William Moritz's most striking memory from his 1996 trip was seeing Fernando Diniz (above) present his film Eight Pointed Star. © Fernando Diniz.

1996
William Moritz
A member of the CalArts Film and Video faculty, William Moritz pursues parallel careers as filmmaker and writer. His 44 experimental and animation films have screened at museums worldwide and he has been published widely on animation history.

Anima Mundi was so wonderful that it is hard to choose just one thing as a favorite memory. Rio and the Corcovado, the exotic fruits like açai, meeting Aurora Miranda to chat about her time at Disney (and the Carmen Miranda Museum)...But if I did have to choose, I think the most impressive memory was of the animator Fernando Diniz and his film Eight-Pointed Star. I remember how he was wheeled into the auditorium in a wheelchair, and how sweetly and modestly he said how nice it was to be out of the asylum. Then they screened his wonderful film and he was wheeled away again. I bought a copy of the film, and have showed it every year to my animation students. It stands up very well — and makes me sigh at the memory of Anima Mundi.

Festival director Lea Zagury (left) relaxes with animator Alexander Petrov and his wife, Natalia Petrova. Courtesy of Anima Mundi.

1997
Caroline Leaf
Caroline Leaf has been based in London for the last three years, mostly working on her painting. She teaches part time at Konstfack in Sweden, and is currently animating a commissioned film for Acme Filmworks in Los Angeles.

I have many vivid memories of visiting Anima Mundi in Rio de Janeiro and of that memorable city. One night our generous hosts took the guests of the festival out to dinner and then to a club for dancing. The evening was still very warm. I remember driving up into hills and around twisting small roads, and then stepping through an old wooden fence and into a small leafy garden under the stars. The band played and people got up from their tables singly or in groups and danced samba. I watched Lea samba, and fell in love with the dance, I, who cannot dance.

All the next year back in Boston I went weekly to the Brazilian Cultural Center in Central Square, in a grey industrial part of town, and took samba lessons.

The women of Brazil made a lasting impression on Marv Newland of International Rocketship Limited. © 2003 Marv Newland.

1998
Marv Newland
Vancouver resident Marv Newland makes animated movies through International Rocketship Limited and provides designs and directs animation for other companies on a freelance basis. In April 2003, Cinematheque Quebeçoise will present a retrospective of International Rocketship films in Montreal.

It was a journey full of exotic wonders, warm hearted, spirited audiences and generous hosts. I have many memories of Anima Mundi, however, legal and moral issues related to most of the activities engaged in during the festival in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo limit me to mention only the following:

At the first evening screening Marcos Magalhães, one of the four directors of Anima Mundi, presented a beautifully crafted 3D puppet which danced when you turned a wire crank built into the copper half globe upon which the puppet was mounted. He gave it to one of the other guests, Georges Lacroix. Was this a prize for best film produced by a guest of the festival? Was this some wonderful gift of appreciation for a trust fund set up by Georges on behalf of Anima Mundi? I was barely able to get to sleep that night thinking about the fine trophy.

A day later I forgot all about the prize as festival director Marcos took us surfing in his vintage VW bug. When we drove away from the Copacabana hotel the remaining three festival directors waved goodbye and wept openly into cocktail napkins. (Other international animation festivals should take note here as to how to display hospitality toward their guests.)

I drank something called garota de Ipanema, a kind of white wine served in a heavy coffee mug. I ate quindim a custard baked in a hollowed out custard cup and served upside down on a plate. I drank caipirinha, a large glass goblet full of sliced tropical fruits and a cold, clear fluid. After a few of these they say in Portuguese, roughly translated here into English, "You look like you just came out of a cow's mouth."