Crazy Hands achieves what many comedies strive for: using a whimsical and amusing situation to make a point about how life works.
Our nameless character is introduced to us in bed, disheveled and folded up in a cramped environment. As he moves through his dilapidated apartment, the small touches on the set reveal to us this stranger’s position in life. The sink full of opaque, dirty water implies that he has given up on maintaining appearance or cleanliness, the peeling wallpaper and harsh light imbue a sense of rodent-like persistence, and the singular picture on the wall hints at a lack of close friends. All in all, we are presented with a portrait of a man who has no place in society.
His “crazy hands” serve as a metaphor for that which we have no control over: we can change our appearance, we can pretend and act like we enjoy what is accepted or attractive to society, but at the end of the day we are who we are. He cannot control his flailing digits any more than we can control how we feel. The lack of control over his own true self makes him an unsung hero, a protagonist whom we can all empathize with on a level we’d rather not divulge to the public.
His interaction with the woman on the bench reinforces this metaphor. While nobody else speaks throughout the film, his frantic grunting and searching eyes show how desperate he is for someone to accept him or show to him what he can do to “cure” himself. He tries to touch her and his hands deny him the ability to do so, resulting in his eventual humiliation – but such is life.
At the pub, he can scarcely have a drink – and what activity is more normal and accepted than a drink among friends? But again, his hands, representative of what is true and right through his eyes, deny him this semblance of normality.
Finally, however, through his defeated slumping and by pure chance, he happens upon a piano. This instrument accepts his hands as closely as any lover, and they intertwine to create beautiful music – an anthem of triumph and a symbol of his discovery of his true self. In fact, it is more of a final recognition of what he has had with him all along. His wide eyed surprise is the first moment of happiness we see on his face, making his rather greasy and grotesque features childlike for a moment. Noticeably, while he erupts into laughter, nobody else in the pub joins along or shows any reaction at all. This is where Crazy Hands makes its final point: extrinsic recognition of one’s talents is not what matters. The only thing that we should seek for in life is intrinsic contentment.
With this overarching metaphor, Crazy Hands transcends it’s designation as an amusing short film and verges on poignant. While providing a good-feeling chuckle, Crazy Hands simultaneously etches out a profound little truth.
Watch here: Crazy Hands
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