Understanding the Choice, Control and Dignity in Death with Cocogun and Palliative Care Queensland

Ant> Thank you! From the get-go we wanted to use animation. Partly to soften the edges on what was going to be a very confronting story to tell, partly so that a broader audience could relate to the characters, partly because animation often seems to enable you to go emotionally deeper than live action does. We love all the Aardman stuff, we’re massive Studio Ghibli fans, and our decks were full of refs from Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs and Fantastic Mr Fox. Our challenge was to make sure the story looked and felt fresh.

The long pauses and awkward silences at the start of the piece were really important to us; they were inspired by stuff like The Office where the camera holds on people’s reactions to David Brent’s off-colour remarks rather than cutting away. Also films like the Coen Brothers’ No Country For Old Men and Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums that played with heavily weighted silences. And this may sound odd considering they’re from completely different universes in terms of theme, but there were two other movie references: the tragic-heroic-heartbreaking-brilliant ending of Thelma and Louise where they drive off the cliff (sorry for the spoiler, but the film’s over 30 years old!). And I’ve always loved the fraught WTF-ness of the famous “Am I a clown? Do I amuse you” scene in Goodfellas. I wanted a bit of that off-kilter, disconcerting sense of ‘what the actual fuck is going on here?!’ sprinkled in there, too.

Ant> In terms of choosing an animation style and partner, we were like kids in the world’s biggest, brightest sweetshop. And working with Rowdy was a pleasure. Alongside the brilliant Catherine Prowse (director) and Daisy Garside (EP), was a crack unit of awesome character designers, set builders and animators. Many of the team had worked on Isle of Dogs, Fantastic Mr Fox and a bunch of Tim Burton films. And yeah, stop motion’s definitely not something you can rush. Once the puppets and sets were built, and the lighting set up, we were shooting about five seconds of action per day. As we crafted those five seconds each day, one of the many things we learned is that there can be a universe of meaning in the minute angle tweak of a puppet’s mouth and the verrrrry subtle widening of its fabric eyes.

Ant> The transition from 2D character drawings to 3D puppets was a massive leap of faith. And the music choice was always a key element of the film. We needed a track that could help us land the tricky tonal balance of sensitivity, melancholy and an empathic, almost uplifting sense of acceptance. It also needed to be believable and credible as the favourite song of our 40-something protagonist. Working with Level Two to nail the track and organise the syncing was a race against the clock that took us deep into squeaky bum time. Luckily, the Pixies themselves are closely involved in how their music is used, they were fans of the project and gave us their blessing. There were some relieved high fives at the Cocogun office when that confirmation came through!

Ant> The finished piece isn’t too far away from the original script that was written by Lewis Clarke. We’d never wanted the Death character to speak - we always thought that would break the spell. And we loved the awkward silences, subtle looks, facial expressions and so on. We thought pairing them with the music track to tell the story would be far more powerful than spelling it all out with dialogue. I’m sure fans of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin would agree!

Ant> While the campaign was launching I read a brilliant book called All Fours, by Miranda July. In it, the narrator is going through perimenopause and what might be called a ‘mid-life crisis’. Through a kind of mad/amazing vision quest she moves towards a sense of liberation and empowerment. She realises that her life doesn’t have to play out the way she’d previously assumed it would. Reflecting on what the future holds, she thinks, “Maybe the road split between: a life spent longing vs. a life that was continually surprising.” 

That sense of taking control in the context of the finite nature of life bled across to my feelings about the campaign. The project has had such an amazingly positive response. It’s been a strong reminder of the addictive thrill of creating work that takes on the biggest themes and really resonates with people. Seeing the positive effect the project is having reminds me why I wanted to do this job in the first place, why I love the way I spend my days, why it’s so important to surround yourself with people you rate, respect and trust. The whole thing has made me feel so excited and optimistic about creativity, about what else we can do at Cocogun, about how much fun it is to swing for the fences. The process has reminded me that we’re lucky enough to work in the field that gives us a real shot at that continually surprising life the Miranda July character talked about. OK, that was a bit deep and meaningful for an article about an ad campaign, but hey, this project is all about getting people to have more honest and open conversations…

Ant> Our Palliative Care Queensland clients were absolutely amazing. The project wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near seeing the light of day without their trust, support and vision. We also collaborated closely with an amazing panel of consumer experts with vast experience in palliative care and related fields, who helped us shape the story to ensure it would resonate powerfully and positively. And we had the support of Queensland Health. Over the course of various workshops, we reflected on how Western society tends to take a head-in-the-sand approach to death, and how people with life-limiting illnesses are often reluctant to think and talk about it. It can mean that they end up having less control over the final chapter of their lives. Ultimately, none of us will be able to cheat death, but our aim was to encourage people to reflect on how they want the final part of their lives to play out. Because engaging more openly with the topic, and with organisations like PCQ, enables people to live their last months, weeks and days with more choice, peace and dignity.

Ant> Yes, 100%. Because while the idea of someone in their 80s or 90s dying is really sad, it’s natural for all of us to eventually die one day. Someone in their 40s being given a cancer diagnosis is, thankfully, an anomaly. But, because of that, our responses to it are more difficult, less natural, we don’t know what to think or how to act. And neither do those around us - our families, friends, children. The emotional dissonance of being told you have a life-limiting disease, or that someone you love dearly has one - that was at the heart of our story. Because we wanted to get across that rather than ‘giving up’, facing the situation head-on and engaging with the reality of your final chapter, gives you some level of choice, control and dignity. So the idea of the guy playing the Pixies track was a metaphor to say - in the words of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas - "Do not go gentle into that good night"...or, in more contemporary parlance, Don’t go out meekly, go out on your own terms…go out swinging.

Ant> My dad died relatively young of cancer, which was obviously devastating. However, he was diagnosed early enough for us to have time to have most of those conversations you really need to have in that situation. And he received wonderfully kind and sensitive palliative care. This sounds nuts but one of my happiest memories is us sitting together in hospital while he was doing chemo, listening to music together on his iPod, with one earphone each. Whenever I’m not feeling on top of the world, I stick on The Jayhawks’ Rainy Day Music and I’m back there with him. And although, even after all these years, the emotions are still raw and visceral, it’s always strangely uplifting rather than a downer.