The animation of Adam Elliot

I first had the pleasure of viewing Adam Elliot's first feature length animation film "Mary and Max" at an animation fim festival in Zagreb (Animafest) that myself & my travel companion wandered into almost by accident, seeking shelter from the rainy weather that afternoon. Last night, when I went to view it a second time at Etiuda i Anima, Krakow's own animation festival, I had the bizarre reaction of finding myself already moved to tears in the opening credits. But of course, I knew what was coming. And also because I adore the main theme, which is Perpetuum Mobile by the Penguin Cafe Orchestra.

Elliot's previous animation films can be seen on Youtube ("Cousin", "Brother" and "Harvey Krumpet" definitely, and "Uncle" I've yet to track down). There's something remarkably consistent about Elliot's films, not only is the style the same but the stories and the way they are told are too, to such an extent that they all rather feel like chapters or fragments from a larger encompassing whole - part of a longer story, even though the characters are not the same.

Elliot's imagination for thinking up cruel and unusual punishments for his characters to endure seems limitless. And he uses autobiographical elements, which are exagerated and twisted to become ironic and often surreal. There's something very Candide-esque about Elliot's characters and endless trials and suffering they must undergo, the way they seem to endure and deal with the ridiculous amounts of bad luck life throws at them with total resignation, accepting their fates and the awfulness of life largely without emotion, just a fatalistic acceptance. This is what is at once depressing and hopeful about the stories Elliot tells, and I think is probably very true to life.

The theme of the outcast, the individual who just doesn't seem suited to the world, is recurrent. These outcasts are not rewarded or redeemed, they suffer and keep on suffering till the bitter end, but implicit in the stories is the message that "fitting in" is really the least of your worries.

There is no sadness and little poignancy in the telling of Elliot's tales (although perhaps the exception is Mary & Max, which does have a slightly different feel). In the 3 shorter films I mentioned above, the twists & turns of the lives the characters, the litany of woes and misfortunes is recounted in a kind of deadpan, sometimes crude style, the narrator appears entirely unmoved by what he is describing and the look and feel of the film corresponds to this because it is all quite understated (a lack of accompanying music in the earlier films contributes to this feel, I think, and if in fact quite conspicuous by its absence).

What all Elliot's wonderfully human characters seem to share is an oustanding capacity for quiet perseverance, of trudging on with life against the odds, in the face of the sheer bloody awfulness of it all. Awfulness that is entirely without meaning & without justice. And that contributes to a kind of sad, melancholic realism, there is no glorification of suffering and little pathos, as typically is overdone in many other non-animated films.

Especially in the earlier stuff there is also a kind of ugliness to the look of the animation itself, accentuated by the lack of colour. The characters initally appeared to me as quite horrifying creatures, that would be better suited to a film of a different nature - i.e. one designed to scare & disgust, not tell a tale of the triumph of hope & humanity over almost absurd levels of adversity. But I suppose this can be compared to a director who deliberately does not use beautiful actors. In the same way, Elliot's animated characters are not smooth nor airbrushed, with an aesthetically appealing finish, but instead appear as imperfect creations, who we are faced with "warts and all."

Notice

This is an explanation of a slight alteration in the orientation of this blog, that I am hoping to develop and pursue over the coming months. Not so much a change of direction as an additional dimension/track, that I really wanted to find some channel of expression for, even if it will come at the expense of the coherence & consistency of this blog (such as it is), & what it is about. What I want to begin publishing here are personal responses to culture instead of responses to current affairs or politics. No doubt my self-indulgence has gotten out of all proportion, but it has become something that can no longer be contained inside the illegible pages of my notebooks, or within the alarmingly large collection of photographs I have accumulated, not to mention the chaotic and fragmented reflections inside my head, sparks of inspiration that flicker intensely & urgently for a while and then burn out and die away...

Of course, this is not something entirely new to this blog. When I returned from each of the two film festivals I attended last year (African in Milan, & Far-East in Udine) I felt so moved and inspired that I was compelled to pen some sort of reaction to what I'd seen. The result is hardly critical film reviews of any merit or distinction, rather they were entirely personal reactions and reflections based on subjective emotions and thoughts. But this is because my expertise in the area of film, and indeed fine art, is absolutely nil. I barely know my impressionism from my expressionism, I have to force myself to sit through anything old and in black & white, I'm hardly a great appreciator of these things. Until now, I have categorised things rather crudely into what generally resonates with me, what tends to appeal, and what doesn't (e.g. Surrealism = like, and so forth). Film especially, is something I have always kept a distance from, because the domain seems to me like a vaste quagmire of controversy and subjectivity, where really anything goes, there are no set rules, and everything constantly leads back to the debate fo what is really constitutes art, to which a satisfying answer is never acheived.

If there is one thing that can be said for the last year and a half, it's that they have opened up vaste and numerous new areas of interest to me, which have been revealed to me often by accident, and which I'm sure I'd never have discovered had I goen straight from university to a proper job (if such a thing were even possible for someone emerging from college with a degree such as mine). The film festivals, for instance, I did not attend on my own initiative. In the case of the Far-East, it was even with quite some reluctance that I accepted to go. My pre-conceptions about obscure & innaccessible material being priveleged in such cultural forums, attended by an elite of pretentious & very well-versed film students & critiques, were just too strong. But I'm so glad I did. And it's one of those things, where you really do feel as if the future path of your life, and even the shape of your own identity, in terms of tastes and "personal culture" - is defined by these chance encounters with art, of any kind, which move you. Move you to react, and just move you within yourself. Having had these encounters, your frame of reference broadens out, things which you'd never have looked twice at begin to catch your eye, you become exposed to whole new wealth of culture & experience by virtue of the fact that now you know it's out there, and how wonderful it can be. If last year taught me the value of making the effort to attend film festivals, then this year so far has definitely taught me the value of going to museums and art galleries & actually taking the time to fully understand what they are about, what they are trying to say, instead of touristically floating past everything and exiting with a final judgement picked simply from the liked/didn't like dichotomy (as I did when I stormed out of the Modern Art Gallery of Bologna, having found inside only white walls framing only empty space and occasional cinder blocks strewn around... I've since made the effort to look up the exhibit & the artist online, and it was well worth my while to do so). Art, Museums, and architecture have been for me instilled with a new value, a new richness in & of themselves which they never held for me before, as I always implicitly perceived them as areas reserved for people who "Know what they are talking about" - either through study or practice. Instead it turns out that with a minimum of attention, reflection & research, they can be not only accessible, but also tremendously inspiring, and bring new dimensions of knowledge and understanding of places, eras & events that one had never imagined before.

The key, I suppose, to unlocking this realisation was exposure. And I was lucky enough to have that exposure thrust upon me, by friends, colleagues, teachers, etc. Who suggested, coaxed, encouraged, & sometimes dragged me by the hair to places I would never have gone to under my own steam, and I have realised once I get there (or sometimes long after I have left) that they are wonderful. I could say something quite analoguous about the natural environment, actually, but that will be for another post. It seems the more areas of interest you collect & start wanting to explore, the more you realise just how few hours a day really contains.

But of course, I am still a sociologist at heart (or an aspiring one, at least). And sociologists are incapable of looking at anything without asking the rather cynical question: "cui bono?". As a recent colleague of mine reminded me "There is no such thing as an innocent discourse". This phrase sums up perfectly the approach to academics and to knowledge that I am most convinced by, and it applies just as strongly to art, in all its forms, as to other forms of discourse, such as literature, political rhetoric or the media. And this approach of taking nothing for granted, nothing as neutral, natural or self-evident, can be applied far more widely still. It is the reflex I am trying to instill in myself, and writing about culture is an exercise to that end.