Journal #8 - Rango, Ethics and Animation (Sean Cubitt)

“Rango, Ethics and Animation” is a paper about exactly that. Posing the question of where animation stands within morality and ethics, and how we might go about gaining an understanding about it through the study of the movie Rango. While this paper does largely concern itself with the ideas of 3D animation, vectors, bitmapping, etc… I do still believe its insight is welcome in all aspects of animation, if for nothing else than an interesting alternative look into the medium. Before I go any further, there are certainly aspects of this paper that might be reading overall too far into the ideas of autonomy in animation, but nevertheless I think it is as the paper itself states - an interesting and worthwhile avenue of discussion, not necessarily to solve the question posed but to simply pose it with enough information as to create discussion. Cubitt starts off by stating that it will for the sake of its argument, include anecdotal evidence to support its exploration. The reason it states for this is that “Ethics concerns not the general but the specific” and “If ethics is a matter of confrontation with demand… It stands between the partners in the encounter, rather than joining them.” All in all, it makes itself clear that the inspection of Rango is again only the start of the conversation, not the key to the end of it. The idea of anecdote is integral to the paper, as inspection of a single work if essentially reading the account of anecdote. The film is an anecdote, the convergent stories within are anecdotes and - most importantly to this paper because it is a main feature of the film - Rango himself is in essence an anecdote. His story is deeply intertwined with the nature of storytelling, beginning the film as barely anything more than a slate for storytelling even within his own terrarium enclosed world. 

This idea of an anecdotal character then translates into the idea of ownership and autonomy. Simply put, who is Rango? Is he the designer or writer who created his character? Is he the modeler or animator who gave him life and movement? Is he the person who voiced him and acted out his lines for later reference? (Side note here but Cubitt does include a very funny quote from filmmaker Jean Renoir demolishing the “sub or dub” debate by suggesting that putting any voice over a film is comparable to heresy) And if the methods of 3D animation allow for characters to be animated in the sense of programs and set, repeatable cycles, is could there be an argument for the autonomy of Rango to be his own, separate from human hands? It is suggested then in the face of this dilemma, that he can be viewed as an animated artifact inhabited by multiple, disparate sources. Additionally and predictably, in the conversation of autonomy in today's age, we come eventually to the idea of corporate property, and the ethics within that as well. If Rango possesses in short the souls of all the previously described sources, what does it mean for him to be legally owned by a company who is free to do with him as they see fit, and even more so how does this relate to both his status as in some sense a celebrity and human celebrities who sign rights over to studios and corporations. Just because Rango is unable to sign papers in the real world does not mean there would be no complaints or repercussions from the sentient parts of his being or the dissonance of his character, should he appear tomorrow in a toothpaste commercial.

The real importance of talking about Rango specifically in this paper is the ways in which the movie talks about acts of performance, narrative and control within a story. Firstly, with performance, we come to the issue of viewership and what that means in context. Essentially all parts of the film are an act intended to be viewed. Even within the sense of turning vectors into flat bitmaps, feeding everything through a codec, in the same way that live film is captured and becomes flat images, so too does the final result of animation become only the memory of the original. This allows for an odd dissonance where as an audience we can view loneliness despite being in a theater full of people. The concept of suspending disbelief for the sake of story exists, but in the context of a character who does not know they are acting in a story viewed by millions, that suspension can lead us to different concepts than we would be usually accustomed to. Secondly, in the narrative we have the idea of a story written about a story. Rango is through and through an actor within the narrative. Even in the finale, where he accepts his role as sheriff, his role can still be read as playing a part, regardless of how fully he believes in it. Rango is, as Cubitt describes him, “...not just a specific performance of an object, but a representation of that performance.” Rango the character directly represents the performance he is unknowingly playing. Finally, the idea of control within the story. For this area Cubitt pulls back even farther, no longer examining only the character of Rango but of Beans as well as the animations of water present within the film. Beans functions as Rango’s antihero in many ways. Where Rango is trapped under layers of outside forces and metatextual ideas but still throughout it all retains an aspect of autonomy (if anything present in the visuals of the movie can be considered to truly have autonomy), Beans explicitly has that ability revoked, becoming catatonic at a moment’s notice. Even further, within that state her autonomy is moreso revoked by the ways in which Rango continues to come on to her. The narrative has for all intents and purposes abandoned her, left to the whims of morally questionable characters until, as the paper argues, she forces her will back on the story and regains consciousness, moving back from inanimate, objective fetish to character with control. Interestingly however, Cubitt also considers this idea in reverse, that the act of inanimation is - on a grander scale - an act of rebellion by a character so controlled by the narrative. The choice to refuse animation in an animated film, and then to choose her own time to reemerge from that is, in a way, a decrying of the external forces that move her along in her own story. In the complete reverse to this is the idea of water within the film. Water is explicitly uncontrollable, and to all best efforts is still never truly controlled even in the case of Rango, where it is all computer generated. In a completely different act of rebellion, but rebellion nevertheless, water demands everything of its creators and holds nothing back, if they want to have an end result that at all resembles the real thing.

Overall this paper presents a very interesting way of viewing animation. While there was no particular reason as to why I picked this paper over any other besides my preexistent fascination with Rango, I am very glad I did. As stated by Cubitt, there are the beginnings to a very interesting conversation within, certainly it is something I will consider moving forwards. To say I was surprised by this paper would be an understatement. Cubitt clearly has a very well articulated and thought out stance on this question and he is able to explain it in an incredibly interesting and compelling way. There are many points within this paper that have certainly crossed my mind before and will undoubtedly come up even more now that I have read this. As such I do believe this is a good read for anyone interested in the idea of ethics in animation, if only for the thought of hearing more people’s opinions on it. I think this concept is very applicable to many aspects of animation, the places to do so becoming even more common at the introduction of video games into the conversation. A medium within animation that features not only control from the craters but from the creators but from the viewer themself is practically begging for this conversation (and in many ways has already had it, but it is a fascinating subset of this conversation nonetheless that should continue to be developed). Overall I believe this paper was a worthwhile read and the very well spoken beginnings of a conversation I hope to have more of in the future.

SOURCES

(both are the same source but given that this is posted on a public blog I am including both in case one is inaccessible)

Film Journal #7 - The 1980's

A Story - Andrew Stanton (1987)

Techniques

While certainly integrating multiple mediums and design tricks into its creation, Andrew Stanton’s “A Story” is largely a hand-drawn animation with a flourish of live action. The story starts off with the common trick of acting within the film as a storybook brought to life, with a live action scene of someone’s hand flipping the first page of a story book. This then transfers a few times in rapid succession, from the storybook drawing of the main character - Melvin, to an animated (and oddly different in very specific aspects) version of him within a very sparse-looking environment clearly drawn on animation paper, to a fully coloured world. The designs tend to lean more towards the UPA style, albeit more fleshed out in most aspects. Additionally, the sound effects are well done and the voices are all very clear, leaving the actual voice acting itself as the aspect with the most desired improvement. (Although granted this is a student film and so the quality of line readings is by far not of the greatest concern here)

Representation

The film begins with a short carnival-like tune, and the narrator clearing their throat before launching into the story proper. As with the intro, the actual plot of this film shows itself again and again to take itself and its material very cynically. We are introduced to Melvin, a young boy who has “...no friends, and [parents who] totally ignore him”, and as such he spends all his time watching television. This continues until one day Melvin is pulled violently but willingly through his TV and into the world of his favourite show, “TED LAND”. The film then cuts to Ted and Melvin off on adventures (albeit with a bandage now around Melvins head), walking down a road until a hard cup pivots to “Randy the Clown and his Goon Squad”, who have been terrorizing the local village. Ted an Melvin try to stop them, but this only serves to “Piss Randy off”. He then drags the two back to his clown lair, where he explains his plan to kill them and take over the neighboring castle. A very tense scene follows where Randy and his goon squad travel towards the king as Melvin and Ted are shown in various near-death experiences, which is finally resolved by the narrator stating that while it would take nothing short of a miracle to save Ted and Melvin, there is no such thing, and so they die and Randy lives as king to the age of 108.

Reception

“A Story” I believe, fully lives up to its title. It is a story through and through. Whether or not it deserves any other notes is something to be debated but it should be given that at the very least.This film was created during Andrew Stanton’s time as a student at CalArts 7 years before his first full-length film with “Toy Story” and it definitely shows in the ways his writing skills are very underdeveloped here. Overall, it appears that a good majority of people who have seen this short enjoy it. Although I cannot count myself among these as I personally find its style to be very overused and “dark” to no greater purpose than saying the word piss a couple times, it does seem to have some resonance, especially in a group of those watching cartoons for the sake of it and with no greater purpose in mind to break down the entire film. It is certainly an interesting look at the early work of a very prolific director, but I am unsure even as to the merit there is to compare it to Stanton’s other works aside from perhaps to see the place he started out. As a final note, it is with everything considered a bit of an ego blow to me specifically in a way, as this program will eventually have me creating a short film not unlike the requirements that birthed this creation. Every opinion I have against this film serves this paper, but also a growing mental image in my head of someone 44 years from now harshly criticizing my own student film in the same ways. Despite the moments of existentialism that have found me within this journal, I do find solace in the ideas that not only can I take what was done in this film and learn from in so that I might not repeat the parts of it I dislike, but also that if all else fails I will at the very least have created something with the possibility of terrorizing a new animation student years and years from now.

Sources

Film Journal #6 - The 1970’s

Mazinger Z - Go Nagai (1972-1974)

(this will focus on episode 13, as I could not find a working english translation of episode 1)

Technique

Mazinger Z is an animated tv show created in the 1970’s. There is sadly little I could find on the specifics of how “Mazinger Z” was created, but given the information we have we can assume it was animated by hand. The art style most commonly related with anime is also present here. I am unsure exactly when it started - especially given the existence of manga - but given that post wwii Japanese animation was much closer to emulating the styles of American animation, it can be assumed that by this point the styles were already set in place. “Mazinger Z” also began life as a manga, originally running from 1972-1974 as well, with the tv show beginning just 2 months after the manga’s release. The dub of the original show I was able to access is interesting to say the very, very least. The dub, directly commissioned from Toei (the studio behind the tv show) was very clearly created by a team with little experience, likely due to either the single studio not having much reference, or the general idea of animations being newer to the idea of translating shows like this. I am unsure on the specifics of this and would love to look into it more but, unfortunately there is not the time to do so here so I will leave it at the overall facts that television series as well as the mecha genre in general were very new, and so those may have been contributing factors.

Representation

As with any good tv show or Shakespearean play, Mazinger Z episode 13 features both a main and sub plot. Within the main plot, Baron Ashura (a half-man, half-woman in the very literal sense that they have a face split in half by traditionally masculine and feminine traits, and have two separate voice actors in the same regards) activates a mechanical beast with the ability to shoot flames hot enough to melt rocks, camouflage itself as a snowball, and throw swords (an ability we do not see until much later). The ball then rampages through the town until it is spotted by some morally ambiguous side characters as well as Sakaya Yumi, the pilot of the robot “Aphrodite A” - another mech similar to Mazinger Z but with more feminine features. During this discovery, the main character Koji Kabuto finds himself trapped inside his house by a large group of Baron Ashura’s “Iron masked men” (as they are referred to by Koji). He dispatches them quickly and flies his “Pilder” (a small, helicopter-like vehicle) into the operating seat of his robot, Mazinger Z. from there he begins helping Sakaya in her fight with the evil robot, as she has already used both of her (for lack of any sort of better terminology I could possibly use in a blog post I am being graded on for school) boob rockets. Once Mazinger Z enters the fight, Aphrodite A functionally disappears and the day is saved after a quick physical exchange. The side plot is nothing much past a snow sculpture contest where an exact simulacrum of the judge in snow is awarded first place.

Reception

Mazinger Z was wildly influential at the time and its effects continue even to this day. Much to the dismay of its creator, who would have much preferred his work on “Devilman” to get more recognition than what was effectively a long running joke. If Mazinger Z did not create the mecha genre, it did at the very least make changes to it (namely the concept of a person being inside the robot instead of controlling it from the outside, among others).  Although it is very fair to say that works such as “Astroboy” and “Tetusjin 28-go” are for all intents and purposes more important than Mazinger Z, especially given the former two also inspired the latter, on the account that the entire genre focusing around people in giant robots fighting each other is visibly connected to this show definitely gives it notoriety. In addition to its influence, Mazinger Z is also interesting to talk about in regards to gender. Directly from the start of the show, the second character we are ever introduced to (and the first who is ever given a name) is Baron Ashura, the conjoined body of two mummified, forbidden lovers who was resurrected by Dr. Hell, the main antagonist of the series. Ashura, from what I can tell over a very short view of around one and a half episodes, is generally treated fairly well by the show. While they certainly fall into the trope of having evil characters be generally non-conforming in some way, they seem to be treated more or less the same as everyone else. Sakaya Yumi however, is a much different read. There is enough information to suggest that her inclusion as a pilot of a mech was more or less a step forwards however, save that point there is not much in favour of her as a character. Her opening scene includes a joke is made about her body, and while again she is given command over a mech, it is still heavily weighted down by both its naming convention being of the Greek Goddess of love, and the fact that seemingly it's only weapons are large missiles that make up the boob part of the mech’s feminine design. This it should be noted is not in any way meant to insinuate that the inclusion of Aphrodite A is in itself the problem, but instead that in addition to only impounding the way which the character of Sakaya Yumi is portrayed, it is also an otherwise very non-sexual show which only makes it more clear the intent and biases behind her character.

Sources

I was not able to read all of this one for this given time restraints but it looks interesting and is related enough that I’m adding in here

Film Journal #5 - The 1960’s

The Snails - Rene Laloux (1966)

Technique

Rene Laloux’s “The Snails” seems to be made with a paper cut-out style similar to what was coming out of the U.K. at the time. In this instance however, the puppets themselves seem to all be hand painted, instead of supplemented by magazine cutouts. More than likely, this film was captured using a multiplane camera, although it is possible other methods were used. Laloux began using this style while working at the Cour-Cheverny psychiatry clinic where he would start out putting on puppet shows for his patients. Moving on from there he would create his first short film, “Les Dents du Singe” at the same clinic, having his patients draw the art as a form of therapy. Moving on from psychiatry, and after beginning work as a professional director, his art style developed into what we now see with “The Snails”.

Representation

The film opens on a flat, seemingly dry plain full of women precariously balanced on top of large balls. Zooming in closer to the balls, we see that additionally, the tops of the balls are full of life, as if they represent planets of sorts. While this will be the last we see of these women or the balls, it does paint an interesting scene of the world we are set in. These large women are possibly acting as maternal figures for those on their balls. It also opens the question of what lies beyond the plains we see them in, although that is never answered. Closing in even further, we land on a landscape familiar to the one we just left, but instead with a farmer standing in his field. He is attempting to water his crops,which unfortunately have all withered. He tries a number of things, all in an attemp-t to get his plants to stand upright again, but none of it seems to be working. Distraught, he begins to cry over his plants, to which the plants respond in an instant revitalization. Excited by this discovery, he begins finding various ways to make himself cry in order to keep his plants growing such as holding onions to his face, reading sad books, holding a skull, and eventually automating the process to an extent with a mechanical backpack that hits him repeatedly. His plants continue to grow exponentially, ending up at roughly the size of his house. Night then falls, and as he falls asleep, small snails begin eating at the plants outside. Cutting again to the farmer, he is awoken in shock not only at the complete desolation of his crops, but also now by the violent shaking of his house. The roof crumbles in on top of him and we are taken outside yet again to see enormous snails far bigger than the farmer's house wreaking havoc on the countryside. Cars and trains are destroyed, buildings are pushed over by the snails immense size. Bodies of people are left lifeless in their wake. Eventually, the snails march is led into a city or larger town. Here we first watch one snail peer through a window to a woman undressing, as well as another luring a girl into an alleyway. Both women are pulled into the snail’s shell, it is unclear the outcome of these scenes. The film interestingly moves very quickly away from these scenes to more generic shots of people being chased by the snails and although one of the people being chased is a topless woman, we are never again shown any sort of personality the snails may have. The snails then begin destroying buildings, completely ruining the town and the people inside save for a single old person sat between the wreckage. Then the snails start doing cheerleading poses. Cobwebs grow between them, the city is rebuilt, and framed through what I assume to now be corpse-monuments of the snails, we can again see the farmer’s house. Peaceful music plays as he waters his field, this time full of carrots. They seem to be growing well enough - although not well enough for the farmers liking as he immediately pulls out another onion and begins to cry. The carrots once again start growing ridiculously fast, and finally we end on a group of rabbits cresting over a hill.

Reception

Rene Laloux created this film with the help of Roland Topor. At the time, Topor was far more well known than Laloux was, but soon after with this film he began gaining recognition as well. “The Snails” won a number of international awards, such as Mamaia Festival’s Grand Prix, and the Cracow Festival’s Special Jury Prize. While this film’s popularity would later be far eclipsed by “La Planete Sauvage” in 1973, “The Snails” was certainly what put Laloux on the map. The film as a whole certainly carries itself with a lot of surrealist ideas. From the introduction of the way the “planets” exist, to the methods the farmer uses to grow his crops, to the odd voyeurism and strange, sudden deaths of the snails, the film at every turn makes a point of alienating the viewer ever so slightly more from a world that may have otherwise been comparable to our own. The film’s morals, if it could be said to have any, arise most visibly around the farmer. So set he is on growing his crops: he fails first to prevent himself from being harmed, eventually setting up a constant sort of torture device to ensure he continuously cries, and then later on is the indirect cause of not only the snails, but presumably of the rabbits as well, even though this time around his field does not at all seem to require the same tear-based watering system. Overall this is a fascinating film, especially in its creation of the systems at play within its world and the ways in which it hides the reasoning of those things from us.

Sources

Film Journal #4 - the 1950's

Jack and the Beanstalk (1955) - Lotte Reiniger

Technique

This rendition of “Jack and the Beanstalk” was made in Lotte Reiniger’s signature style of cut-out silhouette puppets, made with both paper as well as some other type of more transparent material for specific pieces of the film. The backgrounds are all painted in what likely could be watercolor, although I am unsure on the specifics. It is, however notable for being the first of her non promotional/advertisement films to use colour backgrounds like this, as previous films were done with more black and white cutouts. Like her other films, “Jack and the Beanstalk” was captured using the multiplane camera, a technique she originated. The audio of the film features a main narrator who voices all the characters, as well as a score likely influenced by composers such as Mozart. The music plays a very fun role in the film, leading along with the visuals and at points even seeming to match up with the speaking roles of the characters (most noticeable in The Giant).

Representation

This film was, as should be clear by now even without watching it, about the classic fairy tale, “Jack and the Beanstalk”. The story does take some of its own creative liberties however, namely in Jack selling his pig instead of a cow, and the lack of the golden harp present in many versions of the story. While there had been many retellings of this story at the point of making this film - and there have been even more since - this one in particular is notable for being made by Lotte Reiniger in a collection of short films based on fairy tales starting in 1953. This can be seen as a return to form of sorts for her after working mostly on advertising films starting in 1949. As mentioned before, this is the first of her main films to feature coloured backgrounds, and while I cannot speak to any of her other works, the amount of movement she takes from such stiff models is astounding. I cannot speak for her nor her emotions at the time of creating this particular piece but Reiniger clearly has a grace in her animations, if not a joy within their creations.

Reaction

Reiniger clearly inspired many people, both those who simply watched her films and those who attempted to replicate their mediums and style later on. While colourless paper cutouts are not a commonly used medium nowadays, they did nevertheless clearly have a deep impact on those who do still consider them for their own films. It doesn't seem to be that this film in particular is one of Reiniger’s more popular ones, but regardless it was and still is a wonderful experience. Additionally, with the stranglehold Disney has on cinematic fairytales, it is refreshing to see such a lovingly crafted alternative to what is now more or less the default for this style of story.

Sources

WORKING WITH DISNEY #1

Marcellite Garner

Marcellite Garner worked at Walt Disney’s studio predominantly between 1930 and 1941 in the inking and painting departments. In addition she was the voice of Minnie Mouse during her time at the company when required. While there is not much written on her past interviews and credits, she does seem to at least be widely praised for her defining of the character of Minnie Mouse (although how true that is could likely be debated). Both interviews chosen here were done so at near complete random, with the only caveat being that I wanted to get an interview with one of Disney’s “Nine Old Men” of animation and one of the women working at the studio.

Marcellite was interviewed by Hazel Sewell, Lillian Disney’s sister in late 1929, and hired the next year in February 1930 - joining when both she and the studio were fairly young, when the studio only had around thirty five people and most of the artists were between the ages of 19-21. Also of note, Garner mentions early into the interview that on the day she submitted her application “It was pouring rain… My hair was hanging down and I was a mess. I still think that’s why they gave me the job, because I came out in all that horrible weather.” whether or not that is the reason she got the job aside, it does put an interesting view onto how Garner saw herself within the company. Towards Walt she seems to have a relatively understanding attitude, even with mentions of how strict he was with his requirements and constraints for films, and that he was enjoyable to be around, even during voice acting, where it is mentioned that other interviewees did not read his emotions as such. She also decided to stay with the company during the strike, stating “I couldn’t see that we were not being treated fairly.” Elaborating on this more she talks on how she felt the studio before the strike was much more like a family than what it was like afterwards but also admits that that change, with the directions the studio was growing, would have happened regardless. While her interview is relatively short and I would have loved to have more of her current insights into the strike and working conditions, the interview is not completely devoid of them. One passage here Garner mentions work conditions as often “ink[ing] straight around the clock… We’d go to work at eight in the morning and work until eight the next morning sometimes.” Overall an interesting interview from an understandable point of view of someone who by all accounts likely would have befitted from the strike but chose to stay working instead.

Les Clark

Les Clark worked as an animator for Walt Disney from 1927 to 1975, later on he moved to directing films instead, namely television and educational films. There certainly appears to be more information about Clark than Garner, although there is some understanding there, as he seems to have had a much longer career than Garner did, at least in working with Disney. As stated before, my choices for this paper were largely at random, mostly because I was not very familiar with any of the names in the book I am referencing, “Working with Walt”.

Clark, in contrast to Garner’s interview, came about as first by meeting Disney via a job at a lunch counter they frequented and then two years later by showing him some copied artwork out of a “College Humor” magazine. Clark was then hired and scheduled to begin work two days later. There is an interesting contrast to be drawn here between Les Clark’s hiring on the basis of his clean linework and Marcellite Garner’s lifelong uncertainty that she was hired for anything more than how wet her hair was on the day of the interview. This should not be considered without the caveat that their hirings were done two years apart, and likely there were things that had changed during that time to warrant a different approach to interviews and hiring processes, but even still given the time period I do not think it is out of the question to suggest gender may have played some role in the difference. Clark also holds a very positive view of Disney throughout the interview, thinking highly of him even in response to the mixed images given by other interviewees and going as far to say “It was Walt, whose innovations and whose desire… developed the cartoon industry. It’s all credit to Walt Disney, no one else, because all the other studios took from him what he had proven.” This again is an interesting statement in no small part given to the fact that this interview, given a year before Clark’s death, is an opinion he held throughout his entire life knowing Disney. As with Garner, Clark stayed with the studio through the strike. He seems to agree that while he chose against the strike in the moment, there were parts of it that would have spilled over regardless, although unfortunately there is not enough in the interview to know fully his opinion on it now.

SOURCES

Film Journal #3 - The 1940's

Themis - Dwinell Grant (1940)

Technique

Themis is an abstract animation composed entirely of simple shapes moving around a coloured background. The shapes are made of paper, glass, and wood. Not much more is to be said about the visual style of the film, save for the use of lighting in certain shots to create even more shapes or to shift the overall mood. Also very notable within “Themis” is the use of music within the film, which adds an unexpected layer of complexity to the piece, as from what I can understand the original was silent, although most versions (especially those more readily available) are accompanied by sound - specifically a fugue based loosely off of the composer Antonin Reicha and written by Martin Marks. It is an interesting choice, especially seeing as the version with sound was distributed by the National Film Preservation Archives. I briefly debated omitting this fact but given the way it was added as well as the nature of abstract art to grow more interesting with time and layerings of information, I think it is worth keeping in mind at the very least.

Representation

As stated before, “Themis” is entirely animated with moving shapes, and as such it is harder to talk about anything related to a plot within the film. That being said, I do not believe “Themis” is devoid of all meaning. Described as “a constructivist painting bursting to life” and with the consideration that Grant studied at the National Academy of Design in New York, we can begin to see the inspirations of this film. Further we can add to this by understanding his reasoning for animating the piece in the first place, as he has stated that he wanted to “add the element of time and motion to abstract composition”. This is an interesting, albeit simple concept overall but given the simplicity of the film I feel it speaks much louder than it may have otherwise. The movement of “Themis” isn’t telling any sort of story but, as Grant has said about other works “In creating it we do not say something about something else, but rather we produce a rhythm which is part of nature’s rhythm and just as deep and fundamental as a heartbeat.... Nature is not something to be commented on, it is something to be.” In addition to the movement of the film, the sounds of the film bring an interesting dynamic in both cases, as with the addition of sound it can be understood as reminiscent of a dance, whereas without it there is a feeling similar to watching organisms moving around under a microscope.

Reception

I don't think contemporary art, especially not contemporary art like this, will ever stop being a source of confusion. There's no doubt this film was not exactly popular at its creation, as there is little now, even by those who appreciate the movements it was a part of save for its recognition by the National Film Preservation Foundation. I have found reactions to contemporary and abstract art to be much more varied than you might have from a piece with a clear theme or visual. Works like “Themis” simply give you less to grab onto immediately. In my opinion - as a dropout of a contemporary art course which haunts me almost daily - I try to view an artwork like this through the ideas of the intent and legacy of the artist through the piece (in this case largely the ideas of rhythm and nature even within such rigid structures as constructivism and glass cylinders) as well as the ways their methods can help me grow as an artist in my own style. The simplicity of this film really gives you a chance to study the individual aspects of everything going on. You can see the human touch in the tiny nudges of the different shapes as a human hand clearly moves them around in different ways, the personality even in such rigid mediums. You can hear parts of the more recently made music working to sync itself up with the film's movement, an attempt to put more emotion to a film that clearly meant a lot to the composer. And most importantly (at least to me) you can see very plainly the way Grant does not allow the film to stand behind a theme or story. Death of the author is a concept I know I struggle with, as I imagine many artists do, and so I find art like this that so blatantly refuses to explain itself any more than it can for itself in the four minute runtime helps me keep that idea fresh in my mind - that the experience and personal consideration of that can lead to a more powerful end result than could have been otherwise.

Sources

^ This is a lower quality version on youtube than the film preservation link has but I think the compression is funny so I’m including it

Film Journal #2 - The 1930’s

Ugokie Kori no Tatehiki - Ikuo Oishi (1933)

Technique

Ugokie Kori no Tetehiki is a cel animated, voice acted film seeming to pull a lot of inspiration from Felix the Cat and the styles of american animation coming out at around the same times. This is interesting for a number of reasons, namely that voicing in Japanese animated films was likely non-existent before 1933, with “Chikara to Onna no Yo no Naka” being the first recorded instance. Cel animation was also rare in 1930’s Japan as the lower cost of animated films imported from other places meant that cut-out animations were much more profitable for in-country animators. The style is also very clearly similar to the popular animations from America, which would again make sense in a time where foreign films were sold cheaper.

Representation

As mentioned multiple times before, the film follows many of the same beats of the likes of a Felix or Julius the Cat animation, all the way down to the removable tail. We start off with a fox walking along in a forest and eventually turning into a man, its tail turning into some kind of staff. Further along, next to an abandoned house is a tenuki (raccoon cat) clearly inspired by Felix the Cat. Almost immediately after spotting the man, the tenuki begins shape shifting into various objects and creatures in order to mess with him (Becoming what may be a yam and then turning into a snake-like monster once the man gets too close, a one footed cyclops and even taking over his shadow at one point). Eventually, the man figures out that he is being tricked, lures the tenuki into a dance, and then pulls it apart into smaller pieces. The smaller tenukis then run off into a pot behind a crumbling wall and reform into their larger self and, likely deciding that they need help in tormenting this man, pull out a phone and call a larger tenuki, clearly their elder. The two then continue tormenting the man in much the same way as before, up until the man pulls out a gun and begins firing on them. This then continues until the man has the larger tenuki cornered, to which the smaller responds by sneaking behind the man and bashing him over the head with his staff. Unconscious, the man turns back into the fox, the tenukis laugh, the moon smiles and the film ends.

Reception

This film is - in a word - frustrating. In more however it is very fascinating as an example of the ways in which animation styles were at the time very clearly playing off each other in their techniques and storytelling. Even in its copying, it is very similar to what was happening in the U.S. with Julius the Cat taking so much from Felix, as well as the entire overarching art style. It gives a very interesting addition to the infancy of the modern field of animation and helps expand the understanding of world-wide animations at the time. This is unfortunately all underlied by the massive elephant in the room. Not only was the majority of Japanese animation lost to the second world war, but so was Ikuo Oishi, the creator of this film. Any speculation we may have on this film and the author or the original reception of the film is underlied by the distinct lack of information on him or his works and what little we have is both heavily paywalled and very minimal beyond the original film itself. I do believe the film itself and the events surrounding it are fascinating but as previously stated, it is frustrating to know so little about something so interesting, even if it is for how to-the-norm it is played.  Additionally, it should be noted that as I and many others that are able to view the film not but speak the language or understand all of the references to what are likely Japanese folklore it does put another damper on the understandability of the film, however not one that I believe to be significant enough to warrant any extra discussion or complaint on it.

References

Ugokie Kori no Tatehiki (1931)

Film Journal #1 - The 1920's

The Frogs Who Wanted a King / Frogland - Władysław Starewich (1922)

Technique

Frogland is a silent film which utilizes stop motion or puppet animation centered around taxidermied animals. Starewich is considered to be a pioneer in this field of animation, especially in regards to coherent stories told in the medium. Originally a director of the Museum of Natural History at Kosovo, he began his work with attempts to document insects - a pursuit that quickly failed as he could not keep the insects alive in the conditions he required to film them. Abandoning that, he moved on to creating stop motion animations of taxidermied insects by wiring their legs to their bodies in order to manipulate them easier, and eventually moved fully into creating much more advanced felt and leather puppets, which is likely what is used in “Frogland”.

Representation

The film itself is in reference to one of Aesop's fables, about a group of frogs who “...waxed so prosperous that its heavy thinkers acquired the human trait of sitting around and making wise croaks against the government”. This leads to a group of thinkers gathering together and deciding that their democratic government is “all wet”, and that they should instead ask the god Jupiter to send them a king. This results in Jupiter, aided by who I assume to be Mercury, shooting a lightning bolt down to earth which in turn creates a somewhat sentient wooden king for the frogs. The frogs are terrified by this but eventually send out a committee, which attempts to give the king praise and gifts. To this, the king rolls its eyes, and despite much prodding from the frogs no more interaction is given from it. The frogs then abandon this king, throwing mud at it and pleading to Jupiter once again that their king is “a blockhead” and that they need a new one. Jupiter remarks that the frogs are “almost human”. He is then given a stork by mercury and sends it down to punish the frogs for asking so much of him. The frogs welcome their new king, and yet again attempt to offer it gifts. This time however, they are met with hunger, and the stork begins to devour them. As news spreads of the new king, the frogs begin to once again beseech Jupiter to help them (or at the very least to complain) to which Jupiter calls down even more lightning. The film ends with a moral “Let well enough alone”.

Reception

Due to the heavy use of animal characters within Starewich’s work, a common theme seen throughout is the idea of showing human faults and behaviors through the lens of more animalistic natures. While the frogs in this film operate more or less the same as humans do, the kings are both a clear representation of the abuse of power that comes with divine right to rule. The log king is cold and distant, ignoring its subjects despite clearly acknowledging their presence even in the face of physical force. It could be read, and likely the frogs do, that the log king is nothing but a figurehead, although perhaps even worse  in this case, as the log king doesn't even have the power to hold the frogs to it once they realize how inactive it is. In contrast the stork king is clearly invested in the frogs - ostensibly what the frogs wanted - but only for personal gain and to the complete detriment of the frogs themselves. Again in contrast to the former, the stork king has so much power that even begging Jupiter for aid only brings more suffering. The film was received very well at the time, gaining popularity all over the world. Much of the popularity and commentary likely came from Starewich’s personal experience, as he had left Russia for France at the beginning of the Russian revolution, and now in 1922 it would soon come to a close the next year. It is also of note, that while the message at the end of the film: “Let well enough alone” is certainly an aspect of the films messaging, it is a very reductive idea likely more a vestigial part of the original fable’s ending than a full explanation of the politics of “Frogland”. Much more important to the messages of the film is the danger of allowing those of higher power to determine one's own fate - throughout the story Jupiter is called upon again and again, and each time he is clearly more annoyed with the frogs than the last (even in their first interaction, he does not appear happy that he must do anything for the frogs). Each time Jupiter is beseeched, less power is given to the frogs. The ultimate folly was believing a god of storms could do anything to solve their problem, instead of reflecting and taking action within their own society.

LINKS

https://www.google.ca/books/edition/The_Art_of_Movies/OUCDAwAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=frogland+1922&pg=PA535&printsec=frontcover

https://culture.pl/en/artist/wladyslaw-starewicz

https://www.google.ca/books/edition/Understanding_Animation/tkEYAgAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=frogland+1922&pg=PA263&printsec=frontcover

Introduction

My name is Molly, and I am very interested in animation history, mainly because I plan to go into the animation industry after I finish school, but also because I really enjoy learning about art history and the different perspectives it gives to events we already have a basic understanding of. Aside from that, animation in general is something that has interested me for about as long as I can remember, and it is something I am excited to understand more in depth.

Some of My Favourite Animated Things

Portal 2 is a game that stands out to me as a sort of turning point in my interactions with media in general but also animated media in general. I first played through it in grade 9, and was I believe the first if not one of the very first times I felt a piece of media connect with me in such a deep and important way. That is not to say that there weren't other things I feel closely connected to from that time in my life, just that portal 2 was the first one I recall immediately grabbing me in the moment. I have a vivid memory of sitting in the basement of my house at the time watching the final credits roll by with my mouth hanging open. I was devastated that the experience was over and at the same time caught up in how the story I had just finished was. Not only was this game so well crafted, but it was also told in a way and in a world that was so connected to the mediums of video games and animation. Portal 2 would obviously never work quite the same way as a movie or tv show, but more importantly I do not believe it could exist in the same way outside of the medium of animation, like so many things that are animated, it is so much more for leaving behind the constraints of reality.

Double King is a very interesting piece of animation. From everything I can find, it was created entirely by one person over the course of about two years, is beautifully made, and tells a very interesting story along its near ten minute run time. It has held a special place in the long list of media I enjoy not only because of its one-person creation team, but also because of the way it worked around the constraints of that. The absence of voice acting meaning all the animation had to be done in a way that fully explains the story going on, the single person team meaning it took a long time but was able to stick completely to the creator's vision, and the soundtrack, also created by the same person, adds so many more layers on top of this already outstanding film. while none of these things on their own are particularly groundbreaking, they all come together in a way that has been very inspiring as someone intending to become an animator as an example of how free form and powerful the medium is.

Mad God is... odd, to say the least. A stop motion film in production for 30 years on its own I believe would be enough to talk about here, but Mad God is so much more. Most importantly, at least in my opinion, is the way it exists as much less of a linear story and instead almost more like a work of abstract art, albeit a very visceral one. I hesitate to fully label it as abstract art, as it is laid out in a way that you can understand, and with characters and concepts that make sense, but it is so unlike conventional animation that I would consider it close to abstraction in concept if not in form. In my experience - coming to this program from a different school and a contemporary art program that I did not feel much connection to or understanding of - I feel torn on the ideas and motives behind abstract and contemporary art. It is a tricky subject and one that i do not always feel well equipped to handle, but things like this movie, that are so clearly made with skill and care in their medium regardless of clarity of story or messaging or how many times a small human figure made of cotton is ripped apart in a surprisingly gory fashion, make understanding this branch of art a bit easier and I greatly appreciate it for that.