Director: Marzieh Rasekh
Running time: 5mins
At the end of Let’s Play’s credits, a copyright notice informs us that this is the product of a student from St. Joost School of Art & Design. It makes sense in this context that it feels a little bit more like an exercise in design than it does in filmmaking – finding a way to convey a simple yet effective message with as little complexity as possible.
On that basis, Let’s Play is a very accomplished project. The minimalistic animation follows a small community of stick-figures, as conflict brews within their simple block of angular houses. In particular, the story centres on a child, who manages to be both the cause and solution of the issues.
Provided with no opportunities for constructive play in their sterile neighbourhood, the child charges about the street, disrupting the lives of the surrounding adults. Denied any space to kick their ball about, the child tumbles into a river, startling a fishing trip; they kick the bald head of their neighbour looking for a new ball; they make a mess of someone’s laundry; and finally, they break a nearby window.
This provokes a conflict between the neighbours and the child’s parents. Initially, angry words turn into a stereotypical big ball of violence – with punches and kicks being thrown within a whirling cloud – but this soon devolves into something less quaint than you might find in the comic strips section of your daily newspaper. Two neighbours step away to construct and arm a cannon – aimed at the neighbourhood.
Fortunately, a momentary lapse in their concentration presents the child with the chance to diffuse the situation. Sneakily disposing of the live ammunition that was about to rain death on the houses, he replaces the cannon-balls with painted footballs – and what was supposed to be the ultimate act of hostility suddenly presents the adults with a timely message. By constricting the ability of children to play and enjoy life, they cause the conditions in which the conflict first arose. At the same time, as they begin engaging with the bouncing footballs around them, and re-engaging with their inner child, they find ways to put aside their differences, and avert a deadly escalation of their disagreement.
It’s capably animated, wholesome stuff. And while the character-design might be a bit more original, with more effort to engage us visually, it does the job it was designed for. We know exactly what message is being conveyed, without a single word being spoken.
With more than 16,000 children having been killed in Gaza since October 7th (and with the means of recording those deaths having been destroyed by Israel’s war, the real figure is much higher), messaging like that found in Let’s Play is relevant and earnest. It is a valid attempt to remind the world of the innocence that has been lost – while appealing to a basic part of human nature to try and make that end.
Sadly, the film does not exist in a bubble. There are limitations to crystalising ideas into their most simplistic form. The hope of making them universal in their communication can also render them into aimless truisms – especially if they have been adopted elsewhere.
In this case, the right to play is a message which is well-meaning, but has long been co-opted and abused by powerful figures in sport and politics – undermining whatever power it had to affect genuine change. For example, the world’s football governing body, Fifa – renowned as a festering pustule of corruption, and an unapologetic vehicle for the reputation laundering of some of the world’s most reactionary political projects – has long touted the “power of sport” to bring people together. It has used this branding to justify hosting tournaments in countries like Qatar and Russia (and would have done so in fascist Italy if it had felt the need back in 1934) – while silencing campaigners actually looking to improve the lives of migrant workers, women or the LGBTQ+ community. Oddly enough, the power of sport, the notion of ‘let’s play’ has done little to nothing to deliver those improvements in the years since (just as it will fail to do so in the inevitable Saudi Arabia 2034 tournament).
None of this is Marzieh Rasekh’s fault. With war threatening to spread across the Middle East and Europe, it’s great that she has tried to distil a simple, human message of love and respect into this format. Its simplicity should allow it to be read into universally, by people around the world who can choose the kind of future they help to create: one filled with playgrounds, or one filled with warzones. The problem is, this double-edged sword also means its message falls in line with an endless supply of cynical establishment PR, which does not share its good-hearted ambitions.
Marzieh Rasekh’s short animation is endearingly drawn, with characters that manage to come alive in spite of how limited their features are. The child, who even when they are about to get into trouble, blows kisses at angry adults, before rebounding to find new ways to play, is especially powerful. And even with the state of things, they speak to a resilience in all of us that means another way forward is still possible. That’s a feature which means the heart of Let’s Play still wins out, in spite of the false pretences of the Fifas of this world.