The Solitude of the Tennis Ball

The Solitude of the Tennis Ball, a collaborative effort from filmmakers mebitek and Jele Raus, offers a profound and unique portrayal of a downward spiral from severe depression towards total despair.

We start with Liza (Millapan) and her companion Lancelot (Atzori) together at home, sharing a couch and a quiet evening together, yet the clear disconnect between them places them virtually worlds apart. Liza’s mind is more keenly focused on her next almost-full glass of wine, or perhaps one or more of the copious amounts of pills laid out in front of her. Lancelot, on the other hand, simply yearns internally for her just to touch him, to see him, desperate to be able to somehow save her from her widening self-destruction. At first glance, one might categorise their relationship under that of a failing love affair, but we soon begin to realise it is rather one between a lonely woman and the purest, most devoted projection of man's, or in this case, woman’s, best friend.

While both Millapan and Atzori are more than up to their respective, very different tasks, Lancelot's role calls for a particularly unique physicality. Atzori’s writhing, canine-like movements really help sell this unique narrative spin. While by the end Lancelot’s internal musings do begin to feel more like nonsensical ramblings, this dynamic is a genuinely captivating and interesting idea, yet there are a couple of unnecessary shifts away from that, whereas having the entirety of the film’s narrative told exclusively from Lancelot’s point of view might have helped allow the film to feel a bit more cohesive.

Millipan, on the other hand, has the contrasting but as difficult job of anchoring the emotion of the piece, the fragility of Liza needing to be apparent but contained, to be allowed to grow naturally, and thankfully, Millapan is more than up to the challenge. The film generally handles its heavy subject matter with seriousness, and while it never delves into the whys of Liza’s circumstances, its focus on the outcome of it all is effectively handled.

The film is also technically and creatively strong. Colour choices in particular are employed to great effect, gradually migrating from its initial brighter hues to a much more muted, desaturated palette for its finale, brilliantly visualising Liza’s deeper and deeper descent into insurmountable depression.

But perhaps the most inspired creative choice is having Lancelot’s monologues in English, contrasted against Liza’s Spanish (subtitles not provided), further playing with that inability to communicate with each other across species and further highlighting Lisa’s isolation. Additionally, the sound editing contributes to this thematic depth, though it operates at a slightly less consistent standard than the film’s otherwise high technical quality. Overall, The Solitude of the Tennis Ball is still an applaudably unique and creative piece of art that lies heavily on the heart.