© Sony Pictures Animation

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse does not push the boundaries of animation. How can you push the boundaries of something that has none? When critics spill out that line it’s based on their own projection of the limits live action has onto a medium which refuses to abide by them. That thinking is backwards, Newtonian, animation is better described by the works of Niels Bohr and Steven Hawking, quantum, impossible to pin down, existing in multiple states and all at once, still not fully understood by the layman. 

Therefore, the story of the Spider-verse movies is not one of boundary pushing, rather this project, this experiment, exists to surrender itself to the whirlpool of animation, letting all its styles, from the stoic to the formless, wash over it, absorbing lessons, techniques and visual languages from each one to tell a story like so many others. Yet, I don’t say that to call Across the Spider-verse ordinary. Cramming all existing animation styles into a single story should be an impossible task leading to an incomprehensible product, but we forget that animation does not deal in impossibles. 

© Sony Pictures Animation

Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) is a year older, suffering from the mid-teen angst for freedom. His yearning to forge his own path sees him come to blows with his parents and an entire multiverse of Spider-people attempting to mould Miles in their own image. Namely Miguel O’Hara (Oscar Isaac) and The Spot (Jason Schwartzman), antagonists who, for very different reasons, believe in the necessity of Miles’ suffering. Sacrifice is part of the deal when being a Spider-Man, but also when being a teenager. Miles stands in defiance of his expectations, whether they’re as quaint as improving on his Spanish grade, as emotional as being there for his family, or as overwhelming as his duty in preventing a potential multiversal collapse. The latest instalment of the Spider-verse franchise sees Miles torn between finding freedom and a sense of belonging,

Across the Spider-verse treats the general audience to visuals unlike anything they would’ve seen in the last 40 years from a major motion picture, it shows animation nerds conflicting art styles they didn’t know could co-exist and it gives tech nerds a software-based headache trying to grasp how on earth they taught a computer to colour outside the lines so playfully. Furthering its miraculous status is the film’s almost omnidirectional praise. Experimentation is bound to leave some in the dust. How did so many audiences keep up with a film that runs through visual styles almost as quickly as it runs through dialogue? We see dimensions that look like the film has been shot through a prism, neon-lit dreamscapes, Mumbai-New York blends taking inspiration from 70s Indian comics, live action sequences and a paper mache British Spider-guy share the screen within minutes. 

Across the Spider-Verse Trailer + The Directors Speak!

Recent months have seen live action filmmakers like Ari Aster and Damien Chazelle take wide swings which bisect audiences. There’s something about the maximalism of Babylon and the unpredictability of Beau is Afraid which seems to leave some fulfilled and others enraged. How did Kemp Powers, Joaquim Dos Santos and Justin K. Thompson pull off a film that is even more maximalist and unpredictable? The answer is (predictably considering the rest of the article and the theme of the publication you’re reading) animation. Animation forces you to let go of your frame of reference, it makes you leave a sense of reality behind. Only in animation are stories like Across the Spider-verse possible. 

© Sony Pictures Animation

Sony have not introduced a third style of animation to lump in with the 3D Pixars and DreamWorks and the 2D classic Disneys and Ghiblis. To think in this way is only to scan the surface of what’s being achieved artistically. We want to say something is completely new because we feel like it validates our love for it. What Across the Spider-verse does, which is so rare, is wear its influences on its sleeve and execute them to the highest possible level. 

That is why this film will be talked about for years when we talk about animation. Fans and artists specialising in every corner of animation will gather to worship at its feet. 

While Across the Spider-verse acts as a breathtaking construction of all we know animation to be, its successes as a story come from the deconstruction of the superhero tale. The tale of Spider-Man feels as old as time, and virtually is for my fellow Gen Z-ers. Across the Spider-verse offers playfully meta alternatives to how we know these stories are “supposed” to go and deepens the relationships between characters we feel familiar with. Miles Morales is older now, things are harder, being a good friend is harder, being a good son is harder and the introduction of the multiverse-hopping villain The Spot makes being Spider-man harder. Miles is tasked with finding his place, not only in the world, but in every world, the perfect metaphor for the heavy weight of teenage metamorphosis. Watching Miles’ exuberance be tempered by jaded adults is jarring and further endears the audience to Miles’ point of view. 

© Sony Pictures Animation

Across the Spider-verse sets up a trilogy worthy of a swan song for the superhero film as a genre. Is superhero fatigue real? For how long will audiences find these stories interesting? I sense that after this trilogy is complete, there won’t be much ground left to tread. The snake would have consumed itself. 

Few times in a decade do we get the chance to bask in the glow of an industry-defining piece of art. I liken the feeling of walking out of this film to the experiences of hearing Frank Ocean’s Blonde for the first time, my first playthrough of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild comes to mind, as well as watching the original Spider-verse for the first time, 4.5 years ago. In 2023, two of those titles returned to redefine what we know about those mediums. We have the most exciting years of animated cinema ahead of us. 

5/5. We will be talking about it for years. 

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is in Theatres now.

The post Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse – Review appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse is a feature built upon existing characters made by co-director Mikk Mägi who created the Old Man as a university student and went on to have massive success in his homeland. Joining Mägi is co-director Oskar Lehemaa who share the task of taking the Estonian pensioner from three minute shorts to feature film stardom.

“Mart and Priidik” from The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse (606 Distribution)

As with most comedic premises the conceit is very well introduced, cows must be milked every day or their udders will explode, unleashing a lactopalypse. We meet three kids, Aino, Priidik and Mart, who are abandoned for the summer on their grandfathers farm. The older two kids are distraught with the idea of having their phones taken away and having to work on the farm, whilst the youngest child Mart, takes the opportunity to put his weird little mind to work and create poop shovelling machines. The kids get to know Grandpa, and in spite of them not liking him very much he is something of a local celebrity, flamboyantly distributing milk to the townsfolk as part of his daily ceremony, much to the behest of his poor, overworked cow.

“Old Milker” from The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse (606 Distribution)

The antagonist of the film, Old Milker, is a vengeful old man who wants the cow dead thanks to his own explosive history with udders which have left him transformed into a pale, dripping creature. “My veins flow white with buttermilk. I sweat sour cream and cry tears of vanilla ice cream” if you’re not on board with the insanity of this film by this point, there’s no hope for you.

This well shot and the wacky Estonian comedy is presented with plenty of international appeal, it mimics the best thrillers and horror movies when it needs to and the visual or verbal gags per minute are kept high by a cast of colourful characters, jump cuts, set ups and landings.

After the kids let the cow loose two of them set off on a journey to find her with Grandpa, leaving behind. Old Milker seizes the opportunity to fulfil his vendetta against bovine kind, hiring a trio of nonplussed tree surgeons to help him in his plot. There’s no end to the weirdness of the plot as Grandpa and the kids come face to face with hippy festivals, sentient tree gods with automotive kinks and gigantic bears all with a backdrop of innuendo, gore, fart gags and drunken revelry. If you want a relatively spoiler free idea of where the plot takes the audience, have a look at the BBFC ratings on the website which does not include Pridik leading a forrest full of captive animals to escape through a bears arsehole with the help of a has-been rock star. It’s fair to say you’ve never seen anything like this before.

“Old Man, Priidik and Aino” from The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse (606 Distribution)

The absurdity takes us right the way through to the epic finale where Heath Robinson style contraptions face off against man and beast for a symbiotic showdown that keeps the lactopalyptic laughs coming until the credits roll.

You can’t escape the charming DIY nature of the film. The sets are limited, the models wobble around the screen and their mouths do not move, however this is a film that revels in its limitations whilst also taking the opportunity to produce some standout animation when required. From a directing point of view, though the film might not look like it was made with a million dollars worth of material, the directors have taken the feature format and shot a film to look and sound like a million dollars onscreen.

“Priidik” from The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse (606 Distribution)

In spite of the crude humour there is something endearing about the film. The relentless bad taste gags should be too much, but somehow they find a balance woven within a well told story that works. This isn’t a film that will leave you intellectually stimulated. Like reading an issue of its UK spiritual counterpart Viz, you have a laugh but you don’t learn anything – and that’s fine, not all films have to leave you thinking, worrying, contemplating or questioning. Sometimes you just need a good laugh and this film will deliver that to anyone willing to spend an anarchic hour and a half watching a cow based comedy.

Short film fans will know that Estonia is a nation with a roster of filmmakers to boast about.  The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse welcomes directors Mikk Mägi and Oskar Lehemaa to that list with a film that stands out amongst the films of a stand out nation. See this bit of bovine brilliance if you can.

The UK Premiere of The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse takes place at HOME Manchester on Wednesday 24 May and then screens nationwide from 2 June.

The post THE OLD MAN MOVIE: LACTOPALYPSE! Review appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

(Image source: Mat Clark ©)

In the final week of April this year FMX presented its 27th conference at Haus der Wirtschaft in Stuttgart Germany, and I was fortunate enough to be able to attend.

This was my first time at FMX, and it didn’t disappoint. With a host of speakers from across the VFX and animation industries, masterclasses, a marketplace, and a recruiting hub, my days were full, and my inspiration has been refuelled.

Highlights included:

• Nathan Fariss (Pixar) speaking about the worldbuilding of Lightyear and aiming to build a visual style setting it apart from other Pixar movies.
• Mark Edwards (Dreamworks) discussed the visual development of Puss In Boots: The Last Wish through the scene in which the audience is introduced to the Wolf character.
• Cary Phillips (ILM) and Tim Webber (Framestore) both shared fascinating stories about their illustrious careers in VFX and film making.
• Frank Petzold (VFX Supervisor) talked about the digital and the practical approaches towards developing the invisible effects of All Quiet on the Western Front.
• Robert Kondo (Tonko House) spoke candidly about setting up a studio and developing Oni: Thunder Gods Tale.
• Stuart Adcock (Weta FX) introduced us to Weta’s Anatomically Plausible Facial System (AFPS), an evolution of the Facial Action Coding system (FACS).

This is a just short list of some of the great speakers and content presented at the conference, further details and insight can be found on the FMX website.

The entire conference is situated in Haus der Wirtschaft, a magnificent exhibition centre built in the late 19th century housing 2 main rooms and an abundance of smaller event spaces. Queues regularly snaked through the corridors and offered impromptu networking opportunities, although on more than one occasion these lines got tangled in the old halls so it’s best to keep one eye on what’s happening.

The schedule is very well planned and managed, and with each presentation lasting an hour it is possible to fit a great deal into a single day. This year the festival was a hybrid presentation, with 3 days onsite and 1 day online – this worked very well for me, as after 3 days sitting, and listening, I was absolutely shattered. The online content is available until the end of May and includes the Video on Demand (VOD) sessions from the onsite programme, a great way to catch up on any missed content, alongside the new day 4 sessions.

Being held in the centre of a large city there is no shortage of places to pick up a bite to eat or a beverage, however several catering vans offering food and drink were conveniently set up outside the conference building, meaning that it wasn’t necessary to wander too far to fuel up for another round of talks.

FMX is an excellent conference, and I would recommend that anyone, in particular students, with a vested interest in visual effects or animation should try to attend. It is an opportunity to develop an understanding of current industry practice, to network, to help shape career aspirations, and find out how to break into these competitive industries.

I can’t wait to go again!

Tips for FMX: 

• Be prepared to queue
• Dress light and carry water as the rooms get very warm
• Use the VOD tag in the schedule to help plan which sessions you would like to see in person

The post FMX – Film & Media Exchange – 2023 Report appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

Based on the true tale of friendship and rivalry between Umberto Nobile and Roald Amundsen, Titina is the first animated feature film by Norwegian acclaimed director Kajsa Naess, whose films Deconstruction Workers and It’s Up to You won numerous awards and festival selections. Co-produced by Naess’ own Mikrofilm studio and Belgian Vivifilm, this whole new story brings us to the North Pole for an epic expedition. But is Titina the icy and heartfelt family adventure you’ve been looking for, or does it rather fall flat on account of its complex narrative arcs and slow pacing?

The real Titina in 1926 – copyright Italian Air Force Museum of Vigna di Valle

I had personal expectations regarding this film. The thought of going back to the barren white plains of the Pole, after Rémi Chayé’s delightful Long Way North, drove me to Titina’s screening with high hopes. Here, we follow the struggle between the two male characters who fight for fame and glory. An already told story, but in Titina Kajsa Naess manages to twist this problem by telling us this tale through the eyes of one cute puppy named Titina, a seemingly tiny shift that provides in fact a truly refreshing perspective. By putting this real-life story through the pet’s flashback, Naess gives it a comical and heartwarming tone, along with a nostalgia that creates a nice and cozy atmosphere around this tale of hardship.

It’s truly this choice that carries the emotional weight of the story, making you relate to the characters and events that unfold in Titina. As Naess puts it, “it’s a tale of little men and their little feelings in gigantic landscapes, and the story of the dog who lived to tell it”. Building around this idea, the production was handled between Norway and Belgium where Naess spent months working closely with animation director Marie-Laure Guisset and her carefully selected team of animators. One of the key aspects was – following the directors’ comments – their will to restrain the movements and emotions of the main characters to the essential, providing a slower pace to the movie. Thus allowing us to experience deeper emotions, delving into the two main characters, Umberto Nobile and Roald Amundsen, and their rivalry.

TITINA still – Svalbard hangar
© Mikrofilm, Lumiere, 2023

Young Umberto Nobile was, as we quickly discover, one eccentric engineer flying around Italy in his airship. As he wanders the streets of Rome, he encounters Titina, a clumsy Fox-Terrier who he adopts immediately, charmed – as we are – by her silly attitude. Though they don’t know it yet, they’ll soon fly together to the North Pole on an expedition with Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, who desperately wants to be the first man to reach both the South and the North Pole.

The Norge Zeppelin in Svalbard
© Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway)

Depicted through Naess’s sweet animation mixed with archive footage from the expedition, this adventure unveils quickly before our eyes, with the speed of a running train and the flow of air on the wings of both airplanes and blimps. As a history buff, I was amazed to discover this unknown yet fascinating episode of arctic exploration, and Titina does provide a beautiful take on it. As the warm colours of Italy are swiftly replaced by the dazzling whites of the eternal snows of the Pole, overlooked by everchanging clouds, Titina is at its best when the film takes us up in the skies. We are carried along the memories of Nobile and Amundsen, where the music by Kåre Vestrheim and the animation mix perfectly together. From the eyes of a human, it’s already impressive. From the dog’s point of view as the animation unfolds on incredible landscapes, it’s magnificent.

TITINA still – the first meeting
© Mikrofilm, Lumiere, 2023

It’s when we get back to the ground that the film may be the least thrilling. The characters, although being drawn adorably, lack the depth you may want to discover in such adventures. Naess’s aesthetics work great when the characters and their personalities are put to the test, the impact of this choice on the movie’s pacing did throw me off when the film slows down to put the adventure in context. Titina’s point of view thankfully provides a sharp look on the human characters, from their great kindness to their stronger defaults and ego-trips. In the matter of flags and dictators, size does seem to matter. With that witty approach, the movie manages to convey its deeper themes. Resistance through fascism, the strength needed to overcome its own ego, and finally the inevitable passage of time, for me the most moving aspect of the film. All that, at a child’s level. And from an adult’s perspective, you may find that the movie’s themes and topics will stick with you, even haunt you a little. As a critic, but also as a human being, Titina is the kind of film that makes me look inward and ask, what do you want to leave behind? A question that many of us ask themselves every day. And because of all that, Titina is a seemingly simple yet impressive achievement.

The post Feature Film Review: Titina – “A tale of little men and their little feelings in gigantic landscapes” appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

The reclamation of nerd culture has hit its peak, their revenge is complete. The mainline Mario video game franchise is perhaps the most storyless series of games to feature human characters, to expand that into a feature film takes some stretching of lore and insertions that dampen the faithfulness of the adaptation. This task felt overbearing for Rocky Morton and Annabel Jankel’s now 30 year old film. Though that film was unsuccessful for myriad reasons, its entire construction is an admission that the original text is little more than wafer-thin. The existence of this year’s mega-blockbuster based on the same franchise is proof of where culture has moved over the last three decades. The expectation is that The Super Mario Bros. Movie will be one of the highest grossing films of the year, rather than a risky adaptation of what was still a niche genre of entertainment at the time. 

Luckily for directors Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic, their pool of resources is wider than what was available during the development of the previous Mario adaptation. Not only has there been a mountain of games released in that time, spanning kingdoms and galaxies, but the expansion of internet communities of Nintendo fans has provided another well to dip into. When a fan sits down to watch The Super Mario Bros. Movie, they want to see their experience reflected, to form a bond with the filmmakers and feel that they’re just as in love with the franchise. Throwing in the eel from Super Mario 64 is a reference to a game, having a Toad tell another Toad to blow into their NES cartridge is a reference to a personal experience.

References form the bedrock of what this movie is, meaning there are two ways to analyse the success of this film. Either you see it as a vehicle for fan fulfilment, a moment for Nintendo heads to bask in the mainstream Hollywood sun, or as a film you walk into as a completely detached citizen who refers to any machine capable of running ROMs as a “Game Station.” A love letter is only legible to those immersed in the franchise, otherwise you’re as lost as a baby penguin in Tostarena (see what I mean). There is a sense of prevalent video game snobbery in film communities, with games often being looked down upon as brain-rotting time wasters while cinema is often depicted as the peak of artistic expression. Already we can see a divide in reviews coming from written publications and those existing on YouTube, there’s something to “get” which one side is embracing and the other is neglecting. 

The Super Mario Bros Movie (2023) Photo – Nintendo

I will not pretend that I walk in both worlds. I slapped on every thread of Nintendo attire I possibly could for the screening and clapped and yelped and hollered at the inclusion of the Punch Out restaurant, the GameCube ringtone and the sheer surreal nature of seeing these characters, once bound to my GameBoy screen, living out this gorgeously animated adventure in front of me. Each miniscule reference imbued me with an injection of joy and like a trail of sugar-coated morsels had me narrowly focused on the experience of the narrative from its inception to its conclusion (and post-credits conclusions). 

There’s a built in cynical critic residing in my mind, ready to denounce my own enjoyment when I mention being entertained by references and call-backs. By no means should that be what all movies strive for, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t take skill, love and care. Films are enjoyable when you get the sense that the filmmakers really gave a crap about the work they were doing. Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic were hyperfocused on pleasing fans with The Super Mario Bros. Movie, to the detriment of their Rotten Tomatoes score. References feel cheap to some but exhilarating to others because the thing that we like more than anyone else in our real life is reflected. It’s the most basic level of being seen, but everybody wants to be seen. 

Undeniably, The Super Mario Bros. Movie achieves its goal of representing the experience of a Nintendo fan, whether they lived through the video game crash of the 1980s or fell in love with the company through Mario Tennis: Ultra Smash. Visually, musically, verbally, the film exudes a warmth and joy which emanates from a team thrilled to be able to tell this story. 

The Super Mario Bros Movie (2023) Photo – Illumination

Equally present is a dedication to detail unmatched by animation studio Illumination’s previous output. As audiences are considering ridding themselves of their almost 20 year marriage with completely CG animation and are gazing longingly at the greener grass of inventive 2D-3D blending, The Super Mario Bros. Movie was in danger of looking half a decade behind in its approach. Vibrancy of colour, forensically constructed textures and lassi-smooth movement remind us of the beauty CG animation is capable of when pushed a little farther. 

Also helping is the supreme deftness with which the camera is moved throughout this adventure. Lakitu, or Illumination’s equivalent, consistently finds interesting angles to take to picture the action. Eagle-eyed views of blocks falling just as they leave Mario’s feet, an unbroken take sweeping through Bowser’s kingdom and a voyage inside the mouth of an eel provide a technical proficiency few were expecting when this film was first announced.

Translating what we see on screen into an imagination-based reality is part of the gig as a video game player. Even as we inch closer to realism and enhanced expression in games, we still have to fill in some gaps on how a texture would really look or how one would actually interact with a power-up. In taking those models, tweaking them for the film and blowing them up onto IMAX screens can make for an alienating experience for fans extremely attached to the less-detailed originals. Adjustments made to characters like Donkey Kong and Bowser achieve the goal of bringing more expression to their faces and movements while being in line with what fans would expect these characters to look like in a slightly more realistic setting. I found myself mesmerised at times by the detail of Bowser’s scales, the hairs in Luigi’s moustache and the newly introduced biology of a Bullet Bill (one gets its eye poked. I never imagined they worked like that. I never thought they were living beings. What a painful existence to be born and exploded within seconds).

Donkey Kong in The Super Mario Bros Movie (2023) Photo – Nintendo

The ambition of adding further colour to established Mario lore is something greatly satisfying about the film. The involvement of Mario creator, Shigeru Miyamoto, was certainly a crucial factor in making these new additions feel consistent with fan expectations. Delightfully, Bowser is depicted as a sappy romantic with a cold, hard exterior, giving shine to his soft core which melts whenever in the presence of Princess Peach. Bowser is something of a Lord Farad figure here. His endgame has always been to marry Peach, but attempts to woo her, scenes of him fawning and obsessing over her, have never crossed my mind as a possibility. Jack Black even gets the chance to stretch his vocal chords in magnificent musical sequences as sonnets flow through his raspy voice. 

Smaller details such as practical uses for karting, coin blocks acting as ATMs and explanations for Mario and Luigi’s colour-coded outfits naturally progress established imagery and lore. Such delights are only accessible to those well-versed in the series, the ability to extract entertainment from them the reward for years of dedicated fandom. The subjectivity of whether or not one will find entertainment from a film is enhanced for the Mario Movie. What will a casual moviegoer gain from a montage which sees Mario, Toad and Peach trek through Bob-Omb Battlefield and contemplate the many galaxies in existence? 

Committing so full-heartedly to one section of the audience leads to the film requiring some balance. It looks to achieve that through unfortunately tired gimmicks from the Illumination handbook. A gripe many will have is the healthy dose of decades-old licensed music injected at various points. Nothing screams of a lack of confidence in entertaining a slightly older audience more. “Take On Me” blares over the action as Mario karts through the Kong Kingdom, an area derived from games with some of the most iconic video game music ever created.

The Super Mario Bros. Movie, for the most part, does a respectful job of incorporating original game soundtracks into the film without orchestrating them beyond recognition. However, that good work feels compromised by half-baked attempts to stop 40-year-old men from checking out completely. Why aren’t more of Grant Kirkhope’s iconic themes which have spawned an entire subculture on their own more present? Decisions like this are made without the target audience in mind, making for a disruption to the immersion. 

The film’s frantic pacing also feels designed to keep audiences on their toes and away from their watches. The 90 minute runtime feels breezier than what’s natural for any film. The colourful animation and immense detail are great, but also contribute to each frame pulling your eyes in every direction without as much as a second to breathe. Some will give in to the sugar rush, but it will be incomprehensibly quick for others. 

Additionally, the pacing leaves characters feeling incomplete, and what are intended as emotional climaxes, feeling bare. Mario and Luigi’s brotherly connection is just about developed enough through half-hourly slim gaps of breathing room from the main plot for their eventual triumph to feel satisfying, but the arcs of characters like Princess Peach and Donkey Kong seem to be set up and resolved within the same sequence of dialogue. More time could have been spent with Mario and Luigi processing the bizarre new world they land in, or with Princess Peach trying to make sense of seeing another human being for the first time since her memory began. However, the immediate acceptance characters have of their situation reflects the familiarity which the intended audience feels towards that same imagery.

When space is made for references and fan self-insertion over character, it’s hard for your thoughts to stray away from the fact that you’re watching a corporate product. Pandering to a section of your audience out of fear that they won’t be 100% invested in a way that breaks the immersion of those you already have on board before the movie begins and compromises the depth of your characters is a frustrating route to take. 

Creating a cinematic love letter fundamentally comes with the alienation of part of the audience. Committing to pleasing one side of the crowd and boldly ignoring the other is admirable, but isn’t Illumination’s style. The film is so close to charging into fan bliss but Akira-slides just before it has to take the full leap.

The Super Mario Bros. Movie did not have to have structural problems and pacing issues. There’s a not too dissimilar version that is a genuinely fulfilling cinematic experience worthy of inclusion amongst the best animated films of the year. The product we get has obviously recognisable flaws. 

However, it takes some special sauce to be able to craft a flawed film where those flaws skip right over your head and while you’re locked in. The low Rotten Tomatoes score should be held as a badge of honour for this film, it’s a wonderful feeling to experience something tailor made for you and incomprehensible for somebody else. That being said, I wish that score was lower. 

I wish they went further and resisted the urge to throw in hits from the 80s and squeeze out any of the time for the characters to breathe. I wish we had gotten more complicated, weird backstories rather than common denominator insertions about daddy issues (which almost every main character has). Fuck the critics, fuck anyone else who isn’t a fan. When the doors close and the Nintendo logo pops up, that cinema is a sacred space for Mario heads. A culmination of 40 years of fandom, a chance for us to reign supreme in a different medium, on foreign land. The experience of watching The Super Mario Bros. Movie will stick with me until my brain rots from all those games I keep playing. It’s flawed, it’s messy, it’s silly, childish, there’s pacing issues, dumb music decisions and still manages to be a resounding victory for the nerds. Keeping in step with the game series, bring on the weirder, deep cut sequel and for the love of Miyamoto, put Waluigi in it. 

The Super Mario Bros. Movie is out in UK cinemas now.

The post The Super Mario Bros. Movie Review – A Love Letter to the Love Letter to the Franchise appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

Here are some of the highlights of the 2023 edition. To hear from some of the directors you can listen to our podcast below. If you’d like a blast from the past why not listen to our 2020 edition also?

This year the event highlights Ukrainian animation. Speaking at the opening of the festival Linoleum Programme Director Anastasiya Verlinska shared her stirring and impassioned position as one of the people safeguarding Ukranian animated culture after the invasion. “The Russian invasion has proven that culture is not beyond politics” Verlinska stated, and speaking of her colleagues “some of us went to fight and died on the battlefield, some became volunteers and sacrificed their careers to help those in need, instead of creating passionate projects, picked whatever job possible to donate, but the majority of us kept creating to be heard and to keep our culture breathing”. A bold introduction to two days of back to back pitches where culture not only breathes, but in the case of funding film ideas – is born.

Wychwood and Cartoon Saloon Pitch ‘Julián’ at Cartoon Movie 2023 (photo: Steve Henderson)

The pitches were off to a strong start with two heavy hitters up against one another. This is the cruel nature of the event! With two auditoriums in use at any one time, you miss half of the productions, so you must do your research ahead of time. Beginning the day was Mr Hublot’s Christmas, an animated adaptation of the Jacque Tati character – french comedy royalty. In the second auditorium was Julián, the new project from Irish animation royalty Cartoon Saloon.

Cartoon Saloon are no strangers to pitching for European co production money. From The Secret of Kells onwards, most of their films have been a feature of the forum in some way, shape or form. Pointing out friends and co producers in the audience Paul Young declared the film “very much a cartoon movie, movie”.

Based on the book Julián is a Mermaid by Jessica Love, Julián is the story of a young boy and his Dominican grandmother who he goes to visit in Brooklyn. Fascinated by the Coney Island Mermaid Parade and mesmerised by the magical influence of a Dominican sea deity, Julián takes a journey of self discovery as co-director Mark Mullery told the audience, they wish to showcase a world of children exploring without judgement. We have to wait until late 2025 to see the Louise Bagnall directed film.

A full auditorium watching pitches! © Cartoon

Though the UK can no longer pitch alone at Cartoon events, the influence of artists and creators is felt. This was the case with The Hermit and the Bear based on the John Yeoman book illustrated by Quentin Blake, the work of the inky fingered national treasure was central to the pitch which was put forward by French producers Tant Miuex and Sun Creature.

The work of Blake was translated beautifully here, which has been approved by Quentin Blake himself who declared that it was “as if his work had come alive”. This reaction is one we can certainly attest to as the scratchy designs we all know and love have been translated beautifully to the screen which is always great to see. An additional surprise came when the Hermit opened his mouth to speak and the voice of Aardman’s Peter Lord came out! Great casting for the teaser.

Cursed Children Pitch © Cartoon

Not everyone pitching at Cartoon Movie is after the same thing from the same people. Some projects are nearly complete and may be on the lookout for broadcast and distribution, whereas others might be at the beginning of their journey and could be looking for everything from a studio to animate it right the way through to publishing and distribution. The latter tend to present in the concept pitches, where ten minutes is dedicated to these fresh ideas. Highlights included Jim Queen a story which sees the ‘king of the gays’ battle against sinister forces as a mysterious disease is turning gay people into straights and destroying the world. This pitch was nothing short of a riot, with superb 2D animation accompanying a story which is both packed with laughs and purpose as the team behind the film wish to share their world in an effort to create understanding and acceptance. Other enthusiastic pitches included Cursed Children from Gravedad director Matisse González Jordán, a story about a family all burdoned with unusual and creative curses which soon spreads to Kiki, a girl in search of answers which may rest with her Grandfather, a former Bolivian dictator. The Legend of Magnus the Good was delivered with panache and warmth by Frank Mosvold who wove the tale of a young viking, usurped from his throne by a wicked uncle who time travels to seek the assistance of the Valkyries  – but has to settle for drag queens in a modern day nightclub. Described as Terminator 2 meets Pricilla Queen of the Desert, this was certainly something to look forward to.

Decorado Pitch © Cartoon

Still revelling in the success of Unicorn Wars Director Alberto Vázquez returns with to pitch Decorado a title which short film fans will be familiar with. Vasquez is no stranger to taking his graphic work, filtering it through a stand alone short, before expanding the idea into a feature. Decorado is a real treat for Vázquez fans (among whom we count ourselves!) who will see the gloomy world of Arnold the Mouse and fallen star Ronald Duck fleshed out with plenty to explore. No stranger to international collaboration Brazil found itself represented with The Bird Kingdom a collaboration between Lupa Filmes and Sacrebleu. A fantasy set among the arid wasteland of the South American country, bandits can turn into birds of pray, which lifts a story of trust, adventure, companionship and adventure. The visuals, provided by director Wesley Rodrigues offer a bolt of expressive colour and energy to this tale for young adults.

Young adults have found themselves well served at this years forum – provided the films can see the light of day. Entertaining the crowd were the rubber hosed Happy End by I Want Pluto to be a Planet Again directors Marie Amachoukeli & Vladimir Mavounia Kouka, Darker and more dramatic tales came in the shape of I’m Still Alive and My Friend Gadhgadhi.

The Bird Kingdom Pitch © Cartoon

As the crystal ball that gives us a glimpse into the future of film, trends at this forum help us prempt what cinemas, streamers and festivals will be showcasing soon. 21% of the projects took on societal issues: inclusion, diversity, migration, political issues, gender, and more including Julián, The Legend of Magnus the Good, I’m Still Alive and Zako. 17% of the films had a female lead and 16% of the films presented focussed on environmental issues such as Back to Tomioka. Speaking about the trends General Director Annick Maes said “Animation stays in close connection with the changes of our society”.

Magnus the Good Pitch © Cartoon

One interesting trend was that whilst the event was attended by an impressive 282 buyers from around the world, major streamers such as Amazon and Netflix who were invited to bid alongside the rest of the world declined their invite. Netflix has recently been shedding some animated content from their upcoming catalogue, much of it European such as Ember from SPA. As streaming reaches something of a saturation point perhaps the ultimate trend of 2023 will be a resurgence of the traditional model of financing and distribution? Watch this space.

Cartoon Movie returns to Bordeaux 5-7 March 2024. More more info on the projects visit the Cartoon Movie website.

The post Cartoon Movie 2023 Report and Podcast appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

© Gilles Moins / Anima Festival

And maybe that’s one of the most impressive feats accomplished by the team. For a festival that’s been happening since 1984, it’s quite a challenge to renew your audience, yet a necessary one. Of course, professionals from all around Belgium come back every year, and students flood the halls of the old Flagey building, the legendary heart of the festival. But the Covid crisis changed the way families and children consume animation, as well as international travellers. Some are coming back, some aren’t. And there’s not much to do about it, except go on with the show, and the pancakes. Because who doesn’t love a good pancake at Anima?

Anima location, Flagey © Gilles Moins / Anima Festival

Despite this rather gloomy statement, the halls of Anima were crowded, from Day one to Day ten of this major Belgian event. Under the management of Dominique Seutin and Karin Vandenrydt, the two festival Directors for whom it’s the first regular edition, the team is striving towards new goals of diversity and ecology. And we have witnessed their success this year, without any doubt.

The two directors – Dominique Seutin and Karin Vandenrydt – with host Stephanie Coerten. © Gilles Moins / Anima Festival

As part of this effort to bring more diversity in the animation world, Futuranima hosted the second in-depth roundtable about inclusivity in storytelling, putting forward writers such as Brooklyn-based Latvian director Signe Baumane (My Love Affair with Marriage), Norwegian director Mats Grorud (The Tower) and Belgian director Ada Güvenir (As if it Could). To tell a story is indeed one thing. To truly understand the dynamics, challenges and reality of the people you are portraying is a totally different thing, and this not-so-thin line is what makes a project worth your while.

Tell your own story could also have been a great tagline for the Queer stories program, a night that became one of the major events this year at Anima. Hundreds gathered for the second year in a row to enjoy the amazing drag show provided by none other than Cabaret Mademoiselle, one of the oldest Drag Queen Cabaret in town. Along with a tastefully curated selection of LGBTQIA+ films, from horny snails to troublesome plummery, including the Sundance nominated Christopher at Sea by Tom CJ Brown. And as animation evolves slowly but surely towards more diversity, Anima’s team curated yet another special program around women directors under the banner of Oscar-nominated My Year of Dicks. A sold-out screening, one of the 44 of this crowded edition. More than just a trendy topic, those screenings brought new crowds to the festival, creating a safe space for discovery and sharing. Many of the faces seen in the audience had not been at Anima before, but they’ll certainly come back next year, bringing along new animation-lovers, from every corner of Brussels, Belgium and beyond. These new experiences, along with the now-traditional VR selection, and Temple Caché’s gorgeous AR exhibition, suggest one thing: Animation still is both a crowd-gatherer medium and a powerful innovation lab, opening to more and more genres and topics, with infinite possibilities.

Queer night at Anima 2023. © Gilles Moins / Anima Festival

Wandering the halls of Flagey, you could already witness this future happening. A bright and diverse future made of children running around before their screening, of new animation-lovers, and of students gathering to meet great talents such as Joanna Quinn or Jim Capobianco. Two magnificent artists, both in their own way but equally humble, who shared their knowledge in two impressive master classes. Animation at Anima has that kind of energy that manages not only to drive people forward, but also while preserving their past, with deeply emotional moments such as Alain Ughetto’s stop motion wonder No Dogs or Italians Allowed (Interdit aux Chiens et aux Italiens). A tale for the ages, told by the simple and yet wonderful voice of Alain Ughetto’s grandmother Cesira, as she would have lived it. A beautiful token of appreciation to all those who ever felt out of place, suffered racism but kept on going, echoing the main themes of this delightful edition of Anima. This year’s edition was a truly delightful experience, surely both for the guests, the team and the public.

Puppets from Alain Ughetto’s “interdit aux chiens et aux italiens”. © Gilles Moins / Anima Festival

And as always, smiles seem to have been the fuel that powers everything here. Smiles, pancakes, incredible discoveries, and of course the occasional Belgian beer in the evening. Who wouldn’t want that kind of future? On my part, I’ll see you there next year, that’s for sure!

The post Anima 2023 – From COVID to the World of Tomorrow appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

© Cartoon Saloon, Netflix

We associate home with comfort and familiarity but My Father’s Dragon is a quest to recognise a completely new and harsh environment as ‘home.’ After leaving their comfortable life in the country, Elmer and his mother Dela move into the big city, aptly named Nevergreen. The dichotomy between their new and previous lives is too big a change for Elmer to process well and he yearns for an emulation of the store his mother used to run. After a talking cat with the voice of Whoopi Goldberg alerts him to the existence of a dragon on a faraway island, Elmer devises a plan to bring it back to Nevergreen, using its magical allure to raise money to open their new store. 

The deeply intimate and personal stakes of the movie’s opening make for gentle and warm watching. The relationship between Elmer and Dela cannot be described as anything less than wholesome, the art style is pastel, soft and comforting, and viewing this life-shifting change through a child’s eyes provides a relatability. We see Elmer finally start to view his mother as mortal when financial issues arise. We see the effects of poverty on his innocence as he tries to force himself into a breadwinner position in the household. The magical realism that is still to be introduced leaves the forefront of your mind in this section of the movie. The characters are so well drawn and their relationships and struggles so well defined that you could watch an entire movie of them simply trying to make it through the month. 

Once Elmer sets sail away from Nevergreen and towards Wild Island, the supposed resting place of this dragon, some of this intimacy is lost in favour of an epic-feeling story. In some regards, this is disappointing, but it also allows for the film to push itself visually. The design of Wild Island is gorgeous and the supernatural events that take place there are depicted with an incredible balance between subtlety and grandeur. Every landscape shot in this film is worthy of a place in the Louvre and I refuse to stop campaigning for their inclusion. 

© Cartoon Saloon, Netflix

The expedition away from Nevergreen also represents the movie’s biggest shift in tone and writing style. Introducing characters like Judy Greer’s Soda and the titular Dragon, Boris, sees the writing shift to accommodate their hyperactive and clumsy personalities. Though Soda’s appearance is brief, we spend almost the entirety of the remaining runtime with Boris, a character who seems to be at 100% all the time. This might work for some viewers as Boris provides a levity to what had been a challenging story up to this point, but the relentlessness of Boris’ personality can cause a grating effect when the films looks to achieve emotionally heavy moments. Boris’ entire arc is about emotional metamorphosis as he looks to complete a ritual undertaken by every dragon. The process of becoming an After Dragon is analogous to coming of age, but Boris’ character lacks the weight to make that change feel significant. 

Other important players in the story include a gorilla and a macaque named Saiwa and Kwan respectively. These two primates are in charge of Wild Island and are tasked with protecting all life on it. Saiwa had captured Boris in order to use his power of flight to stop the island from sinking, an eternal threat for the beings who live there. As much as Boris displays an unending silliness, Saiwa and Kwan are pictures of seriousness. The gravity of their jobs and situation locks them out of the playful nature which the film maintains from the start. When they share the screen with Elmer and Boris, there is an intangible distance between the stories both parties are playing out. Elmer’s quest to urgently save the island and bring Boris back to Nevergreen sees him caught between the two tones, with the film unable to shift between the two deftly. 

A massive success of My Father’s Dragon is how it introduces characters with goals that seem simple on the surface, but the mechanics of how they are achieved makes the whole thing so much more complicated. Elmer just wants to open a store with his mum, Boris wants to become an After Dragon, Saiwa wants to save the island, Dela wants to support herself and her son. Elmer’s innocence and naiveté means his attitude towards the problems of his own and of others is somewhat dismissive. The goals seem simple, just go and do them. 

© Cartoon Saloon, Netflix

Elmer’s journey is about learning the complexity and grey areas of life, and though the movie does swing in tone, it achieves that primary arc beautifully. The opposing nature of the characters can be jarring but in isolation there are no important players without depth, and everyone has something of value which Elmer learns from. Matched with some of the best visuals of any film in 2022, this makes My Father’s Dragon a heartwarming watch and a worthy addition to the Cartoon Saloon catalogue.

My Father’s Dragon is now streaming on Netflix.

The post My Father’s Dragon: Review of the Latest Cartoon Saloon Feature appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

In a year populated with exciting, vibrant new stop-motion projects, many of which having found a home on Netflix, 2022 may have very well saved the best for last. This would be no mean feat, especially in contemplation of such captivating endeavours as January’s The House and the eagerly anticipated return of Henry Selick this past Autumn with Wendell & Wild. In spite of this, Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio remains an astonishing year-end capper and well worth the hype that has surrounded its turbulent development. While Carlo Collodi’s classic tale may have been at the receiving end of more than one ignominious adaptation in recent months, Guillermo (along with co-director Mark Gustafson and co-screenwriter Patrick McHale)’s take is their antithesis; a strong, emotionally intelligent and visually devourable success that perfectly captures the sometimes incommunicable magic that animation, specifically stop-motion, can hold over us.

Guillermo del Toro on set (Image via Netflix)

This vision of Pinocchio very nearly went unrealised altogether, however. Beginning its life rooted in illustrator Gris Grimly’s striking reimagining of the character for a 2002 edition of Collodi’s original book (for which the Jim Henson Company had obtained the rights), in the decades that followed the project endured several dormant phases and an inscrutable lack of interest throughout the industry in spite of a filmmaker as celebrated as Guillermo del Toro’s attachment to it. During this lengthy period of stutter-starts and extensive story development Mark Gustafson, a noteworthy name in the stop-motion arena, came on board. 

“I came in around 2010-2011, pretty early on,” recalls Mark, “It was just a phone call from Guillermo, he said ‘Mark, I’m doing this project-’ and I said ‘I’m in!’ before he’d told me what it was.” 

As the final film clearly demonstrates, the coming together of Guillermo and Mark as joint directors would prove an ideal pairing, Guillermo having long admired Mark’s body of work that included a long stretch with Will Vinton Studios on such joyously nightmarish projects as The Adventures of Mark Twain and Return to Oz alongside its lighter fare that included The California Raisins and The PJs. 

“Animation has always been something I not only study and collect but try to practice,” Guillermo enthuses, “Particularly in the last fifteen years or so. I started to come back to it through DreamWorks.

“As Mark says, clay or stop-motion is the one form of animation that you can do basically alone in your room. For some reason stop-motion attracts all those weirdos more than other forms of animation, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.” Agrees Mark, “I remember probably my first experience with it wasn’t really stop-motion, but we would strap M-80s to the neighbour’s Barbie dolls and blow them up to see if we could get a picture at the moment that they were exploding.”

With this healthy bond established, the team would continue to develop the concept and, in turn, continue to be told ‘no’ in pitch meeting after pitch meeting. At the precipice of considering international financing, Guillermo would turn to a newer relationship he had established along the way in a final push to get their vision for Pinocchio off the ground.

“I, quite pointedly, said ‘Let’s try with Netflix’, because I had a great experience with them on Tales of Arcadia, and all the Troll Hunters, 3Below, Wizards – we did over eighty episodes, and it was really, creatively, very free.” With an ally in Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos, the team finally achieved the seemingly unachievable and got the film the green light that had eluded it for so long. “We pitched it to Ted and he said ‘yes’ in the room! It was very, very easy, because he knew from the designs and the pitch that this was going to be something special. It was a fantastic experience as expected and, creatively, we had complete autonomy.”

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio – (L-R) Gepetto (voiced by David Bradley) and Pinocchio (voiced by Gregory Mann). Cr: Netflix © 2022

Of the many reasons this iteration stands apart (out of three film adaptations of what is ostensibly the same story this year alone), the one that shouts at the audience the loudest is its unflinching exploration of the subject of death, a theme that children’s films and literature has increasingly shied away from in more recent decades. This may ring familiar with those who have followed Guillermo’s prior forays into animation and the body count they have racked up.

“When I was at DreamWorks, Jeffrey Katzenberg called me the harbinger of death, because the mortality rate on the characters tripled since I joined! We had Puss in Boots, the first one, in which we essentially kill Humpty Dumpty. The second Puss in Boots, which I started developing with the team, deals precisely with mortality, it was Puss losing all his lives and making do with one – basically the philosophy I believe in. And, of course, the killing of the father in How to Train Your Dragon.” This impulse to confront such heavier themes rather than evade them or replace them with arbitrarily happy endings speaks to Guillermo’s respect for his audience and the full knowledge that children will likely be among them.

“When we were pitching the movie or presenting the movie, I would always get asked ‘Is it for kids?’ And I’d say ‘It’s not made just for kids, but kids can watch it.’ The world is very complex right now. Kids don’t want simple answers to a complex world, they want complex answers to understand a complex world. The other day in San Francisco, Quentin Tarantino said on stage that the most violent, scary movie he’d ever seen was Bambi. And he’s not wrong. Even Disney’s earlier Pinocchio, the reason I was attracted to it is because it was one film in my childhood that showed me somebody who understood how scary and fraught with danger childhood felt. It’s only in the later decades that animation became pasteurised and homogenised into something that doesn’t even have the elements of danger that fairytales traditionally have.”

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio – (L-R) Count Volpe (voiced by Christoph Waltz) and Pinocchio (voiced by Gregory Mann). Cr: Netflix © 2022

In some respects the film plays a little lighter than its source material, or at least it seems to; while Collodi’s Talking Cricket is smashed to death by a mallet early on in the novel, subsequently appearing as a ghost, del Toro and scriptwriting partner Patrick McHale (of Over the Garden Wall fame)’s Sebastian J. Cricket survives, only to endure a ceaseless, grimly comedic parade of pain and suffering in his efforts to steer Pinocchio right. Other deviations of note reframe the tale as a brutal and razor-sharp satire on fascism, relocating the time period to roughly a century later to take place during the rise of Mussolini, as well as thoughtful ruminations on fraught relationships between fathers and their sons and a fundamental eschewing of the notion that Pinocchio’s main driving force should be to become a ‘real’ boy. Instead he is imbued with an immortality that sees him dipping in and out of a beautifully-realised death realm occupied by bored, lagomorphic bureaucrats and the regal spectre of Death itself. The unique charm of this world’s Pinocchio himself is in his unfiltered nature that simultaneously exudes a happy-go-lucky passion for a world so new to him alongside a penchant for creating chaos and panic wherever he goes and a contrarian impulse he cannot curb in spite of his developing knowledge of right and wrong.

“The theme of disobedience being a virtue, which is counter to all the Pinocchios I knew as a kid, was there from the start.” Recalls Guillermo, “Then when I saw the Gris Grimly drawings, a whole world came with it – everything precipitated, setting it in fascist Italy…very quickly, it sort of just poured out, you know? I think the design unlocked all of that. I’d say, without Gris Grimly and his design, there would not be this movie.”

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio – (L-R) Pinocchio (voiced by Gregory Mann) and Gepetto (voiced by David Bradley). Cr: Netflix © 2022

Although the original film concept based on Gris’s take on Pinocchio would ultimately go unmade, the artist remained a crucial presence in the subsequent pitches and overall development of the film. “Gris and I have a very good relationship; those who know Gris know he’s a really reasonable, noble guy. We had a very harmonious relationship when I was producing, and he, very harmoniously, understood that it was not going to happen with the version that existed then. For example, the political themes were not that present, the grief was not present, the loss, the realm of death, the idea that whatever happens, happens – and then we’re gone; none of that was there. From the moment I took the reins, I wanted it to be a piece with Devil’s Backbone and Pan’s Labyrinth. It started to be shaped by that, by the fact that it now belonged to a different universe, and it sort of follows that precept.”

Crucial to adapting Gris’s initial designs to a real-life, 3D space was production designer Guy Davis (The Shape of Water, Nightmare Alley), with UK studio Mackinnon and Saunders stepping up and creating the puppets with the incomparable quality previously established in their work on such films as The Corpse Bride, Fantastic Mr. Fox and Mars Attacks! on top of a plethora of celebrated series and commercials. While not responsible for fabricating the entire cast of characters, the Manchester-based team cemented the film’s style with the key players including Pinocchio, Geppetto and Sebastian J. Cricket, as well as the villainous Volpe, his beaten-down monkey Spazzatura and the brutal Podestà intent on harnessing Pinocchio’s immortality for military purposes. Combining several established approaches to stop-motion puppet fabrication with Guillermo’s own specifications for how the characters should be animated, the team developed an intricate system of gears and paddles that allowed animators control over facial animation that reduced the reliance on rapid prototyping – save for Pinocchio himself, for whom the process of 3D printed replacement animation best suited his wooden aesthetic. Crucial to striking the right note when it came to the look and performance abilities of the puppets, as well as their overall development, was Director of Character Fabrication Georgina Hayns, a veteran not just of Mackinnon & Saunders but Laika Studios, whose dedication to stop-motion film production has been significant in keeping interest in the medium alive.

Guillermo del Toro pictured with Pinocchio (Cr. mandraketheblack.de/NETFLIX ©2020)

“MacKinnon and Saunders are the best puppet makers in the world,” enthuses Mark,  “and Georgina worked with them, trained with them, so that was a really natural relationship. We handled about half the puppets in Portland at ShadowMachine and Mackinnon and Saunders did the bulk of the rest of them, and then some of the puppets were done in Guadalajara, the team down there who did the black rabbit sequence, which was really pretty cool.”

The combination of studios and teams make for a curiously diverse yet consistent overall aesthetic, one that builds on Gris’s original vision rather than outright replacing it. This seamless bringing together of design sensibilities that might perceivably be at odds with one another in a way that comes across as satisfying to the viewer is something stop-motion is uniquely tailored to.

“Talking the other day with Henry Selick, we were agreeing on the fact that nothing expresses the weird, the odd and ‘slanted’ like stop-motion.” Says Guillermo, “It really has that quality to bring things that are off-kilter to life.”

“Yeah, there’s a kind of ‘broken’ quality to it that I think attracts broken people – not to get too dramatic!” Adds Mark, “But you know, we’ve all got a little of that in us.”

To the palpable appreciation of the animation community at large, Guillermo himself has been a vocal advocate of animation and stop-motion being invaluable in filmmaking whilst not being dismissed or mislabeled as a ‘genre’. While the world at large seems to continue to grapple with that notion, the director is optimistic for how audiences and the wider industry will engage with animation as time goes on.

“It doesn’t matter if it happens this year, or in ten years, but it will happen.” Guillermo insists, “This is a battle that has been waged for a long, long time. The fact is, in the animation medium stop-motion most closely resembles live-action in terms of complexity, shooting with real sets, real actors, real props, real cinematography, there’s a lot of analogue things – but they’re even more complex because you do it frame-by-frame and in miniature.”

“I still think that what’s important is less the technique and more that real storytellers are getting ahold of this technique and starting to use it.” Mark adds, “I think that’s how it becomes legitimate and how people start recognising it as just another form of filmmaking and not some sort of oddity.

“As Guillermo likes to say, stop-motion is pronounced ‘dead’ every five years or so, people go ‘Well, that’s not coming back’ – and then somebody does something new or interesting with it. I mean, this year, we had (Henry Selick’s) Wendell & Wild, which is great, and (Phil Tippett’s) Mad God, and our film. I think it’s a vibrant forum right now and it has a bright future. The technology just enables us to hone it a little bit more, it makes it easier to actually do than it used to be, more people have access to that technology now, which is great.”

Pinocchio is out now on Netflix. Hear more from Guillermo del Toro and Mark Gustafson in episode 108 of the Skwigly Animation Podcast (direct download link) and to learn more about the film’s puppet fabrication read our interview with Puppet Supervisor Georgina Hayns and Production Designer Guy Davis.

The post Guillermo del Toro & Mark Gustafson on bringing ‘Pinocchio’ to life | Interview + Review appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

The closing Best of Fest gala on Sunday, perhaps best indicated the nature of the festival. Awards were made based on a capacity for the bizarre or irreverent, the transformative and thought provoking. LIAF’s best film was awarded to The Dog Apartment, directed by Priit Tender and produced by Estonian studio, Nukufilm. The characters in this stop motion short were imbued with a strange, allegorical luminosity. A retired ballet dancer, an apartment that barked subject to a steady supply of sausages and a cockerel with an axe for a face. Elsewhere, LIAF awarded the epic and odyssey-inducing animations of Wataru Iwata. Iwata’s ‘Sphere’ evoked an endless continuum in space, a stream of technologically engineered animation and tunnel-like data visualizations set to an impressive score of piano music.

Wataru Iwata’s ‘Sphere’

Whichever part of LIAF’s programme you were most drawn to, there was a sense of exploration and the dipping of one’s toe into a ready-realised animated world. Abigail Addison investigated the art of world-building in this year’s figures in focus program, ‘The Magical World’. During the screening, she brought together nine shorts which drew inspiration from the surrealist Leonora Carrington, an often underappreciated and deeply hermetic artist. Carrington’s painterly lands depict the occupations of strange creatures, their involvement with alchemy, archaic magic practices, and entry into the spirit world.

Following the films, Addison gathered three directors; Anna Bunting-Branch, Renee Zhan and Réka Bucsi as well as Carmen Hannibal, a PhD Candidate of Animation Studies at the RCA. Addison spoke of a ‘science’ to the worlds each of the directors had created. With animated film it was possible to start from nothing and build outwards, subject to an idiosyncratic authorship. The animators are in effect demi-gods, like Carrington, who said “I’ve always had access to other worlds. We all do. Because we dream.”

The task of imagining a world beyond our own, of wanting a world into existence, must begin somewhere. Much like the empirical laws of science that define our world, these can only be realized through repeated experimentation and observation. Réka Bucsi described her approach to filmmaking in these terms. She starts to work on small scenes or interactions between characters. And then, once she has a healthy collection of these, she can begin to draw parallels between their behaviours, a process which culminated in her film LOVE. In a sense, Bucsi is a zoologist to her own creations. LOVE explores romantic affection in three chapters, observing the inhabitants of fantastical planets with a scientific impartiality.

Réka Bucsi’s ‘Solar Walk’

This sentiment became more apparent at Réka Bucsi’s retrospective held at the Horse Hospital later on in the festival. During ‘Solar Walk’, her most ambitious film to date, mysterious bunny-eared creatures exhibit a scientific curiosity of their surroundings. The film begins with their experiments. Objects floating in the cosmos, seemingly unrelated, are joined to form kinetic sculptures. At first the forces impacting the objects are unknown, then it is revealed to be the central creatures of Bucsi’s tale doing all the work, licking and sticking parts together in a child-like fashion.

There is perhaps something self-referential about this scene to Bucsi’s process. Elsewhere at the festival, other creators used their artistic process to further inform the act of storytelling. Ainslie Henderson approached the stage to accept his award for Best British Film, a worthy accolade to his ambitious stop-motion short ‘Shackle’, shot entirely outdoors beneath a canopy of trees. Henderson noted that the idea for the film initially came from the principle of making art for art’s sake. His characters, beautifully fabricated from natural materials, are similar to Busci’s in their playfulness. One character, made from downy white feathers, begins by selecting a pinecone. In their hands it cycles through its natural variations. Henderson makes wonderful use of replacement animation. All the while the world around them changes. The dappled light between the trees shifts in temporal motion, the breeze enacts the canopy into an agitated, rhythmic dance.

Ainslie Henderson’s ‘Shackle’

Alternately to Bucsi, Henderson extracts his visual language from the natural world, rather than fabricating it entirely. He sheds light on previously mundane objects, a pinecone, a fallen leaf or crab apple. In ‘Shackle’ these are magic objects, coveted by his characters and effective talismans for the entrance into magical worlds or perhaps the very experience of artmaking itself. Once the creatures of Shackle have perfected their technique, the forest is drawn into harmony, a symphony of terrestrial magic awaits.

There is, it seems, something in the spirit of LIAF which encompasses Ainslie Henderson’s words ‘art for art’s sake’. Each year, the programme offers films new perspectives, new plains of colour, texture and sound to roam. All you need bring is an open mind.

The post Laws of Motion: London International Animation Festival 2022 Review appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

Short-form storytelling has been the underappreciated hero of Disney’s streaming era. Creators seem to be freed by the structure and lower stakes that a short, or a series of shorts, brings. Zootropolis+ ducked under the radar of the zeitgeist in a way which I initially found worrying, but by putting time aside for the show I was rewarded with a collection of delightfully silly, creative and colourful stories from around the world of Zootropolis.

Revisiting a successful IP brings not only an established audience but also cynicism about revisiting a successful IP in order to pander to your established audience. Such concerns are valid, to a degree. Zootropolis+ does have a tendency to lean on the ‘hey I’ve seen that thing before’ effect, dropping in brief cameos from recognisable characters from the film. Zootropolis’ main character, Judy Hopps, makes a few cameo appearances at the edges of the action, as does her co-lead, Nick Wilde.

©2022 Disney. All rights reserved.

Additionally, the iconic sloths from the original film have a short centred around them. Though the joke of them being slow is the only one on show here, the format means that it doesn’t quite get old. Thankfully the exec-pleasing trick of recognisable cameos is not the only one up the sleeve of showrunners Trent Correy and Josie Trinidad.

Access to established assets from the previous franchise entry is not squandered in these shorts. Characters are expressive in ways that outdo the original film at times, backgrounds are incredibly detailed and the textures are a credit to the photoreal direction which Disney has been advancing into recently.

Performances are stellar at times too. Don Lake’s reprisal of the role of Stu Hopps is amongst the most fun the series has to offer. His charisma bleeds through the microphone and elevates an already funny script. His delivery of the line “I just saw the only part of a sheep with no hair” will stick with me for a while.

A struggle of the show is to really establish a target audience. Many Disney properties aim to be entertaining for children as well as the adults supervising them (an ideology that assumes adults can’t enjoy a cartoon by themselves but I digress), but Zootopia+ veers between appealing a little too much to one or the other. For example, it is difficult to see a child getting too much out of episode two, a riff on The Real Housewives. The parody is well-made and funny, but only works with prior knowledge of the original show.

A parody of The Godfather takes this even further by introducing a class commentary which made the first movie the cultural staple that it is. This story is slower, and rather beautiful, but is decidedly without the colour and humour of other episodes.

© 2022 Disney. All Rights Reserved.

Existing on the opposite side of the spectrum is episode 5, “So You Think You Can Prance.” Following Officer Clawhauser’s surreal audition for a dance competition show, the episode is the definition of bubblegum. While other entries felt like the creators making something for themselves, this one was definitely aimed at the pop star-idolising, TikTok dance-recreating younger end of the Gen Z population.

Something that strikes the audience balance perfectly is the pilot. We follow Stu and Bonnie Hops as they chase after their baby who has wandered onto a train. The simplicity of the setup and ridiculousness of the action mixed with incredible one-liners like the aforementioned joke from Don Lake make it an encapsulation of what the show was intended to be.

Tonal inconsistency is often a feature of anthology storytelling, in fact it is one of the joys of the medium. Zootropolis+ fulfils the quota of putting us in the shoes of eccentric characters from different pockets of the city, to the extent that a collection of six shorts can.

Due to the length of the season, having one unenjoyable episode has a large effect on its overall perception. A longer season would have avoided this issue and deepened the world-building of Zootropolis+, something that seemed to be a goal of this series. As it stands, the show asks you to pick and choose your favourite, self-contained stories to return to, but this is unreasonable with only six episodes available.

And thus, the show feels caught between the things it wanted to achieve and the things it needed to achieve. Zootropolis+ needed to appeal to a wide audience while fitting into a slim, modern six episode format, but you can feel the passion and creativity of the filmmaking team breaking through those guidelines. Finding individuality and a singular voice amongst the Disney machine is some achievement, even if it comes at the cost of the consistency of the show at large.

Zootropolis+ is now streaming on Disney+

The post Zootropolis+ 6 Episode Spin-off Series Now on Disney+ Review appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

Finally released for Disney+, fans can check out Filoni’s latest animation offering. With such a rich history of successful animated shows and intriguing expansions of the franchise’s lore, does Tales of the Jedi stand up to its predecessors or fall short into the Dark Side?

Poster for Tales of the Jedi

Made up of six standalone episodes, this anthology series follows the backstory of Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka and the early Jedi years of Dooku before he became the Sith Lord known in the films’ prequel trilogy. Diving into their relationships with fan-favourite characters as well as some fresh faces that have never been seen before, each episode tells its own singular story while also splicing between the events from the films and the television shows that came before it.

While Ahsoka is certainly given some great moments throughout this series such as using her Force abilities for the first time and a showdown with an Inquisitor while surrounded by flames, Dooku’s arc across the series is an entertaining and emotional one that brilliantly stands out. Being tested by the loyalty of the council he serves, his stories become far more dramatic and saddening as his journey eventually leads him to the Dark Side which is as engaging as it is heart-breaking to watch.

A young Dooku in Tales of the Jedi

As for the animation itself, it should come as no surprise that it lives up to the same level of quality and detail that The Bad Batch and the final season of The Clone Wars have offered that will please fans from those two acclaimed shows. With such brilliant use of lighting and colouring as well as the high quality of the background art, it features many of the same design choices that made those shows stand out from Disney+’s already large collection of animated content.

But what makes this a standout and memorable inclusion in the entire Star Wars franchise when it comes to animation is the new locations and character models. While its predecessors have featured many new and exciting places over the years, the ones included here really stand out here as they are unlike anything seen before from the abandoned sections of Coruscant to never-before-seen areas of the Jedi council, they are greatly diverse and memorable. As for the new character models for the younger Dooku, baby Ahsoka, and the new Inquisitor, they are given the same level of care and stand out among the familiar faces that make up a majority of the cast.

Ahsoka in Tales of the Jedi

Although it would have been great to have seen more storylines and episodes that explored other key characters, it’s just a testament to Dave Filoni and his team’s abilities that they can tell such great stories while being beautifully animated. Hopefully, Tales of the Jedi will receive a second season, but until then, Star Wars fans have another great reason to log back into their Disney+ accounts again.

The post Review – Star Wars: Tales of the Jedi | Does it Stand up to its Predecessors or Fall Short into the Dark Side? appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

Wow. The first few moments after stepping off the ferry into Syros, my expectations had already been exceeded. I had already known about AnimaSyros festival for a good few years – indeed, I had attended their online ‘Phygital’ offering for the past two years through the pandemic – but I wasn’t quite prepared to step off into such a wonderful self-contained world of animation like this.

Every festival has its own little charms, and this one started with the journey – no, the adventure – to get there. Coming from London, a three-hour flight to Athens was followed by tranquil four-hour ferry journey across the Aegean Sea – not a bad way to ease into a festival, and one that built the anticipation nicely. Unfortunately, due to the travel times, I was unable to be there for opening or closing ceremonies, but this set me up perfectly to experience the festival in mid-flow for the two full days that I was there.

I should mention that Syros is the name of the Greek island itself; the festival is hosted in the small town (although one of Syros’ largest) of Hermoupolis. The first thing that hit me was the visual presence of the festival EVERYWHERE. Banners flying in the town square, posters everywhere, craft shops, bars and restaurants displaying ‘festival discount’ signs. If you were a resident or tourist, there is no way you could not be aware of the animation festivities taking place that week. I loved this community integration.

What to expect from AnimaSyros

2022 marked the 15^th edition of AnimaSyros. Having been founded in 2008, and weathering 2 editions during the pandemic, this year saw the festival open up fully to the public and world again. Although there is a hive of activity taking place over 6 days, there are distinctively two sides to the festival: screenings and industry.

One of the things that impresses the most about AnimaSyros, is how they enable everything to be free and open to the public. Not only could residents turn up to the many open air and theatre screenings, these were also made available online for 24 hours (with worldwide access).

The free access also applied to industry events – the Agora marketplace – where talks and masterclasses were full of Greek students and international professionals alike. These were also made free online (and can still be viewed, here). More on Agora later, though.

There was a very relaxed atmosphere around the schedule – with the majority of industry talks taking place during the afternoon, and most screenings taking place in the evening. This no doubt helped encourage more members of the public attend – I enjoyed seeing random dog walkers and families drop in to the open air screenings. Additionally, if you are attending the festival as a filmmaker or member of the industry, there are a number of friendly and inviting parties and networking events organised where you can meet the directors and members of the Greek animation community.

Screenings & Films

Two hundred films from 43 countries made up this year’s film selection, which competed within eight competition sections. Aside from the usual categories (International, Student, Commissioned, Kids, and Feature) there were two Greek competition screenings, showcasing home-grown talent; plus, this year saw a number of focuses on other European countries: Stand with Ukraine, a Norway tribute, and The Baltic animation tribute (which celebrated shorts from Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania). There is also a unique award that can be given to any film that promotes the fundamental values of the European Union. The European Values Award recipient can originate from any country in the world – not just the EU – and this year it was awarded to Hungary’s Cured by Márton Csutorás – a film about conversion therapy and the absurd statements surrounding homosexuality.

Cured was also given a special mention in the Animapride competition – one of my favourite screening events of the festival. Animapride featured 11 shorts on various themes that highlight important aspects of the LGBTQI movement; some light-hearted and humorous, while others incredibly brutal and hard hitting. Your Name (Paulo Patrício) was the most difficult film to watch – a 24-minute documentary-style animation about the murder of trans woman Gisberta Salce Júnior. On the lighter side was Dating Internet Strangers (Eduardo Wahrhaftig) which was an instant audience favourite; tackling the all too familiar experiences of dating apps. The winner, though, was the more accessible short Sasha (Sergei Chiviriga) about a snail forced to discover the truth about his sexual identity.

‘Sasha’ by Sergei Chiviriga (left) and ‘Cured’ by Márton Csutorás

Outdoor screenings are a key staple of AnimSyros – every night there was at least one taking place in a different stunning location. My first, and unfortunately only, outdoor screening was the family friendly “Selection Of Films From Animasyros 2022”. Taking place on a giant screen in front of the City Hall, local residents, children and animators alike all gathered on the steps on this balmy late summer evening. It was a pleasure just to watch random people come and go as they liked –  with everyone enjoying animated films that they would otherwise not have seen.

Agora, the market

The ‘Agora’ is more of what you would consider the ‘industry’ side of the festival; roundtables, masterclasses and a pitching forum. This four-day event is offered for free, both live and on streaming on YouTube. (You can still catch up with 4 sessions and 2 masterclasses here.)

The format is simple: each event lasts a digestible 20-30 minutes with 10-minutes of Q&A. This keeps everyone attentive and the momentum going, with short breaks here and there. It is surprising how much you feel you’ve learnt come the end of the day!

Joanna Quinn and Les Mills – ‘Behind the Scenes of Affairs of the Art

This year saw 50 panellists from 15 countries take part, with events including a Joanna Quinn’s ‘Behind the Scenes of Affairs of the Art’, Graphic Novels to Animated Films, and Animating the Museum Experience. Unfortunately, these all took place before I arrived, but I was fortunate to see:

Pitching Forum:

The closing event of Agora sees 5 projects being pitched to the public and animation professionals. Projects must be at an early stage of development, as the winning pitch is awarded a 1-month stay in France to work on their film, organised by NEF Animation.

The winning pitch was Seasons of the Day – an interesting concept about the snapshots of events that make up our memories, based on 4 different family member’s accounts. Two other projects also caught my eye: Offside – a new short from Estonian Director Sander Joon that tackles segregation, being trapped, and finding your place, through the metaphor of football. I also really enjoyed the pitch for Three Comma Fourteen (Portugal), which tackles ADHT in children and the reasons why adults diagnose it. Definitely three films to watch out for.

The Agora venue

In Conversation with Chris Nee, Creator of Netflix Series “We the People”:

This was one of my Agora highlights. Although I know Chris Nee’s work (Doc McStuffins), I have to admit to only seeing one episode of We the People, which is a 10-part series that uses music to teach the basics of rights and citizenship in the US. That episode was ‘Taxes’ by Victoria Vincent, and was screened at Annecy this year. Incidentally, it is also one of Nee’s favourites.

With a beer in her hand, Nee opened up about the journey of producing this series, the challenges of creating a series with 10 different directors and 10 different musicians, and amusing anecdotes about working with the Obamas – including how she once disagreed with one of Barack Obama’s production notes! You can watch the full conversation here.

Art of Pitching:

Another of my favourite masterclasses was the Art of Pitching, with Alison Mann (Fourth Wall Management), and Asalle Tanha (Cartoon Network). They gave some very insightful tips and advice on how to pitch and what information you should include. The full talk can be viewed here, but here are some of my favourite takeaway pointers:

• Be patient with yourself. Some people’s careers don’t start until they’re 45 or 50 years old
• It is difficult to get new IP commissioned at the moment, as the networks/studios are still dealing with the pandemic repercussions and are playing it safer with established IP at the moment
• Pitch meetings are brief – maybe 15 minutes – you need to grab their attention in the first 10 second!
• If you don’t get questions at the end of your pitch, they don’t like your idea(!)

Animation in the Baltic Countries:

Finally, there was a very informative discussion on the state of animation in the Baltic countries (Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia) which examined how alike, but different, each were and how much money was being invested into animation. Although each of the 3 countries have a lot of international success with short films, it seems that a shift is slowly being made towards feature films. This lively discussion, which featured stats on what was being made, can be watched in its entirety here.

Alison Mann and Asalle Tanha – The Art of Pitching

Greek Animation

It was great to see what is currently happening in the Greek animation industry at first hand, as there were many roundtables, talks and screenings than focused on Greece, naturally. Having seen the excellent and exciting pitch for My Superhero Husband in Annecy, where the series was awarded first prize during the MIFA pitches, it was great to have an update of where the project is at. This Greek children’s series, which centres on 2 superheroes who are trying their best to be good heroes and husbands to each other, was first pitched at Agora in 2019 and has just returned from Cartoon Forum 2022 to even more applause – watch this space!

My Superhero Husband (left) and Aris Kaplanidis and Ilias Roumeliotis discussing Woman of ’22

As I always do when visiting a festival abroad, I made sure to view the national competition screenings, of which Greece had two, which showcased 21 shorts. One of my favourite films – Canary (Chrysoula Korovesi & Marios Gampierakis) – using the very visceral, gritty medium of charcoal on paper to tell the relationship of a coal miner and canary, was awarded Best Greek film. A special mention went to Travel Bugs by Fokion Xenos (Heatwave) – a stop motion short that forms part of a series currently in development.

‘Canary’ by Chrysoula Korovesi & Marios Gampierakis (left) and ‘Travel Bugs’ by Fokion Xenos

One project to look out for in a few years is the feature film Woman of ’22. This 80-minute animated documentary will be based on the real accounts from woman that survived the Asia Minor Catastrophe, which happened 100 years ago. Aris Kaplanidis and Ilias Roumeliotis gave audiences a first look at the trailer during this work in progress talk, although it is unfortunately not available online yet.

The Greek animation community has been represented by the animation association ASIFA HELLAS since 2008 – the same year that AnimaSyros was founded. Since then, they have been continually pushing to promote their industry and forge new relationships via a number of national incentives and international networking. For more information, visit asifahellas.eu/en.

Incidentally, as a footnote, an animated documentary about the festival’s host city, is in the works – Hellenic Place: Hermoupolis. The 17 minute ani-doc is written by festival president Vassilis C. Karamitsanis, with festival director Maria Anestopoulou acting as executive producer. Watch this space!

AnimaSyros parties and networking

A festival is more than just the events; it is the smiles of the volunteers, the community being enveloped by films and activities, the smells from shops & restaurants, and strangers you end up meeting. Despite there being more than 4,500 in attendance, AnimaSyros still retains that intimate quality that makes an animation festival so memorable and precious an experience. This was a true mix of public and industry coming together, enjoying animation in all its forms.

We would like to thank Maria Anestopoulou, Vassilis C. Karamitsanis, and the whole festival team for inviting us – we can’t wait to find out what 2023 has in store!

Winners & Jury Statements

International Competition Prize

Dog-Apartment – Priit Tender (Estonia)
Jury statement: “We are plunged into a wonderfully bleak world where the absurd is ordinary, observing the daily life of a man very concerned with finding his own means of subsistence. To achieve this, he has to take risks and accept a world where he has to give the best of himself. It is very well constructed and the visual ideas are extremely strong and stayed with us for a long time.”

Special mention: Steakhouse – Špela ČADEŽ ( Slovenia)

Greek Competition Prize

Καναρίνι(Canary) – Chrysoula Korovesi & Marios Gampierakis (Greece)
Jury statement: “In this film we go down the mine with miners and the canaries that protect them from the gas fumes. The coal drawings are animated in a very fluid way with a very simple and exciting soundtrack.”

Special mention: Travel Bugs – Fokion Xenos (Greece)

Student Competition Prize

La Bride – Nicolas Piret (Belgium)
Jury statement: “Playing a clever game between out-of-field and sound design, this film immerses us in a drawn universe where we tense up until we reach a taste of freedom. With this work the director gives us a sense of hope that the world cannot afford to lose.”

Special mention: Persona – Sujin MOON (South Korea)

TV & Comissioned Films Prize

Funny Birds – Charlie Belin (France)
Jury statement: “An elliptically crafted, fascinating coming-of-age story, where young, shy Ellie, a bird admirer, through an adventurous journey to an island, achieves her personal liberation and catharsis.”

Special mention: Thin Thing, music video by the band The Smile – Cristóbal León and Joaquín Cociña (Chile)

K.ID.S

Laika & Nemo – Jan Gadermann, Sebastian Gadow (Germany)
Jury statement: “Laika & Nemo is a very original story that explores the reality of loneliness and exclusion, the absurdity of bullying and the liberating power of human connection. Every aspect of the film (story, characters, animation, art direction, stage design, photography, sound and music) is thoroughly planned and well though out, producing a consistent and overall captivating result. Based not on dialogue but on visual choices and surprising details the film clearly communicates the reassuring message that the cycle of loneliness can be broken. Its’ visual universe resonates with the way children experience the world and at the same time educates and inspires with its’ aesthetics. Even if Laika and Nemo wasn’t a technically impeccable film it would still be a captivating, original story. But it is.”

Special mention: Paper planes – Siew May Khoo, Jay Septimo, Pamela Farhat, Michel Doumit (Lebanon)

European Values Award: #ThisIsEU

Cured – Márton Csutorás (Hungary)
Jury statement: “In a world that is constantly changing and probably not for the better, this mokcumentary is a powerful reminder that tolerance and respect towards the different is essential for a more humane society – and a strong safeguard for the future generations.”

Animapride Award

Sasha – Sergei Chiviriga (Romania)
Jury statement: “What made Sasha stand out were many elements. The visual style, admittedly pleasant to the eye, made it welcoming to all audiences. Its message, the discovery of our own sexual identity, was portrayed in a marvellous way via the use of snails. As it is known, snails have both male and female genitals. Self-discovery is key in this film as the main character witnesses his kin assume both roles which are not only depicted visually, but also with admirable vocal performances, assisting the audience in comprehending the ‘switch’ from one gender to the other. The message of inclusion and diversity, literally encapsulates the whole LGBTQI spectrum in this short film, as it finishes off with, no pun intended, the main character accepting not only oneself but others for being whoever they wish to be at any given time, simply because it’s in our nature.”

Special mention: Cured – Márton Csutorás (Hungary)

Agora 2022 Best Pich

Seasons of the Day – Vincent Tsui & Mavra Peponi

Feature Competition Audience Prize

“Flee” – Jonas Poher Rasmussen (Denmark)

All photos are copyright to Alexandros Petrakis | Inbulb

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The film largely centres around Kosuke and Natsume, childhood best friends who eventually drift apart after the death of Kosuke’s grandfather. As summer vacation begins, Kosuke and his classmates, along with Natsume, suddenly end up stranded in the middle of the ocean during their investigation of an old apartment building.

Directed by Hiroyasu Ishida (Penguin Highway), the film’s opening sequence is lovingly nostalgic. With gentle fades as younger Kosuke and Natsume run through their neighbourhood, this simple scene gracefully depicts the passage of time and changes throughout the years. One can also easily see the level of effort and meticulous detail invested in the designs of the  featured danchi apartment complexes scattered throughout the film. From the interconnectedness of the rooms to the interior architecture, there is a humbling attention to detail that pays homage to the historical Edo era and post-WW2 origins of these complexes.

With the film’s overarching coming-of-age themes of growing up and letting go, it is only natural that Ishida really taps into this by spotlighting the psychological effects of the Kamonomiya apartments being demolished. This is mostly shown through how Kosuke and Natsume’s fractured relationship greatly hinges on their unresolved flaws and related emotional trauma. While Kosuke is often hot-tempered and unempathetic, Natsume’s dysfunctional family fostered habits of self-doubt and an unhealthy attachment to the dilapidated apartments where Kosuke’s family essentially adopts Natsume. As a result, Drifting Home’s primary setting, the apartment where they both grew up, is the perfect place for both pre-teens to confront their past and reconcile.

During Kosuke and his classmates’ treacherous journey to get back home, Drifting Home mostly succeeds in maintaining a balance between light-hearted moments and surprisingly heart-wrenching action. The film does a good job portraying how a ragtag group of kids would struggle to keep their emotions in check while trying to survive on an apartment block floating through the ocean. However, amongst the film’s numerous arguments, there does come a point where the constant devolving of these incidents into chaotic, screaming fights can be a bit jarring. While these outbursts and oscillations between wisdom and immaturity may be semi-realistic, they ultimately dilute these scenes’ emotional impact as desensitized viewers may struggle to resonate with the arguments that truly matter.

In addition, although Drifting Home deserves credit for its simple, yet visually appealing character designs, not all of the supporting cast is properly developed, and leaves desire for a smaller or more fleshed out cast.

Despite these issues, Drifting Home fantastically excels in visually exploring its premise. Although I do wish that the film could have incorporated more unique survival strategies in a world where buildings float in the ocean like toy boats, the locations that are explored are brilliantly executed. Drifting Home finds its greatest success when sticking to its little moments of bonding and action. Studio Colorido’s masterful combination of hand-drawn and CG graphics is on full display here, particularly with the magical waters and deteriorating buildings that look simultaneously awe-inspiring and sentimental.

This film only loses its momentum when trying to integrate its fantastical elements. I personally  enjoy how this isolated ocean world serves as an imaginative representation of kids coming to terms with change and healing from emotional trauma. The use of the floating buildings around the children as physical ways of exploring these old memories is especially smart and insightful. However, the problem only comes when trying to justify and consolidate these elements. Drifting Home struggles to ever properly explain the phenomenon that leads to the stranded adventure and various moments of pure magic, simply relying on pure emotion to fuel its narrative. While one could argue that this adds to its dream-like charm, it doesn’t have as an endearing impact compared to Penguin Highway, and may leave viewers feeling confused about the actual symbolic and tangible consequences of the final act.

Compared to its predecessor, A Whisker Away, Drifting Home is much more refined in all aspects. Ishida and his team do an admirable job with crafting such an emotionally-rounded story that tackles personal and relatable themes of regrets and facing goodbyes. Accompanied by a heartfelt soundtrack and fantastic theme song by ZUTOMAYO, the fan-favourite Japanese rock band, Drifting Home is so close to reaching a welcoming destination of original, thought-provoking delight and wonder. However, its weak execution in tying its symbolic messages and fantastical setting together undermine its foundation, leaving it teetering on the edge of being a fantastic entry by Studio Colorido and Hiroyasu Ishida.

Drifting Home is available now to watch on Netflix in the UK.

The post Drifting Home: Review appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

With a new form of animation to explore and new foes to fight, does it prove to be their most exciting and ambitious title yet or will it be no match for the series’ past installments?

Set a few years after the events of Dragon Ball Super: Broly, the villainous organization The Red Ribbon Army have returned and set its sights on revenge after Goku and his allies were able to defeat them from the series. With a new generation of antagonists leading the revived group and creating a new threat in the form of two powerful androids, it’s up to the Z Fighters to stop them and save the day.

Changing the focus away from protagonists Goku and Vegeta, the story instead tells the story of Piccolo and Gohan and is a refreshing change of pace, especially with how much they have been downplayed throughout the Dragon Ball Super show. Not also does it see them having to handle the situation head-on, but rebuilds the chemistry between the two as former master and student while also building on parts of the series’ lore in some creative ways.

As for the new villains, androids Gamma 1 and Gamma 2 are easily one of the biggest standouts as they aren’t the conventional villains that many have seen in Shonen Jump anime shows before as they truly believe themselves to be the heroes. But as the film goes along, they start to question the objectives that make them surprisingly compelling characters rather than just simply fighting against the true heroes of the story as huge obstacles to overcome.

While the story does a great job at being entertaining for those who have stuck with the series after all these years, how much does it fair as the series’ first foray into computer animation?

It may not be the best when compared with the likes of Disney and Pixar, but the animators did bring these characters seamlessly well into 3D and with the use of cel-shading, they were able to use the technology to recreate the designs effectively. Unfortunately, at times, the emotions through conversations and subtle movements during the film’s quieter moments do look stiff compared to the animation from previous installments.

But when it comes to the brawls and intense scenes, the animation goes into full gear as the animators and director were able to create some of the best brawls seen in the series. With the technology of the animation and the brilliant choreography, the fighters flawlessly fly and exchange blows as the camera moves around and follows the action without breaking the pace. And the sharp colour palette, lighting, and shadows all make the film look that much more appealing and engaging to watch. Hopefully, future releases will be able to adopt and build on this film, but it was a pleasing series of fights and character journeys to watch with this animation.

Despite some of the animation’s odd stiffness, the focus on Piccolo and Gohan as well as exploring the series’ lore with a fresh coat of paint makes it a refreshingly fun and enjoyable adventure that will surely please fans. While it may not be a great entry point for newcomers, the high octane and well-choreographed action sequences might be enough to keep them entertained from start to finish.

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Chickenhare – which was pitched at last year’s CARTOON Movie – is the latest animated feature on Netflix for the whole family to enjoy. But with nWave Pictures and Sony Pictures International producing the film, could this be the next big hit for the studios and for the platform?

Chickenhare Poster

Loosely based on the Chickenhare graphic novel series by Chris Grine, the story sees Chickenhare (voiced by Jordan Tartakow) attempting to find the Hamster of Darkness, an ancient artifact that holds great powers, before his villainous uncle Lapin (Danny Fehsenfeld) can use it to take over the kingdom. Along his journey, Chickenhare will meet some unfriendly brutes, encounter deadly boobytraps, and befriend the confident treasure-hunting skunk Meg, who teaches him to embrace who he is to become the adventurer within him.

While adults will be familiar with the tropes and beats from older treasure-hunting films, this very much acts as a great entry point for younger audiences. But as entertaining as it is to see animals swinging with a whip through the trees and encountering a tribe of cubicle piggies, Chickenhare’s adventure does act as a good setup to tell a message to children about accepting yourself and embracing everyone’s unique qualities.

It’s just a pity that despite a fairly straightforward, familiar, and sometimes fun adventure, it does get impacted by some unnecessary comedic side characters that unnecessarily pad out the film and make some quick cringe-worthy moments. While some of Lapin’s henchmen are only there to create some scenes to cause him frustration and create some funny moments, one of Chickenhare’s allies Abe (Joey Lotsko) is constantly sarcastic. These characters do become repetitive to their tropes quite quickly and can often become more annoying than funny.

Chickenhare and Meg

As for the animation, nWave Pictures and Sony Pictures International Production did a good job to adapt the pages of the graphic novel, trying to redesign the characters to fit the world that they created. While some character models don’t look too different from most animated anthropomorphic animals that audiences have been used to, there are some that do stand out. Most notably, Chickenhare, as he slowly reveals more of his unique features of chicken and hare attributes and a design that stands out as he embraces more of who he is.

And the animation quality is well done too, especially as it has a smaller budget than what audiences expect from Pixar, Dreamworks, and Walt Disney Animation productions. With a budget of twenty million euros, the animators were able to make a colorful and fun adventure, even if it doesn’t look and feel too different from other animated adventure films that have come out before it.

While Chickenhare and the Hamster of Darkness is not the best film to be released on Netflix so far compared to their other titles in 2022, it is still a fun adventure that families are guaranteed to enjoy. Let’s just hope that the hero will have another adventure that will be a bit more experimental next time.

Chickenhare and the Hamster of Darkness is now available to watch on Netflix UK.

The post Chickenhare and the Hamster of Darkness: Review appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

The narrative around Lightyear has not been similar, but I think it should have been. The film is an interesting allegory to what Buzz Lightyear means to a world, an animation industry, and a Pixar that is so different now. The company has fallen off the cutting edge of cinema and lost some cultural cache. Original stories such as Soul and Turning Red have seen them claw into a new era, so what is the use in revisiting Buzz?

Many Pixar films seem to pose a question themselves. What if *blank* had feelings? What if this happens when we die? For Lightyear, I suspect that question was ‘What if our movie was just really f’ing fun?’ Rather than a tale set in the Toy Story universe, we get treated to the 80s sci-fi action film which Andy fell in love with, causing him to want to get that Buzz Lightyear toy. We see Buzz (Chris Evans) mistakenly maroon 1200 Star Command troops on a hostile planet through his hubris and, through that same hubris, try and fail repeatedly to bring the squad home. Relatively unbound to the established canon, Lightyear is free to tell a story of huge scope, spanning space and time. 

TEAMING UP – Disney and Pixar’s “Lightyear” is a sci-fi action adventure and the definitive origin story of Buzz Lightyear (voice of Chris Evans), the hero who inspired the toy. The all-new story follows the legendary Space Ranger on an intergalactic adventure alongside a group of ambitious recruits (voices of Keke Palmer, Taika Waititi and Dale Soules), and their robot companion Sox (voice of Peter Sohn). Also joining the cast are Uzo Aduba, James Brolin, Mary McDonald-Lewis, Efren Ramirez and Isiah Whitlock Jr. Directed by Angus MacLane (co-director “Finding Dory”) and produced by Galyn Susman (“Toy Story That Time Forgot”), “Lightyear” releases June 17, 2022. © 2022 Disney/Pixar. All Rights Reserved.

Lightyear moves quickly, and in my experience I was able to follow the plot and character motivations with relative ease, though I won’t blame anyone who gets lost in the mayhem at times. There is also a cynicism to Lightyear which is difficult to ignore. This getting a cinematic release over recent Pixar triumphs such as Soul, and particularly Turning Red, genuinely hurts. 

Lightyear had to prove its worth. In order for such an easy cash-grab to exist, it had to do something interesting. It just about gets there. Rarely a scene goes by without some stunning shots, the overall design of the movie is quite singular, going for a chunky, toy-like aesthetic. I also felt like the story and Buzz’s character arc was unique in its maturity compared to the rest of the Pixar canon. Rather than have a teachable lesson for children, Lightyear is about an authority figure coming to terms with his regrets. 

Unique was not a word I was expecting to use in this review. Director and writer Angus MacLane has worn his influences on his sleeve with this movie. He mapped his own experience of watching Star Wars as a child onto what he imagined Andy’s experience to be with Lightyear, and a reverence for that franchise is clearly woven into the DNA of this film. However, there are also nods to Lynch’s Dune, Alien, and by extension, Metroid. This is not an attempt to remake Star Wars, but is a heart-warming love letter to the sci-fi genre, using the medium of highly polished animation to elevate it further. One’s mileage will of course vary, but my personal love of sci-fi was reflected on screen.

Podcast: “Lightyear” and “The Bob’s Burgers Movie”

Originality can be lost within homage, and a lesser studio may have never found it. Pixar’s ability to put a personal, character-focused story in the middle of a world of sentient vines, killer robots and multi-functional felines is such a singular trait. Lightyear is not your typical tear-fest, which may disappoint people with those expectations of Pixar projects. However, the movie does introduce a mature arc into an 80s sci-fi setting, something I found exhilarating. 

Though I love the presence of this arc, Buzz’s need to go from individualist to trusting his teammates is rather heavy handed. The plot’s want is to twist and jump from set-piece to set-piece, meaning character work can’t always be integrated into the plot so smoothly. The set-pieces all worked for me, meaning I was just about able to overlook this. The Disney trope of having a pure shock value twist villain is dangerously close to having an unwelcome appearance here, but the movie is thankfully smarter than that. Though heavy handed, the villain of Lightyear is purposefully designed. 

EVIL EMPEROR – Disney and Pixar’s “Lightyear” is a sci-fi action adventure and the definitive origin story of Buzz Lightyear (voice of Chris Evans), the hero who inspired the toy. The story, which follows the legendary Space Ranger on an intergalactic adventure, features none other than Zurg—a seemingly invincible adversary of Buzz who would go on to inspire his own toy. Featuring the voices of Uzo Aduba, James Brolin, Mary McDonald-Lewis, Keke Palmer, Efren Ramirez, Peter Sohn, Dale Soules, Taika Waititi and Isiah Whitlock Jr., “Lightyear” releases June 17, 2022. © 2022 Disney/Pixar. All Rights Reserved.

Where Lightyear and Top Gun: Maverick differ is in their relationships to their own legacies. Maverick exists fully in service of its legacy while Lightyear wants to simultaneously profit off it and cut itself loose from it. In a wider sense I see this as Pixar releasing themselves from the weight of their own expectations. The world almost moved beyond Pixar, leaving it a relic of a decades-old era, much like Buzz in this movie. 

In a strange way, Lightyear is Pixar moving past themselves. Exorcised of the need to squeeze tears from the audience, but also in a position where they need to pay off a character’s legacy, this is Pixar caught between generations. They do not employ the new, more cartoony art style of Luca and Turning Red, instead they design a movie around their signature, once groundbreaking style while telling a story in a way they haven’t really done before. This is a transition between eras. 

Lightyear probably won’t make you cry, there is no love interest, no mediation on the nature of existence. Lightyear is Pixar’s first thrill-ride, an 80s-style ‘one last job’ for their most fundamental icon.

Lightyear is in cinemas now.

The post Lightyear Review: The Final Frontier For Pixar’s Legacy Characters appeared first on Skwigly Animation Magazine.

Opening with an incredibly humble reminiscence of her 20th year at Annecy Twomey shared her anxiety to showcase the film. This is rather typical of the studio who in-spite of having a perfect track record of amazing films (seriously if you think you’ve discovered a duff film in their back catalogue I promise you it’s you that’s the problem) remain charmingly polite, almost meek and self effacing and don’t take an ounce of their success for granted.

MY FATHER’S DRAGON – From five-time Academy Award®-nominated animation studio Cartoon Saloon (The Secret of Kells, Song of the Sea, Wolfwalkers) and Academy Award®-nominated director Nora Twomey (The Breadwinner), comes an exquisite film inspired by the Newbery-honored children’s book from author Ruth Stiles Gannett. Struggling to cope after a move to the city with his mother, Elmer (Jacob Tremblay) runs away in search of Wild Island and a young dragon called Boris (Gaten Matarazzo) who waits to be rescued. Elmer’s adventures introduce him to ferocious beasts, a mysterious island and the friendship of a lifetime. Cr: Netflix © 2022

Jumping to the first clip from very early in the film and it’s clear to see from this WIP that the film follows in the rich traditions of style and substance that the other films in the catalogue do. We meet Elmer, a young boy leaves his home and local store that he shares with his mother on a long drive from the warm and cosy yellows of the dusty midwest, the the cold and grey skies of a big city. In amongst the rain and gloom, Elmer’s mother encourages her son to dream of a new store in the city which visually takes us back to warm, safe glow as he fills his head with dreams. Encouraged to give city life a shot, Elmer and his mother step out of the car only to be greeted by the grumpy locals in the rain.

The small snippet is obviously part of a wider film where we follow the adventure of Elmer, who is 10 years old and sees for the first time that this mom doesn’t have it all figured out, so he runs away to try and find answers. He wishes to find a dragon. Rides whale to Wild Island. Where he finds Boris the dragon. Unfortunately Boris has no answers either as he is a kid too, so the two work together to find a way home.

The feature film is based on the books by Ruth Stiles Gannett who, at 99 years old has been able to share with Twomey the spirit of her work. The author wrote a story about a normal kid, not a hero or a prince, just a kid who found his own way out of problems. “We kept Elmer very mortal” said Twomey. “…taking the spirit of the book to the film, from one to another keeping the love that Ruth had for Elmer alight”.

In the second clip we saw something of the journey to Wild Island. Whilst riding on the back of a whale, who is transporting him to his destination the name of the place is revealed to Elmer which scares him as wild animals with “pokey teeth and pokey claws” live there. We see in the distance a captured dragon tied to the top of the island who is lifting the isle from the water and stopping it from sinking.

As demonstrated by Áine Mc Guinness, red, yellow and blue become significant colours in the film as they do in the original illustrations in the books, with gold colours in the film signifying hope, home and safety. When the characters are out of comfort zones cool blues support the emotions. Though the illustrations in the book have a flat look which the film wished to emulate, a deep immersive world has been achieved through texture and lighting. 

The character of Elmer went through many iterations, though the urge was to create a character that was bold and unique, the team quickly realised that every kid watching has to see them self in the character if they are to empathise with Elmer and his journey. The team were afforded the opportunity to be more playful with secondary characters to honour original designs of the book.

Though the film looks flat, like a lavish moving illustration it remains an incredibly effects heavy film. Rather than using effects as a crutch or mask the team avoided effects with things that are too realistic and opted for a hand drawn look for smoke, rains drops and spores, all in keeping with design and used to focus and frame the character and add depth to the epic scale of the world

When it was time for Fergal Brennan, Technical Director to talk, his upbeat and meme filled portion of the presentation gave an impression of how remote working had created a bond between the crew in order to make the film work as well as detailing the tools used to realise the movie.

A final clip shared a part of the movie where Elmer and Boris are getting to know one another which also demonstrated the remarkable chemistry between the voice over actors Jacob Tremblay (Elmer) and Gaten Matarazzo (Boris) as their characters traversed the isle.

Remote working didn’t mean that the filmmaking process was allowed to cut corners as Twomey related. “I challenged myself as a storyteller more than I’ve ever done, creating three drafts of script and three more animatics than I’ve ever done”. Though a laborious process the director is happy that the process has yielded results ” glad we kept asking questions because it means we’ve earned everyone’s work”.

I started this article by stating that Cartoon Saloon have yet to make a duff film, it seems their next film is no exception.

My Father’s Dragon will be released on Netflix in the autumn 

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