Stop Motion - Go Motion

Anyone who knows me, understands my obsession with the surreal and macabre. Many of my interests are rooted in the ancient Mysteries, magic, occult, and of course all of that carries over into the imagery of Alchemy and Qabbala in all of those fantastic engravings and woodcuts from centuries past, pregnant with secret knowledge taken to the grave by most of their creators. Anyway, probably one of the biggest influences on me both artistically and musically (synonyms?) is the Czech school of surrealism, particularly that wonderful medium known as stop-motion animation.

Of course, any American who has grown up with those cheesy animated features they show around Christmas time, like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and the Abominable Snowman have been well acquainted with the genre since early childhood. Not to mention the revival of the art form with films like James and the Giant Peach and the Nightmare Before Christmas. But the niche I am more interested in, and am referring to here, is that higher tier of art-film pioneered by the great Jan Svankmajer, perhaps the best known of the Czech surrealists. I was introduced to the form through the wonderful and haunting work of the Brothers Quay, who oddly enough are American, of Western Pennsylvanian origin. Their films strike a nerve trapped deep below outward consciousness. The shocking and yet subtle imagery in their films consisting of animated porcelain dolls lacking eyeballs and weird chimeric beasts made of mouse skulls and snipped off bird wings, snail shells and mechanical drawing instruments leaves the viewer transfixed on the screen, and wondering whether he should take a shower after the film is over or go straight to church.


Most recently, thanks to a Barnes and Noble gift card I received for Christmas, I was able to make a few new DVD purchases, the first being the films on Jiri Barta, another Czech Surrealist in league with Svankmajer and the infamous Bros. Quay. The DVD is called Labyrinth of Darkness and is a mad house of dark and depressing weirdness dreamt up by one of the more creative (or disturbed) madmen of the genre. The DVD includes eight short films, including the hour-long epic "The Pied Piper of Hamelin", perhaps Barta's best known work, akin to the Quay's "Street of Crocodiles" or Svankmajer's "Faust" or "Alice". The only disappointment I have is on the poor quality of the film, understanding of course that in the renegade and budgetless world of art-film dirty scratchy prints may be inevitable. I suppose we have become so hyper-sensitized in this age of "digital reprinting" and "remastering" that the character and warmth of a funky 8mm or 16mm print from some secret reel hidden in Jiri Barta's freezer is lost on our soft and delicate eyes. Of course, I still listen to all of my LPs, and the warmth of sound and occasional scratchy pop that emanates from my stereo sort of empowers me, and fortifies my fortress of individuality protecting me from progress.

Anyway, attention must also be drawn to the fantastic musical scores, drawn from a very Eastern European palette and masterfully woven into each image with relevance and intention. Stepping back to the Bros. Quay, the great Lech Jankowski I feel is the champion of this school of film scoring, a real influence on my own musical language. If you're curious at all, I definitely recommend this DVD, and anything by Svankmajer or the Bros. Quay. In fact, a new collection has just been released of the Bros. Quay films, it is called Phantom Museums. Check it out.