Ariela Rozentul’s film, Butterflies is one of the more touching and surprising shorts you’re likely to see. It’s surprising for many reasons. Not the least of which is the manifest talent of Rozentul, who wrote the film in addition to writing the music, producing and starring in it. Oh, and she’s also just twelve year old.
The other surprising thing about the film is that Rozentul plays someone who is dead. And this leads us to the surprising element of the film. The film opens with her lying on her back, looking up at the sky on a sunny summer afternoon. Everything is pretty normal until she sits up, looks right into the camera and declares, “I’m dead.” The notion of a dead narrator isn’t new. Such classic films as Sunset Boulevard rely on this device to create a sense of mystery. And the device works well here. I was certainly drawn in by this shocking statement, and especially by the passion with which she makes it. But this film isn’t a murder mystery. It is in fact a reflection on the death of a close friend of Rozentul’s. The film does not reveal the true story behind it.
When we pull back after hearing that our protagonist is dead, we see that she’s been lying on a blanket surrounded by flower arrangements. This is vaguely reminiscent of a funeral home, and when Rozentul gets up, it’s as if she were rising from her grave. We can already sense that we’re in good hands as far as directing goes. And this film in fact has two directors: Arta Kallaba and Jessika Quintana.
After rising from her resting place, Ariela hears the voice of what I suppose must be God, or Death, telling her that things aren’t that bad. In the credits, the narrator is called, “The Voice of Reason.” He tries to convince the protagonist that she should look on the bright side. From here, a fascinating dynamic emerges. From the lofty, incorporeal point of view of ‘reason,’ the death of one girl is really nothing to worry about. Everyone dies, no one will really be remembered. And, in the grand scheme of things, does it really matter if one girl died before she got to drive a car? But rationality is only one part of what makes us human. We are also emotional beings. And the core of this film is rage at the unexplained reality of death. Human beings seem hardwired to cast their own lives as a story with a beginning, middle and, hopefully, satisfying conclusion. One of the reasons we’re so attracted to narrative art, like TV and film is that it represents this instinct to us and provides some sort of model for how our lives are supposed to go and how we’re supposed to live. In the film, the protagonist’s death was a clear-cut act of self-sacrifice, and so had a clear purpose. But whether this was the case in the true story that inspired the film, we can’t say. What is clear is that very few lives are blessed with such meaningful endings. The reality is, there is no order in the universe that guarantees that our own stories will make any sense. And this film is a cri de coeur from one who had to face that reality much too young.
In the end, the message of the film seems to be that despite the apparent senselessness of death, we’re all connected in a universal striving for life and beauty. The best thing we can do while we’re here is to help others. And, even in death, we might return as butterflies to help guide the living on their journeys. Butterflies are, of course, classic symbols of change and metamorphosis. In a sense, they die and are transformed into transcendent beings.
Towards the end of Butterflies, there is a beautiful song that was in fact written and sung by Rozentul, who urges us not to take life for granted. This is quite a powerful message from one so young. I hope that we can all learn a lesson from this film and that we will see more of Rozentul’s work in the future.
© 2021. UniversalCinema Mag.