A Masterclass in Voice Acting
The Swan opens with Rupert Friend, of the bluer-than-blue eyes, standing on a path lined with giant, overgrown, but dry hedges. There’s a sign sticking out that reads “Public Footpath”. Anderson’s worlds are never rooted in realism, but this one immediately feels like something from a dream. As Friend narrates the story, looking straight into the camera, he walks briskly, taking us deeper into this landscape of memory. Doors appear and open out of these hedges; boys in peaked caps dart in and out, shifting props; Friend does the voices for Ernie, who has been gifted a gun, and Raymond, his sidekick. Peter, who is to be the victim of their bullying, is first introduced to us by a photograph that Friend pulls out of his pocket. The boy himself appears a little later, glasses on his face and binoculars dangling from his neck.
Even though all the calculated movements have a whiff of comedy about them, there’s also a sense of jarring awkwardness to The Swan. When Friend talks about Ernie and Raymond having shot all the little birds they’ve seen on their way, and a young boy pops out of the hedge with a string of patently fake birds dangling from it, there’s a sense of relief that this is all make-believe. And yet the artifice of the prop also brings home the fact these are standing in for something real.