A Critical Cinema 2: Interviews with Independent Filmmakers

I saw the possibility of doing a number on Pope Pius. My anti-Catholicism was pretty fervent in those days. Pius XII was accused of reneging on allowing Jews to escape from Germany and was generally very aloof and removedpious in the worst sense. So with all these pictures in my hand I went to the studio. I picked up Hulten on the way and talked to him about what I wanted to do. He suggested a way of organizing a little sequence, and I cut the photos out and put the thing together. He helped me conceive narratively, which I don't think I would have done normally. But the sacrilegious part was all mine. Pontus and I had gotten drunk together around that time and I went into the church in Montparnasse to slip goldfish into the holy water. Hulten was the lookout. I got the fish into the basin, but it was shallow, and they went out the other side, and onto the floor. I scooped them up, got them into the plastic bag, and we took off. I remember writing a letter to the pope asking how much it would cost to be excommunicated. That was the mood behind that film. The actual esthetic had to do with transformation. It ended up being the pope juggling his head. It wasn't what I had expected it to be.

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MacDonald:

While metamorphosis is usually central in your filmswe watch the constant shifting of one thing into anotherduring the early part of your film career it was already taking two different forms, each of which tended to be primary in one film or another. In some cases you worked with generalized shapes:

Form Phases I, II,

and

IV

are examples. In other cases

Image by Images, Inner and Outer Space,

and

A Man and His Dog Out for Air,

for examplethe metamorphosis of the drawn line is the focus.

Breer:

Well, the linear ones come from my wanting to be simple, wanting to make a film with a pencil, or in this case, with Flomaster pens. I really got to be an expert with those pens. I called myself a Flo Master. Anyhow, I liked the idea that all I needed to make a film was paper and ink, or pretty close to it.

A Man and His Dog Out for Air

was a popular success, relatively speaking. It wasn't the first time I got noticed, but it had a large audience in New York, including people who wouldn't normally have reacted to avant-garde painting or avant-garde anything else. I thought maybe this was a special way of expressing myself simply, directly, and primitively, that could get a broader audience. And it was agreeable to sit and draw on cards or paper all day long. Those films came more from sitting at a drawing table or a desk, looking out the window, and having a nice time. And later committing it to film.

When I was making the collage films, I was more involved with what I was going to see on the screen at the end, which had more to do with editing and with thinking in terms of that big rectangle up on the wall with people looking at it. I alternated methods. I'd get tired of doing film one way, and the next time I'd do it the other way.

I just had a flash about something you said about metamorphosis. Metamorphosis is just a natural thing. In animation you make each frame, and for something not to be dead on the screen, it has to change. One of my tricks used to be to see if I could trace an image as exactly as possible. I knew it would still vary a little bit and that that variation would give it a sort of breathing presence on the screen.

Breathing

[1963] is an example. In trying to copy, I found I couldn't, and I liked the idea that it was impossible. Whether I tried to hold the images absolutely still or let them fly off in every direction, metamorphosis was what was going to happen anyway.

The tendency for someone who's just starting to animate will be to begin on the left side of the page and move something very laboriously a little bit at a time over to the right side. As you get more sophisticated, you plan ahead so that you know where the thing is going to be on the other side long before it gets there. And instead of starting at point A, maybe you'll start at point O or point L, somewhere in the middle of an

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action, and work it backward and forward. But if you choose to be simple, naive, direct, open, and follow your nose, your nose will take you places you can't foresee, and that leads to so-called metamorphosis. That's where the spirit of spontaneity comes in. In my films spontaneity is mostly in the beginning stages; then in the editing I contradict my spontaneity by encapsulating these bursts of spontaneity in a structure of some kind. A structure can come either through the editing or the planning; in my case, it usually comes through editing.

MacDonald:

You always seem at pains to show figuration and narrative as one of a very large number of possibilities that an animator can work with. We always know that you could do conventional animation if you wanted to.