BFP15 – Retrospectives: Brothers Quay, Barry Purves & Ivor Wood
Clearly a major draw for attendees of this year’s Bristol Festival of Puppetry was the rare opportunity to hear firsthand from the Brothers Quay about their work and creative process, kicking off the festival’s animation strand on the opening night. Though not entirely shrouded in mystery or especially recluse, siblings Stephen and Timothy’s work has a certain romanticised air about it, the machinations of their most noteworthy films sometimes seeming less the product of the toil of animation than dreamed into quasi-nightmarish existence. It would be impossible to present an entirely representative cross-section of their body of work in the limited time afforded by a single screening, but the films chosen – Maska, Street of Crocodiles, In Absentia and Stille Nacht III – effectively set the tone for the subsequent onstage Q&A. The film most accomodated by the venue itself was their Bruno Schulz adaptation Street of Crocodiles, perhaps aided by a perceivably more accessible narrative throughline than the severe abstraction of, say, In Absentia (for which Karlheinz Stockhausen’s avant-garde score didn’t so much test the limits of the venue’s audio capabilities as declare war with them). Though a small lament voiced by the directors was not being able to show the more recent transfers that have been made for their upcoming Bluray anthology, the visible wear of the BFI’s screening copies – save for Maska whose print they provided themselves – rather suits their crepuscular visual style.
Installation at Bristol’s Redcliffe Bascule Bridge
The insight gleaned from a strong animation interview can extend to all nooks and crannies of life, and in conversation with festival curator Joseph Wallace, the Brothers Quay certainly delivered on that front; I never knew, for example, that when you saw into an antler it smells like semen. There’s something you can bring up during the next lull in dinner party conversation. Other enjoyable areas of discussion included their bait-and-switch approach to getting a project off the ground (the premise of a pitch, once successful, will often be jettisoned and reworked from scratch), the range of audience categorisations – from fairytale to science fiction – of their acclaimed Street of Crocodiles, their take on the experience of Christopher Nolan’s documentary of which they are the focus and the progress of their latest piece Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass, also adapted from the work of Bruno Schulz. Complementing their attendance as guests of the festival, Stephen and Timothy have created the succinctly-titled installation Homage To The Framed Perspective Of An Abridged Conversation Between The Painters Sassetta & Uccello And The Mystical Occurrence That Happened Before You Arrived that will remain at the control room of Bristol’s Redcliffe Bascule Bridge until September 18th.
On the Saturday the festival showed Ivor Wood: An Animated Celebration, collecting episodes from the great man’s fine legacy of classic British children’s television that proved incredibly soothing to the soul. A man far more versed on the subject is regular Skwigly contributor Tom Sanders, recently having penned a fabulous three-part Ivor Wood tribute, who I’ll hand the reins over to:
Curator of the festival and the Ivor Wood retrospective Joseph Wallace opened up the screening with a short introduction reminding us of Ivor Wood’s career. It was a touching reminder to those in the audience at just how much of an influential and inspiring figure he was. From there on in we were thrust into a world of colourful characters and often surreal circumstances. In particular Postman Pat’s Windy Day took the prize for most laughs, depicting one of Pat’s more surreal days in Greendale. It was shared moments like this that made me realise how timeless these shows really are. As well as Pat we were treated to episodes from The Herbs, The Wombles, Paddington Bear, Gran, Bertha and Charlie Chalk. The audience was made up of young and old and as each episode was played there were constant exclamations of joy and laughter as memories of their childhood flooded back or new audiences awakened to these timeless creations.
- You can read Tom’s full review as well as a smorgasbord of other insight at his blog The World of Ivor Wood.
Later that evening festivalgoers had the privilege of seeing a Barry Purves retrospective structured similarly to that of the Brothers Quay. Being a frequent speaker at festivals and events the world over, Barry’s stage presence and wealth of anecdotal wisdom can always be relied on for an enjoyable evening. Areas explored during the post-screening Q&A included the limitations Russian funding thrust upon the writing of Tchaikovsky – An Elegy (no mention of his sexual orientation could be made lest certain political figures be miffed), the grappling of whether or not to kill said film’s titular character onscreen as well as the notable disparity between the major recurring themes of his earlier films and the distinctly more sinister Plume. In an industry where the weather isn’t always clement, the discussion had a particular vibe of positivity and optimism regarding the body of work that has been achieved so far and, rather excitingly, the possibilities of what’s to come. The audience Q&A afforded Barry the opportunity to further elaborate on some elements of an upcoming project he was charged with rewriting with the hope to begin production before long.
The selection of films themselves were mostly representative of Barry’s sombre work, the lightest of which being his unmatched Shakespeare tribute Next alongside the elegantly performed and thoughtfully scripted Achilles, Screen Play, Tchaikovsky and Plume. With the absence of lighter fare such as Hamilton Mattress or Gilbert and Sullivan: The Very Models (not to mention the greater percentage of his work for children’s television) compelling Barry to enthuse “I do make happy films!”, this particular grouping makes an excellent case for the medium of animation as a serious art form that can entertain. They speak for themselves and are what they are, which still remains something wonderful.
Keep your eyes on Skwigly for more BFP15 coverage tomorrow. For more on the festival and the work of Puppet Place visit puppetplace.org