist and is able to rise through the ranks of the local musical scene. Meanwhile, Tomas is forced by the army to help fabricate specific glass-based tools needed to perpetuate the machinery of war, which severely clashes with his outspoken pacifism.
The story is quietly heartbreaking and perfectly spun, never making its themes or messages too obvious and instead guiding the audience to them with ease. (Although a subplot about mysterious sprite-like djinns never fully pays off. It’s a small blip in what’s otherwise a well-told, moving story.) There’s a sense of everyday tragedy to Tomas and Vincent’s forced participation in a war that they vocally despise. The way that Colonel Amano goes out of his way to ensure that the pair, especially Tomas, feel this ethical discrepancy is presented in a way that emphasizes the cruelty but never strays into over-the-top, obvious moralizing. Both Amano and Tomas are just doing their jobs; it just so happens that one of them has chosen a career that necessitates violence, and the other favors creation. But none of the characters, ironically, seem like cartoon villains or heroes. Despite his admirable spirit, Tomas is very hard on Vincent, spurning Vincent’s plea for a traditional education in favor of his craft apprenticeship, sternly telling Vincent, “All a glassworker needs to know is how to make glass.” He opposes Vincent and Alliz’s friendship, failing to see that she’s not just an extension of her father’s beliefs and has more in common with the artisan-minded father and son.
But even though Tomas and Vincent work as hard as possible to keep themselves from being involved in war, it knocks at their door anyway. When it comes to government-sanctioned acts of violence, no one is safe from the indiscrimination of bombs. Tomas and Vincent represent those who live their life with beauty and tranquility but still find themselves not only thrust into conflict against their will but also see the very creations they work to preserve turned into a source of pain. But still, the film never underlines this with hackneyed dialogue or other forms of over-explanation. Riaz and screenwriter Moya O’Shea trust the audience to make such connections on their own.
What makes the themes of the lasting power and necessity of beauty in everyday life even more resonant is the fact that “The Glassworker” is a thing of beauty in its own right. The character animation is expressive yet never in an outsized way, and the gorgeously painted and colored backgrounds conjure up a lush world for the characters to live in. In fact, the film strongly resembles the esteemed works of legendary animator Hayao Miyazaki and other films from his iconic Studio Ghibli, with the hand-drawn work clearly influenced by the Japanese master. The haunting, evocative score by Riaz and Carmine Diflorio, making heavy use of piano and strings, also features similarities to the music of Miyazaki’s collaborator Joe Hisaishi. In addition, the film’s thematic ideas (this would make for a great double feature with Miyazaki’s anti-war film, “The Wind Rises”), dialogue stylings, its look into the joys of passion-backed work, and even the loving way that food is animated all bring to mind Studio Ghibli’s filmography. This is far from a critique. There are much worse places to draw inspiration from than Miyazaki, perhaps the greatest living filmmaker, and “The Glassworker” establishes itself as enough of its own story with an individual voice to avoid complaints of being derivative.
“The Glassworker” sweeps viewers into its gorgeous world through stunning animation and deeply felt themes. It’s a multi-layered story, with the ability to do what all great art should as it opens up discussions after it’s been experienced. The film asks viewers to consider what it means to be a true artist: must one create, or is mere interpretation of others’ creations enough? And what can art do to counterbalance the prevalence of violence and destruction throughout the world? Is it even enough? Or is more direct action necessary? The film doesn’t offer up easy answers to all of these questions, and it’s all the better for it, leading audiences on an adventure that’s sure to make everyone watching truly take stock of how they’re living their lives and if they’re making the world a better place through their actions and decisions. Filmmaker Usman Riaz is a name to remember. “The Glassworker” isn’t only an impressive creation on account of its mere existence, but it’s also easily the best-animated film of the year.
