So, as part of my attempt at content expansion, I wanted to look at an overall body of work this week. Our focus for this round is Russian animator Yuri Norstein, a very accomplished filmmaker within the art of cutout animation. For those that don’t know, cutout animation is the art of animating with pieces of paper or other flat material. Some well-known examples are Terry Gilliam’s Monty Python animations and early South Park (the latter was initially animated organically but switched to a CGI emulation very quickly). However, these examples, while creative, are much less refined than what other animators of this type have managed to craft, and Norstein is a prime example of this. His subjects moved with much more fluidity than the likes of Cartman, and his environments often had an impressive amount of depth to them for something that existed on a flat two-dimensional plane. Throughout his career, you can see how he pushed his animation skills and technique, which resulted in some of the most iconic Russian animation of his time-frame (and arguably of all time). Going from war to fables to a symbolic artistic experience, his career is truly one of beauty and interest, which sadly may never fully cap off the way it is intended, but we’ll get into that later. Let’s start from the beginning.
His started off with what I will call his “war duology,” the first of which was The 25th, the First Day, released in 1968. In this film, we see a depiction of the October Revolution of 1917 in which Vladimir Lenin lead the Bolsheviks in an uprising against the Russian ruling class. The artistic direction of this film was clearly inspired by political art of that time-frame, with blocky and angular designs and a black/white/red color scheme. It’s as if you are watching a propaganda poster or newspaper drawing come to life, what with the steadfast and determined revolutionaries fighting against the fat and silly-looking bourgeoisie, all set against an almost expressionistic city. There’s a good sense of pacing and build-up, what with how the army slowly comes out of the blocky city and forms together into a march upon the higher-ups, which quickly becomes a frenetic and forceful battle as a red conglomeration of soldiers fly past the screen several times while the background starts to blur. It’s a very solid effort from a first-time director, showing an eye for the film and animation medium as well as an appreciation and understanding of art. It is a bit rough around the edges, as the character movement isn’t always the smoothest and there are noticeable instances of repeated animation, such as the previously mentioned red soldier conglomerate. There’s also a section which sees the camera move through a layered paper construction of the soldiers among the buildings, in which the two seem to blend together. Personally, I found this moment to be very interesting and effective, but it may come across as a bit of a cheat to others, what with the “live-action camera” as opposed to animation. The 25th is a good first effort and still worth viewing, but Norstein would improve upon this war film concept with his next film: The Battle of Kerzhenets, released in 1971. It was based on the old Russian legend of the City of Kitezh, which was said to be a city that faced attacks from Mongols. This film shows one of the fierce battles that went on between these two groups, all rendered in a very classical, almost medieval art style. The rendering of this ancient art style is strikingly beautiful, with a gritty yet also earthy quality that one would experience from looking at old murals of the time. The animation and composition are markedly improved in this film, displaying much smoother movement and a grander sense of scale and scope. One really gets a sense of the large force that the army contains, and they manage to portray the energy of the battle without much usage of repeated animations. They even improve on the live-camera concept from the last film with an impressive side-panning/leading shot of the Virgin Mary walking down an aisle as several people bow in reverence on the sides. Some of the people are drawn on the walls much like the paintings that inspired the film, but others are almost stretching off the walls like a paper diorama, which gives off the impression of the painting’s world existing in both a 2D and 3D space, a midpoint between what we see at face value on the wall and the actual world that exists within. This film is definitely worth seeing, even more so than the previous, and shows a marked improvement in Norstein’s technique and presentation. Before I move on, I should note that both of these films were made in collaboration with other filmmakers/animators, those being Arkadiy Tyurin on The 25th and Ivan Ivanov-Vano on Kerzhenets. Tyurin, from what I can find, didn’t have an expansive career as he only worked on a handful of shorts (mostly in the art department) from the mid-60s to the mid-70s before leaving the profession and later passing away in 2003. Ivanov, on the other hand, was a very accomplished animator, making many short films and features over a six-to-seven decade-long career (one such notable film was The Humpbacked Horse, which was one of the first fully animated Russian features ever made). I can certainly see how his influence helped push Norstein’s abilities forward. After these two war films, Norstein would go in a bit of a different direction for the next few years.
As we enter the mid-70s, we see the creation of Norstein’s “fable trilogy,” a series of films all either based on fables or are very fable-like. This started with The Fox and the Hare, released in 1973. This film tells the story of a hare whose house is taken over by a fox when spring comes and melts the fox’s ice dwelling (why a fox would want to live in a sculpted ice building is beyond me, but there you go). Several large forest creatures, such as a wolf, a bear, and an ox, come to help the hare and banish the fox, but to no avail…until a fine feathered friend comes along (but I won’t spoil it). This is a very charming little film with a classic old storybook feel, complete with borders around the image (which the characters even break through sometimes). Here we get to see Norstein play with character animation, giving each animal a lot more life and cartoony energy than he was able to do in his previous work (not to say this is Looney Tunes or anything, but the animals definitely have a more stylized feel to them). The hare is very bouncy and quite adorable in an old teddy-bear sort of way, the fox is quick and forceful, and the “feathered friend” has a rather military-esque demeanor about him that shows through his steadfast and determined behavior. I also took note of an interesting vibe that these fable films give off, and that is a feeling of “cold space.” By this I mean a feeling of being somewhere in between calmness and concern, as you’re in a place without much going on which can be peaceful but could also mean that there is something going on out there that you can’t see. It’s a very “wintery” sort of tone, which I suppose is rather fitting for the rather snowy Russia. This film doesn’t have as much of that, but the snowy forest setting near the beginning of the film does give off some of that element, so I guess its something of a primer for that idea. Overall, it’s a very fun film with appealing characters and art that would be good for any family viewing (provided your kids can, or would want to, read subtitles). The next film in the trilogy was The Heron and the Crane, released in 1974, which tells the story of a back-and-forth courtship of sorts between the title characters. When one asks the other for their hand in marriage, the other will reject it for various cited reasons and compel the one to leave disappointed, which will make the other regret refusing and go ask for the one’s hand in marriage, which the one will reject for various cited reasons and compel the other to leave disappointed, which will make the one regret refusing and so on and so on. This film has a very striking look and environment, taking place on a foggy marsh among old and decrepit stone structures (I’m not sure if this is based on a real location or not). The environment is cast in a constant dreary, gray haze, possibly symbolizing the uncertain nature of the heron and crane’s relationship, or possibly showing that they’re trapped in their own little world, forever to flip-flop on their attitude towards each other. Whatever the intent, it does help to bring out the underlying sad nature of their interactions, and how pride and pettiness can often hide a greater sense of loneliness and uncertainty. In this film, Norstein continues to expand on his character animation, which is still rather stylized but has become much more grounded in comparison to the previous film. We also start to see a refinement of his multi-layering for the backgrounds, as the marshland seems to stretch out far into the distance for a film that is ostensibly two-dimensional. The rain effects are also very intriguing, as I would assume it is part of the layering effect but I’m not sure how exactly it was pulled off. Either way, it’s a very nice effect. As for the story itself, it’s charming in its own way. The main characters would obviously be rather frustrating to deal with if you actually knew them, but their self-imposed courtship hell does make for humorous if somewhat tragic viewing and teaches us not to fall into this same trap. The Heron and the Crane is another solid film in its own right and also worth seeing, but the true peak of this era would come with Norstein’s next outing: Hedgehog in the Fog, released in 1975. Hedgehog in the Fog is exactly what it says on the tin, the story of a little hedgehog’s journey through a foggy forest and what he encounters along the way. More specifically, he is going to see his friend, the bear cub, to eat jam and count stars, but after seeing a mysterious white horse in the fog, he decides to journey down into it and see what it’s like. The rest is a series of encounters and events which either impede or help the hedgehog along the way, such as a large owl which seems to be following him, a fast-moving bat that startles the hedgehog several times, a friendly hound dog, and the aforementioned horse. This film runs the gambit from charming to mystical to tense to calm and any combination of those plus more. You really feel as though you’re journeying with the hedgehog through these foggy woods, as animals and trees show up right out of nowhere and the way forward is entirely unknown. This is the peak of the “cold space” concept I mentioned earlier, as this film truly encapsulates the feeling of being in a place where you can be both calm and curious yet also on on-edge and trepidatious. As I write this out again, I realize that what I’m describing, in a way, is nature. When you’re out in nature, there’s a lot more space to run around and explore as opposed to cities and towns, but there’s also a lot more potential dangers that you might not see until its too late. Perhaps that’s part of why I find these films so striking, they capture that specific feeling in a way that many others haven’t. Growing off of that idea, we have the element of the mysterious white horse that the hedgehog sees throughout his journey. It is what initially piques his interest enough to go down into the fog in the first place, as it seems to melt into the fog and disappear. Is it only an illusion created by the fog? Possibly, as at one point the hedgehog sees what appears to be an elephant, but it clearly ends up not being so. Is it just a regular horse? Also possible, but how was it so elusive? Horses are graceful creatures, but not one that is easily unheard. Perhaps we’ll never know, perhaps it is the mystery that makes it so intriguing and stays in our minds long afterward. I am not sure, but one thing I am sure of is that this is a beautifully crafted film. Norstein’s animation has hit near-peak fluidity and expressiveness, with especially noticeable improvements in the facial animation. The hedgehog’s eyes and mouth give off just as much expression as his body movements, showing curiosity, fear, panic, contemplation, and even flippancy, all with just two ovals and a circle. The horse’s mouth and dog’s nose are other good examples, as they move in a very organic way that is very believable. In fact, there is an interesting contrast between some of the animal characters: the hedgehog and bear cub have a certain anthropomorphized quality to them (in that they behave more human-like), while the horse and dog are more like typical animals. I’d imagine this was done so that we’d better empathize with the hedgehog as a character and set apart some of the other animals as more so “outside forces” that aid or impede our hero. The owl, interestingly, seems to be somewhere in between the two, with very “characterized” movements yet also a very animalistic appearance, probably meant to act as a sort of consistent and involved obstacle. The multi-layering effects come to fruition here, giving the fog and woods a great sense of depth, building off of what The Heron and the Crane toyed with. I also have to commend an interesting blending effect: all the water in this film is clearly footage of actual water, and some of the characters (namely the owl and the hedgehog) interact with it at different points. I’m assuming they must have either filmed the water splashing independently and animated the characters independently, then composited the two together, or used a live model of the character that was resistant to water (or possibly both techniques for different scenarios). Either way, it’s very effective. Overall, Hedgehog in the Fog is one of Norstein’s crowning achievements, and what many might consider his peak. However, there is another that might do battle for that honor.
Tale of Tales, released in 1979, is a symbolic art film that doesn’t have a typical plot. Instead, it almost seems to be acting as a series of recollections or possibly even dreams, all centered around an old house and the area surrounding it. We see several different scenes play out throughout the film, including several people in an outdoor area: a mother washing clothes and rocking a baby in a stroller, a man at a table writing and a cat who’s also there with him, and a little girl playing jump rope with a bull; a scene of women dancing with their husbands under a street lamp as each husband vanishes from their arms to be taken to war; those same women receiving death notices that fly into their hands from the sky; a young boy eating apples in the snow while looking at some crows while his parents sit on a park bench nearby; a shot of a train zooming away down the tracks; and the house being boarded up with all its furniture being taken out and burned. Throughout all of this, a recurring character referred to as the Little Gray Wolf can be seen exploring the area, going in and out of the house, interacting with some of the other characters, and even stealing a baby and taking it out into the woods. I don’t claim to know what exactly this film is meant to mean or say, but I do know that it evokes something within me. I feel for the women’s losses, I feel the wistful joy of looking back at a time when things were fun and happy, I feel the sadness knowing that everything is long gone and the house is not what it once was, I feel the coldness of winter, the warmth of spring, the dreariness of a gray and rainy day, everything. I even feel intrigued by the Little Gray Wolf, as I’m uncertain if he is a positive, negative, or neutral force within this film. Either way, this film hits me on a certain level, and I know that it must be the case for many others as well, as it is one of Norstein’s more well-known works. In addition to its “story” elements, the film goes a step beyond Hedgehog in the Fog, becoming the (as of now) ultimate culmination of his work. Norstein incorporates the character animation from Hedgehog, the rain from Heron and Crane, the snowy environment from Fox and Hare, and even the war themes from his first two films and rolls them all into one. In addition, he adds new elements unique to the film, such as a sepia-toned paper look to some of the memories, a sketchy paint-lined look for the train scene, the usage of real photographic cut-outs for the cars that leave the house in another scene. This film is one that I would recommend most everyone to see, as it truly does take you on an emotional journey without ever having to create a straightforward story. I will admit, though, that that aspect might also be a reason many won’t seek this film out, as not everyone can get into a film without a coherent plot. In this way, I think that Hedgehog in the Fog is probably a more accessible film by comparison to Tale of Tales, but I would still encourage folks that might be hesitant to give the latter a watch. Who knows, it just might change your perspective on film.
Yuri Norstein is a master of animation who grew and perfected his craft over several years. He told war stories, old fables, and even a series of memories. He is one of the defining artists in the world of cut-out animation, Russian animation, and arguably animation in general. Since the release of Tale of Tales, he has been at work on a feature film titled The Overcoat. Bear in mind that Tale of Tales was released over forty plus years ago, and the film is still in-production. It’s definitely a sign that Norstein is committed to his craft but considering that he is much later on in his life by now, I very much hope that he can complete it before he passes on. I was lucky enough to see a small excerpt of the film in college and it was wonderfully done if my memory serves me right. Even if Tale of Tales turns out to be his final work, he will still leave behind an impressive legacy of talent, creativity, and craftsmanship. Hats off to you, Yuri Norstein, you are truly the master of paper.
Note: I apologize for the lateness of this post. I was admittedly doing this experiment a bit on the fly and it ended up requiring a bit more to say than I anticipated. I’ll try to plan these out a bit better in the future.