Adam and Eve Raised Cain

We all know how hard it is for talent to emerge in the art field. That is why from time to time, in my own small way, I have tried  to give voice to young promising artists; some of them went on with their careers with excellent results, as did Fulvio Risuleo whose work I wrote about and who then won the first prize of the “Semaine de la Critique” at Cannes Film Festival.
I say this not to brag about my farsightedness, but in the secret hope that Bizzarro Bazar might turn out to be bringing good luck also in the future: today I would like to present you with a curious Italian stop-motion short film which in my view is a true little gem.

Entitled Adam and Eve Raised Cain, it was written, directed, animated and edited by Francesco Erba, born in 1986, from Bergamo.
Before discussing the short with his author, I advise you to take some 20 minutes off and let yourself drift into the fark, disturbing atmosphere of this little film.

The short film starts off with a declaration of love to Sci-Fi B-movies from the Fifties (Jack Arnold, Roger Corman, Bert I. Gordon  and their giant radioactive monsters), and goes on to pay homage even to the father of fantasy in motion pictures, Georges Méliès.
But the true references here are to horror and science fiction film directors from the Eighties, Carpenter, Hooper or Cronenberg. These nods are perfectly inserted in their context (an all too rare occurrence these days): the main character’s passion for monster movies, for instance, becomes a pivotal dramatic element in a scene where the child’s toys are sold, a psychologically scarring moment for little Albert.
Any citationism, even when done with a purpose, entails the risk of breaking the spectator’s identification, projecting the public “outside” of the film, and lessening its emotional impact. It could be because of the visceral and painful nature of the themes addressed in this short, but Francesco Erba succeeds in the task of creating an even stronger connection with his character: it’s as if, when observed through the filter of the American movies the 80’s generation grew up with, Albert’s trauma became more recognizable, more humane – despite his rough stop-motion puppet appearance.

Since he was a child, Francesco has been living and breathing cinema. How could he tell a tale of fear and love, if not by going back to those films which frightened him or made him fall in love?
This, in my opinion, is the admirable subtlety of Adam and Eve Raised Cain, a sensitivity which many narratives of nostalgia lack.
Behind the animated film facade, behind the entertainment, Erba is depicting a world of solitude and mental cages. And whenever he relies on some vintage stylistic elements, he’s not throwing them to his audience like peanuts just to stimulate some cinephile pavlovian response: he is using them because, to him, they still represent the best (maybe the only) way to really tell us about the wounds and anguish tormenting his character, both a victim and a perpetrator.

I asked Francesco Erba a few questions about his work.

How was this project born, and how did you manage to make it happen?

The concept for Adam and Eve was one of many sitting in my “Ideas” folder, on my laptop. After spending much time working with and for others, I decided it was time to shoot something new for myself. Sifting through the folder (and discarding all million-budget ideas!), the one that was left was a live-action version of Adam and Eve.
I started working on it, inserting new elements and focusing on the structure until I realized what I was really trying to tell: my film was about imprisonment, in all its possible meanings.

Once the script was completed, it started to dawn on me that this film could – should – be realized in stop motion: enclosing some puppets in a 1.5x1m box would cartainly take this idea of “imprisonment” to the extreme.

I knew all too well that to shoot this film in stop motion, as I had it layed out and with the resources at hand, it would take at least 2 years of work. I had to prepare a complete storyboard, character studies and preliminary drawings, set and prop construction, sculpting and mold making, motion tests, all leading up to several weeks of shooting in a dark room. And then the digital effects, and compositing the live actors’ eyes on the latex puppets, a process that had to be done frame by frame…

I mustered up all my masochism, started filming, and in the end I discovered I was even too optimistic. It took nearly three and a half years to complete the short movie!

Was the choice of stop motion limiting or did it give you more freedom? Which challenges were the most tough in producing the film?

Stop motion, which I do not consider just an animation technique, but THE animation technique, has an unquestionable charm which transcends time and technological innovations. But it can also be a real bitch!
If on one hand it allows full artistic freedom even on a tight budget, on the other it is certainly demanding in shooting time, shooting process, scenic design (sometimes down to miniaturization). Every aspect needs to be considered in advance, carefully calculated and measured, and you very often have to use your ingenuity to bypass problems: if I cannot move my camera, then I need to build a slider rig, and so on.

All these limitations, I think, really disappear when looking at the final result, at what you can create with this incredible technique. Take for example the movies produced by Laika today: they teach us that stop motion, although very old and almost the same age of cinema itself, has no limits other than those dictated by budget or creativity.

Adam and Eve seems to tap into the current vein of nostalgia for the 80’s (Super 8, Stranger Things, the San Junipero episode from Black Mirror, etc.). Did any film in particular inspire you? Is there some director’s work you had in mind while writing the script?

The short was filmed back in 2011, before this new wave of nostalgia for the cinema of the 80’s and 90’s (at least I chose to put it online at the right time!). Inevitably, it ended up containing many elements from the films I grew up with, which are now part of my DNA; these are references I cannot leave out of consideration.

Actually when you think about it, even those cinematic references coming from my imprinting are enclosed, like the rest of the story, in a chinese box system. Besides the cinema from the 80’s and 90’s, I chose to include some references to the films those very directors took inspiration from and sometimes plagiarised, namely monster movies from the 50’s. Taking it to the extreme, as I did with every aspect of the short, I went even further, paying homage to Méliès himself.

Sometimes directors get asked to summarize in few words the style they’re aiming for. My answer, right from the start, was: “think Rob Zombie doing stop-motion animation”. A coarse, wicked, sharp and sometimes repulsive style, which had to be recognizable in each aspect of the film.
But ofcourse I’m semplifying. If I think back to all the directors who inspired me, it might look like a meaningless list, and yet in Adam and Eve‘s world of opposites and extremes they make perfect sense to me: Carpenter, Cronenberg, Jackson, Spielberg, Selick, Park Chan-wook, Harryhausen, Quay, Svankmajer, Peter Lord and Aardman, Laika… they all influenced in a creative way the approach I chose for this short film, and its genesis.

The film shows extremely adult themes: phobia, alienation, family violence, unwanted pregnancy, despair. Yet all this is filtered through obvious irony: the handcrafted animation and the homages to the imaginary of American cinema make the film a “second level” experience. I personally find this ambiguity to be one of the strenghts of the project. But in your intent, should Adam and Eve be seen as pure entertainment, or taken more seriously?

This is one aspect of the “research” which I very humbly try to carry on with my work. One of he constants that can be found in everything I’ve done until now, from short films to music videos, from a pilot for a children TV show to the feature film I’m working on, is a search for the limit and the balance between two opposite extremes.

Using stop motion (which is often regarded as a technique for “children movies”) to tell an adult story, making an adult film about imprisonment, alienation and phobias with latex puppets, this is already a strong combination. To “cage” a real actor’s eyes inside the puppet, thus closing him within these narrow limits, to me is a further exaggeration of this concept. If you then imagine myself, the animator, stuck in strange positions and “prisoner” of a small dark room, the narrative gets really dizzying!

And what about the entertainment? Well, I’m not one of those who think cinema has the power to save the world, but it certainly makes it a little better. To me, films should not try to give answers, just to ask questions and create emotions.  It you’re looking for important answers, you’d better get a ticket for the museum, rather than for the movie theatre.
According to this philosphy, Adam and Eve is of course to be taken as a visual experience and not just as an artistic research: I think the scenes in which I “physically” enter the main character’s brain to show his past. make it clear that it’s also meant to be a product of pure entertainment.

This short film must have been quite a training ground. Will you continue with animation? What are your future projects? 

I am finishing my first live action feature film: here my personal research has evolved even further, as my movie is narratively and stylistically composed of an investigative report, a mockumentary and a more “traditional” film.
In the last few months I have been working on a TV animated puppet series for 5/6-years-old children, a project I very much believe in, and which gave me the opportunity to experiment with a different kind of animation.

As for stop motion, its “call” is very strong, despite the huge sacrifices that Adam and Eve demanded. One day I would love to be able to film my peculiar horror version of Peter Pan, or another small short film on Tesla and Edison.
A director’s work is often based on human interaction and mediation… I confess I sometimes miss being alone in my little dark room, moving my puppet’s head frame after frame!

Here is Adam and Eve Raised Cain Facebook page.

Incubi in flash

Articolo a cura della nostra guestblogger Marialuisa

Per gli appassionati della mente umana, per gli esploratori di angosce e incubi, non può mancare una visita al sito ufficiale di David Firth,dove si si trova la raccolta dei suoi cartoni animati in flash.

David Firth nasce il 23 gennaio del 1983, è un artista poliedrico che ha diffuso i propri lavori in ambito video, musicale e creativo principalmente tramite web.

Il più famoso dei suoi lavori è la mini serie in flash Salad fingers, e tratta delle avventure di un personaggio umanoide che si caratterizza per le dita lunghissime e frastagliate simili ad insalata appunto ma dalla sensibilità insolitamente sviluppata.

Salad fingers è ossessionato dal tatto: tocca infatti oggetti di diversa natura (i suoi preferiti sono cucchiai arrugginiti, animali morti e una sorta di strano bruco) e sembra ricavarne sensazioni psichedeliche, cadendo in profondi stati di estasi che lo debilitano e lo sconvolgono; il ferirsi, poi, provoca l’apice di queste sensazioni, stordendolo fino allo svenimento. Il personaggio si esprime in monologhi parlati in un inglese britannico e dall’accento marcato, spesso condendoli con frasi in francese. È patetico, flebile e triste e le sue avventure sono per lo più rappresentazioni angoscianti, incentrate su elementi quali il sangue, la sporcizia, la violenza, i sanitari, gli umori corporali. Tutti dettagli urtanti per la sensibilità dello spettatore, in un clima di costante sospensione e un continuo stato di ansia senza la benché minima evoluzione.

Il personaggio ha diverse personalità, tutte in forte contrasto tra loro; le principali sono però due: la prima è violenta, sanguinaria e crudele, rappresentazione di puro odio verso se stessi ma soprattutto verso gli altri, senza scrupoli e senza rimorsi; l’altra è l’esatto opposto, una compensazione di mitezza, sottomissione a se stessi e alla realtà, una personalità così chiusa nelle proprie debolezze da vivere in un mondo totalmente inventato fatto di altri personaggi che sono solo suoi alter ego, un inferno pregno di sensi di colpa in cui egli si ritrova fragile e dipendente dagli affetti, seppure non reali.

Salad fingers è probabilmente il personaggio più noto perché tocca quei lati segreti e talvolta profondamente rifiutati che si celano in ogni essere umano, oscuri e rinnegati, come la crudeltà e il sadismo ma anche la fragilità emotiva, l’autolesionismo, la debolezza sentimentale e la dipendenza che si ha verso altre persone che ci rende vulnerabili e alla mercé della volontà altrui.

Eccovi un episodio di Salad fingers in cui il nostro eroe invita alcuni amici per una cenetta a base di pesce:


Se reggete Salad fingers, i passi successivi sono senz’altro Spoilsbury Toast Boy e Milkman.

I temi dominanti nelle opere di Firth sono i disturbi della mente, l’autolesionismo, il cannibalismo, la decomposizione del corpo, la crudeltà dell’animo, la depressione, la solitudine e tutte le conseguenze che comporta l’alienazione; nel suo mondo, le turbe della mente si auto-generano e si moltiplicano come batteri, fino a corrompere l’essenza stessa della lucidità.

I mini-cartoni di David Firth sono un vero e proprio teatro della crudeltà che mette a dura prova la nostra sensibilità, soprattutto perché vengono sempre presentati in uno stadio di abbozzo, e alla fine non è nemmeno la morte ciò che ci lascia nauseati di fronte alle sue animazioni. È l’angoscia, l’ansia, la paura di quello che succederà, l’attesa che acuisce le sensazioni profonde di disagio e il desiderio di scappare da ciò che stiamo vedendo. I disegni, seppur abbozzati, rappresentano un incubo deformato e irrisolto: a dispetto del look trasandato, tutto è in realtà confezionato con estrema cura, i colori spenti, le prospettive, le musiche, tutto è sospeso e perturbante – tutto ci urla che è qualcosa che non vorremmo vedere eppure restiamo incollati, come nei sogni peggiori, in cui manca il controllo per riuscire a fuggire o svegliarsi.

Le passioni, che riscontriamo espresse in maniera neutra, terrorizzano perché sono quasi intoccabili pur nella loro estrema violenza, i linguaggi sono vari, spesso le lingue sono diverse, i suoni sono dilatati e isolati. La capacità primaria di Firth è quella di riuscire a ricreare l’essenza degli incubi, un faticoso agglomerato di elementi che trova una sua via per unirsi e realizzarsi nel modo più estremo e incisivo.