Short movie « Waves Stories » by Rabii Gobji
Listen to a story where voices are lost and dreams left unfulfilled.
“Listen to the Waves !” This is what the protagonist invited us to do in the stop-motion animation Waves Stories selected for the national competition of amateur films in Kelibia 2025 ( Idea & Speech: Aurora Maria Suma. Direction, Animation & Editing: Rabii Gobji).
I say the protagonist without a name, simply because there was none. Perhaps this was a deliberate choice by the filmmaker to underline the universality of the migrant experience. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you come from, or what your color or religion may be, for you to grasp the reasons, and the devastating consequences of clandestine immigration. The protagonist could be anyone, from anywhere. The absence of a name strips away identity markers of nationality, religion, or race, insisting instead on a shared humanity
The “less than three-minute film,” with its significant props, some of which are made of clay, plastic, wood or even cloth, offer the film much depth and authenticity. The well-crafted child’s boots abandoned on the beach, the red dress and the scattered seashells create from the very beginning a frightening setting. A beach should symbolize safety. Yet here, the beach has become the witness to what the sick sea has vomited back. The smooth texture used in creating the waves through the use of bright thin plastic highlights the effect of reflection. The sea reflects the ugliness of human tragedy, the unbearable journeys of desperate people seeking hope stories retold by the seafoam itself.
Our nameless protagonist asks us to “listen to the waves” and assures us through the voice-over that “the sea never lies”. The images taken also within the frame “never lie”. The handcrafted puppet with a lot of minute details is portrayed like a phantom rising from the dead to posthumously tell us her story. The filmmaker manipulates the movement of plastic to create the illusion of rising waves and immerse us in a disrupting atmosphere, a kind of uneasiness like the rising and falling tides of the ocean. The fast takes that speed up the pace of wave movements and the unstable movement of the boat created the impression that the latter is shaking and might be soon sinking. We can feel her fear, her despair and we can even hear her cry. The floating red dress over the waves has anchored the meaning of the sad fate and unhappy ending. By adding the voice of roaring thunder, and haunting light, and the storytelling voice-over, the filmmaker shares with us the stories of the sea that “carries many stories”—and hers/the protagonist’s is only one among them.
The unsettling and disturbing atmosphere is also created by the color palette. The juxtaposition of the dark blue of the sea and the bright red of the dress is not arbitrary. We felt the anxiety stemming from this combination of colors. The red is the emblem of danger, of blood and carrying it in the boat with her is like carrying the weight of her own doomed fate. The filmmaker succeeded in revealing it by moving and dragging the dress over the plastic sea and by taking the boat out of the frame. Now, there is nothing left within the frame, but the sea , the roaring sea and the floating dress.
Thematically, the film raises urgent questions. Was migration ever a real choice? Do we ever fully own our fate? Do people flee economic hardship, political instability, or social injustice? Whatever the reason, our protagonist reached the beach exhausted, hopeless, after crossing a continent, facing insecurity, long distances, desert heat, and burnt skin. She boarded a boat with the hope of reaching the other shore, only to meet the same obstacles again, burnt skin, fear, and this time, death.
Our protagonist was swallowed by the waves, yet her story and the countless others “shaped by borders, by systems, by a world that pretends not to see”, continues to be told. This film shows how you can tell a powerful story with plastic, clay, few props, limited time, but with immense effort and genuine craft and how the experience of watching a stop-motion animation is outstanding.
There are, of course, many other stories to be told, heard, and shared. But the question remains: do all people who claim to be human truly want to listen?
Go to the sea. Watch the seafoam. Listen to the waves.
Perhaps you, too, will find a new story of a broken heart, a desperate soul.
A story worth sharing.
