Fresh from the Festivals: October 2008's Reviews

Within the world of animation, most experimentation occurs within short-format productions, whether they are high-budgeted commercials, low-budgeted independent shorts or something in-between. The growing number of short film festivals around the world attests to the vitality of these works, but there are few other venues for their exhibition, nor are they often reviewed. As a result, distribution tends to be difficult and irregular. On a regular basis, Animation World Magazine will highlight some of the most interesting of these films.

This month:

I Slept with Cookie Monster (2008), 3:33, directed by Kara Nasdor-Jones, U.S.A. Contact: Kara Nasdor-Jones [T] 508. 479.0057 [W] www.karanasdor-jones.com [1] [E] karanasdorjones@yahoo.com [2]

L'Eau Life (2007), 2:33, directed by Jeff Scher, U.S.A. Contact: Jeff Scher, Fez Films, 30 Main St., 2D, Brooklyn, NY 11201; [W] www.fezfilms.net [3] [E] jscher@fezfilms.net [4]

Nannyless (2006), 2:30, directed by Anna B?aszczyk, Poland. Contact: Anna B?aszczyk [T] +48.505.210.460 [W] www.annabgallery.ehost.pl [5] [E] ankablaszczyk@yahoo.com [6]

Varmints (2007), 24:00, directed by Marc Craste, U.K. Contact: Pam Dennis, Studio AKA, 30 Berwick Street, Soho, London, U.K. W1F 8RH [T] + 44.207.434.3581 [W] www.studioaka.co.uk [7] [E] pam@studioaka.co.uk [8]

Glago's Guest (2008), 6:30, directed by Chris Williams, U.S.A./Canada. Contact: Emily Hoppe, Walt Disney Animation Studios Short Films Program, [T] 818.460.8936 [W] www.disneyanimation.com [9] [E] Emily.hoppe@disney.com [10]

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I Slept with Cookie Monster [11]'s breezy title belies the very heady subject matter. © Kara Nasdor-Jones.

I Slept with Cookie Monster
Don't let the title fool you -- Kara Nasdor-Jones's short film is not a tell-all expose about the seamier side of life on the (Sesame) street. Her short film, I Slept with Cookie Monster, details her tumultuous relationship with her ex-husband, a Colombian immigrant whom she met at his workplace, a local bakery. He wins her over during a brief courtship in which he creates elaborate cookies decorated with romantic messages, and in very short order, she finds herself raising a daughter with the aspiring baker.

Things go south very quickly, however, as Nasdor-Jones's boyfriend reveals himself to be very moody and temperamental, and prone to fits of rage directed at her and her daughter. She marries him in the hopes that he'll settle down, but the abuse actually increases in intensity after she makes this concession. Fortunately for Nasdor-Jones, she realized that her husband was too dangerous and unstable to provide a safe home for her and her daughter, and the pair left him and have begun a new life for themselves, far away from his rage and abuse.

It's very heady subject matter, given that straight-up autobiography is fairly rare in animation, and that autobiography about serious subjects is even more of a rarity. Nasdor-Jones narrates the film herself, and she animated the film as well, through a series of paintings and drawings rendered with pastels, acrylic ink, tissue paper and simple animation done through Flash and Photoshop. There's minimal movement in her artwork, which adds to the tension and drama inherent in her story. The soundtrack complements her artwork perfectly, setting the viewer's nerves on edge as the story unfolds. It's a powerful piece of animation, and one that will remain with the viewer long after the end credits.

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L'Eau Life [12] is an exercise in minimalist animation. © Jeff Scher/Fez Films.

L'Eau Life
Jeff Scher's L'Eau Life is, like I Slept with Cookie Monster, an exercise in minimalist animation. A series of 2000 watercolor paintings explore and celebrate water and its relationship to people.

The film was created using rotoscope technology. While that in and of itself sounds "old school," viewers will be even more surprised to learn that the rotoscope used for this film is one that Scher constructed 30 years ago as a student at Bard College. His device consists of a Bell and Howell Diplomat projector from the '30s with the motor and lamp house removed and replaced with a coffee can with a light fixture and a fan.

The film was created under very tight time constraints as well, produced in less than two months from concept to completion. The New York Times approached Scher, soliciting work for the animation blog on its website. L'Eau Life was already underway, and the editors readily agreed to showcase the work upon its completion. Scher worked very closely with composer Shay Lynch on the film's score, as the two traded clips of picture and sound via e-mail in order to deliver the film before deadline.

The end result is a soothing meditation on the relationship between man and the elements, and a fun exercise in basic animation.

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In Nannyless [13], unusual character design elements actually become a major plot point in the story. © Anna Blaszczyk.

Nannyless
The most lighthearted of this month's "FFF" entries comes from Polish animator Anna B?aszczyk, who created the short Nannyless during a five-month training period at the European Animation Masterclass in Halle, Germany.

The story is a simple one: a boy has an overbearing nanny, and he wants to strike out on his own and see the world on his own terms. On a visit to the big city, which is full of menacing, shadowy figures, the boy attempts to win over the populace with his odd attempt at dancing. His concerned nanny yells at him until his head falls off, and then...

Under normal circumstances, a character's spontaneous decapitation would be cause for great alarm, but this is not the case with B?aszczyk's character designs. The nanny is large and round, shaped not unlike a teardrop, while the boy's design involves a small body with a detached head and hands that generally stay where they should in relation to his body. While these design quirks aren't particularly out of the ordinary for an animated short, I can't think of many instances of unusual character design elements actually becoming a major plot point in the story. After the boy's head falls off, it bounces around the city for a while, pinball-style, and the nanny's girth ultimately trips her up and immobilizes her, allowing the boy a chance to break free and live his life as he sees fit.

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Marc Craste's Varmints [14] is an ambitious undertaking. A crew of 35 people worked in three countries over a two-year period to make the film. © Studio AKA, Inc.

Varmints
The most ambitious of this month's films is Varmints, a 24-minute CGI film based on the award-winning book of the same name, written by Helen Ward and illustrated by Marc Craste [15], who adapted and directed the film version. A crew of 35 people worked in three countries over a two-year period to make the film, including an original score by Icelandic composer Johann Johannsson and sound design by Adrian Rhodes (a sharp contrast to the quickly assembled, two-man operation of L'Eau Life).

The film opens with a beautiful shot of one of the titular "varmints" closely observing flowers in a lush, green meadow. Content with the splendor that surrounds him, he leans himself against a tree and surveys his field. His peaceful afternoon takes a dark turn, literally, as ominous clouds form, blotting out the sun. The source of the clouds is dust, kicked up by high-rise buildings quickly and mysteriously pulled into place by unknown means. As the buildings and smoke block out the sun, the meadow gives way to pavement, and the varmint barely escapes with his life and a small sprig of greenery.

By the next day, the varmint has no choice but to live in a tiny, oppressive, poorly lit apartment building and hold down a dreary job in an office building elsewhere in the city. He maintains a small semblance of hope through the small plant that he raises in a tin can on the windowsill of his apartment, and through brief glimpses and interactions with a female varmint who lives in his building.

Still, pollution and development continue unabated, and the varmint's spirit is battered and broken as the new world and the gradual death of his plant wear him down. He grows increasingly ill, and is near death himself when some stray seedlings that had taken root earlier in the film start to bear fruit and offer salvation from the skies. The varmint collapses, and awakens to find himself in a lush green field… which is contained within a floating jellyfish-like creature hovering above the city. The film ends on a hopeful note, as seeds fall from the creatures like snowflakes, at least temporarily brightening the dark and dingy metropolis.

Director Craste made this film with a young audience in mind, attempting to convey very serious environmental crises in terms of "private loss, on a small person's scale." It's difficult to say how effective this film will be in reaching a young audience, however, with a complete lack of dialogue, far from breakneck pacing, mostly downbeat story and ambiguous ending. The hopeful ending of the film relies heavily on the feeling of hopelessness that pervades the vast majority of the film, and audiences, young or old, don't look to children's programming for relentless despair and prophetic cautionary tales. The movie's message is a powerful one, however, and if the right children see it at the right time, its impact will be felt for generations to come.

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Look for Glago's Guest [16] by Chris Williams to be among the Academy Award nominees for Best Animated Short next year. © Disney.

Glago's Guest
The final film for this month's "FFF" is Glago's Guest [17] by Chris Williams, the director of Disney's much-anticipated upcoming theatrical release, Bolt. The short is expected to be the first of many, as Disney ramps up its production of original shorts for release with its live-action and animated features.

The title screen that kicks off the short sets the tone for a fun viewing experience, as Mickey Mouse (back in the Steamboat Willie days) whistles a happy tune while the logo for the Walt Disney Animation Studios makes its appearance onscreen. This immediately gives way to a Russian folk tune as the Glago's Guest title card appears, in stark black letters set against a red backdrop. And yes, that's an inordinate amount of time spent discussing the title sequence of a short film, but Disney, now under the auspices of Chief Creative Officer John Lasseter, has shown new signs of life since their much-publicized acquisition of Pixar Animation Studios in 2006, and even Disney's opening credits seem to have taken things up a notch in the past two years.

Since a great many readers of this column are likely to view this short in theaters, I'll avoid going into great detail on the film's plot. Glago is a lone Russian soldier stationed at a remote Siberian outpost, and his duty is a tedious one. He has spent many long months, probably years, guarding an outpost where nothing ever happens, and he sees very little action apart from kicking the occasional rock or brushing snow from the sign outside his cabin. He derives some small measure of comfort from books and listening to records on his Victrola, but seems resigned to an uneventful, unexciting life in the frozen wastelands.

His entire worldview comes into question when he receives a mysterious visitor one afternoon, and the fate of the entire world may come down to Glago's reaction to his Guest.

It's a beautiful film, with bold art direction and graphics. The stark white expanse of the Russian landscape provides a striking contrast to Glago, his home and the Guest. The Guest is wonderfully animated, and moves in very sharp contrast to Glago, in a way that will capture the attention of every audience member who sees it. John Brion's score is brilliant, and Glago's Guest is an excellent start to what promises to be a long run of high-quality Disney CGI shorts. Don't be surprised if Glago's Guest joins Pixar's Presto [18] when the Academy Award nominees for Best Animated Short are announced next year.

Andrew Farago [19] is the gallery manager and curator of San Francisco's Cartoon Art Museum [20] and the creator of the weekly online comic serial The Chronicles of William Bazillion [21].