‘Two Ships’ Gently Examines Survival of Close Distance

A pink Post-It serves as a beacon of hope for one couple in director McKinley Benson’s hopeful animated short, Two Ships. While this film examines how we keep ourselves optimistic, the pangs of melancholy are very present. How do you survive as a couple when you spend so much time in your shared space alone?

We see a couple occupy the same apartment, but they don’t exist in the same time. The woman inhabits the apartment during the day while her partner lives his time during the night. They see each other across the breakfast table, but they are almost a figment in each other’s imagination, their eyes gazing at one another as they eagerly await the clock to tick faster.

The man is mostly bathed in blue light while his partner offers a sunnier presence. So many couples operate on different schedules and timetables with only the hope that their time together, in the same space, can be as filled as the time spent apart. I am sure that many people will identify with how delicated Two Ships telegraphs emotions–the beginning of my relationship with my husband was separated by space as we didn’t live in the same city until four years in.

The old saying goes “distance makes the heart grow fonder,” but what Benson’s film (from a script co-written with their partner, Mackenzie) does so beautifully is show us the passing of time in relation to each other’s physicality. This couple can imagine the other, because their bond is so strong. A note left by your lover or partner is a lifeline, but I couldn’t help but think about other unspoken sensory moments. Maybe she smells his cologne on his pillow? Perhaps she likes how he organizes the dishes in the cupboard? We see the ones we love without them being in the room.

One of the first moments we see is in the middle of the night. After he turns his watch alarm off, his head hits the pillow again and we feel him saying, “Really…already? Again?” He caresses her face before he gets up to start his day, but when he looks back, we see that her arm has extended to his side of the bed. I love how the colors overlap and complement each other–sometimes the blue palette overtakes the frame before the whites and beiges highlight another side of the story.

There is a moment where the color falls away and we feel the spikes of worry. The Man and The Woman find themselves swinging on separate swings, the wind whooshing one right by the other. They twist and reach–will it always feel like this, we wonder? The animation in their eyes in this moment really latches onto you before we settle again.

Two Ships is weighty but careful–its sincerity never hidden or viewed as a weakness. Ships may bob and weave, but so do relationships. There is something very profound in this film’s simplicity, because sustaining a meaningful bond is not simple at all. Two Ships knows that there is beauty in the waiting.