Animated Delights (Holly Wedgwood)

When you think of theatre, or theatre festivals, you don’t ever really associate them with the idea of animation. Animation belongs in a film festival – right?

Wrong.

This Feburary the Traverse theatre played host to the exciting visual arts festival Manipulate which brought with it theatre from all over the globe and (yes, you guessed it) animation.

 

But why?

Maybe a happy coincidence or the plan all along – either way, you can’t knock a relaxing late night animated showcase after a spot of theatre.

This festival, I was lucky enough to catch two of the animated show cases: Oppressed Creatures which showed the work of Estonian Ulo Pikkov, and Animated Nightmares which played the work of England’s  Robert Morgan. Both shows juxtapose quite neatly (one being delightfully European; the other terrifyingly gruesome).

Prior to their own films, we also got to see examples of works which inspired them so we could see where their vision came from; and between the films the animators themselves introduced and chatted with us, answering questions and regaling us with their stories.

All in all, it was worth every minute and while I found some pieces of animation ambiguous or totally nonsensical the animators helpful explanations brought to light that some times it’s more about appreciating craft than the creation.

In the case of Ulo Pikkov a lot of his work stood more like a beautiful piece of art than a film. So this brings me to thinking – where is the line between film and theatre? Does theatre have to be on a stage for it to be “theatre” and where does animation sit in the middle of a “theatre festival”? The answer is that it probably doesn’t – logically – but it’s bit like cheese and chocolate … until you try them together you’ll never know if they fit, and when they do well, isn’t that just perfect?

Now, having experienced this duo, I can vouch for it being a marriage made in heaven! Even if it’s only to appreciate an art form, the next time Manipulate shows up on our doorstep at the Traverse for the ninth time – make a point to head to two shows in one night and make sure that one of them is animation and you’ll find that you unwind and soak up an art form that is unappreciated, delightful, uplifting, often bewildering, insightful and always a joy.

Robert Morgan: Animated Nightmares

Robert Morgan’s website claims that he lives in a haunted house, and was born in ‘the cursed town of Yateley’. It’s appropriate for an artist who has pursued the darker side of animation, and follows a tradition that combines horror and psychological terror.

‘If I had to align myself with anything, I’d say that it belongs more to a weirder, arthouse tradition in horror films exemplified by the likes of David Cronenberg, Polanski, Lynch, Svankmajer, or the weird fiction of people like Thomas Ligotti, or the weird art of people like Alfred Kubin,’ he says. ‘But that’s a pretty rag-tag bunch.’

For manipulate, Morgan presents Animated Nightmares which brings together his award-winning work (his website has an impressive list of successes) and other work that has impressed him. Svankmajer’s Meat Love makes a welcome appearance, as well as a idiosyncratic horror that introduces unicorns to the genre.

‘I certainly think stop-motion animation lends itself to horror, in numerous ways,’ he says. ‘Other types of animation, I’m not so sure. But stop-motion is inherently an uncanny medium. It deals with bringing dead – or lifeless –  things to life, but it brings them life in a strange, mechanical, uncanny way. Personally I’ve always found that it lends itself more to weird and disturbing stories than the comedy its mostly used for.’

Svankmajer has undoubtedly demonstrated the uncanniness of stop-motion animation; his fragmented narratives evoke surrealism, but the disjointed movements and lurching puppetry lend his films an undercurrent of anxiety and absurdity.

Morgan’s films tap into that same anxiety, using the monstrous as a metaphor for inner turmoil: if the images aren’t frightening enough, their implications are.

The use of puppets not only allows Morgan to make fantastic creatures (Bobby Yeah is part-human, part demon), but imbue them with life and movements that are not quite recognisable, not quite alien. The atmosphere becomes tense, even as the characters perform the most mundane tasks.

This tallies with Morgan’s ideas about the potential of stop-motion, and connects him to ‘a rather vague tradition’ of film-makers who are intrigued by the darkness lurking beneath the mundane. Animated Nightmares showcases some of this work, celebrating technical skill but promising an unsettling evening.