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Scratching out black paint directly under the camera to obtain movement would not succeed in every instance of animation but in George Ungar’s lithograph-like The Wanderer L'Étranger the medium is exactly right for this tale of devilish intervention in the affairs of man. The director quickly establishes a harmonious community in which children play, stallholders trade and the fields are ploughed by moonlight. Into the village arrives a mysterious stranger whose largesse and magic offer riches undreamt of by the inhabitants. A table is transformed into a lavish banquet, a simple village girl becomes an exotic beauty, and a young boy has his broom turned into a musket. The shadow of the stranger falls heavily on the people. When he leaves the apple is well and truly rotten, paradise is no more. The movie is heavy on symbolism. The arrival of the stranger into the bar, a discarded scythe, damaged church roof, dead bodies, close-ups of faces transformed. Using as a device the raven wheeling over the fields we see the devastation wrought by the devil though all the damage is self-inflicted. The serpent did not bite the apple. In the hands of such a skilled artist the movement is sinuous a times. One is manipulated around and through characters with a remarkable dexterity. At other moments action is frozen into vignettes of significance. There is nothing whatsoever new in this oldest of stories but one gasps in admiration at a bravura performance from the director and artist.







Philadelphia based Anthony F. Schepperd has created a Flash animation to savour in Wail To God a music video for Ape School. To say it is unrestrained is an understatement as ape boy lusts after the ladies with a fervour that eats him up. A gentle cuffing from the cops is no deterrent. As has been noted in various reviews already, Anthony is decidedly in the Bill Plympton school of elasticity as faces are stretched to toffee though I doubt if Bill used the palette quite so explosively or liberally as here. The comic book, psychedelic trip is fabulous from the moment our commuter lurches to a halt and lets his demons out in spectacular fashion; logging on to Vimeo and their HD Channel it was as if the piece were a personal ad for the channel, let alone the band. How lucky they were to have such an extravagant promotion for an undoubtedly fine song that will find its way to my iPod along with yesterday's offering. And for those boob lovers out there, prepare to be submerged in a mountain of the things. Or rather, mountains.

























Una Giornata Perfetta (A Perfect Day) is a stop motion/ rotoscope music video for singer Vinicio Capossela. It will appeal to lovers of a good old sing-a-long delivered in relaxed fashion by the bearded singer, who performs his gentle shuffles on a sheet of white paper within a set comprising the bric-à-brac of a life forty years or so ago. The following list gives a taste of the era being evoked: a “Music for Pleasure” 78 playing on the Zaffiro record player, the Alpha typewriter in similar colours of toned down lime green and cream, gingham patterned tablecloth, leather bound photograph album, polished shoes one might almost smell, hand spray for eau de cologne, lipstick-red hat box, record collections, coffee cups with smiles stuck on, formica coffee tables … and some Russian Doll type men in bowler hats and cocktail stick umbrellas. Not to mention flick books and 3D folding pop-up books. It is a short to bring a gentle smile to your face. All adroitly animated with wit and an absolute grasp of state of the art techniques to make the old time pieces swing. It is all the work of Virgilio Villoresi who seems to have had a lot of influences from experimental cinema to Jan Lenica. And the meaning of the song? "It's a perfect day to walk the streets without haste/ Listening to Vic Damone on the radio..." And Vic Damone? Not certain, but the first of the record covers might just feature him. All cast with the brown hue of tobacco or coffee. Thank you Livia for the recommendation. 





