ith a distinct eeriness, aided magnificently by stop-motion animation (itself appropriately twitchy and surreal), a shadowy forest environment, and ominous music, “Humantis” is an instant enigma. The visuals are superbly strange as it depicts curious lifeforms, almost like praying mantises, that appear to camouflage themselves as ordinary flowers. And these odd beings dance and strike poses as if synchronized swimmers in ritualistic displays of arcane elegance.

When one of these whitish, leafy creatures starts to turn green, as if blemished and marred by a disease, it becomes an outcast. It’s unable to disguise its affliction to its group of alabaster brethren, despite attempting to cover up its rapidly changing colors by wrapping itself in the very petals that it attempts to emulate. But, as these unusual, dark fairy tales tend to go, this evolving entity is not alone.

It’s surely a fable about being different and accepting that difference in oneself, comforted by the fact that no one – or thing – is entirely unique. Everyone can find solidarity in the right places. Where it succeeds quite admirably is in its simplicity and design; directed and animated by Paris Baillie (a one-woman show, who also composed the music and edited the film), “Humantis” employs no dialogue, no complex interactions, and a limited number of characters and sets. Instead, it relies on its alternatingly whimsical and macabre imagery, generating a vibe not unlike those found in the gothic fantasies of Tim Burton and Henry Selick; it has concocted an isolated other-world in which Baillie can define her own rules and behaviors and inhabitants. While the premise may not be thoroughly original, the execution and artistry are fantastic; it’s short, well-paced, and consistently appealing to look at.

– Mike Massie