Other than via fine renditions of 1930s ballads, the characters don’t speak nonetheless, the shots of empty chairs and midnight trains speak volumes. It’s also a meditation on the irony of the modern city, where everybody is connected yet nobody talks to one another-hardly typical subject matter for an animated short. Yet there’s more to the film than nifty visual effects. Canadian duo Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby go for the textured-newsreel look by drawing directly onto photocopies this renders a soft, grainy style quite unlike any other. “When the Day Breaks” is an illustration of the wonders that can result when innovative techniques are used to create a retro aesthetic.

Somehow, the fact that everyone is an animal makes it a whole lot more poignant (we’re reminded of Spike Jonze’s video for Daft Punk’s “Da Funk”).

It’s a puzzling, hauntingly beautiful work, sadly still awaiting a follow-up (Norstein, now in his seventies and a notorious perfectionist, has been at work on an adaptation of Gogol’s “The Overcoat” since 1981).Īn accidental death provokes a quiet existential crisis among the citizens of a nameless metropolis in this beautiful exploration of urban alienation. Yet its universal themes ensure that it strikes a deep chord with anyone who watches it: This is a film that has topped countless polls, and it inspired British animation expert Clare Kitson to learn Russian so that she could write a book about it. On first viewing, “Tale of Tales” does nothing to dispel that-Norstein’s film, concerned above all with the structure of memory, is narratively incoherent and soaked in symbolism. We witness the outbreak of war and the abuses of Norstein’s alcoholic father, while other chapters defy straightforward interpretation.Īs a bang-on Simpsons sequence once illustrated, there’s an enduring stereotype of Soviet animation as abstract and infuriatingly obtuse. Returning to his favorite theme of how we experience our own memories, especially those of childhood, Russian filmmaker Yuri Norstein ties together events from his past into an impressionistic autobiographical collage.

What distinguishes “Storytime” is its cheerily irreverent approach to every aspect of the craft: a visual style built from moving cutouts sketches tied together by only the loosest stream-of-consciousness threads self-referential intertitles that rudely interrupt the narrative… In short, Pythonesque humor before the Pythons. Ignore the title: What’s going on here storywise is almost beside the point (if we tell you that the film culminates with the Three Wise Men being chased through a series of Christmas cards, you’ll get the idea). for the U.K., of which “Storytime,” his debut, is the best. But few are aware of the handful of shorts that he made before leaving the U.S. Those who’ve seen his contributions to Monty Python’s Flying Circus won’t need to be convinced of his genius as an animator. Those who know Terry Gilliam via his live-action features will have detected a strong current of cartoonish mischief running through his films. It’s also proof that Uncle Walt was more than just the suave businessman from Saving Mr. But it’s nonetheless a groundbreaking work, which set the tone for everything from “Tom and Jerry” to “The Itchy & Scratchy Show” (who repaid the debt of influence with a hilarious parody). Today “Steamboat Willie” appears insensitive in its depiction of animal abuse (animals are used as musical instruments). And so the seeds for Disney’s hummable song-and-dance numbers were sown. For want of dialogue or an engaging plot, music-whistling, drumming, mooing and a whole lot of toe-tapping-is what drives “Steamboat Willie” forward (hardly surprising, given that it was the first cartoon to use fully synchronized sound). Before he acquired vocal cords and became the greatest cultural icon on earth, Mickey Mouse was a humble sailor who inhabited a world where everyone was unflaggingly chirpy and everything was a potential musical instrument.

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