Between Here and Reality

Any talk of modern animation would be incomplete if it didn’t include the Quay Brothers’ nearly thirty years of work creating groundbreaking shorts. Twins Stephen and Timothy’s stop-motion work is a dazzling blur of organic and mechanical elements. “Their short works, which may not have been seen widely via theatrical distribution, have been seen by film students everywhere and been very influential to contemporary animators, especially in Europe,” says Walker Art Center film and video curator Sheryl Mousley. “Monty Python animator/director Terry Gilliam selected one of their short films, Street of Crocodiles, as one of the ten best animations of all times.”

The brothers’ second feature-length film, The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes, is easily the most beautiful cinematic work of the last year, if not the past several. The brothers blend stop-motion techniques, digital imagery, and live-action elements seamlessly—dolls seem human, and humans look like dolls. Muted colors and sepia tones create a reality that is hypnotically and quintessentially Quay.

“[The brothers] were at the Walker for a Regis Dialogue in 1996 when they completed their first feature, Institute Benjamenta,” says Mousley. “When I heard they were completing their second feature, I waited with eagerness until I could see it at the Toronto Film Festival.”

The film’s twisted fairy tale starts as Malvina, a beautiful soprano, is kidnapped by Dr. Droz to perform with his music-making automata (think large-scale music box/mechanical toy hybrid). Her voice enchants Felisberto, a piano tuner working for Droz, who spends the rest of the film trying to rescue her.

It’s the simplest of plots—boy tries to save girl from villain—told in the most complicated way. As the characters perhaps too frequently state, nothing is what it seems. Much as the Quays blur animation and actors, characters are never sure whether they’re in a waking state, a dream, or one of Droz’s machines.

All this slipping between worlds can be as confusing, and sometimes as frustrating, for the audience as it is for the characters. The narrative ambiguity, though, is a small price to pay for ninety-nine minutes of the Quay Brothers’ magic. Jan. 19–21. 1750 Hennepin Ave., Mpls., 612-375-7600

Bill Snyder writes about music and film for Mpls.St.Paul Magazine.