Félix Dufour-Laperrière’s Death Does Not Exist, which was the only Canadian film to have its world-premiere at Cannes this year, may have been 10 years in the making, but it feels extremely timely. The animated movie joins a wave of recent films that capture this generation’s frustration with the inequality that is eroding society and the environment.

Understanding the precarious place that modern activism finds itself in, Dufour-Laperrière’s contemplates the messy crumbs left on the table when one attempts to eat the rich.

Fuelled by their desire to evoke meaningful change, Hélène and her fellow activists decided to take up arms against an affluent family. Agreeing on an all-or-nothing approach, the group’s hopes of igniting the flames of rebellion are swiftly doused by the icy water of reality. Not only does their violent assault on the wealthy couple’s home fail disastrously, but Hélène’s last-minute decision not to participate further seals her friends’ fates.

The lone survivor of the group, Hélène has no choice but to flee into the nearby woods in hopes of evading the family’s armed security team. It is within the cloak of nature that Dufour-Laperrière’s film transforms into a metaphysical dreamscape where the past, present, and potential futures collide in hypnotic ways.

Alone and filled with guilt, the young woman is visited by the ghost of her deceased friend Manon. Serving as both a survival guide through the dense forest and a constant reminder of Hélène’s betrayal, Manon’s assistance comes with an ultimatum. A time will come very soon when Hélène must make a choice, one that could give her a second chance to make things right.

Manon’s presence may place the weighty chain of regret around the young activist’s neck, but her presence is not the only surprise in the seemingly mystical forest. Encounters with a young girl who looks oddly like Hélène, the grisly aftermath of a pack of wolves hunting a lamb, and the emergence of special healing powers serve as the breadcrumbs leading Hélène down the path of self-discovery.

As Hélène tumbles further down the rabbit hole of her own psyche and wrestles with her inner turmoil, one can feel Dufour-Laperrière navigating his own conflicted thoughts. Death Does Not Exist ruminates on whether violence, even if out of desperation for change, can truly erase the sense of hopelessness that is seeping into society.

Unwilling to simply blame the rich and powerful for the chasm between the haves and have-nots, Dufour-Laperrière wants the audience to reflect on their complicity in enabling it.

While the director makes it clear everyone has a part to play, he struggles to offer any hints at how to bridge the gap. It is one thing to plant the seed of change, but one needs a regular watering plan for it to take root.

By offering no real suggestions on how to evoke the changes he wants to see, Dufour-Laperrière’s film feels more like the activism one sees online rather than on the streets. The type where statements are made without really delving into the complexities needed to make those things happen. Death Does Not Exist may lack clear directions on how to effectively fight the powers that be, but that does not make it any less compelling to observe.

Anchored by its stunning handmade images, Death Does Not Exist is one of the year’s most visually striking films. By having the human characters blend in with the colours of the landscape around them, the director draws the audience further into the film’s dreamlike aura. Whether Hélène is filled with the green of nature or the stark white of the affluent landscape, which makes the assault scene more visceral, one is constantly in a state of awe of the beauty on screen.

Arguably one of the most stunning animated works in recent years, there is much to like in this film. Death Does Not Exist may not provide answers to the questions it contemplates, but Dufour-Laperrière at least wants the viewers to get the conversation started. Most of us may not be afforded second chances like Hélène, but that doesn’t mean we cannot make the most of the one we have now. As the film alludes, the worst thing one can do in the face of inequality is nothing, which is a different type of murder.