
What does traditional Japanese poetry have in common with animation? Quite a lot, it turns out! Please read this, it's a fascinating thing...
Two years ago, I posted a translation of the first part of a wonderful interview that Yuriy Norshteyn gave to Tatyana Iensen for the sophisticated Kino-Art magazine in 2004. Now, I finally finished translating the second part (originally published in Russian, Kino-Art 2004, 4th issue).
Note: translation of verses are taken from various places; some from the internet, some my own translation of the Russian translations.
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What can you say about the condition in which your characters find themselves, in relation to life philosophy?
Both Basho and Chikusai are in that condition of having no fear of anything. One may say that they are in a state of total harmony. And so in the second half of this small film, there has to be an intersection of the beginning of terror and the humorous start. Not by accident does the wind rise and rip the kimono, and the hat fly above the trees with the leaves, in the finale of the film.
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| Sketch of Basho going against the wind |
I was filming this little scene (Basho going against the wind) and thinking of King Lear. Why not film Lear in animation? The construction, clearness and fantastical conception of this story make it very suitable for animation. The construction is almost ballet-like; it is very natural for animation. Basically, the phenomenon of animation is based on how well you can find in a simple composition - not so much details and embellishments, but complex relationships which you will see as both the question and the answer to life, and maybe even as inculcation into as yet unknown territory. It seems to me, that in this sense "The Overcoat" is also very much a story-focused thing; clear and precise, like folklore that is molded into a parable-shaped state. The story of "King Lear" is parable-shaped, so you are freed of unneeded dramaturgical confusion (by the way, the Fool in this sense adds a lot to the composition). As soon as you begin to inquire into the details in Shakespeare, it all vanishes. I think that this is the precise reason for why when you are dealing with Japanese poetry, in which the action is clearly and unambiguously written in three lines, you are free; you do not need to rediscover the already disclosed action, but to find in it that which is hidden between the lines.
( Read more... )
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For myself, I find that Norshteyn's words help me understand not specifically animation, but the essence of art itself.
Also, I may get quite a verbal bruising for saying this, but does anyone else see the similarities between traditional Japanese poetry and LOLcats? I'm seeing a connection between the old and the new; people, after all, don't really change much. Both forms strive for economy of expression, both are extremely simple on the surface, both can be humorous, both are or were very popular with the general public, and both are similarly light-footed and rely heavily on the listener/viewer making connections that are not self-evident if one looks at merely the obvious.


