Illustration by Andreas Hykade. Courtesy of Chris Robinson.

I’m not out to get Annecy. Things just happen this way. Opening night, Annecy 05, there was a special film that parodied experimental/abstract films. Purportedly made by Bill Plympton, the film poked fun at “circles and squares” films. Annecy’s Serge Bromberg was in on the gag too, introducing the film as a long lost document. The audience loved it. It was all in good fun. No harm done.

Later on in the festival during a “meet the filmmakers” session there was another moment of anti-abstract shenanigans. This time, Bromberg grilled Canadian Steven Woloshen about his cameraless pieces. Bromberg admitted that he just couldn’t understand these films and that it seemed as though Woloshen was making the same film over and over again. Strange words from the creative director of the world’s largest animation festival, especially considering that Woloshen was a guest of Bromberg’s festival. But, hey, no problem. Serge was honest. He didn’t take the film, his selection committee did.

Anyway, this isn’t about Annecy. Annecy audiences have always been more hostile to experimental animation than other festival crowds. What interests me about these two incidents is that they reflect common responses to experimental animation (especially cameraless work) — “it’s all the same,” “just a bunch of dots and circles,” “narcissist wanks,” “I don’t get it,” etc.

Look I’m not gonna fight to the death for non-narrative animation, because often it is cold and wanky, but so is a lot of narrative work. Still, I think the hostility toward these “circle and dots” films brings up some interesting issues.

First, cameraless/scratch animation is all said to look the same. “It all looks like McLaren.” That’s nonsense of course… we can go on and on about the uniqueness of rhythm, textures, colors, tones.

The problem, it seems to me, is less with the filmmaker than with the viewer. People don’t know how to react to these films. They think it’s a riddle, that there’s a deep dark mystery to be uncovered. In some cases, sure, that is true… but if you take a look at, for example, the work of Woloshen, Richard Reeves, or Theo Ushev’s moving new film, Tower Ballihr, these are films about making you feel something. They convey the jumbled up emotions of their creators.

Woloshen is a guy I hold in high regard. He works for no studio. He gets no government funding. He works (or did) by day as a driver on Hollywood feature films. When he’s not working, he makes films in his home. He has rolls of films in a closet. When he feels like making a film, he pulls out a roll and goes to it. The results are simple, passionate films bursting with energy. When I see Steve’s films, I feel good about life (no small miracle!). I can feel his happiness seeping through the frames.

He often uses familiar pieces of music (e.g., Take Five, Get Happy, and most recently, Hendrix’ Voodoo Chile)… but he brings something special to the music. He makes them his own. (For those of you going to Ottawa this year, just wait till Woloshen’s image explodes alongside Hendrix’ opening riff on the screen at the beginning of competition 3. It’s something special). Voodoo Chile, for example, uses the Hendrix song, Curse of Frankenstein Super 8 footages, and snippets from a cheesy melodrama to tell the story of the birth of Woloshen’s daughter (Voodoo Child). It’s not a complicated film.