Voicemails from Strangers
Directed by: Gregory Austin McConnell
Runtime: 47 minutes
YouTube is an interesting platform. If you were to ask Hollywood, YouTube is a place for cat videos and… not much else, as seen parodied in films such as Wreck it Ralph 2: Ralph Breaks the Internet or The Emoji Movie. Being a video streaming platform that is free to the masses, you would think that it would be an ideal place for young, budding filmmakers with nothing but spunk and a DSLR to showcase their passion projects and… well… it is and it isn’t. There are some phenomenal content creators on the site—animators, comedians, crafters, gamers, and film critics—but for the most part, the trending page is full of late-night television hosts, rich families providing a ‘slice of life’, newly released music from already popular bands and reality television stars giving their ‘office tours’.
It’s not that there is a lack of engaging, creative content on the platform—they are just hidden within the mystical algorithm. If you wish to delve into the variety of creative endeavours a platform such as YouTube has to offer, then I would like to direct you to the channel of Austin McConnell: a man who consistently releases vastly different content, but always maintains a consistent quality throughout his endeavours.
Recently, McConnell released a long-form documentary called Voicemails from Strangers. After throwing his number out into the chasm of the internet, he received thousands of calls and an incredibly full voicemail inbox. The film he released is nothing more than a selection of those recorded messages, weaved together with atmospheric backing music and beautiful moving images. To a lot of people, this might sound like the height of dull pretension; even I was surprised and overwhelmed when I realised there was no narration to break up the onslaught of copious messages across a 47-minute runtime. However, after watching it, I found a warm, comforting feeling began to surround me… and I must say, it slightly renewed my optimism for mankind.
The lack of narration throughout the piece actually does the film a huge service. We get to listen to a variety of individuals speak into a phone, leaving small messages about how their days are going or what is on their minds, without needing to be told what we should be getting out of this. Really, we are just spending 47 minutes listening to the mundanities of life from a myriad of perspectives and, I must say, I found myself glowing from the pure wholesomeness of the whole thing. There were some individuals who wanted to discuss the hardships in their lives, providing some sad stories regarding abuse, depression, or heartbreak. However, those stories (which, in themselves, would be the focus of most documentaries) are few and far between, intercut with people feeling just ‘fine’ or looking forward to a day out with their family. One person talks about the hilarity of breaking his coffee table, another laments overdrawn bank fees, and another begins spouting adorable inspirational messages through the phone.
By the end of the film, I found myself connected to humankind in a way that no social media profile or online escapade has ever made me feel. We don’t get to see these people’s faces, or really have much of an idea of most of their ages or races, but we still can connect with them. Some woke up on the right side of the bed, some the left. Others are nervous about big opportunities, and some are just plodding through their daily lives. We are presented with a small snapshot of humanity that seems to, somehow, showcase our diverse different experiences alongside the core things that connect us. I realised that despite being bombarded by terrible news stories and reminders of divisions between different factions of humanity (such as some of the comments, published and filtered, that I received because I didn’t really like the Joker movie that much), most of us are just getting along with our daily lives, drinking our morning coffee or checking the weather outside, and that is oddly quite beautiful.
McConnell has been incredibly open about his past as a creative, including the release of this fantastic video about his failed attempt at making a feature film. Surprisingly, the genius of his latest project lies in his lack of obtuse involvement within the text. Sure, his voice greeted the strangers who decided to leave a message, and you can pretty much assume that all the people who dialled the number were fans of his channel, but he is decidedly absent from the piece. If you have a spare chunk of time to renew your faith in our flawed species, I would recommend giving the video below this article a watch (I lovingly linked it for your convenience). If you enjoy it, I would recommend going to Austin McConnell’s channel and seeing what else he has to offer in his variety of video wares—I doubt you will be disappointed.
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