First of all, this is a good book, definitely worth reading. It is interesting, well written and gives a lot for both those who are knowledgeable about the subject as well as those who are unfamiliar with it.

Secondly, even though the author is a regular contributor and columnist of this very magazine, my statement is not solicited. I’m not trying to please my good buddy, (which he even isn’t).

The book I’m writing about is called Between Genius & Utter Illiteracy: A Story of Estonian Animation. The author is Chris J. Robinson, a Canadian who is known as the artistic director of the Ottawa International Animation Festival.

Estonia is the little big man of animation, a nation of only 1.4 million inhabitants that boasts a long list of well-known artists and films in the world of animation. Remarkably, Estonia has produced many fine films both in the rigid Soviet Union state studio system and today’s independent Estonia, which is one of the laboratories of laissez-faire neo-liberalistic capitalism. This is a kind of miracle to me.

Elbert Tuganov
The story begins, of course, from Elbert Tuganov. He directed the first real Estonian animated film Peetrikese unenägu (1957) and founded the Tallinnfilm studio. Tuganov worked actively until 1982, when he fled the Soviet Union and asked for a political asylum in the Federal Republic of Germany. This was denied, and Tuganov returned Soviet Union just to see that he was no longer allowed to make films. Tuganov’s collegue Heino Pars is also well represented.

After Tuganov animation, historians usually name Rein Raamat, but Robinson presents also Kalju Kurepõld and Ants Looman who he names as “The Missing Link.” They worked in 1960s directly for Moscow and also with commercials. In 1969, they established Reklaamfilm, which provided animated commercials for the whole Soviet Union.

All Soviet factories had a certain amount of money for commercials, and in a centrally planned economy, they had to spend what was in the budget. Clients were happy if the price was high, and so were the animators. Many of the films were never shown to the public. Factories screened them for some clients and guests, happy to see that money was used.

Rein Raamat
Rein Raamat was the first Estonian animator to be really internationally recognized. He established the Tallinnfilm section for drawn cell animation in 1971. Until that, Estonian animation art had been only puppet or object animation.

As Robinson writes openly, Raamat was and is a controversial person in Estonian animation. He is the man behind the ascent of animation art, but also criticized for his way of working. The Estonian animators of today often downplay Raamat’s role, but Robinson gives him the place he rightly deserves.

Raamat’s strong side was to collect together the best possible artists to make the film and run the project through Soviet bureaucracy, stupid orders and censorship. Seventy percent of the animated films had to be done for children, but puppet film section Nukufilm already fulfilled this quota. Raamat could make films for adults.

Raamat even succeeded to make clearly nationalistic films in the Soviet Republic where anything other than Russian nationalism was considered the worst kind of crime. The best example is Suur Tõll (1980), a beautiful film with images of Jüri Arrak and music of Lepo Sumera. Another director of Raamat’s time was Avo Paistik.

Priit Pärn at the Tough Eye Animation Festival in 2003. Photo courtesy of Kelly Neall.

Pärn and Boys
Then comes the generation we know better, most still active in animation: Priit Pärn, Rao Heitmets, Kalju Kivi, Riho Unt, Hardi Volmer, Mati Kütt, Janno Põldma and Heiki Ernits. They all began their work during the Soviet period before the Estonian independence in 1991.

Robinson does a thorough presentation of them. Especially comprehensive and detailed is the chapter dedicated to Priit Pärn. Robinson does not hide his admiration for Pärn’s art at all. Of course, there is no need for that either; Pärn is definitely one of the top animation filmmakers of the world. No problemo, I personally fully agree with Robinson’s opinion that Pärn’s Eine murul (1987) is one of the most important animated films ever made.

After the fall of Soviet Union, the Tallinnfilm studio was shut down and animators established two private companies, Nukufilm mainly for puppet animation and Joonisfilm for drawn animation. Both are working well, producing both commercial films and art films. There have been two other studios for commercial animation in Tallinn, Raamat’s Studio B, which was later bankrupted, and a Danish subsidiary A Film.

And even the young generation is between the book covers. Robinson presents Ülo Pikkov, Mikk Rand, Priit Tender and Mait Laas and writes about Peep Pedmanson and Kaspar Jancis, too.