A National Film Board of Canada production

In a Niagara Falls motel, an unremarkable couple attempts a romantic getaway. But as the days go by, the trip threatens to turn into a cold shower. I Don’t Love You Anymore is a humorous exploration of the red flags we choose to ignore to keep a relationship alive.

A romantic getaway in Niagara Falls takes an unexpected turn. Between tourist attractions and a string of awkward moments, the trip exposes the emotional imbalance of an unremarkable couple. With deadpan dark humour, this animated short picks apart the mechanisms of willful blindness in love.

The latest film from graphic artist and filmmaker Diane Obomsawin (I Like Girls, Here and There) is a charming animated postcard filled with endearing characters, kitsch settings and artful nods to film noir classics.

At Niagara Falls, a picture-perfect getaway turns awkward when a validation-seeking man and a space-seeking woman realize they packed very different romantic expectations. 

Where did the inspiration for the film and these delightfully endearing characters come from?

The idea for the film came after a nightmare I had following a brief, lopsided romance.

The psychological makeup of the characters was inspired by my own life. At the time, I identified more with the male character’s personality. And that’s what caused the nightmare. It hit me like a cold shower.

I did want the characters to seem ordinary and likeable. They dress simply, and I had a lot of fun thinking about their everyday clothing, their bathing suits and pajamas. They’re also a little plump. I wanted it to seem like they would feel cuddly if you held them in your arms.

Why did you set the film in Niagara Falls?

Before writing the script, I had read Yves Lavandier’s treatise Writing Drama. Lavandier suggests that if it’s appropriate for the script, filmmakers should set their films in a memorable location. I immediately thought of Niagara, starring Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotten. I saw it a long time ago, and though I couldn’t really remember the plot, the setting made a deep impression. It’s like the falls were the main character.

You describe this film as the most cinematic of your career thus far. Can you speak about your intentions and strategies for achieving this?

I like to joke that I used to make “animation theatre.” None of my previous films used camera motion.

Since the story of the new film is psychological in nature, I wanted to play with the conventions of cinema this time.

I asked Michel Grou, an editor more versed in live-action filmmaking, to do a preliminary edit based on the still images of my storyboard. That was very helpful from a cinematography standpoint. Once the film was finished, Michel returned for the final edit.

Judith Gruber-Stitzer’s soundtrack was also crucial. In evoking the great suspense films of the 1950s, she created a contrast between the grandiose character of the music and the almost laughable banality of the protagonists.

I was also pretty thrilled to animate a dolly zoom shot, inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s film Vertigo.

The film explores relationship dynamics, specifically the human propensity to ignore warning signs in a relationship. What’s your perspective on this topic? Is it something that resonates personally?

Yes, I truly believe that the human propensity to ignore warning signs in romantic relationships often gets us into trouble. So in that sense, nightmares can be very useful (laughs).

The film seems to draw inspiration from certain films noir or cinema classics. Can you speak about your filmmaking influences?

I have a lot of favourite filmmakers. In my last film, I made a few tiny winks to some cinema classics. First, to Jacques Tati’s Mon Oncle right off the bat. There’s also a nod to Hitchcock’s North by Northwest.

But I was thinking above all of Henry Hathaway’s film Niagara. The couple in my film are in Room B, like the characters played by Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotten. And an animated version of the film is playing on the TV in the couple’s room. And it’s also on the cover page of an issue of Life magazine that one of the characters is reading by the pool when the film opens. So Marilyn Monroe ends up with the same big nose as my characters.

You work in comic books, illustration and cinema. Can you tell us about the challenges specific to animation and how you choose the most appropriate format for each story?

In general, selecting the right format is influenced by the length of the story I want to tell. At the same time, I think most stories can be adapted from format to format.

For example, initially, Kaspar was a comic book. I had to condense the story for the film version, and it felt like I was transforming the narrative into a sort of haiku. Ultimately, the film was not at all like a moving comic book; it was something else entirely. What I lost in terms of detail from the comic book I gained back in emotion with the work on the sets, the motion, Kaspar’s voice and the music.

For I Don’t Love You Anymore, it was different. The film came from a fairly short dream. I’ve gotten into the habit of writing down my dreams, and I always try to just preserve the essence of them. One of the things that really drew me to this one was that it was movie-like. The flashbacks were right there in the dream. I initially made it into a comic book—with the early title Denial—before adapting it for film. Unlike Kaspar, the transformation from comic book to film was more an expansion than a condensation.

Your illustration and animation style is very distinctive. How would you describe it from an aesthetic and technical standpoint?

I’m not a technical specialist, and I don’t know how to draw realistically. But on the other hand, I turn that limitation into an asset by keeping things simple both technically and stylistically.

Strangely, my characters seem to find their own appearance, regardless of my intentions. There are animators who have a knack for adapting their drawing style to suit the film they are making. That’s not my case. Pretty much the same characters appear from film to film.

It’s almost like I’m always casting the same actresses and actors to star in my films because I like them and trust them.

Tell us about the design of this latest film, from the minimalism of the characters to the colour palette to the unapologetically kitschy sets and costumes.

I did a lot of research before starting the film. I collected a ton of images of motels, hotel rooms and clothes from the 1950s. I also assembled many vintage photographs of Niagara Falls. So creating the characters and sets fell into place quite naturally, possibly because I had completely immersed myself in that imagery.

You surrounded yourself with some hugely talented collaborators on this project, notably animator Janet Perlman, composer Judith Gruber-Stitzer and screenwriter and novelist Francine Tougas.

I feel so fortunate to have worked with these three talented artists. It was like driving a Bugatti!

Francine Tougas, my screenwriting advisor, helped me untangle the narrative knots and find ways to make the story clear.

Janet Perlman animated the intermediate drawings to make the animation flow, and she made numerous suggestions about how the characters should move, something she has a natural talent for.

Judith Gruber-Stitzer started by creating the sound effects. Then, knowing that I wanted to draw inspiration from the film noir Niagara, she had the brilliant idea of putting the soundtrack for the opening of that film over mine to see if that type of score would work. The contrast between that grandiose soundtrack and the innocence of the characters made us burst out laughing. Judith had to hire a lot of musicians to create that orchestral effect (13 instrumentalists and two singers), and the NFB backed us in that decision.

The film’s story came to me in a dream—or rather a nightmare—that I had a few years ago.

The nightmare led to a huge realization about a situation I had experienced in a previous lopsided romance, in which I refused to see that my partner didn’t love me as much as I loved them. So I tried to always be pleasant and accommodating in the hope of receiving more love.

But this sort of behaviour often produces the opposite effect because it demonstrates a lack of self-respect.

Fortunately, the nightmare helped me avoid becoming like the pathetic male character in this story.

If you’ll allow me to be frank here, quite a few of us exhibit this character trait. In fact, it’s the subject of a bestseller entitled Being Genuine: Stop Being Nice, Start Being Real.

I hope my film will resonate with people. Perhaps for some it will have the same effect as my nightmare had for me. And almost everyone has experienced the pain of no longer being loved, or of falling out of love. So it should be easy to identify with the characters.

Diane Obomsawin

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