Alan the Infinite (short scifi comedy film: in full).
In the vast expanse of the YouTube cosmos, where digital detritus and cinematic gems float side by side, a peculiar stop-motion short has emerged from the shadows of internet obscurity to light up screens and imaginations. Alan the Infinite, directed by the dynamic duo of Dan Ojari and Mikey Please, is a whimsical journey into the heart of office monotony, with a cosmic twist that nobody—least of all Alan—saw coming.
Alan, our intrepid protagonist, embarks on his first day at Lamin’8 with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for a child at a candy store, or perhaps more aptly, a bureaucrat at a filing convention. The office, a kaleidoscope of greys and beiges, could be any mundane workspace plucked from a 1980s sitcom, were it not for the impending supernatural forces lurking behind the laminator.
The film’s charm lies not just in its narrative, but in the painstakingly detailed stop-motion animation that brings Alan and his cohorts to life. Each character, from the unhinged boss Gary to the enigmatic Prea, is rendered with a level of care and personality that’s as refreshing as it is rare. It’s like watching Wallace & Gromit if Aardman had a love child with The Twilight Zone.
The voice cast, led by Dan Ojari himself as Alan, delivers performances so engaging you’ll forget you’re watching inanimate objects. Baker Terry’s Gary is a standout, embodying every inch the boss you love to hate, with a side of cosmic madness. Theodora van Der Beek’s Prea, Jessica Rayner’s Susan, Rob Carter’s Neil, and Elliot Dear’s Scientist round out a crew that’s as quirky as they are endearing.
Alan the Infinite is billed as a proof-of-concept, a tantalizing glimpse into what could be if the universe (and perhaps a few daring producers) conspire to bring more of Alan’s adventures to life. The filmmakers’ craftsmanship, from the model-making to the art direction and beyond, is a testament to the power of creative vision—and patience. Lots and lots of patience.
The soundscape, crafted by Ben Please and Beth Porter, with sound design by Adam Janota Bzowski and crew, envelops the viewer in a world that’s both eerily familiar and wonderfully strange. It’s the kind of auditory experience that makes you glance suspiciously at your office printer, wondering if it, too, harbors the secrets of the universe.
In a review that’s found its way to the illustrious pages of SFcrowsnest, it’s only fitting to say that Alan the Infinite is a delightful anomaly in the sci-fi short film realm. It’s a piece that dares to dream big within the confines of a small, laminated world. For anyone who’s ever felt the soul-sucking dread of a dead-end job, Alan’s tale is a reminder that the universe is vast, mysterious, and, occasionally, utterly bonkers.
