Taylor Swift’s Short Film Is A Masterpiece You Will Remember All Too Well | Arts

Not only did Taylor Swift released a 30-track album last week, but she also created All Too Well: The Short Film, her writing and directing debut. The response to the 10-minute version of the songs was pretty big, the heart-wrenching breakup song topped the Spotify charts when it was released, but the accompanying short is just as impressive. The film satisfactorily aligns with the song lyrics without sounding like a traditional music video, while carrying a storyline that explores the unbalanced power dynamics of a doomed relationship.

The film stars Sadie Sink and Dylan OBrien as a couple with a significant age difference, with the characters only credited as Him and Her. The movie begins with Elle asking him: Are you real? a question that follows viewers throughout, effectively framing the story without revealing its theme in an overtly obvious way. Right now the question is a true expression of astonishment towards her lover, as they then begin to wander through the scenic early fall nature. The shots linger with an unnatural length that a cinematographer Rina Wang effectively develops throughout the film. The camera rotates, rotates and swings rather than cutting; this style of shooting presents the viewer as an invisible third party scrutinizing the journey of two lovers. Swift and Wang further amplify the intimacy between them with still vulnerable close-ups.

Yet in these fairytale romance scenes, the first subtle glimpse of his fatherly positioning is clear: he is seen taking her on a piggyback ride. Without context, the action could be seen as innocent hidden within the magical nature of the scenes, it’s easy to miss but considering it’s several years older, the timing is significant. Swift slyly expands on this story about how he manipulates her by describing her paternalistic and condescending attitude.

Soon these glorified and warmly lit scenes are sharply contrasted by the turquoise freshness of a tense dinner. The couple are joined by several of her friends, all older than her; he mercilessly leaves his hand on the table and leaves it out of the conversation. The shots are no longer too close, but the lovers are now far away from both the camera and each other. Without any dialogue, the change in mood is relayed clearly and quickly through lighting, physical spacing, and camera placement. Introduced in this scene, the tension between the warm and cool color palettes underscores the growing distance between the couple.

From dinner, Swift jumps forward or maybe backward until a moment in the woods when he throws the car keys at her to take a phone call with rage. The scene may seem disconnected at first, but Swift doesn’t underestimate her viewers. At first glance, the scene continues to develop the growing tension in the relationship, with her ego taking the form of condescension. However, viewers might soon realize that the scene mirrors one that directly follows the raw and crucial fight.

The car scene and the fight are dominated by her immature outbursts and disregard for her feelings, and end sickeningly with him kissing her to lessen her harm and manipulate her perception of the situation. In this emotionally forged fight scene, all the elements of the film coincide in a moment culminating in the coldly lit kitchen, the distance between the lovers in the shots, the camera moving between them in suspense. The film’s longest single take, combined with eerily realistic dialogue, creates a deeply emotional scene. Her manipulative embrace to wrap up the fight cleverly transforms into an entwined pair in warm lighting, with the question asked once again: are you real? Now she wonders how real his affection is if it was just a ploy to get her forgiveness, was any of her loves real?

This question is answered in The Breaking Point, where his power hovering over her as he ends the relationship shifts to her, as she stands up and scolds him as if he’s her child. In the aftermath, Swift extends the tension inherent in their age gap by offering visual cues to her youth as she faces adult emotions of deeply painful grief. Her patterned linens, double bed, innocent and almost childish birthday party, and presence at a cocktail party with the elderly remind viewers that lovers are about a decade apart. Sink is 11 years younger than OBrien, surely an intentional casting choice made by Swift. As a director, she draws on her core strength to draw viewers’ attention to the root of falling relationships. She was still at the dawn of her childhood, and He abused her.

When she’s no longer played by Sadie Sink, but by Taylor Swift herself, she looks older than him. The change of actor shows that she has matured physically over time and also emotionally after producing successful creative work as a result of her pain. During this time, he still wears the red scarf that she left in the first scene. The power has shifted. As the snow falls, Swift reminds viewers of the cycle of nature, the naive and youthful fall must pass, and in its place, the wise and hardened winter will remain.