Written by Ben Compton for “All Alone Except for Everyone: The Films of Jonni Phillips” 2022 retrospective at Ottawa International Animation Film Festival. The retrospective included “The Earth is Flat”, “Stilton’s in Charge”, “Rachel and her Grandfather Control the Island”, “Goodbye Forever Party”, and “The Final Exit of the Disciples of Ascensia”. OIAF also programmed “Barber Westchester” in their feature competition + included me in their shorts jury.

all alone except for everyone: The work of jonni phillips

by Ben Compton

California-based animator Jonni Phillips has amassed a devoted online following for her introspective and deeply funny films. In a loose style combining drawing, paper cutouts and digital techniques, Jonni explores the banal and profound experiences that make up everyday life. We follow her characters as they lose and find themselves in monotonous day jobs, foreign places and new relationships. It’s her quirky narrative voice and collaborative spirit that makes Phillips a must-know emerging creator in the world of independent animation.

Spanning multiple films, shorts and countless online clips, everything Jonni makes prioritizes feeling. “I’m not interested in achieving any sense of tangible reality,” she notes. “A lot of my choices are meant to communicate an emotional reality rather than a literal or logical one.” This might mean switching mediums or bringing in a rotating cast of guest animators, voice actors and musicians. While Jonni cites Richard Condie and Sally Cruikshank as major influences, her work also conjures up all sorts of cultural touchstones beyond the field of animation. Again and again, Jonni’s proficiency with different formats (musical sequences, television programs, puppetry, etc.) as well as filmic language (match cuts, montage, POV shots…) is highlighted.

Although Phillips’ toolkit is broad, she only uses what is necessary. Some of her best moments are achieved with almost no animation at all. 2017’s Goodbye Forever Party includes a tough conversation between two characters, one of whom is wearing a yellow Teletubby-like costume. As she tells her partner she has fallen out of love, the headpiece remains in a permanent smile. It’s a tragic narrative device that shows Jonni’s brilliant sense of restraint and efficiency. There is virtually no movement accompanying the muffled sound from inside the head, which is then pulled off to reveal the character crying.

In other sequences, a wry sense of humor distills pop culture discourse into its simplest form. 2016’s Stilton’s in Charge features two characters watching a television program. A doctor hits a patient’s knee with a hammer, which the viewers observe in silence until one proclaims matter-of-factly “I don’t agree with his methods”. Like a Gen Z update of Richard Condie’s “Sawing for Teens” program in The Big Snit (1985), this sequence feels distinctly “of the internet” without engaging in the irony and apathy that bogs down so much online content. Jonni instead opts for true sincerity, relishing in them mundane. The result is something sweet and off-kilter all at once.

Sight gags are another recurring comedic feature, often appearing on screen for minute amounts of time. Some are puns, and many are just funny words put together. A tour bus is made by “Greynoun”. A duck who is a salesman is named “Duck Salesman”. An electric piano is made by “ROLEX”. An ad for a television show reads, “Inchworms in Paradise: Only on ESPN”. A barista waits for customers in front of a sign that reads “Special Today: CREAM CREAM CREAM CREAM CREAM”. A vacant apartment advertises “1 bath, 1 kitchen,” and “built-in rats”. The familiar is set askew.

Media around Jonni’s practice often dsescribes her visuals as “DIY”, “indie” or “lo-fi”. These descriptors are accurate to an extent. Her films are crowdfunded and embody the handmade aesthetics of zine, comic and internet subcultures. Jonni’s first animations were Lego Brickfilms. She also credits the mentorship of experimental animators like Lori Damiano and Melissa Bouwman for “cracking open her brain”. After being schooled at CalArts and landing jobs at studios, the fact that Phillips has prioritized her own projects signals a commitment to the ethos of independent filmmaking.

But terms like “DIY” are also coded. They can delegitimize alternative filmmakers by implying they don’t really know what they’re doing. This is far from the case with Jonni, who has skillfully created her own studio model (“Herbert Sorbet Studio”) with the help of Patreon and artistic friendships forged over the years. Her career reflects a world where the border between “doing-it-yourself” and Professional AnimatorTM seems increasingly porous. When major production houses rely on freelance labor and the mainstream has splintered into millions of social media channels, Jonni’s indie projects should be understood as just as viable and worthy of consideration as something with studio-backing.

Phillips’ against-the-grain mentality is more than her relationship to industry. She also responds to the “arbitrary and formulaic” rules of animation as an art form. With each frame. Jonni pushes against the standards of The Animator’s Survival Kit or Pixar storytelling. In an interview with Terry Ibele, she explains, “A lot of the rules are made for a specific kind of person. For me, as someone who is transgender and neurodivergent… I’m looking for what works for me the most. What’s the thing that makes sense for me? How can I express myself in a way that feels correct?”

This is a simple but liberating idea that connects Phillips’ process and storytelling. For instance, in 2019’s The Final Exit of the Disciples of Ascensia, a group of misfit cult members are rendered with odd numbers of fingers and toes. Phillips’ choice plays into the broader narrative around the characters’ marginalization and new-found community. At the same time, the wonky fingers defy the guidelines around drawing hands that are taught in animation school. As online viewer @Roesbloom notes in the comments under the video, Ascensia “rejects the alienation imposed by societal convention, be that convention as large as ableism or as small as the “rules” of animation.”

Like with her humour, the success of this gesture is in its subtlety. The stories and politics in Jonni’s work unfold slowly. There is also an inherent queerness to her films, which never surfaces in grandiose statements on identity or lived experience. Instead, the queerness of Jonni’s work feels more about gently poking fun at the institutions of family and work, challenging the parameters of her medium, and riffing on the (dis)comfort of coming into one’s own. There is also gender play in the androgyny of her characters and their voices. Regardless, something is resonating with people. Scrolling through her Youtube comments and Letterboxd reviews, one finds hundreds of people echoing the same sentiment: they feel seen.

The final sequence in Ascensia features "Hold on, Sailor” — A recording by the singer-songwriter Jenna Caravello. Line in Jonni’s films, Caravello’s lyrics sit in that bittersweet zone between hope and sorrow. You try to parse out what you’re feeling until you realize maybe it’s best to just let the emotion wash over you. The scene plays out and the quiet power of Phillip’s work takes hold once more.

Sometimes life can be misleading

And you won’t get very far

And some people don’t know what they need

And bury who they are

This is all to say “How are you?”

Treading water, castle burning

All alone except for everyone

On our astroid turning

[Chorus x2"]

So hold on sailor

Hold on partner

Your family will find you

Your pain will guide you