Sound of Sunshine - Sound of Rain (1983)

I don’t think I’ve ever encountered quite such a touchingly acoustic way of tackling bigotry, but it’s done remarkably effectively in this short feature. A young blind lad wakes up in the morning hoping that it will be a nice day and that he can then go to the park. His senses immediately go into overdrive as he gleans from what he can hear and small and feel that the sun is, indeed, out. His mum is working hard and so agrees, reluctantly, to his sister taking him out and leaving him on his own for a few hours whilst she studies. In the park, he has everything carefully measured out so he knows exactly how many steps to take to safely and enjoyably navigate it. He even recognises the sound of the ice cream seller’s bicycle and today that chap stops to chat with him and gives him a few balloons. He also proceeds to describe the park to him, explaining that colours are just like sounds: sharp, soft, bright and dull and that in the grand scheme of things, colour doesn’t matter so very much. Sadly, when his sister comes to collect him and take him shopping, he is presented with rather stark evidence that that isn’t quite true! Though the animation is colourful and vivid, here, it’s also quite an interesting exercise just to close your eyes and listen to the narration. It’s quite affecting that way as he gets a pleasing enjoyment and satisfaction from simple things he can touch and hear as well as imagine - quite possibly conjuring up in things more beautiful in a minds-eye unconstrained by fact. It’s thought-provoking in an uniquely disarming and potent fashion, this, and well worth quarter of an hour.