The Animated Issue by Trinity Film Review

Trinity Film Review Vol 10, issue 2: The animation issue

February 2019 Editor’s Note

n behalf of myself and the rest of the editing team, I’d like to welcome you to the colourful world of our second issue: The Animated Issue! This is an issue I’m personally really excited about as we get to showcase the colourful and diverse world of animation, and also the works of homegrown Irish talent. Animation has a rich and diverse history, starting in the early days of illusory motion devices, such as the phenakistoscope in the 1830s, continuing all the way up to the CGI and computer animation we have today. In this issue, we attempt to explore this long history, delving into its different types, genres, and also animation that subverts the expectations that “animation is just for kids” (though it’s totally okay when it is). I hope by doing this, we can show appreciation for the hard work that goes into every frame of the animated films we enjoy. As always, I’d like to thank our talented contributors for creating wonderful pieces that celebrate the art of animation. I’d also like to thank my assistant editors who did a wonderful job of coming up with the ideas for this issue and putting up with me at my most stressed moments. I’d also like to give a special shoutout to Cáit Murphy for creating our front cover for this issue. While this has been a great issue to put together, it has been bittersweet for myself and the rest of the editorial team, as it is our final print issue before we retire our positions. I’d like to take this moment to thank everyone for supporting us over the past year. And as we finish our final issue, we have have high hopes for the future of TFR. To quote my favourite space ranger, “To Infinity and Beyond!” Cheers, - Robyn

| Editor

Editor

Robyn Kilroy

Assistant editors Dara McWade Oisín Walsh Sam Mooney

Layout

Dara McWade Oisín Walsh Robyn Kilroy Sam Mooney

Design

Cáit Murphy

Contributors

Amanda Harvey Alison Traynor Cáit Murphy Cian Mac Lochlainn Conal Scullion Emily Thomas Hiram Harrington Jerie Barranco Liam Kelly

Lora Hartin Mia Sherry Mia Mathieu Niamh Muldowney Peter Horan Ren O’Hare Sadhbh Hanna Shane Hughes Sophie Cassidy

P10

P12

P14

P16

P18

P20

P22

P24

Contents

P2 / Iconic director: Brad Bird

P16 / Stop-Motion Animation

- Amanda Harvey

- Jerie Barranco

P4 / Netflix Gems

P18 / Iconic Shot: Spirited Away

- Various

P6 / Overrated and Underrated - Mia Sherry and Dara McWade

P8 / Live Action Animation - Ren Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Hare

- Robyn Kilroy

P20 / Manga: Better Than Anime? - Cian Mac Lochlainn

P22 / Irish Animation - Niamh Muldowney

P10 / Film Adaptations of Graphic Novels P24 / Voicing the Voiceless: The Films of - Various Martin Rosen - CĂĄit Murphy

P12 / Modern Masterpiece: Perfect Blue - Hiram Harrington

P14/ Adult Animation - Various

P24 / Reviews - Various

P28/ Five Word Reviews - Various

Brad Bird

Iconic Director By Amanda Harvey

hough animation is thought of as a child-orientated medium, there is an obvious emotional depth achieved through unique characters and environments. Brad Bird’s films, for example, are cinematically intelligent, heartfelt and fun. Bird uses underdogs, possibly in the hope to represent how those on the margins of society can bring value to the very society that shuns them. Though Bird spends his time creating stories about others, his own tale is fascinating. Bird finished his first film before he was 14, The Tortoise and The Hare. Disney Studios must have been impressed with the film because they invited Bird to come work for them under the leadership of Milt Kahl. After working on and off at Disney, and graduating high school, Disney presented him with a scholarship to attend the California Institute of Arts.

Though Bird did work at Disney after his degree, he was involved in countless arguments about the traditional methods of animation carried out by the studio. He was eventually fired because he was in search of more innovative techniques. Bird states in a few interviews that between his time as an animator at Disney, and his move to television he had enough money to sustain himself, but he craved a return to creating his own films. Bird worked on Rugrats, King of the Hill, and The Simpsons. One of Bird’s most iconic projects while working for the Simpsons team was “Do the Bartman”. Bird spent a few weeks on the music video. The video was a challenging process because of the heavy animation demands. The demand was to have every character up to this date have a cameo in the video. All the hard work paid off as it became a huge sensation. Also, it’s worth noting that while Bird spent

significant amount of time working on Do the Bartman, he also was the creator of Bart’s nemesis, Sideshow Bob. It may be surprsing to many that Bird’s first attempt to move from television to film was not the The Iron Giant (1999). Instead Bird had previously pitched Ray Gun, a detective animation, but the studio wanted something different, and this resulted in a cult classic. The Iron Giant is set in a small American town at the time of the Cold War where Hogarth Hughes, a child of a single mother, is shunned from his peers, but comes into his own by becoming friends with a mechanical giant. The film uses pans, zooms, shot reverse shots and a shaky cam in a way which makes Bird’s animation style feel more cinematic. The cinematic quality was cultivated by his Warner Bros. team who used a new software at the time, after effects, to animate

the storyboard. Another innovation was to digitally animate the Iron Giant. Bird says that the hardest thing about making the Giant, was the software’s inability to make imperfections which would come naturally from drawn animation. Bird feared that the clean lines of the Giant would make him not blend into the drawn world, and he pushed his team to create hand drawn imperfections in the software.

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is film was in one of the smallest theatres in the cinema, and the heading for the showtimes was written on a piece of paper and taped to the board...”

After these software innovations were accomplished, Bird focused on the voices of the characters. Bird and Warner Bros. executives argued over the actors, but in the end, Bird achieved creative freedom. It is shocking who he chose for some of the characters. For example, Jennifer Aniston voices Hogarth’s mother Annie Hughes, but never was her star status used to sell the film and you might actually never know it was Aniston. Bird thought not of who sells, but who fits; a commitment Bird has to his auteur animation. Sadly, Bird’s dedication did not coincide with Warner Bros.’s as it did not perform well at the box office. Bird himself has recounted

The Iron Giant (1999) his experience seeing The Iron Giant in the cinema in The Making of the Iron Giant (1999). He says he was shocked because his film was in one of the smallest theatres in the cinema, and the heading for the showtimes was written on a piece of paper and taped to the board, while the cut-out poster was ripped. Naturally there were only a few in the theatre with him. The poor advertising and the connections he had within other production companies meant that this was his first and last Warner Brother’s feature film. Bird then moved onto Pixar where he made The Incredibles (2004) and Ratatouille (2007). In both these films there is something fantastic, such as a family with super powers or a rat who is a chef, in the midst of mundanity; a melodramatic home or a failing restaurant. Bird wears glasses, has a voice which screams west coast, wears normal clothing and for all appearances seems normal. However, Bird’s knowledge never fails to impress. From technique to history, and his hilarious stories involving things like the naming of Ratatouille in his TIFF 2018 talk, he has something of his characters, representing a special light in his own mundanity. His passion about his projects is undeniable as he stresses to push through others to find the ‘you’. Maybe he asks people to do this because he had to and does not regret

it. His efforts to make the perfect film is shown through practice. For example, he voiced Edna “E” Mode in The Incredibles because he felt no voice actor could do the voice he imagined. His position as director allows his intriguing imagination the freedom to exist. The relatable flaws of his characters help the audience to sympathise, because they are always faced with a society that demands conformity. Possibly Bird seeks the acceptance to change many unforgiving societies. Brad Bird started his career when he was 11, and it continues strong. His determination to stick to his imagination creates touching films. His attention to imperfections and quirks enables any person to enjoy a spectacle with a heart and a message.

Netflix Gems Bee Movie (2007) Sophie Cassidy

ccording to all known laws of animation, there is no way that Bee Movie should be able to exist. Its plot is too bizarre to get its audience to take it seriously. However, Bee Movie, surely does exist, because Jerry Seinfeld doesn’t care what humans

think is impossible. Our postmodern masterpiece starts when Barry B. Benson, a literal bee, takes a day off from his bee-life, venturing out into the human world where he meets Vanessa, a New York florist with whom he starts an unlikely friendship. They use their combined

Neo Yokio (2017 - present) Peter Horan

reated by Vampire Weekend frontman Ezra Koenig, and produced by Japanese anime studios Production I.G. and Studio Deen, Neo Yokio is a Netflix Original which is, in fact, truly original. The show revolves around Kaz Kaan (Jaden Smith), a young socialite

who, with the help of his robotic butler, Charles (Jude Law), tries to balance his job as a demon-slaying ‘Magistocrat’ with his quest to become the titular city’s most eligible bachelor. In his travels across the titular city (a kind of retro-futurist, New York/Tokyo hybrid), Kaz inevitably comes into contact with

legal knowledge to sue the human race, cease honey production and destroy the natural world. Bee Movie serves as a warning to the audience about the disastrous consequences of not respecting our environment, especially in an age where global warming is threatening the extinction of the Bee race. The audience today has chosen instead to ignore this message and use the script to create some of the most iconic memes we have today. Popular formats such as, “Bee movie trailer but every “bee” is repeated by how many times “bee” was said before it” have seen us through some of our most unnecessary periods of procrastination, and for that, this movie will forever be a gem.

a myriad of eccentric characters, from his stern aunt Agatha (Susan Sarandon) to his arch-nemesis: the hilariously flamboyant Arcangelo (Jason Schwartzman). Further vocal cameos from the likes of Richard Ayoade, Stephen Fry, and Steve Buscemi ensure that Neo Yokio boasts the kind of eclectic voice-cast which would make Wes Anderson spit out his Darjeeling tea with whimsical envy. Despite this obvious star-power, the show has gone predominantly unnoticed since its release in 2017, seemingly struggling to find an audience in the streaming service’s behemoth of a library. Those who seek it out, however, will find a clever slice of anti-capitalist satire which creates a beguiling world of anime references and millennial observations; one worth watching for Law and Schwartzman’s impeccable vocalisation alone.

The Little Prince (2015) Oisín Walsh

am not familiar with the novel by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry that inspired this film. I had no expectations of The Little Prince, it just seemed like a simple animated movie on Netflix. It was something easy to watch. I was not expecting to experience such joy and sadness from watching The Little Prince. The film begins with an unnamed girl and her mother who move

into a new neighbourhood where the mother presents a life plan for her daughter so that she can be as successful and skilled as possible; so she can be as essential as possible. The girl then, by chance, strikes up a friendship with their neighbour, an eccentric elderly aviator who begins to tell her the story of The Little Prince who he met when he crash-landed in the Sahara Desert.

The castle of cagliostro (1979) Conal Scullion

he most eye-catching detail about Lupin the 3rd: The Castle of Cagliostro is its director, Hayao Miyazaki. From this name-drop, one may expect a pensive film exploring the beauty of the natural world and a quiet life, given his Ghibli-era films such as Spirited Away. For his first feature film, however, Miyazaki traded these qualities for all the bombastic fun of a Hollywood blockbuster. Our protagonist, Arsène Lupin III is a charming and noble thief, travelling

to the European state of Cagliostro on a get-rich-quick scheme. Shenanigans are afoot in Cagliostro, however, so the plot balloons into a Spielbergian adventure, with car chases, inventive action scenes, an evil Count, and even a princess bride. This is accented with Miyazaki’s trademark off-beat direction,. Lupin, is a joy to watch, his physics-defying escapades and thefts of identity, all exquisitely animated and excellently voice acted by David Hayter, keep the viewer hooked, making him, for me, Miyazaki’s most

The cast is stacked with a number of movie stars like Rachel McAdams, Jeff Bridges, Albert Brooks, Marion Cotillard, Benicio Del Toro to name but a few. The Little Prince employs both computer animation (in the girl’s reality) and stop-motion animation (in the stories of The Prince). These switches in style are effective, not only because they are both well realised on their own, but because it aids the pace of the film. You never grow tired of either style because the pace doesn’t allow you time to. It’s also quite pretty. The sentiment of this film is simple: never forget the joy and imagination you have as a child, and life beyond those years won’t be dull or boring.

engaging protagonist. The animation of the film is another highlight. The characters move with kinetic vigour and flair, thanks to Miyazaki’s expert use of traditional animation techniques, and their expressive designs allow an impressive degree of personality to shine through. All this is complemented with a gorgeous Franco-Belgian flavoured art style, utilised perfectly to portray an idealised vision of Germanic Europe as viewed from afar: rendered in vibrant traditional brushstrokes rather than the digital renders of today’s animated fare. Despite its differences from Miyazaki’s later films, The Castle of Cagliostro retains the director’s emotional earnestness, keen eye for detail and bountiful creativity, delivering an engaging Princess Bridestyle adventure and a recommended watch for anyone who enjoys animated films, or the concept of

fun itself.

Overrated: Incredibles 2 (2018)

t’s often said that Toy Story 2 and 3 are the only truly great Pixar sequels. What other sequels, you ask? Well, there’s the studio-tainting drudgery of the Cars series, the wet cloth that is Monsters University, and… much like the title character, I seem to have forgotten Finding Dory. Eventually, there came a beacon of hope on the horizon. A simple dot, on top of a curved tower, splitting its logo in two; The Incredibles were coming back. Too bad it’s not great. Oh, I know what you’re thinking; it’s a fun movie! The surface is incredible, funny and intelligent, like a perfectly tailored and puttogether outfit in the completely wrong style. The Incredibles is one of my favourite films. Chances are, if you know me, I’ve raved about it; the way it seamlessly blends the tropes of both superhero and spy genres, bonding them to a strong family narrative core. It’s action scenes are exaggerated versions of common family events. Think of the showdown between our Fantastic Family and the terrifying Omni-bot; it’s a game of catch. Bob’s return to the superhero lifestyle is a mid-life crisis, Violet’s powers are a metaphor for her teenage shyness, and Helen’s elasticity speaks to her incredible

Dara McWade

capabilities as a mother. This original was bursting with life and whimsy, clever ideas sprinkled everywhere. The director Brad Bird has talked about how the sequel got pushed up a year, and if we’re being honest, you can tell. Sure the animation is

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ncredibles 2, in comparison, is a Saturday morning cartoon.”

impeccable, showing a studio at the top of their game. The lighting alone in the opening Underminer sequence is enough to take your breath away. And yet, there’s still something off about the story. Take, for instance, the best series of scenes in the first film, where Helen’s plane is attacked just as her children reveal themselves as stowaways. She screams down the line for them to abort their attack: “There are children on board!” The villain’s assistant is horrified, and yet Syndrome laughs on, as their father stares helplessly; his children’s lives out of his hands. Just like Helen tells her children later (surprisingly, they survive), the bad guys aren’t Saturday morning cartoons. They will kill them if they have the chance. Incredibles 2, in comparison, is a Saturday morning cartoon. The children are never in real danger; the

brainwashed Superhero team sent to kidnap them are buffoonish in their design and action, even when ruthlessly attacking. When they come face to face with their brainwashed parents trying to kill them, there should be an incredible amount of tension, a basic, instinctual fear. This is the crux of the entire film; but there’s no tension. This film doesn’t really belong to the kids. This section, the only one with real power, lasts for about 10 minutes and is easily hand waved away. Finally, something new is happening, superpowered kids on their own, with their parents set against them. But it’s too late. The film is almost over, and the solution happens so fast you barely see it. A reviewer is supposed to see a film for what it is, not for what it could be. We aren’t supposed to bemoan the potential, instead look for what already lies within. But I can’t separate myself emotionally from these films, and I can’t help but see the sparks of greatness within that it just can’t live up to. It pains me to say it, but while the film looks stunning, and the animation feels, well, incredible, Incredibles 2 is severely inessential, and thus, overrated.

Underrated: Your Name (2016) Mia Sherry

here seems to be a consensus, at least amongst the general population who don’t actively seek out films of the animated kind (myself included, until recently), that animated films are predominantly ‘kids’ films. Or, perhaps, films that are majorly made for children but can appeal to adults on a larger scale; Pixar films often seem to strike this chord, as do Studio Ghibli. Yet, there’s little in the realm of animated films that are made specifically for a more mature audience, that deal with solely ‘adult’ themes. And when there is, they tend to be, for the most part, underrated.

I don’t mean underrated in the typical sense, the film of this focus, Your Name, did pretty exceptionally by critical standards. It boasts a 97% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes and has become the highest-grossing anime film ever. What I’m referring to here is a film that flies outside the Pixar-Ghibli-Disney sphere and as a result was criminally condemned to an extremely limited western release, and so on a wider scale has been missed by large audiences. Your Name film I stumbled across because it was on the 99 cent rentals list on itunes, and I waited until the last day of my 28 rental period to watch it, and now, I wish I’d watched it earlier so I had more time to actually enjoy it. It left me

an emotional wreck, with my breath knocked away and it lingering in my mind for days. Diluted down to its basics, it’s an Interstellaresque romantic drama with Freaky Friday quirks. On a deeper note, it is probably one of the most hard-hitting films I’ve watched in 2018. Stunning animation, glorious voice-acting

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t balances the ideas of fate and forging your own destiny on a razor blade, and manages to maintain this throughout the whole story...”

(for the love of god, stay away from the English dub, it’s like comparing a warbling two year old to La Bohéme) and precise direction from Makoto Shinkai combine to create an unforgettable film about love, loss and destiny. It balances the ideas of fate and forging your own destiny on a razor blade, and manages to maintain this throughout the whole story and never once gives in to one

over the other, creating an equally suspenseful and emotional narrative. With focused, controlled and beautifully coordinated art direction by Masashi Ando, the division between Tokyo and the fictional rural town of Itomori is at first stark and potentially jarring, but the beauty in them is something that becomes apparent. The cold blues of Tokyo and the lush greens of Itomori clash, but as the story progresses so too does its design, almost a third character progressing and growing with Taki (Ryunosuke Kamiki) and Mitshua (Mone Kamishiraishi). A time-traveling, body-swapping adventure, it does all this while being darkly comic and providing an intense contemporary insight into both romantic and platonic relationships.

Live Action Animation Ren O’Hare

ive action and animation have a long history of being presented within the same form, from 1964’s Mary Poppins to 1988’s Who Framed Roger Rabbit? and 1996’s Space Jam. These films are far from monolithic, yet the two forms are often viewed as diametrically opposite and when they are combined it is often viewed as either transgressive, questionable, or childish. I’ll explore this synthesis in Baz Luhrmann’s The Get Down and in Zachary Heinzerling’s documentary Cutie and the Boxer. This was the case in the second season (Part 2) of The Get Down, a music drama which depicts the emergence of hip-hop and the death of disco in 1970s New York. Animation is incorporated into the larger plotlines as a means of speeding up certain elements of the storytelling, as well as focusing attention on other details. The animation brings us up to speed about certain details that have transpired between parts one and two, off screen and materialises them on screen via animation. While the live action majority of this series is undoubtedly a story being told to us, the storyteller is either unseen, i.e. the writers of the show, or presented

to us in a flash forward to the central character, of Ezekiel, rapping about his life to a large audience, following his mainstream success as an artist. However, the animated parts are presented to the audience as a story being told in real time by the character of Dizzee, played by Jaden Smith. Dizzee, a graffiti artist and a part of the music collective ‘The Get Down Brothers’ depicts their adventures through comics, which he draws for Thor, a boy he met whilst graffitiing. Throughout the first season the love story between them is one based predominantly on implication, apparently to recreate the means of storytelling used in depicting queer relationships within 1970s and 80s film canon. Yet, in making these comics for Thor, the depth of Dizzee and Thor’s

The Get Down (2016-2017)n

relationship is shown, and though most of their relationship exists in the there-ness of what we can’t see, the comics make evident the attention they wish to give one another. The show takes place in 1979, just before the AIDS crisis. Their love is sweet and exciting, and there is no echo of danger outside of periphery homophobia. From fans, there was some pushback against the animated portions of the show, saying they were too long, distracting and the worst part of the series. I will admit that a part of me did want to get back to the more dramatic live action portions, as much of the animation was exposition, however I was thankful for it in how it framed further scenes. Be that scenes between other characters, or between

Cutie and the Boxer (2013) Dizzee and Thor. The animation leaves no doubt to the mind of the viewer that Dizzee and Thor are truly close, it creates a space of being okay with the fact that most of their relationship exists off screen, but that just because we don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. These animated sequences make it clear that Thor has been on Dizzee’s mind, as when Dizzee performs with the rest of ‘The

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t is the animated sections of this film where Noriko’s artwork is exhibited, as the animated expressions are of her own drawings.” Get Down Brothers’. While high on badly cut angel dust, he imagines he sees Thor, who asks him, “Have you ever been in love?” Dizzee replies, “Once.” “How’d it end?” “It hasn’t.” before collapsing, while the nonimagined Thor tries to help him. The animation propelled the emotion forward, making this scene seem natural in their timeline, even if it was imagined. To stay with a similar idea of animation depicting emotional truths within live action, I will now move onto the 2013 documentary film Cutie and the Boxer, directed by Zachary Heinzerling. Cutie and the

Boxer depicts the present lives of artists Ushio Shinohara (the Boxer) and Noriko Shinohara (Cutie), based in New York City, as well as takes a retrospective look on their artistic careers and personal lives. Ushio creates art by punching paint on canvas with boxing gloves, where, Noriko, who had always an artist, sacrificed her own artistic endeavours to raise their family. Twenty one years Ushio’s junior, she speaks on gender roles, the nature of such an age gap in a romantic relationship and how he was naturally more established as an artist when they met. Now older, she seeks to create her artistic identity on a larger scale. She has helped Ushio throughout their relationship, but she makes clear that, “I’m not his assistant, but sometimes I help.” Ushio replies, though good-naturedly, “because I’m a husband!”. It is the animated sections of this film where Noriko’s artwork is exhibited, as the animated expressions are of her own drawings. Noriko speaks of how Cutie started out as being mostly based on her relationship with Ushio, his character in her drawings named ‘Bullie’. Cutie is the protagonist of her tales, and she paints a nuanced depiction of her relationship, one both of fantasy and based in Noriko’s own reality. It is also notable that the documentary itself puts Noriko’s work before Ushio’s in the title. ‘Cutie’ is also a name she gave her own work, whereas ‘The Boxer’ was a title put onto Ushio, as his work extends beyond his boxing. This makes it

evident that there is a power to be found in self-naming. In her work, she isn’t afraid to make you dislike Ushio, and, by extension, some of her life decisions in supporting him so much, but as Ushio asks her, “Cutie hates Bullie?” Noriko replies, “Cutie loves Bullie so much.” That explains it. That is what is at the heart of her drawings, that they are about Cutie and Bullie’s relationship, be they about the negative as much as the positive aspects. He is depicted as volatile, yet still worthy of her love, even if we wished he loved her better. Noriko’s work creates a nuanced depiction of personhood, the artist and gender, as framed by a lifelong relationship. This section of the documentary is undoubtedly Noriko’s, as her relationship with Ushio is shown from her perspective, as well as other aspects of her life and art. The synthesis of live action and animation in the one art form is one which excites me. Not only does it add another physical dimension to the piece, creating intrigue and beauty in a new way, it also explores an honesty within the constructed reality of animation. It gets at an emotional root, perhaps only hinted at by the live action, which otherwise may have played out as too explicit in the live action format.

Film Adaptations of Graphic Novels the Diary of a Teenage Girl (2015)

Lora Hartin

“I

had sex today. I think that makes me officially an adult.” The Diary of a Teenage Girl follows the dysfunctional life and sexual escapades of fifteen-year-old aspiring comic artist Minnie Goetze, who clumsily begins a secret affair with her mother’s casual boyfriend at the film’s outset. Based on Marielle Heller’s 2001 graphic novel of the same name, the film, narrated retrospectively by Minnie, is bursting at the seams with beautiful comic-style animation that is woven seamlessly into its liveaction scenes. Despite the juvenile and often humorous nature of these animations and Minnie’s accompanying narration, this film is anything but innocent. Few coming-of-age stories have ventured where this does in terms of the exploration and depiction of adolescent sexuality and taboo subject matter; most notably in

the predatory relationship between Minnie and Monroe. Throughout the film, Minnie longs to be taken seriously by those around her. In search of this validation, she mistakes sexuality with maturity, which lands her in the kind of dangerous territory that only serves to highlight just how young fifteen really is. TDOATG benefits hugely from stellar

performances from its supporting cast, including an excellent dramatic turn from SNL alum and comedienne Kristen Wiig. However, the film really belongs to its lead actress, Bel Powley, who does an incredible job at balancing Minnie’s naivety and vulnerability with her quick wit and outrageous humour, creating a truly unforgettable character.

Hellboy (2004) Liam Kelly

ooking for an action-packed superhero epic about a kitten-loving, cigar-chewing half-demon who protects the planet from hellhounds, Nazis and Russian mystics? Or are you craving one hell of a good time more than anything? Well, 2004’s Hellboy certainly delivers on both fronts. The film roughly follows the plot of Mike Mignola’s graphic novel ‘Hellboy: Seed of Destruction’. Summoned to Earth by the Nazis in a last-ditch attempt to win the war, the titular anti-hero (Ron Perlman) falls into the hands of Professor Bruttenholm (John Hurt) and the Allies. Now working for the Bureau For Paranormal Research And Defence, Hellboy along with his allies must stop the evil Rasputin from unleashing hell upon the world. Director Guillermo del Toro’s

experience working on the Blade franchise shows here; there are some shots that look like they’ve been taken straight out of a comic book. The film definitely does the source material justice, but there have been better comic book adaptations in recent years. While some may call it derivative, Hellboy combines the best bits of X-Men, Indiana Jones and Ghostbusters. However, the film is worth more than its entertainment value alone due to its ability to deal with complex

themes. Hellboy is essentially about being born in horrible circumstances and learning how to overcome your inner demons in order to make the right choices in life. “We like people for their qualities but we love them for their defects”. David Harbour (Chief Jim Hopper from Stranger Things) in my eyes is the ideal choice to take over from Perlman as the lead of this year’s upcoming reboot. If the trailer is anything to go by, I for one am excited to see where they go with it.

script, my favourite thing about it is how close it stays to the source material. The casting and costume design make the characters seem like they were pulled straight from the books into real life. The film also keeps the video game influence found in the graphic novels, such as the coin drops when Scott defeats an evil ex-

boyfriend. These pulls from the graphic novel are what make the film so entertaining and unique, and bringing Scott Pilgrim from the page into live action only adds to the character and the story.

Scott Pilgrim Vs the World (2010)

Sadhbh Hanna

ritten, directed, and produced by cinematic genius Edgar Wright, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is an action comedy film based on the graphic novel series Scott Pilgrim by Bryan Lee O’Malley. 23-yearold Canadian bass player Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera) falls in love with Amazon delivery girl Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), who he first sees in a dream, and must defeat her seven evil exes to win her heart. While I believe that everything in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is incredible and hilarious, from the music to the endlessly quotable

Perfect Blue (1997)

An Unknown modern masterpiece Hiram Harrington

atoshi Kon is not a name familiar to Western audiences, and wrongfully so. The Japanese director, known for his challenging animated features, has proved to be one of the most influential figures in modern cinema. You’ve certainly seen Christopher Nolan’s Inception, but have you seen the equally mind-bending Paprika? Your skin crawled during Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream and Black Swan, so why haven’t you heard of their even more disturbing predecessors? Kon’s penchant for stylish filmmaking has worked its way firmly into the vernacular of epic Hollywood pictures. One strange story, of a woman on the brink of sanity, stands out above all others from his career: Perfect Blue. Perfect Blue follows the story of Mima Kirigoe, a J-Idol singer-turnedactress. After leaving her wildly successful bubblegum-pop girl group CHAM!, Mima sets out to pursue a career as a serious actress. She is offered a part in a crime series, but the pressure of the role and her drive to succeed soon blurs the lines between reality and fantasy. With a malicious stalker pursuing her every move and publishing a fake diary of her life online, Mima begins a downward spiral into the dark, the insane, and the ultimately murderous.

The title of “modern masterpiece” is not one that should be given lightly. To be a film of such prowess, it must boldly go where none of its peers dared to tread, and inspire others to walk that same path, while maintaining a level of artistic and

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here is a fluidity to the art style that sets it apart from the mass-produced anime more familiar to Western audiences...”

narrative integrity. To say that in a less utterly self-indulgent way, a modern masterpiece should stir something unlike anything before. Perfect Blue does this in two ways: a bold stylistic vision, and a thrillingly twisted narrative. Before even scratching the surface of Mima’s story, it is the animation of Perfect Blue that strikes the viewer. Drawn by the art studio Madhouse (fans of Death Note and

One-Punch Man may be familiar), there is a fluidity to the art style that sets it apart from the mass-produced anime more familiar to Western audiences (the likes of Pokémon and Yu-Gi-Oh), with a level of detail that makes it impressive even by today’s standards. It is however, brutally realistic. The choreography from Mima’s girl group CHAM! is drawn intentionally out of unison to mimic the movements of an actual stage performance. Each break in reality is rendered in exquisite colour, incorporating fish, flowers, and body horror in a stunning rendering of the disintegration of the human psyche. A particularly famous scene shows Mima in the bath, lost in her thoughts with her head beneath the surface. Suddenly, her eyes jerk open, and she screams violently into the water around her. The sound is horribly distorted, but the image of Mima alone in the water has remained infamous. So chilling, in fact, that Darren Aronofsky purchased the remake rights to Perfect Blue solely to have Jennifer Connolly recreate the moment in 2000’s Requiem For A Dream. These raw physical exhibitions of Mima throughout Perfect Blue are an example of Kon’s mastery over the animated medium. The film was originally intended to be a live action film, but due to an abrupt loss of support during pre-production Satoshi Kon

pushed for the film to be animated. Each surrealist melt, every bloody confrontation is shown in such a way that makes it inconceivable to an audience that this story could have been told any other way. Intricate as Perfect Blue’s visuals may be, the crazed story of Mima’s career is the true draw of the film. We sympathise with her desire to better her career almost immediately. CHAM! Is a sickly-sweet archetype of J-pop supergroups, a genre of performance so alien to us as nonJapanese viewers that we instantly understand her desire to distance herself from it. When she decides to retire from this career path, it causes backlash from two major forces in her life: her manager, Rumi Hidaka, and an obsessive stalker known as “Me-Mania”. Me-Mania is the catalyst for Mima’s descent into madness. They run a website known as “Mima’s Room”, where they post diary entries in vivid detail about Mima’s life. As Me-Mania’s rage and resentment increases towards Mima and becomes dangerously violent, Mima begins to blur the separation between this online version of herself and the real thing. This element of Perfect Blue rings unnervingly contemporary as a viewer in 2019. Films that toy with the idea of a broken reality and mental stability rarely end with happiness for their

disturbed protagonists. One only needs to look at the canon of our own cinema history to see that: Shutter Island, Donnie Darko, and many other psychological thrillers end with a main character doomed to continue suffering or meeting their fate. Even in modern rape-revenge horrors that feature women exacting vengeance on their violators are exploitative in their depictions of female suffering. Perfect Blue has oft been criticised for playing into violent stereotypes of Japanese anime. Women on the receiving end of pain and mutilation was a recurring trend in the particular era of manga from which Perfect Blue was born. The more universally recognised series from the time, Akira, featured a recurring subplot of one of the main characters keeping a sex slave amongst the bodies of the women he had murdered, a removed facet some welcomed in the screen adaptation. A traumatic scene in Perfect Blue sees Mima believing she is being raped by her co-star while filming, and is the moment commonly cited as the point at which the film plummets towards the dark. Mima is also shown to commit acts of violence herself, whether accidentally or purposefully because of her warped perception. There are moments of violence in excess; though exploitative, one cannot help but see the beauty in their construction. The major

difference between Perfect Blue and other narratives of female trauma is that Mima overcomes the harmful forces in her life without resorting to the same depravity that has been inflicted on her. It’s a rare thing to see women experience a descent into madness and come out on the other side stronger for it. Perfect Blue is no perfect film. There are glaring problems with its treatment of violence and sexual trauma among others, but it does not attempt to be perfect. Satoshi Kon has presented us with a tale of the dangers of stardom and excess as much as a depraved account of the individual’s capacity for cruelty.

The Japanese director’s career was tragically cut short after a battle with pancreatic cancer, leaving a legacy of influence over cinema, but never gaining the wide recognition he deserved. We would do well as an audience to know the man who planted seeds of the strange within the jungle that is Hollywood.

Adult Animated Film and TV shows

big mouth (2017 - present) Emily Thomas

ig Mouth is a celebratory romp through the ups and downs of adolescence in an American middle school. Similar to Sex Education in its frank discussion of the messier parts of teenage life, the show depicts the confusion and awkwardness felt by Andrew (John Mulaney) and Nick (Nick Kroll) as they attempt to understand their own

bodies. The characters’ hormones are personified as large hairy Hormone Monsters: Andrew is hounded by the sex-obsessed Maury (also Kroll), while Connie the Hormone Monstress (the inimitable Maya Rudolph) encourages classmate Jessie (Jessi Klein) to “listen to Lana del Rey on repeat while you cut up all your t-shirts.”

Dream corp, LLC (2016 - present) Jerie Barranco

Although Adult Swim is mostly known for the monolith that is Rick and Morty, its reputation amongst its viewers as a network that promotes the subversive and the wacky persists. And for all the right reasons. Beneath the world of Rick and Morty, comes

a hidden gem. Dream Corp LLC is everything that you would usually expect from an Adult Swim show. The humour is unconventional, offensive, but most of all it’s unabashedly wonderfully weird. Plunged into the workplace of a dingy dream therapy lab, like a knock off version of Netflix’s Maniac, we follow

Big Mouth’s celebration of female sexuality is an important and unique feature; in “Girls are Horny Too” a steamy novel prompts Jessie to educate herself about her own sexuality. The show de-stigmatises issues dealt with by many throughout puberty and beyond, as characters such as the Shame Wizard (David Thewlis) and the Depression Kitty (Jean Smart) are portrayed with sensitive humour and encourage discussion of once taboo subjects. With song and dance sequences, bizarre yet touching subplots (class magician Jay has a child with his pillow) and an entire episode dedicated to Planned Parenthood, Big Mouth is a hilarious gem certainly not to be missed.

the stories of these pseudo-scientists. From the grimy walls, to the flickering lights, the first episode makes you feel like you’re watching a horror more so than a comedy. However, as soon as the actors begin to speak, the dialogue bounces around with a shameless enthusiasm, pulling laughs where you would least expect it. This live-action section of the show is contrasted with the luscious rotoscoped landscapes their patients are plunged into. Every patient’s experience is different, and at times that means the viewing experience is uncomfortable, unnerving, bewildering. But that also means, if you let it, it can be outright beautiful. This is a show you don’t watch. It’s one you experience.

Futurama (1999 - 2013) Oisín Walsh

uturama deserves more than the word count for this piece will allow. This show manages to induce innocent laughter, create biting satire and deliver devastating unexpected emotional punches, all at the same time. Its humour is playful and inventive and its characters likable and unforgettable. Philip J. Fry is a pizza boy in the year 1999, who is frozen on New Year’s Eve only to wake up in the

year 3000. There, he meets Leela and Bender, his love interest and best friend respectively and they become members of the Planet Express crew run by Fry’s distant relative Professor Farnsworth. This then leads to a series of comical adventures across time and space. There are a number of memorable episodes which could fill an entire feature, most notably “Jurassic Bark”, the episode about Fry’s eternally loyal dog Seymour. One thing I particularly love about

Rick and Morty (2013 - present) Shane Hughes

Rick and Morty may often get referred to as dull, nihilistic and lacking in optimism, but the show is one of the most honest and unapologetic series of the past decade. Its slightly crude animated style, coupled with the setting of a slightly dysfunctional nuclear family and their quirky relatives, provides a central theme that is

actually both comforting and familiar. In an age of Trump, Brexit and runaway politics, the show tackles real world issues head on through dark and witty commentary. The often gross and disturbing outlook of the show’s central characters, is something viewers at times relate with all too well. Who hasn’t

Futurama is how selective it is about what has advanced in the distant future and what has not. At one point the crew could be watching a supernova explode from a spaceship and the next Fry could be making popcorn in a very basic microwave. I guess what I enjoy about Futurama is that it manages to create good comedy without resorting to meanspirited jokes and shock humour as many adult animated comedy shows do; I assume in an attempt to push the boundaries of what is considered taboo. Futurama is by no means simplistic in its comedy, but it isn’t so complex that it is inaccessible. It’s a sitcom that succeeds in being touching, thoughtful and, above all else, entertaining.

struggled with the reality of our world the past few years? Rick and Morty understands but reminds you not to get too bogged down, because in the end nothing matters anyway. The show’s animated style allows it to go places live action simply can’t without a titanic budget. So dive into alternate dimensions, universes and alien worlds with TV’s most unforgiving grandfather (Rick), and prepare for a far fetched science fiction journey that’s so disconnected from reality you almost overlook the hard hitting social commentary on our own world. Rick and Morty may get to pack up and move to a new universe every time something goes terribly wrong, but their comical shenanigans will make our own universe bearable enough to live in.

Chicken Run (2000)

The Evolution of stop-motion animation

Jerie Barranco

s much as I enjoy Shia LaBeouf’s delightful and unfathomable appearances outside of the silver screen (the “Just Do It” video comes to mind), there’s one performance in his career that I think really takes the cake. And it is found in the ill-fated fourth installment of Indiana Jones: The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. In one breath-taking scene, we pan to him swinging on vines with what is obviously fake CGI monkeys. Pitted against a severe looking, black-haired Cate Blanchett. The unreality of this scene hits home in the same way that Tommy Wiseau’s lines in The Room do. Barely believable to the point that it is enjoyable. Now you might be wondering how Shia LaBeouf is anyway related to stop-motion, let alone the “death” of stop motion animation. You might be inclined to think that Shia LaBeouf is just one of the many actors who star in CGI films, and that ultimately CGI films are the main culprit in causing the death of stop motion animation. Whether it

be a fully animated CGI film like the recent Grinch, or used as a part of the overall film for example Avengers: Inﬁnity War, CGI is the animation of choice when it comes to the blockbusters of our age. And that assessment is partially true. It’s easy for us to criticise the oversaturation of CGI in mainstream films, but there’s an undeniable draw to it that trumps stop-motion every time. It consistently brings in bigger crowds than stop-motion animation. Even the numbers of the biggest stop motion film of the decade, Chicken Run dwarfs in comparison to the Minions film; 225 million and 1.15 billion USD respectively.

King Kong (1933)

Used for the aesthetic look of the film and appreciated only by those who already have an appreciation for it, stop-motion is often seen as a dying art. But is it really the case? If we look to stop motions supposed peak before CGI, we would find that the reality is not so simple. During the Great Depression of the 1930s, stop-motion was used to catapult audiences to the far flung vistas of the beyond, animating the fantastic and the bombastic. Though we associate stop-motion animation with more niche and smaller narratives nowadays, in its heyday, stop-motion became a gateway to another world. Feature films like

King Kong (1933) and The Lost World (1925) (the spiritual precursor to Jurassic Park), brought audiences to alternate universes where the impossible was possible. At times, these re-animated beasts would take centre stage but stop motion was never meant to be the main draw. Stop motion served wherever the story needed it to be, and what the story needed to be was an escape from the melancholic reality of the outside world. To see stop-motion as a solely insular art form is not only wrong but reductive. The malleability of stop-motion animation is one of its strongest strengths. This can be seen in the march of AT-AT walkers against the rebel base of Hoth in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. Initially the plan featured a robot

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top-motion never claimed to be big blockbuster successes like Shrek was in the 2000s, but that doesn’t mean that they are restrained by that standard.”

that would articulate the movement required for the scene. But this idea wasn’t very cost-effective and it would have complicated the process. Under the helm of Dennis Muren and Phil Tippett, a different route was found. Having backgrounds in stop-motion animation, the pair made the AT-AT walkers in this style. The AT-AT walkers were built large enough for animators to grapple and manipulate specific parts in isolation, and with subtlety. The background was then painted to appear photo-

Kubo and the Two Strings (2016) realistic and the ground was dusted with baking powder. The end result speaks for itself. A more niche example exists in Indiana Jones: The Temple of Doom. Though it features very little stopmotion, the technique was used in animating parts of the mine-cart chase sequence. Stop motion here was first and foremost a tool for the narrative. As for fully animated stop-motion films i.e. ones without live-action actors, their status as these film gems is nothing new. They have always existed as a niche in the film community, much like art house films. Stop-motion never claimed to be big blockbuster successes like Shrek was in the 2000s, but that doesn’t mean that they are restrained by that standard; Chicken Run being an example. Now, it is true that CGI however has taken over the mainstream medium of animation, but the very core of stop-motion is the same as CGI. To carry the story. And just as films of the past used stop-motion as a tool, so too can CGI be used as a tool in stop-motion animation. To pit one medium against another is not only a futile exercise, but an error. In this case CGI may perhaps be one of the most powerful tools that a stop-motion film can employ. This is glimpsed at in Laika’s creation, Kubo and the Two Strings, where CGI was used to

form landscapes and backgrounds, and special effects that can’t always be achieved by using stop-motion animation. CGI extends their reach. But this isn’t a one way street. The possibilities of CGI drawing from stop-motion animation can be seen in the wonderful Lego Movie. Although mostly CGI, backgrounds were made in real life, and the directors Chris Miller and Phil Lord drew their inspiration from Brick Films. In essence, short stop-motion videos using Lego figures as their subjects. Animators painstakingly analysed how these Lego figures moved, and added details like oil marks, breaks in the brick and dandruff to give these Legos a well worn, well loved look. By mimicking stop-motion, it made the film feel fresh and new. Alongside other methods, technology such as 3-D printing is advancing stop-motion. In the animation company Laika, boxes of faces are printed and catalogued by the hundreds, allowing a freedom of expression and time devoted to these films. Microwaving CDs for textures and the use of real human hair combed with silicone to create moveable hair is also on par with Laika’s standards in order to achieve something visually arresting. Laika as a studio are carving a new path with stop-motion animation. So is stop motion a dying art?

Iconic Shot Robyn Kilroy

Spirited Away (2001)

icture this: A young child, lost and frightened in a place that is completely alien to her. She comes across something mysterious that stops her in her tracks. While the mysterious thing is tall and intimidating, there’s also something enticing about it, something that intrigues the young hero to investigate it further. This scene encapsulates the childhood wonder and fear everyone gets when they come across something as colossal and mysterious. The iconic shot I’m talking about, of course, comes from Hayao Miyazaki’s enchanting 2001 film Spirited Away. Miyazaki is himself a notable director, with a catalogue of iconic films such as Howl’s Moving Castle (2004) and My Neighbour Totoro (1988) to name just a few that launched him to success across the world. However, Spirited Away stands out for its sheer beauty, and there are countless specific shots that envelop the beauty of this film in a single still image. However, the specific shot I will be exploring is the shot of when the young hero of the story, Chihiro, comes across the mystical Bathhouse for the first time. Spirited Away tells the story of when young Chihiro and her parents come across what seems to be an abandoned amusement park as they are travelling to their new home. However, the amusement park is revealed to be part of the spirit world and as a result of their encroachment, her parents are turned into pigs. In order to save her parents, Chihiro must work at a bathhouse for spirits under the witch Yubaba. It’s a classic hero’s journey scenario, however the film stands out for its truly gorgeous animation and breathtaking and meaningful shots. It’s almost difficult for me to single out one absolute iconic shot because there are so many equally magnificent shots. However, the shot of the Bathhouse when Chihiro first encounters it says so much about the themes that Spirited Away shows while also being a beautiful shot. It’s the shot

I think of when someone mentions Hayao Miyazaki, or even when someone mentions Studio Ghibli (the

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iyazaki perfectly articulates to the audience that the Bathhouse is significant, without having to outright explain it to them”

animation studio he co-founded). As Chihiro meanders around the abandoned amusement park, she appears to be curious, but nothing really stands out until she comes across the giant bathhouse. It is located away from the rest of the buildings, separated by a bridge, signifying its importance to the film. While the rest of the park is seemingly uninhabited and dead, the bathhouse seems to be in operation, with smoke coming out of its chimneys. The establishment of the bathhouse invokes the idea that Chihiro and we, the audience, are about to transition from one world to another; from the familiar to the unfamiliar. It is the first turning point in the film and Miyazaki manages to sum it up in this single shot. It is one of the pinnacle moments of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, the crossing of the threshold into an unknown or special world. In this shot, Miyazaki perfectly articulates to the audience that the Bathhouse is significant, without having to outright explain it to them. As a personal fan of the motto “show don’t tell” in cinema, I commend Miyazaki for this. Another interesting aspect about this shot is the way it displays Chihiro in comparison to the Bathhouse. The shot begins framing the bathhouse, and then pans down to Chihiro standing on the bridge, staring in awe at the building. By panning

down to Chihiro, the film invokes the perception that she is small and vulnerable in comparison to the world she is about to enter. When we first are introduced to Chihiro, she is portrayed as a scared young child. She nervously follows her parents into the supposedly abandoned amusement park and is terrified of the monsters and spirits when she first encounters them. This one shot establishes her vulnerability, but also marks the start of the change in her character. She becomes braver throughout the film, working her way up to get a job at the Bathhouse. She learns how to stand up for herself and goes out of her way to help her friends, like Haku, and her parents. In the same way that this Bathhouse shot signifies the transition from the ordinary world to the special world, it also marks the start of Chihiro’s personal growth. From this shot onwards, she becomes braver and stronger as a character. While Spirited Away is notably teeming with iconic shots that have become a part of pop culture worldwide, The Bathhouse shot that I have discussed above is, in my opinion, equally important in terms of plot and characterisation, as well as it being a beautiful piece of animation. To me, this shot will always be one of my favourite moments in an animated film, and it will continue to go down in history as an iconic shot.

‘Attack on Titan’ (2009 - present)

The Art of manga Cian McLochlainn It is ironic enough that I should take

the side of manga in this debate since it was anime that first introduced me to the world of Japanese animation. Yu-gi-oh!, Pokémon, Digimon, and Beyblade were features of many childhoods around the world, myself included. Watching Attack on Titan, and wishing to read ahead in the long wait for season 3, is what drew me into the dark fantasy written by Hajime Isayama. It is said that manga goes back to scrolls from the 12th Century in Imperial Japan, but the word ‘manga’ came into mainstream usage in 1798, during the Edo period, where Japan isolated itself from the rest of the world and their native culture flourished. Manga has taken leaps and bounds since then, and is now a part of popular culture in the Western hemisphere. While it’s easy to sit back and watch an anime series, lovers of animation should give manga comics a try as they offer something different in their daring style and engrossing story-telling. Nowhere is this more evident in the series Shinjeki no Kiojin or Attack on Titan. This post-

Attack on Titan (2013 present)

apocalyptic action series debuted in 2009 and depicts a world where humans are forced to reside behind a system of three circular walls in order to avoid towering man-eating giants called Titans, that have supposedly hunted humanity to near extinction.

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overs of animation should give manga comics a try as they offer something different in their daring style and engrossing storytelling.”

While the anime is a more than adequate adaptation of this manga series, the true darkness of the world seen in ‘Attack on Titan’ is far more evident in the manga, as we see how living in this nightmarish setting has damaged the main characters’ respective psyches. This is not to take away from how well the anime

adaptation has translated Isayama’s work. However, the philosophical nature of the story; the choice to fight for freedom or continue to be subjugated, is a powerful story arc that cannot be truly replicated. Isayama’s portrayal of the conflict between ethnicities has not yet been depicted in the anime, but it is doubtful the writers will be able to fully replicate one of the more controversial themes explored in the later arcs of the manga. The pacing of the manga is also far more relaxed compared to the anime and allows readers to fully invest themselves in the story, its characters, and its setting. This is where it wins over the anime, which does its best to do the same, but doesn’t achieve this, at least as of this point. While the latter is worth a watch, it is highly recommended that the former be chosen if one chooses to follow this series.

Cartoon Saloon Niamh Muldowny

ver the last 20 years, Irish animation has been going ó neart go neart and this has been in much part thanks to the work of one of our oldest and most prominent animation studios, Cartoon Saloon. This studio has worked on TV shows, three feature films and a multitude of short films becoming part of the backbone of Irish filmmaking. Despite three back-toback Oscar nominations, it still feels like this studio doesn’t get the full appreciation it deserves, so in this article I will attempt to give some well-deserved recognition to this

saloon of cartoons. Founded in 1999 by the newly graduated trio of Tomm Moore, Paul Young and Nora Twomey, Cartoon Saloon found its first home with Young Irish Filmmakers in Kilkenny who gave them a small space to start their work. They began their careers by working on advertisements and as Tomm Moore said in a 2016 interview with Rodrigo Flamenco, they “prided themselves on working in a variety of different styles.” It was also here that the studio began the decade of work put towards their first feature film, The Secret of Kells. Now nearly twenty years later, still

Song of the Sea (2014)

based in Kilkenny, they continue to innovate and further the art and business of animation in Ireland. Perhaps it is through The Secret of Kells that Cartoon Saloon first began to find their audience. Released in 2009, the film showcases the voice talent of Brendan Gleeson and gives a fantastical imagining of how the titular book was created. This film is a celebration of the myth and the history surrounding the book, and this is shown to us multiple times through the beautiful and inventive art style. The animation of this film slips between the traditional 2D animation and more impressionistic styles with ease, yet still manages to bring the audience through a snappy plot with plenty of emotion. Drawing again from Irish mythology, 2014’s Song of the Sea, sought to link past and present Ireland while telling a fiercely personal and emotional story of a brother and sister returning with their father. Once again Brendan Gleeson brings a depth of emotion to the role of the father in the film, but the acting talents of the two main characters, Ben and Saoirse, portrayed by David Rawle and Lucy O’Connell are to be commended for bringing a youthful enthusiasm to the project. In the five-year gap since Kells it is clear to see the leaps

and bounds Cartoon Saloon has made with animation. The animation here is much smoother and the backgrounds are more detailed, while keeping with the Cartoon Saloon aesthetic central. In their most recent outing of The Breadwinner, Nora Twomey directs a movie slightly further afield than Ireland, and situates itself instead in Afghanistan under Taliban control. Based on the graphic novel by Canadian author Deborah Ellis, The Breadwinner follows 11-yearold Parvana as she must disguise herself as a boy, to become the ‘breadwinner’ and care for her family after her father’s imprisonment. Despite being known for the involvement of Angelina Jolie as a producer, this film stands on its own two feet through the powerful story, enticing art style and the talent of the voice cast.

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artoon Saloon’s dedication to the Irish language and culture is also something that should be applauded.” Cartoon Saloon does not restrict themselves to only feature films, they also produce many short films and tv shows, with Puffin Rock being the most recent series. In fact, this year was the first time that Cartoon Saloon has been nominated for an Academy Award for best animated short with Louise Bagnall and Nuria González Blanco’s short Late Afternoon. This short is a beautiful, melancholic but ultimately uplifting film about a woman living with dementia. The art style is often reminiscent of water colours, and the fluid movement of colour serves as a fantastic visual representation of the movement of memories.

Old Fangs (2009) It is also in these short films that Cartoon Saloon explore slightly more serious themes that might not lend themselves to a ninety-minute run time. Two examples of this would be Old Fangs and Somewhere Down the Line. Both beautiful shorts with unique approaches to the medium of animation, but also two shorts that deal with the more complex theme of difficult family relationships. Cartoon Saloon’s dedication to the Irish language and culture is also something that should be applauded. They’ve made a point to release all their feature films with an Irish language version, and some of their other work is presented completely through Irish, such as the short film Cúilín Dualach, and the animations for the music themed TG4 series Cúl an Tí.

Father’s Dragon which is being produced in part with Netflix and set for release in 2021, and Wolfwalkers, which doesn’t have a release date but the teaser trailer does give us a promising sneak peak of the animated delight we’re in store for. This partnership with Netflix shows that Cartoon Saloon are ready and willing to adapt with the times and keep 2D animation relevant in an age where animation quality is often equated with how lifelike the CGI is. In conclusion, Cartoon Saloon shows dedication to the craft of storytelling and the craft of animation, and despite only being 20 years old, has left a lasting impact on the field of animation.

Traditional music is also a thread that runs through Cartoon Saloon’s other works, as over the years they have worked closely with the Irish band Kila for the music of two of their feature films, Song of The Sea and The Secret of Kells. Both films also feature songs sung as Gaeilge being central to the plot, with Aisling’s Pangur Bán song, and the titular Song of the Sea. This brings an authenticity to their films that must be admired, along with showcasing the language to a wider international audience. All in all, the future’s looking bright for Cartoon Saloon with two new feature films in development, My

Voicing the Voiceless: The Films of Martin Rosen

Watership Down (1978)

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en will never rest till they’ve spoiled the earth and destroyed the animals.’ Richard Adams’s prophetic introspection hits a poignant nerve today as we look dismally at the catastrophe that is us. In the 1970s Adams penned two very critical novels focusing on humanity’s impact on the natural world, ‘Watership Down’ and ‘The Plague Dogs’, both of which were adapted into animated features by Martin Rosen. Using allegory and animal points-of-views, these films are mature and artistically nuanced in their probing of ethics and violence. Although Adams’s work has lived on in classrooms and lecture theatres (receiving well-deserved attention since his death in 2015), Rosen’s realisations have consistently instilled both terror and sympathy in audiences. To depict the graphic nature of Adams’s novels, animation works

practically and aesthetically to convey his horrific subject matter. Both 1978’s Watership Down and 1982’s The Plague Dogs are notorious for their lack of squeamishness when it comes to depicting violence, from warring rabbits to animal testing. As mature alternatives to Disney, which meticulously omits visual references to blood, these films incorporate some British realism. As productions of Rosen’s small company, Nepenthe, they can be considered independent. Rosen’s own background as coproducer on Ken Russell’s Women in Love shows his interest in adaptation and socio-political themes. Remarkably, Watership Down gained a U rating at the time of release, but the British Board of Film Classification has stated that it would be PG today, marking out a proportion of its original audience. In 2016 a Channel 5 screening on Easter Sunday compelled tweeting parents to complain. It’s no Bambi or The Fox and the Hound, which similarly deal with the consequences of hunting and human encroachment.

But what distinguishes both of Rosen’s films from the rest? And why should we care? Watership Down is a story of displacement, the subsequent migration and challenges entailed, and the creation of a new home. The main narrative follows Fiver and his brother, Hazel, (voiced by John Hurt, before his sympathetic portrayal in The Elephant Man). Fiver’s seeing powers allow him to predict their warren’s destruction by human developers, thus urging several rabbits to join him and Hazel in finding a new warren in the seemingly idyllic English countryside. The novel and film are seen as allegorical for their parallels with our society, exploring aspects of totalitarianism and freedom. With appendices and a developed ‘Lapine’ language spoken by its protagonists, Adams’s mythologizing echoes Tolkien’s. The origin story passed down by rabbits has a biblical feel, although its folktale protagonists are El-ahrairah (‘Prince with a Thousand

Enemies’) and the grim reaper-like Black Rabbit of Inlé, illustrated like children’s drawings. The animation style quickly transitions from expressionistic artwork to watercolour realism, as the first image of a rabbit is of its detailed eye, revealing the film’s perspective and subjectivity. Despite its subdued, pastel simplicity, it doesn’t shy away from Adams’s message and the film is nightmarishly surreal at times. Along their travels, the group faces predators and other rabbits, including a nihilistic death cult straight out of David Lynch’s mind. Most infamously perhaps is the

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he film depicts nature in all its horribleness, teaching death as a fact of living and something to be accepted. Grim? Yes.”

cruelty of General Woundwort, the obese one-eyed dictator of the Efrafa warren. Efrafa’s militarised system of subordinating females for reproduction, curfews and caste system is hard to ignore as reflections of humanity’s relationship with punishment and discipline. Woundwort’s killing of other rabbits for pleasure makes him eerily more human. Perhaps Donnie Darko, who read the book in class, wasn’t delusional in thinking that rabbits weren’t so innocuous? The film depicts nature in all its horribleness, teaching death as a fact of living and something to be accepted. Grim? Yes. And Art Garfunkel’s ‘Bright Eyes’ doesn’t make it easier. Last year the BBC churned out a new adaptation whose look quite frankly oscillates between uncanny valley and mediocre video-game. What was ultimately missing from this

The Plague Dogs (1982)

attempt was genuine pathos and existentialism which Rosen’s film effortlessly evokes. Rosen’s lesser-known adaptation elaborates on the violent realism of Watership Down. As an adult animated film concerning vivisection, The Plague Dogs is a harrowing insight into procedures which go on behind closed doors. The film memorably opens under water, depicting Rowf, a Labrador-type struggling for air in a submergence tank. When he eventually drowns he is hoisted out by men in lab coats and revived. The following conversation suggests that Rowf’s drowning and revival is a daily experiment in stamina. The Plague Dogs is cinematically more mature than Rosen’s former film, with pensive dissolves and panning ‘shots’ of monkeys and rabbits in painful contraptions. It is recognisably Japanese in style, preceding the linedrawing and colours of Akira or even Brad Bird’s The Iron Giant (a young Bird was in fact part of its animation team). It also plays with genre in its apocalyptic, science-fiction feel. The brilliantly named ARSE military research lab in England’s Lake District provides its initial setting. As the title implies, it’s revealed that the bubonic plague is being developed as a military weapon, calling into question the cost of technological progression at the expense of animal welfare. Like Watership Down, the exodus of the animals and their journey to a better place is the fundamental

premise of The Plague Dogs. It is, however, more pessimistic in its trajectory, and hope is continuously discarded for violent realisations. Rowf and Snitter (a fox terrier with a cranial vivisection device, again voiced by Hurt), escape from the lab and struggle to orientate the moors. One cannot help but think of the horrible murders which had occurred there in recent history. The dogs cannot understand their predicament or comprehend why they are being pursued. The Island of Dogs represents Rowf and Snitter’s ideal home, though its existence is questionable. The Plague Dogs does PETA’s job for them, depicting humanised animals in a Dante-esque hellhole of suffering. Public knowledge of animal testing is generally very limited, despite its international role in our educational institutions and the products we use daily. The Plague Dogs is a must-see as a complex companion to Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs and to Watership Down. Rosen’s films differ from the regular animated canon of the time because they don’t treat their viewers as mindless. These films are even more important today, as Adams’s vision of man-made destruction firmly resonates.

Reviews

a private war (2018) Alison Traynor

he making of biographical films can be a risky business. One wrong move on the director’s part and they can descend into cloying sycophancy. Likewise, any slight lapse in accuracy or a tendency for the director to exaggerate the facts can be not only detrimental to a biopic’s purpose, but a violation of the subject. However, one as sensitively and passionately created as Matthew Heineman’s A Private War shows that if done correctly, they can be a true and fascinating testament to those they are about. Overall, it provides an immersive experience which will appeal to both Marie Colvin aficionados and those who know little about her.

caricature, which she could have easily become. Alcoholism, PTSD and relationship difficulties all feature, but thankfully they function to humanise her rather than to take attention away from her incredible achievements. Heineman’s representation of PTSD is particularly affecting, as it is something which he forces the viewers to experience too. Gruesome flashback images punctuated by images of Colvin’s intense distress inevitably arouse a sense of panic and horror as you watch. Her acts of self-destruction revealingly run side by side with the destruction she witnesses over the course of her career, emphasising the impact that war has upon those who witness it.

The subject in this case is Marie Colvin, an American foreign affairs correspondent who tragically died in 2012, when an IED exploded while she was reporting in Syria. The film paints a portrait of a courageous, intelligent and determined woman who risked her life in pursuit of the truth. At the same time, it refuses to shy away from her vulnerabilities, portraying her as the human being she was rather than an unrealistic

Colvin is played extremely adeptly by Rosamund Pike, in one of her best performances to date. Vocally, her tones are uncannily accurate. She is unmistakably Colvin, embodying her persona through and through. Riskier casting choices also work surprisingly well, with Jamie Dornan swapping bondage for a camera, playing Paul Conroy, Colvin’s photographer. This platonic relationship is the most interesting in the film, with the relationships with her husbands and one-night-stands fading into insignificance when

compared with the experiences and confidences she shared with Paul. The film certainly does not attempt to glorify the realities of her work. There is nothing romantic about the imagery of starving children and ravaged landscapes. Scenes of falling rubble as Colvin sits in dilapidated buildings, desperately typing on her laptop, hyper-aware of the immediate danger she is in, will remain in your memory for long after the film has finished. It is also commendable in the way it provides a critical perspective on the role of journalism and the media. While Colvin was risking her life in the hope that she could grant those in war zones a better life through the transmission of knowledge, those she worked for sat around thinking about what news stories could make them the most money. Social commentary is rife, leaving the viewer with vital insight into the worlds of both war and the media, which are connected more closely than one might realise.

The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019) Liam Kelly

kay, I’m going to let you in on something that I have

kept close to the chest for a long time, I have been playing with Lego for almost my entire life. What was once a mere hobby has now become an obsession. It’s a passion I share with fellow AFOL Jacob Stockdale (yes, the Ulster rugby player who scored the decisive try in Ireland’s historic win against the All Blacks). While his brick addiction started only fairly recently, mine began in my early childhood up to a certain point where I thought I was beginning to grow out of it. Then 5 years ago, I saw The Lego Movie in cinemas for the first time. The feelings that I had leaving the cinema were special. Not only was I blown away by how entertaining and visually spectacular it was, it helped reignite my love of building. As you can probably imagine, I’ve been eagerly anticipating the sequel ever since. Picking up right from where the first left off, Finn, the young boy who controls the events of the entire film, is forced to play with his little sister Bianca. This is mirrored in Finn’s imaginary world of Lego, where the invaders from planet Duplo have turned Bricksburg into a post-apocalyptic wasteland fittingly named Apocalypseburg. We see the destruction through the eyes of our protagonist Emmet (Chris Pratt). Wanting to prove that he is tough enough to be a true hero, he goes out to rescue Lucy (Elizabeth Banks)

and his other friends after they are kidnapped by General Mayhem (Stephanie Beatriz) from the Systar System. He is also tasked with preventing an impending “Ar-momageddon” having realised that it was more a vision of the future than just a dream. The Lego Movie 2 starts at a frenetic pace and rarely do we ever slow down. Phil Lord and Chris Miller, fresh from the success of the recent Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, return as writers and producers. The animation team once again does an excellent job in what is essentially capturing the imaginations of both Finn and Bianca during play, contrasting the dusty wastelands and the dinosaur-piloted spaceships with the palaces, spas and colourful environments covered with glitter. While the stellar voice cast all do an incredible job with the characters that were introduced in the original film, it is arguably the two new additions that are the true scene-stealers. Queen Watevra Wa-Nabi (Tiffany Haddish) a shapeshifting pile of bricks with a tendency to break into song at any opportunity and Rex Dangervest (again voiced by Pratt), a hilarious spoof of Chris Pratt’s career in Hollywood post Guardians of the Galaxy. Both stand out in particular due to the surprising amount of backstory that they are given. From a comedic standpoint, Lord and Miller help to inject much of the clever, satirical and ironic

comedy that made the first film so funny. During the invasion, President Business (Will Ferrell) abandons his people, instead doing what any other president would do in a crisis situation, he decides to go golfing. With Lord and Miller, you can be sure the film is heavy with cameos and references to other franchises, some more explicit than others. Batman (Will Arnett) boasts about the vast array of movies he has starred in, acknowledging those that are in “various stages of development.” There is the typical DC/Marvel banter, as well as homages to Mad Max and Planet of the Apes. The film also wanders into Toy Story 3 territory more often than you’d expect. If you enjoyed The Lego Movie, the sequel I’m delighted to say does not disappoint. It is definitely a worthy follow up to the 2014 masterpiece. While it doesn’t quite match the originality or sheer impact of the first film, it is a colourful adventure with a wild sense of fun that still manages to pack an emotional punch. I can appreciate how the film deals with its themes in a sensitive manner, most notably gender differences in play, toxic masculinity and staying true to who you are in spite of changing circumstances. Not only will the kids be thoroughly entertained, people of all ages can take something out of it, even if it’s an annoyingly catchy earworm designed to “get stuck inside your head.”

On the Basis of Sex (2018) Maia Mathieu

ourtroom drama meets real-life trailblazers in this biopic about ‘notorious’ American Supreme Court Justice and feminist icon, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Beginning in 1965, On the Basis of Sex introduces us to Ruth Bader Ginsburg (Felicity Jones) as a law student, one of only 9 women in a class of 500. In the words of Harvard University’s Dean Griswold (Sam Waterston) she’s there, “taking the place of a man.” It’s empowering by design, pitting a gutsy heroine against the patriarchy. What’s extraordinary though is how few liberties were taken with history along the way. Felicity Jones anchors an incredible cast with a note-perfect portrayal of Justice Ginsburg, and she’s ably supported by Armie Hammer in the role of Marty Ginsburg, one of the most devoted, passionate husbands ever committed to film. A Star Is Born won my heart in a large part by the way that Cooper’s Jackson looked at Gaga’s Ally. With Ruth and Marty, it’s that adoration all over again, but this time rooted in a real life love story for the ages. Reportedly, when she gave her consent for the movie

to be made, Justice Ginsburg had only two demands: get the law right and get Marty right. Despite being overlooked for awards, this is the best I’ve ever seen Armie Hammer, and it’s almost incredible to see the trope of ‘devoted spouse’ being played by a man. After graduating at the top of her class, Ruth can’t find a firm to hire her and instead takes on a professorship at Rutgers Law School, teaching subjects like American’s first-ever class on sex discrimination and the law. It’s in teaching that groundbreaking class that Ruth becomes aware of how deeply entrenched gender inequality actually is, but it’s Marty who finds the necessary leverage to begin taking it on: “I don’t read tax court cases,” Ruth huffs irritably, “Read this one,” Marty assures her. Charles Moritz (Chris Mulkey), a never-married Denver man, is being denied a tax break to pay for the care of his aging mother. Had he been a woman, or even a divorced man, he’d get the tax break. It’s a case of discrimination on the basis of sex that, for once, penalises a man. Moritz’s case presents the perfect

opportunity to break open the entire American legal system of genderbased discrimination. It’s on working this case with Marty and the ACLU that Jones’ Ruth truly comes alive. Unfortunately, it’s also when the film shifts from biopic to legal drama and veers a little close to cliché. Yes, of course, it all hinges on that one, impassioned, last-ditch speech, but honestly, if you’re not emotionally invested and three tissues in by this point, this wasn’t the movie for you. Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s extraordinary life story spans 85 years and counting, and this film tries very hard to cram the larger part of an eventful seven years into two hours. It very nearly succeeds, despite the ‘scrappy underdog triumphs’ tone of the ending. This is a tale that might have been better told through a few seasons of prestige television, to give it time to breathe and build. Nevertheless, this is an uplifting story of an important chapter in the struggle for gender equality, anchored in touching portrayals of real-life heroes, and in that sense, it’s a timely and important movie. Go see it, it’s the best thing I’ve seen so far this year.

Burning (2018) Hiram Harrington

o call Burning a film that does what it says on the tin would be to ignore the depths to which that ache reaches. Based on the short story Barn Burning by Haruki Murakami, Lee ChangDong’s sixth feature film bathes itself in apt slow-burning thrills and offers the audience a masterclass in restraint. Already the South Korean picture has been selected for contention for the 2018 Palme D’Or at Cannes and been shortlisted for the upcoming Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, becoming the first Korean film to do so.

all centring around the distant and strange Ben.

is painstakingly chaste, leaving the viewer always wanting.

Steven Yeun shines as the mysterious Ben, a wealthy Korean businessman with a deeply disturbing proclivity. Known primarily to Western audiences for his role as Glen on AMC’s The Walking Dead, Yeun has developed exceptionally beyond the zombie melodrama. His calm demeanour throughout his interactions with Jung-su is truly unsettling to witness, and proves to be the most electric element of this reserved film.

At nearly two and a half hours, Burning is an exercise in patience as well as passion. The lengthy runtime coupled with a lack of action is what will put many casual cinemagoers off seeing it, but I cannot stress how much it is worth the experience. Lee Chang-Dong has crafted a chilling, yet utterly rapturous tale. Every thread introduced results in the most artfully woven film this reviewer has seen in a long time.

Burning follows Lee Jung-su (Yoo Ah-in), a young factory worker who rekindles a childhood relationship after a chance meeting. Gone is the girl he once bullied, and present is the happy-go-lucky Shin Hae-mi (Jeon Jong-seo). Jung-su is infatuated with her from the first encounter, and only becomes more intrigued by her as he looks after her shy cat when she’s on vacation. Coming back in the company of Steven Yeun’s Ben is when things take a turn. Hae-mi and Jung-su’s relationship begins to spiral, as a strange mystery unravels

Jeon Jong-seo is a scene-stealer in the most gentle way possible. Haemi’s genuine innocence comes to life with each interaction she has with her male counterparts. Burning truly sparks excellence with Hae-mi in moments where other directors would struggle to present the subject matter; scenes of masturbation and sexual encounters are framed with delicacy, offering the audience a softness rarely shown with such intimacy. Reservation is the key word when describing Burning. Each edit, development, line of dialogue

Burning is an unmissable international addition to this coming awards season, and will be one worth remembering for years to come. Experience it on the big screen from February 1st, when it opens to a limited release across Ireland.

five word reviews reviews: Animated edition Sophie cassidy

Lilo and Stitch 2: Stitch Has a Glitch (2005): “Emotional adventure with our ohana.”

Robyn Kilroy

Frozen (2013): “Just Let it Go already.”

Christopher Kestell

Pokemon: The First Movie (1998): “22-year-old weeps uncontrollably.”

Eoin O’Donnell

The Lego Movie (2014): “Sassy brick toys fight capitalism.”

Grace kenny

The Tigger Movie (2000): Emotional, adorable. heartwarming, heart-rendering, comforting

Alison traynor

A Scanner Darkly (2006): “Linklater’s sure read Orwell’s 1984.”

Oisín Walsh

Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988): “Watch it to find out!”

Dara McWade

Bojack Horseman (2014 - present): “Depression, now with added horse!”

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