26 November 2010

Sandman Episode 246: By Junk to Japan (1982)

Photo by Hans-Joachim Konang
Germany has a rich tradition of puppet animation – from the Augsburger Puppenkiste to the Fairy Tale puppet films of DEFA (the film studio run by the former Eastern European government). My favourite German puppet animation is the long-running Sandmännchen (Little Sandman) series which has been on air since 1958. Based on Hans Christian Andersen’s Ole Lukøje fairy tale, it is a Good Night story for children. During the years that Germany was divided, two different versions of Sandmännchen were made on either side of the wall. As many generations of children have enjoyed the series there is much nostalgia surrounding the older episodes in both the East and the West.

A modern version of the series still screens on German television daily intermingled with re-runs of the classic episodes. On KiKa (the children’s network) it airs at 6:50pm. When it finishes at 7, it is a signal to my kids that it is time to start taking a bath and getting ready for bed. In each episode, the Sandman is in a different location – real or imaginary, domestic or international. Eventually, the Sandman happens upon a small television or other screen which he turns on and invites the “dear children” viewing the show to watch with him. The audience is then treated to a short film – often animated, sometimes live action – and when the story comes to an end we return to the Sandman who says farewell and a children’s chorus sings the traditional Good Night Song.

As the series has been running for such a long time, Sandman has managed to travel to every exotic local imaginable, including a delightful episode set in Japan. In Episode 246, which first broadcast in East Germany in 1982, Sandman travels to Japan in a junk – an ancient Chinese sailing vessel – and joins a family for tea in their home. The attention to detail in the tea-drinking scene is quite remarkable – not only do they have tatami flooring and shōji, but the puppets are even sitting on tiny zabuton (floor cushions). I also like the fact that they do not push stereotypes too far. Although the mother is dressed traditionally, the children are dressed in a modern style. It does look a bit more Ozu than early 1980s, but it nevertheless demonstrates that there was an awareness on the part of the animators that Japan had entered the modern era.

According to the official Sandmännchen homepage, the theme likely had to do with the fact that Erich Honecker, the leader of East Germany at the time, had travelled to Japan in 1980 where he received an honorary doctorate from Nihon University. East German interest in Japan was also piqued in 1981 by a trade agreement that resulted in the arrival of 10,000 Mazda 323 cars in the country. 

I am not sure if this episode is available on any of the multitude of Sandmännchen DVDs available in German speaking countries. I am however hoping that Santa leaves a copy of one of the books published in celebration of Sandmännchen’s 50th anniversary in my stocking this year.

© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

24 November 2010

Gentle Whistle, Bird and Stone (やさしい笛、鳥、石, 2005)


A predominant theme in the works of independent animator Atsushi Wada is the pressure of society for young men to conform to the will of the group. Gentle Whistle, Bird, and Stone (Yasashii Fue, Tori, Ishi /やさしい笛、鳥、石, 2005) repeats some of the salaryman imagery and carefully articulated character movement of Day of Nose (Hana no hi/鼻の日, 2005) and Manipulated Man (Koe ga dete kita hito/声が出てきた人, 2006), but in this film pressures put onto the main male protagonist by the group step over the line from manipulation into physical violence.

Wada opens the hand drawn animation on a medium shot of a young man wearing a sweater, looking bleakly straight into the camera. The sweater is significant because he clothes mark him as being different from the other young men in the group. An outsider. Cut to a close up on the upper torso and lower face of a male figure in a suit who blows into a flute, creating a dissonant whistling sound. The whistle turns out to be a kind of signal, and when the camera cuts back to the young man in the sweater, stones begin to be pelted at him from off screen, leaving welts on his face. He makes no noise at all. We only hear the ominous thud of the stones hitting flesh. The young man cringes with each impact, but then faces the camera again, his face devoid of emotion, as if this sort of punishment were a habitual one that he has resigned himself to. Wada then pulls the camera back into a longer shot which emphasizes the young man’s loneliness, with the stones gathering at his feet.

The man’s loneliness is contrasted by the togetherness of the mob that is attacking him. They are introduced first by their hands, passing a stone from clasped set of hands to another clasped set of hands. We then see a robotic line up of men in suits. As in Wada’s Day of Nose, the only differences among the men are subtle differences in their faces and hairstyles. The men attack like a automatons – the first row throws stones and fall down and the second row come en masse to pick them up and then the series of events repeats: passing of the stone between hands, wind up, throw, fall down, assisted up. The only sounds are the whoosh of the stones as they soar towards the victim and the awful thud as they hit him and fall to the ground.

The flute plays again and one of the men in a suit comes and puts an arm around the victim like an older brother or coach might do. He then says something incomprehensible to him (if it is comprehensible to any of my readers do let me know in the comments) - a phrase of some kind.  The intonation suggests that it is a demand.  Another man joins the group and does the same and this is repeated until all the men are surrounding the victim, repeating this phrase over and over again. The voice actor for all the men is the same – and it sounds as though the voice has been overlapped with itself to give an overwhelming sensation to the scene.

Indeed, the victim curls his knees up to his chest and covers his ears, his eyes tightly closed and his face grimacing as he tries to block out the mob as they surround him chanting. Eventually, it becomes too much for him and he hums in anger as he stands and forces the group to back away from him. The young man’s fist is clenched tightly and shaking with anger. He then steps to the side, reaching his hands out as if to halt someone.  His movement is so deliberate that it is like watching a Tai Chi pose being performed.

The spirit of a bird emerges from his hands and flies out of the group. All the men, including the victim, watch as the bird settles on the shoulder of the man playing the flute. The flautist looks at the bird, who snuggles into his face to distract him, then suddenly snatches the flute out of his hands and flies away. One of the bullies then picks up a stone and throws it into his own face. The other bullies soon follow suit, all of them throwing stones at their own faces like automaton gone haywire. The victim at first just looks blank, but then reaches down, picks up a stone and joins the self-flagellation.
Similar themes: the blemished face of the main protagonist in Oyama's  Hand Soap
The theme of bullying is also a topic explored by Wada’s fellow CALF animator Kei Oyama in his film Hand Soap (2008). In Hand Soap, the male protagonist is pelted with tomatoes as he stands against a wall. I am sure that this feeling of being an outsider is one shared by many independent animators who must struggle to find a place for themselves and their creative visions in an animation world that favours the popular and commercially viable over unique artistic talent. I read a moving interview David Ehrlich did with Renzō and Sayoko Kinoshita (in Animation in Asia and the Pacific) before Renzō died in which they talk about the struggle they had in Japan in the 1970s and 1980s because the animation establishment were suspicious of their motivations as alternative animators.  It may have something to do with that old Japanese saying "The nail that sticks out gets hammered down" - a cliche, but unfortunately one that has a kernel of truth in it.

Where Oyama’s Hand Soap creates a full character for its main protagonist, showing his internal and external struggles at home and at school, Wada’s Gentle Whistle, Bird and Stone focuses on the act of bullying itself. The group abuse combined with the repetitive talking suggest that the scene is not just one of bullying, but also a ritualistic initiation of some kind into the group. The only glimmer of hope for the victim is the bird spirit that seems to come out of his own soul to whisk away the flute that is being used as a signal to start the group attacks. However, the whistle's disappearance does not lead to an end of violence, merely the start of a new form of suffering. As with all Wada’s films, it is not the easiest to watch, but there is something compelling about the way in which he draws and animates his short films. Like the repetitive actions of the characters in his films, I find myself watching them again and again and pondering whether or not there truly is a path to the cessation of human suffering.

© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

Atsushi Wada's Film Works will be released on DVD by CALF in December.


If you are in London, be sure to check out Atsushi Wada's films on Sunday at Zipangu Fest.

Related Posts:
Kei Oyama’s Hand Soap
Art of the Absurd: An Interview with Atsushi Wada
Atsushi Wada’s Day of Nose
Mirai Mizue Works 2003-2010

23 November 2010

Art of the Absurd: An Interview with Atsushi Wada

In a Pig's Eye (Wakaranai Buta, 2010)

Atsushi Wada is an award-winning alternative animation artist. I first encountered his work at a screening of Tokyo Loop in December 2006 at Image Forum in Tokyo. When screened in the context of other surreal animations by artists like Yoji Kuri, Keiichi Tanaami and Nobuhiro Aihara, the work of Atsushi Wada stands out because of his muted colour pallet and very deliberately paced character movement.

When I have seen Wada’s work screened with other alternative animated shorts at Nippon Connection in Frankfurt, the perplexity of the audience is palpable. You can hear people asking themselves “What in the world is this all about?” His films pose a particular challenge to audiences because they feature both the surreal and the absurd, which can provoke extreme reactions.

Watching In a Pig’s Eye - which won best film at Fantoche in September - I found myself laughing out loud at the screwball comedy aspects of the boys' acrobatic interatctions with the giant pig in the garden.  Wada says that most audiences view the film silently and that my reaction may say more about my unusual sense of humour (which may indeed be true – partly attributable to the amount of Monty Python I watched growing up), but it is part of the nature of the absurd or surreal humour that it can evoke a wide range of emotions on the part of the spectator ranging from revulsion to elation, incomprehension to sudden clarity. The only illegitimate reaction to a Wada film is complete dismissal, because his films have a lot to teach us about patterns of human behaviour.

Wada’s films are for me a kind of visual surrealist poetry that require repeated screenings in order to fully appreciate them. When viewing them in a festival setting one really needs a pause before the next film begins to fully take in the ramifications of his use of symbolism and movement. Fortunately for us, CALF is releasing a DVD of his works in December so that fans can take the time to appreciate the charms of each film. Wada is an intelligent and intriguing artist, and while I often feel that I don’t quite “get” everything he is trying to say with his animation, there is something very compelling about them that always brings me back to watch them again.

Interview with Atsushi Wada

Congratulations on winning Best Film at Fantoche! What kind of feedback did you get from the audience there for In A Pig’s Eye?

Thank you very much. In A Pig’s Eye has in a way been less appreciated by audiences than my previous works. It is quieter and calmer than my other works. Furthermore, audiences seem to find the story difficult to understand. I did not really intend to make it difficult to understand though. . .

In the “Making of” section of Tokyo Loop, you explain that you use a 0.3mm “sharp pen” (mechanical pencil) for sketching. What other materials do you use?

I use a 0.3mm “sharp pen” only for sketching. To be more precise, I draw lines with the 0.3mm “sharp pen” and I use a 0.5mm “sharp pen” for shading in hair and clothes. I then scan the drawing into the computer and add colour. I don’t use cel animation paper. Instead I use regular copying paper or rough textured hanshi (Japanese calligraphy paper).

Your use of colour is usually very subtle and minimalistic. Can you talk about how you use colour?

There is a negative reason for this: I don’t like thinking about colour. I’m also not good at it. I therefore don’t increase the number of colours and I choose light colours as much as possible.

In a Pig’s Eye had a lot more laugh-out-loud screwball comedy than other films of yours that I have seen. Can you talk about your use of humour – particularly the absurd in your films.

As I mentioned earlier, I think there is not much laughter in this piece. Therefore, it could be that you have an unusual sense of humour. That being said, humour is an element that is absolutely necessary for me – not only in relation to my own work, but in any animation. Even the most serious works require a sense of humour in order to acquire depth. People who use the surreal tend to be thought of as being odd. However, it is actually just the opposite. Those who use the surreal are quite down-to-earth people. It’s not just about making something that is surreal, but about finding balance between extremes. It is through this process that one actually achieves something that is surreal.

What inspires your animation?

I think that books and documentaries have a lot of influence on me. When I hear words I imagine pictures. Subtle gestures or behaviours create a kind of flash of realization in me. Actually, the project that I am working on at the moment developed when I saw an old Japanese documentary.

Do you think about your audience when you animate, or is your main focus on the aesthetics of your art?

I consider both. I believe that I should try to balance the subjective and the objective in my work. Even when I rely on my own intuition, I think that authors who manage to take a step back and look at themselves objectively as much as that’s possible are able to create great art. It may not be that I am literally thinking of the audience, but I think that it is necessary to have an objective point-of-view.

On the CALF website, it says that you are always thinking about the concept of “ma” 間. I understand this concept in terms of use of space, but you apply it to the “tension produced between movements”. Can you explain how you apply this to animation?

When I try to explain the meaning of “ma”, I always have difficulties. So I’ll give an example: the composer Tōru Takemitsu has talked about the use of “ma” in music. It’s not just about silence, but that silence only becomes possible because there is sound. Takemitsu said that because of this, one has to think about both sound and the absence of it together. I feel the same way. If one applies this to animation, it is because there is movement that there is also “silence” (the absence of movement). I do not only mean movement and the space and time between movements, but that it is necessary to have movement in silence. Both need to be included in the concept of “ma”. It is important to think about how an animated movement affects the “silence” that follows it, and how that connects to the movement that follows the “silence”.

Are there other animators whom you feel also use “ma” in their work?

I think that there are many. Even if it’s not mentioned explicitly, it is of the upmost importance for an animation have that “ma”.

One underlying theme of your films is about the pressure on the Japanese to conform to the expectations of the group. Does this come out of your personal experiences?

I get that question a lot. For my animation to work, it is necessary to depict humans who are being moved mechanically within society. It is not something that I have strong personal feelings about. I just feel that it makes my work more interesting.
Event at Image Forum, November 20-26, 2010

The sheep with human faces in your films represent for me both being docile (hitsuji no you) and being a source of comfort – like when a man rubs his face in the sheep’s fleece. Can you explain more about your use of sheep as a motif?

I seem to somehow like not just sheep but docile animals in general – goats, turtles, elephants, and pigs. I think my interest in them has to do with their way of quietly and slowly walking around and grazing. Seeing them roaming and grazing makes me wonder what they might be thinking. One could say that I like animals that give me space for thinking. With respect to the sheep, I think you are right that they have “amae” (甘え- a Japanese concept concerning the giving / receiving of comfort). There is something about sheep that makes one want to impulsively throw oneself at them. Then again, if one really throws oneself at a sheep they are terribly stinky.

How did you become interested in animation?

Until I started creating works of animation myself, I didn’t really have much interest in animation. My first opportunity to make animation came during my university studies. I felt this urge to move a doodle that I had done. However, it wasn’t really that I was interested in the movement itself, but in the “ma” that develops by putting the drawing into a time sequence. This desire to express “ma” has continued in me unchanged ever since.

Do you remember your first experience with experimental / art animation? What was it?

My first experience with art animation was probably the work of Jan Švankmajer. I can’t recall if it was at a cinema or on video, but it was either Alice or Faust. I was strongly influenced by the tenacity of purpose in his films and I find the editing impressive.

Which animators or artists do you admire?

Igor Kovalyov, Priit Pärn, Kōji Yamamura, Kenzō Masaoka, and Nobuhiro Aihara are just few of the many that I admire.

Mechanism of Spring (Haru no shikumi, 2010)

Your latest film The Mechanism of Spring (Haru no shikumi, 2010) showed at Venice in September. Can you tell me about it?

The theme is “haru no uzu-uzu-kan” (spring fever). I drew living beings, happy about the coming of spring. Turtles, frogs, snails, and crows are frolicking about with the kind of lively movements I imagine they would make. In order to capture the lightness of the image of spring, I felt that the pace of the story should match the movement. I had not done anything with this kind of tempo or rhythm before, so I learned a lot from this film. I discovered things that I want to use again in the future.

What are your future goals as an animator?

I would ideally like to create animation in my own way and earn a decent living from it. At the moment it is very difficult to strike a balance between my artistic production and cost of living. In addition to this, I would like to create an environment in which my art can be seen by as many people as possible.


My thanks to Atsushi Wada for taking the time to answer my questions. 

Atsushi Wada’s work will be screened together with that of other CALF artists Kei Oyama, Mirai Mizue and TOCHKA at Zipangu Fest in the UK on Sunday 28 November at the Genesis Cinema in Whitechaple. Click here for more details.  

Image Forum in Tokyo is hosting a screening event in his honour called Atsushi Wada and World Animation November 20-26.  Read more about it here.





© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

12 November 2010

Murder (殺人, 1964)

Sherlock Holmes needs only to consider the clues to solve the crime.
Makoto Wada’s short animation Murder (殺人/Satsujin, 1964) was screened at the 1st Animation Festival at Sōgetsu Hall in September 1964 alongside films by the Animation Sannin no Kai, Osamu Tezuka, and Tadanari Yokoo. The film proved to be such a hit with his peers that he was awarded the prestigious Noburō Ōfuji Award at the 19th Mainichi Film Concours in 1965.

Makoto Wada (和田誠, b. 1936) is a graphic designer, illustrator, essayist and film director. In addition to this he belongs to the first generation of artists who made experimental animation following in the footsteps of the Sannin no Kai (Yoji Kuri, Hiroshi Manabe and Ryohei Yanagihara).

In Murder, Wada uses cutouts drawn with marker on paper to create a simple but effective comedic send-up of genre films. Wada passion for the cinema is well known and a recurring theme in his art – some of my favourite paintings by Wada are his tributes to cinema’s greats like Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless, Wim Wenders’s Wings of Desire, and Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (See examples of his tributes to European cinema here).

Murder is divided into seven vignettes that each begin the same way: a cleaning woman walks to the door of a room and knocks on it. Cut to a close-up of her face, her mouth and eyes wide with horror, and violins screeching in imitation of a woman’s scream. Cut to an interior shot of an empty room and the camera zooming in on a man lying on his back on the floor with a dagger in his chest and blood spilling from the wound onto the floor. This is followed by a title card that reads “Murder!”, cue music. Each of the seven vignettes uses a different style of graphic design on the title card, and each has its own ndividual theme music scored by Masao Yagi (八木正生, 1932-1991 – he did the music for Ashita no Joe) to indicate which genre is being spoofed.
The first scenario is a Sherlock Holmes murder mystery (image at top of post). Recognizable by his pipe and deerstalker hat, the detective arrives on the scene and manages to deduce who the murderer is by putting together on a handful of clues.
Poirot only needs a newspaper and a cigar to solve murder mysteries.
The second scenario features a detective with a curly moustache à la Hercule Poirot. He reads about the murder in the newspaper and manages to solve the mystery just by sitting in his armchair and puffing away on his cigar. Each puff of smoke turns into a thought bubble with a clue in it, until he compiles enough clues to solve the crime.
Sam Spade doesn't even need to remove his hands from his trenchcoat pockets.
The third scenario features a Sam Spade private eye who not only examines the scenes but begins to question people beginning with the maid. Wearing a fedora and with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trenchcoat and sporting a Humphrey Bogart demeanor, the gag in this scenario is the great lengths he goes to in order to question the most unlikeliest of people – the most vital piece of information is of course imparted by a bartender as the Spade character enjoys a tipple.
Garlic and crucifix will wrap this case up.
From here on out, the scenarios get more and more unlikely and thereby more and more hilarious. In the fourth scenario, a man in a nineteenth century style top hat appears at the murder scene to investigate. The murdered man suddenly opens his eyes and reveals that he is a vampire and the investigator destroys him with garlic and a crucifix.
Since when does 007 solve petty murder mysteries? LOL
Each scenario gets more and more outlandish - such as the sci-fi spoof.
This is followed by a James Bond spoof, where the joke is the random women who appear that do nothing to progress the plot, and then a sci-fi take on the murder mystery. The pièce de résistance for the arty film buffs  is the final scenario: “Murder for the art theatre” which is shot entirely in black and white – a kind of murder mystery à la Last Year at Marienbad (Alain Resnais, 1961).
Murder for the art theatre involves a random, but artistically intriguing romance.
The of changing hats to indicate character types reminded of that hilarious scene in Steamboat Bill, Jr. (Buster Keaton, 1928) when Buster Keaton’s father takes him to buy a new hat – each hat that Keaton tries on is associated with silent stars of the day and he rejects them all – including the trademark porkpie hat.  Like Steamboat Bill, Jr., Murder does not tell us who each of the main protagnists are in the vignettes - we as an audience are meant to work this out ourselves by reading the genre clues given to us in the costumes and props.  Although the genres that are spoofed are not all necessarily from the silent era, the animation is presented like a silent movie, with title cards and music used to impart additional story information.  I am not sure how widely screened this film was at international festivals in the 1970s, but while watching it myself I was struck by the idea that Wada’s brilliant short film has just the sort of  toying-with-the-audience humour that would have amused Alfred Hitchcock.

The next Noburō Ōfuji Award will be awarded at the Mainichi Film Concours in February.  I am working on a retrospective look back at past winners along with some guessing as to who might win it for this year.  I am  on a personal mission to watch all the previous winners during the coming year and to report on them here. on the blog. I already have a head start having seen all the films by Tezuka, Taku Furukawa, Yoji Kuri, Tadanari Okamoto, and Kihachiro Kawamoto (but I have yet to write about them all on the blog).  I have written about some before: The Magic Ballad, Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro, and The Chair.  A few may be difficult to track down - like an affordable copy of Takashi Yanase's Yasashi Lion - but I've always liked a challenge.

© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

Check out these feature films directed by Makoto Wada:
Mahjong Hourouki / Japanese Movie
Japanese Movie
Mayonaka Made / Japanese Movie
Japanese Movie

Works featuring Wada's illustrations:
All My Loving 1966 Nen no Beatles / Naruko Iwase
Naruko Iwase
Shinya Kokontei Rakugo Zenshu / Shinya Kokontei
Shinya Kokontei

This review is part of Nishikata Film's 2011 Noburo Ofuji Award Challenge.

The Legend of Kamui (カムイ 外伝 , 2009) in San Francisco

On November 19th at 7:15pm, The Red Lantern and VCinema will debut their joint movie screeening series with the 2009 Japanese film THE LEGEND OF KAMUI aka KAMUI GAIDEN, a live-action adaptation of the best-selling manga by Sampei Shirato. This is the West Coast premiere of the film.


Born a ninja. Die a ninja.


In 17th century Japan, disillusioned ninja Kamui finds himself on the run, in search of freedom. However, he discovers he's being hunted by members of his former clan who want to assassinate him for the clan secrets that he possesses. When he finally settles down in a small fishing village, Kamui finds himself face to face with an old nemesis whom he must deal with along with the ninja hunting party who are hot on his trail.


THE LEGEND OF KAMUI is a thrilling action movie starring some of the hottest talent in Japanese cinema today: Koyuki (THE LAST SAMURAI), Anna Tsuchiya (KAMIKAZE GIRLS), Suzuka Ohgoa and Japan Academy Award winner Kenichi Matsuyama (DETROIT METAL CITY, DEATH NOTE), (MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA). The film is directed by Yoichi Sai whose 2004 film BLOOD AND BONES garnered four Japan Academy Awards.

The film will be shown in Japanese with English subtitles.

Tickets will be $10 and will include a screening of the film as well as an post-movie reception with food and drinks and other goodies.

This event is open to the general public.

The Red Lantern is an Asian cinema meetup group located in the San Francisco Bay Area.

VCinema is an Asian cinema podcast also located in the San Francisco Bay Area.

The Walking Man (歩くひと, 1992)


In this age of portable devices for listening to music and communicating with friends, many people seem to live their lives in a bubble, oblivious to their surroundings, as they hustle to and fro in our modern metropolises. With the growing threat of environmental crisis around the world, it is more important than ever for us to take the earphones out of our ears and look around us at the world we are living in and how we can interact with it in positive ways.

Jiro Taniguchi’s 1992 graphic novel The Walking Man (Aruku Hito /歩くひと, 1992) takes readers on a journey with the central character, a married man who seems to be in his late thirties or early forties, as he discovers the wonders to be found in his very own neighbourhood. In the first chapter, he encounters a birdwatcher and realizes for the first time that his neighbourhood is also home to a variety of common birds like great tits (shijūkara), grey starlings (mukudori), and thrushes (tsugumika).

The man and his wife adopt a stray dog, whom they name Snowflake, and the dog’s presence naturally leads to even more walks around the neighbourhood. His walks allow him to indulge in a childlike delight in the more simple pleasures of life. Some of the most indulgent moments include when he hops a fence to enjoy a midnight swim in the buff in a local swimming pool, and when lies back and floats alone in a sentō (public bath) after getting soaked in a rainstorm without an umbrella.



Many of his escapades lead to wonderful moments of intimacy between the man and his wife, as he often brings home stories and found things to share with her. For example, he purchases a kamifūsen (paper inflatable balloon) and plays with it as he walks. After a bit of a detour, he returns home and shares it with his wife. On another day, he takes off his shoes to climb a tree in order to rescue a toy airplane, then stays up in the tree to enjoy the view. When he comes down, he finds a damaged toy plane and takes it home (still barefoot!) to repair it and then enjoys playing with it with his wife. He even suffers in the hot summer sun in order to carry home a roll of bamboo to act as a sunshade for his him and his wife.

The illustrations in The Walking Man are simply beautiful and it has quickly become one of my favourite graphic novels. Although I read the German edition (Der Spazierende Mann, published in 2009 by Carlsen), I would imagine that the Japanese edition of this story would be ideal for beginners in reading Japanese because the dialogue is minimal – and there are a lot of sound words to indicate the sounds the man is noticing as he walks along. Onomatopoeia are one of my favourite things about the Japanese language.  This graphic novel is just crying out for a skilled animator to adapt it into a film.

© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

11 November 2010

Angel : The Place Where We Were (エンゼル, 2008)


Naoyuki Tsuji’s beautiful, charcoal animations feel like an invitation into the poetic mind of the artist himself. This is due in a large part to their intuitive nature. Tsuji (辻直之, b. 1972) employs an animation method similar to that of the South African artist William Kentridge: drawing with charcoal, making erasures and changes to the image with traces of the earlier charcoal markings visible over multiple frames. The main differences between Tsuji and Kentridge are that Tsuji's work is less political, takes a stream of consciousness approach, and his drawings are more minimalistic. Tsuji’s minimalistic sketching always reminds me of the drawings of Jean Cocteau – an artist and filmmaker who shared Tsuji’s interest in dreams and the unconscious mind. 

Angel: The Place Where We Were (エンゼル, 2008) begins by showing us the artist’s pixillated hand as he sketches the title of the film. Hands are an important motif in the film as the first image is that of hands coming together and clasping the centre of the frame – with the haunting traces of the rubbed out lines of previous frames still present. As in his previous films, the soundtrack is beautifully scored by Makiko Takahashi. The lilting music lulls viewers into the dream-world of Tsuji the animator-poet.

The camera pulls back to reveal a round-faced young woman with bobbed hair, her hands clasped in prayer as she raises her black eyes to look up to the heavens. Tsuji then cuts to a  young male figure, also with blacked in eyes (reminiscent of the eyes in pre-war animation) at a table with a coffee, flipping through the pages of a book. A new angle reveals that the female figure is standing to his left.

The next shot is of the young couple standing in the window of a small house. As the camera pulls back, the house gets smaller and smaller, and again the traces of how big the house was at the beginning of this sequence remain in the frame. This process of pulling back, smudging out, and re-drawing creates an eerie feeling and it makes the clouds look as though they are smoking. Eventually, the camera begins to move upwards into the sky and we see a male angel with outstretched wings and ridges on his back flying through the air.

The camera moves in to a close up on the ridges on the back and reveals three square figures with eyes sitting around a table playing cards. The winning three matching cards have humanoid figures on them and the cards fall into a hole in the table and are carried away through a tube or tunnel into a womb or small cave where a young woman plays the harp. There the cards transform into round creatures with eyes and continue down the next tunnel. They then exit out what at first appears to be a window, but them transforms into one of the eyes of the angel.

One of the three creatures descends to the window of the house and enters the room of the couple as they lie naked on the bed and it then enters into the womb of the woman. In the next scene, the woman pats her now pregnant belly contentedly with a cat curled up on the floor next to her. The scene then cuts to the male figure running to a tree. When he nears the tree, the woman steps out naked rom behind it, smiling, and with a baby in her arms. The film ends with the baby turning its head, also smiling, to look into the eyes of its father.

This is perhaps the most accessible of Tsuji’s films so far. It is just as surreal as his previous films, but has a more discernable storyline. Sexuality has long been an underlying theme in Tsuji’s films, and it was interesting to see him take on the theme of fertility and prayer in this film. The medium of charcoal usually lends itself to dark themes, so it was a pleasant surprise to see Tsuji use his signature style to render an uplifting story.

You can support this artist by buying his reasonably priced DVD Trilogy about Clouds from Japan. Although there is no English in the packaging, one does not need to understand Japanese in order to enjoy the films. I would advise against buying the Facets DVD of Tsuji’s films because the company has violated the artist’s wishes by altering the films. Read more about it here.  His film A Feather Stare at the Dark appears on Thinking and Drawing.

Related Posts:
Thinking and Drawing
15 Must See Art Animation Shorts

This blog entry is a part of the Japanese Film Blogathon 2010


© Catherine Munroe Hotes 2010

Atsushi Wada and World Animation at Image Forum


Image Forum in Tokyo is presenting a showcase called Atsushi Wada and World Animation (和田淳と世界のアニメーション) November 20-26. Renowned surrealist animator Wada’s complete works so far are being screened in two packages alongside some of the best of world animation from the past year. I believe that most of the non-Wada shorts screened in the Official Selection at Annecy this year. In addition to the films, special guests will be on hand to discuss the films including film director Takuji Suzuki (Nov. 21), media artist Masaki Fujihata (Nov. 23), indie animator Taku Furukawa (Nov 24), and alternative manga-ka Shiriagari Kotobuki (Nov. 26). Attendees will have the opportunity of buying early copies of Wada’s CALF DVD, which will be officially released in December.



Program A (November 22/24/26, 9pm)

Atushi Wada Works (和田淳の作品)

Yume-tsutsu (夢現, 2002)
Fue (笛, 2002)
Zenchū maishū (蠕虫舞手, 2004)
Kakari (係, 2004)
Gentle whistle, bird, and stone (やさしい笛、鳥、石, 2005)
Day of Nose (鼻の,日 2005)
The Mechanism of Spring (春のしくみ, 2010)

World Animation (世界の作品)

Playground (Mirai Mizue, Japan, 2010)
Sam’s Hot Dogs (サムのホットドッグ, David López Retamero, UK, 2009)
Troublantes caresses (悩ましい愛撫, Jérémy Boulard, France, 2009)
Wolves (オオカミたち, Rafael Sommerhalder, Switzerland/UK, 2009)
View (Nayoon Rhee, South Korea, 2009)
Miramare (ミラマーレ, Michela Müller, Crotia/Switzerland, 2009)

Program B (November 23/25, 9pm)

Atsushi Wada Works (和田淳の作品)

This Mayonnaise is Too Runny (このマヨネーズはゆるすぎる, 2002)
kiro no hito (2003)
Kodomo no Kaiten no Koto (子供の廻転の事, 2004)
Manipulated Man (声が出てきた人, 2006)
Well, That’s Glasses (そういう眼鏡, 2007)
In a Pig’s Eye (わからないブタ, 2010)

World Animation (世界の作品)

Haunted Heart (ホーンテッド・ハート, Winona Regan, USA, 2009)
Väike Maja (Small House /小さな家, Kristjan Holm, Estonia, 2009)
Benigni (ベニーニ, Elli Viorinen /Jasmiini Ottelin/Pinja Partanen, Finland, 2009)
Woman Who Stole Fingers (指を盗んだ女, Saori Shiroki, Japan, 2010)
Sauvage (Wild/野生, Paul Cabon, France, 2009)
Lebensader (Lifeline/生命線, Angela Steffen, Germany, 2009)
Orsolya (オルソリャ, Bella Szederkényi, Hungary, 2009)

For those of us not lucky enough to be in Tokyo for this event, a selection of Wada and other CALF animators will be screening at the Zipangu Fest in London on November 28.

Related Posts:
Art of the Absurd: An Interview with Atsushi Wada
Mirai Mizue Works 2003-2010
Atsushi Wada’s Day of Nose