What follows is a guest article written by my dear friend Kenji and edited by me, on a subject that extends far beyond anime into other forms of modern Japanese media. The purpose of On the Ones, which was founded almost three years ago (how … Continue reading A Guest Article by Kenji the Engi
February 16th, 2018 marked what would have been the 80th birthday of the late but great Japanese animator Toshio Hirata, and today marks four years since his death. To commemorate these occasions, I’d like to discuss several of his most personal films as a director, … Continue reading An Honorary Compendium of Writings on Toshio Hirata (平田敏夫) and His Collaborators
The Indian-Canadian animator Ishu Patel is emblematic of the spirit of pioneering, unconventional, and personal animated filmmaking that characterized the most brilliant talents at the National Film Board of Canada, through which he created six films over a period of two decades. In each of those six films, Patel adopts a novel visual style and storytelling mode to express his vision, often drawing not from other animators but from his own ingenuity, resourcefulness, and experiences growing up in rural India and afterwards. Even now, his works are easily among the most inspired in animation, with their beautiful artistry typically backed up by equally powerful, allegorical, universally-appealing stories and compellingly offbeat soundtracks.
Patel had no intention of becoming an animator from a young age; indeed, not until he had begun a career at the National Institute of Design at Ahmedabad was he first exposed to international animation, particularly the short films of the NFBC. Realizing that animated films could be the work of a single visionary, and that his own interests and skills (particularly in illustration, photography, and design) were all involved in making animation, Patel began devoting his time and energy to using the materials and equipment at the NID to learn animation, often by experimenting, shooting tests, and watching other animators’ films; his being self-taught in this manner undoubtedly accounts for the singular quality of his work once he established himself as a director at the NFBC in the mid-1970s. (more…)
Among the most prolific Polish animators of the past century, and certainly one of the most accessible, is Witold Giersz. His defining trait, in several of his more ambitious films, is his painterly, visuals-focused approach to animation: his characters are unabashedly the medium with which they were created, whether paint or crayon or even tissue, brought to vivid life. He moreover instills a gentle, biting humanism into several of his films: he depicts how people can be idiotic, imprudent, and spiteful, if not downright malicious, but does so with such warmth and humor that it’s clear he does not think humans as a whole are irredeemable so much as they are well-meaning, if ultimately flawed in a variety of ways and often prone to being doomed by their own vanities and those of others. (more…)
For the first few years of his independent career, Tadanari Okamoto largely stuck with stop-motion; even during this early period, however, he already had a penchant for experimenting with different materials and designs. In his first three films alone, based on stories by science fiction writer Shinichi Hoshi, the rather pedestrian puppets of his Noburō Ōfuji Award-winning A Wonderful Medicine, which nevertheless featured delightfully sloppy-looking, mostly hand-drawn FX animation, gave way to the plastic toy-like puppets of its follow-up Welcome, Aliens and then the low-relief wooden puppets of Operation Woodpecker. His desire to try different forms of animation and subject matter became more apparent in the three animated music videos he created for the Song Series from 1968 to 1970, as evidenced by the rugged, wooden aesthetic of Back When Grandpa Was a Pirate and the unabashedly paper-constructed (and also Ōfuji Award-winning) Home, My Home, and said videos reflected the increasing importance of music in his films; his sleek Ōfuji Award-winning 1970 film The Flower and the Mole, meanwhile, featured brief sequences of 2D hand-drawn animation, indicating a willingness to extend into different animated mediums.
1971 would be a landmark for Okamoto in that regard. All three of his works that year—Chikotan, My Bride and two more music videos—were his first to be produced entirely in drawn animation, and Chikotan would be the first of his extended films in which the music was truly on an equal footing with the animation. Moreover, these musical works were the first in which a pronounced melancholic tone was prominent, with Chikotan, in particular, becoming outright tragic at its climax, in contrast to the relative lightheartedness of his earlier films. These works remain among the most unappreciated of Okamoto’s early career, with memorable scores, a heartfelt atmosphere, and beautifully-crafted art design and animation that, over 45 years later, continue to impress in their vitality. (more…)
Animation and music, when crafted and combined well, make for an exhilarating duo. Innumerable cartoons from the Golden Age of American animation, in particular, relied on the visuals working in tandem with the music. Animation itself is a wide-ranging medium, capable of several different modes of expression, and a particularly intrepid filmmaker can spend an entire career experimenting with a variety of forms and styles.
Perhaps the greatest living representative of both these ideas is the Japanese independent animator Kōji Nanke. Almost all of his work has been music videos, particularly for NHK’s Minna no Uta, and within these confines he has often created beautiful gems that not only try out different animated mediums and artistic styles with utmost craftsmanship, but do so with the relationship between the visuals and the music in mind. In Nanke’s best work, the animation and the music are inseparable from each other even as the former is recognizable as his vision, to riveting effect. (more…)