David Silverman sets the tone at I Castelli Animati. Besides playing the tuba, he also lectured about The Simpsons and drew hundreds of Homers and Barts for festival visitors. Unless noted, all images courtesy of Russell Bekins.

I Castelli Animati has often been called the "family reunion" of festivals for the convivial atmosphere, the hospitality, good eats and, most importantly, some very impressive red wine. While America has a fine tradition of tense Thanksgivings with cutting remarks from dad about your lack of career in animation, let us say that this is Italy, where the family is another thing altogether. Here, the tradition is to argue like soccer mobs and finish it all off with a good plate of risotto di zucca.

This year the laid-back atmosphere of the village of Genzano (gen zah no) -- the traditional home of the festival -- was exchanged for the surreal back lot of Cinecitta (chee nay cee tah), the immortal studios which gave birth to the films of Italian cinematic history. The backlot is still crammed to the gills with whimsical sets, props and sculptures, adding to the levity of the atmosphere. Indeed the business of watching films seemed secondary, as luminaries from Italian and international animation hung around the bar and conducted endless conversations about cartoons, commerce, reality -- and the lack thereof -- in this wacky setting.

The Search for the Father Figure
"I don't come to see the films," grins animation immortal Oscar Grillo, "I come to talk with my colleagues." This wag whom the festival refers to as "our Grillus ex machina" set the tone by showing the 1930s animation classic Joie de Vivre, a joyous romp in which two girls in flowing skirts cavort through a landscape of high-tension wires, flowers and streams. It was this tone, the euphoria of being together, that dominated the festival, and Oscar Grillo -- garrulous, fluent in many languages, ironic and always with a sketch pad in hand -- was its high priest. As if the irreverence needed maintenance, Grillo also drew an exhibition of portraits of Franz Kafka alongside cartoon characters such as Betty Boop and Homer Simpson. David Silverman, longtime director of The Simpsons television series and helmer of The Simpsons Movie, was not to be outdone. He set the tone by playing the tuba in the bar area in duets with animation composer Nick Phillips on the clarinet. He also gave a number of lectures about the origins of The Simpsons on the Tracy Ullman show, the "Krusty Gets Cancelled" and "Treehouse of Horror IV" episodes, as well as The Simpsons Movie. David's eyes were red from drawing Homer and Bart hundreds of times for festival visitors and working hard to see that his lectures were well-translated and comprehensible to the Italian audience. Despite the language barrier, the audience laughed long and loud during his shows.

The presence of Italian animation's granddad Bruno Bozzetto rounded out the list. Bruno gave a moving lecture on his work and process, as well as being the object of a tribute on the occasion of the 30th anniversary of his Italian animation classic Allegro non Troppo. Bruno also engaged his colleagues in rousing discussions. "I could never be a festival judge," shrugs Bruno, after silencing a room full of animation students with the notion that the graphics were simply the clothing of any work. "To me a film has to be a full sentence, not just words or ideas."

To his credit, festival director Luca Raffaelli seemed nominally in charge, while deferring to his honored guests for the dysfunctional father figure.

Bruno Bozzetto gives David Silverman directions for navigating the back lot of Cinecitta.

Archetype of the Eternal Mother
It also helped that mom wasn't home.

RAI, the state broadcaster that commissions most of the work in the Italian animation industry, maintains "Cartoons on the Bay" as its festival. Without "Mama RAI" present, the festival has more of a relaxed feel, and Italian animators feel free to criticize the way RAI publicizes and programs the series which they lovingly create on tight budgets. "I made two perfectly good series, The Spaghetti Family and I Cosi, which nobody has ever seen," laments Bruno Bozzetto. Indeed, it seems that the most opaque aspect of this public broadcasting network is the way in which it makes its programming decisions, which sometimes seem improvised and hurried. "It's like putting steak on the menu of a vegetarian restaurant," sighs Bozzetto when commenting on the problems he had with the programming of The Spaghetti Family.

A case in point is Rat Man, the highly anticipated series based on the comic strips of Leo Ortolani. Contacted by RAI, Ortolani agreed to try adapting his character to TV. "We want the Italian Simpsons," Ortolani quotes the RAI executives as saying. Working closely with the writing team from Stranemani and director Massimo Montigianni, he managed to turn out a series of very funny, rapid-fire episodes in a very short period of time.

Then the trouble started.