A drunk monk. A woman plagued by ghosts from the past. And a Sleeping Beauty much more in charge of her own story than the traditional fairy tale let on. These were a few of many ideas and arresting images swarming around the films of Kihachirō Kawamoto, a Japanese animator of puppet maker who was the subject of the latest installment of the New Haven Free Public Library’s “Animation Celebration,” hosted by Library Technical Assistant Haley Grunloh.
Nearly 20 people joined Monday night’s convening of the group, which has happened every month since last May. Each month has focused on a different animator, from around the world.
Kihachirō Kawamoto’s work often drew on ancient legends, contemporary short novels, and traditional Japanese theater. Grunloh said that “growing up, making puppets and dolls was a hobby” for Kawamoto. In his 20s he became a children’s book illustrator, and made dioramas that he then photograhed to use as backgrounds for his illustrations. He moved into animation and founded Shiba Productions with other animators, starting with making TV commercials.
In 1963 he invited to work with Jiri Trnka, a Czech animator who was the subject of a previous “Animation Celebration.” Kawamoto went to Prague and reported that “it was very cold and dark and there were hardly any vegetables.” But he enjoyed his time there and made connections with other animators. He returned to Japan, and to commercial work, but this time to help fund the films he really wanted to make. “If you read interviews with him, he really hated going back to making commercials,” Grunloh said. “Throughout his career he had to balance stuff that would pay well with stuff he really wanted to make.” With three feature films, 11 short films, and other work to his name before his death in 2010, it appeared he succeeded in striking that balance admirably.
The group jumped right in to 1968’s The Breaking of Branches is Forbidden, which follows the hijinks of a young acolyte who loves sake after a monk assigns him to guard a beautiful cherry blossom tree from schemers who want to take some of the blossoms for themselves.
“This was the first one I watched, and it took me a while to get used to it,” said one participant of the stop-motion short. Another participant agreed, though by the end she had decided that “it was just a nice moral story of ‘don’t drink on the job.’”
“There are a lot of fun things with the animation,” Grunloh said. “They spend about 15 minutes of this movie with the characters being drunk and silly…. What can these drunk puppets do?”
Other viewers agreed that much of the film was a lark. One participant noted that “it seemed really important that the branches not be broken, but there wasn’t much punishment for the boy” after he did.
“Maybe he gets punished more severely off screen,” Grunloh joked. “There’s something fun about the drama — they go through a lot of effort to steal some flowers.”
“Why does the samurai want them so badly?” another participant wondered.
After the diversion of The Breaking of Branches is Forbidden, 1979’s House of Flames marked a major shift in tone. it tells the story of a young woman trying to decide between two eager suitors. As Grunloh described it, “out of anguish, she decides to destroy herself. Although her intentions are pure, her death reverberates with shocking consequences.”
Grunloh noted that by the time Kawamoto made House of Flames, he had been working on his own films for a number of years and had developed his style comsiderably. House of Flames was based on play from the 1300s, out of the Noh tradition of “classical Japanese dance theater,” Grunloh said, “in which actors have heavy makeup and masks.” Actors convey emotions through gesture and movement, and lighting angle effects can affect how the expressions on those masks read to an audience. Kawamoto’s film makes use of these same techniques.
One participant understood the violent tale as akin to a Buddhist metaphor. In Buddhism, “the reason for suffering in the world is desire,” as the two suitors, a poet and a samurai, are “equalized in their desire for her.” The pious woman, meanwhile, kills herself because she’s the cause of their suffering. House of Flames was, in short, a “Buddhist morality play.”
But the drama from the 1300s was problematic in 2021. ”My knowledge of Buddhism is not huge, but it seems bizarre to me that she was trying to do the right thing all along,” and “she ends up getting punished with some horrible pecking on her brain for 500 years,” said one participant. “It was really dumping on her — like the story of Job in Buddhist terms.”
“I saw it as a warning against being too pious in a world that’s filled with flame,” another participant said.
“But don’t the poet and the warrior bear some responsibility? What about the suffering they caused?” yet another participant said.
Speaking of the treatment of the woman’s ghost after her death — she narrates her story 500 years later to a living priest who stumbles across the place where the worst of the love triangle took place — Grunloh said, “it’s so unfair that she’s bearing the burden of things that other people did. I wonder if you’re supposed to see it that she’s being punished, or that it’s internal to her — she can’t let go of these things even though it’s not her fault.”
Another participant agreed. “He’s helping her free herself from her self-imposed guilt.”
“It really makes sense that she was torturing herself, saying ‘I caused all this,’ when she isn’t the cause,” said another.
One participant address the previous speaker who saw the film as a cautionary tale. “I’m coming to agree with you,” she said, regarding the story being perhaps about the dangers of being too pious.
“Some of the old ways are not the good ways,” another participant said.
Though “I didn’t look at it as trying to convert me to anything — it’s a retelling of a traditional fable,” Grunloh said. “It has a religious origin, but you can just see it as a work of art, too.”
The group then moved to 1990’s Briar Rose or the Sleeping Beauty, which tells a fairy tale familiar to Westerners, then turns it inside out. Grunloh noed that Kawamoto went back to Prague, where he had trained to be an animator, to direct the film. Kyoko Kishida, who wrote the screenplay, also did the voiceover. That the two Japanese artists were retelling a European folk tale in Prague made it “kind of a cross-cultural production,” and “a modern twist on another old fable.”
That said, Grunloh said, “I had a hard time coming up with what I think. There’s a lot to unpack.”
“If you compare it to House of Flames, it’s an interesting contrast,” said one participant. Where the protagonist of the previous film was a victim, the titular character in Briar Rose is “really taking charge of the situation.”
“There are some thematic parallels between the Sleeping Beuaty character and the woman from House of Flames — she feels like she owes people a debt for her actions,” Grunloh said.
The participant agreed, but added that Rose “did have two suitors she thought were jerks, and she let them know.”
One part of the story involves Briar Rose having a tryst with the man who, as her mother’s former lover, could have been her father. “This creeped me out,” said one participant.
As in the previous film, it was questionable whether this part of the movie had actually happened, or if it was a scene internal to the character. “When she goes back, the cabin is empty.” Did the man move on? Or “is that totally in her imagination? Was the cabin really there or was it some kind of ghost?” Kawamoto’s animation “lends a supernatural feel to the entire encounter.”
The participants agreed that visually the film was stunning. “The fabulous wardrobes — the gowns, the colors, the styles, they just blew me away,” said one. “Were you wondering why dolls as opposed to acting it out with live people?”
“I think there’s something interesting about telling the story of a young woman who’s trapped by an unhealthy relationship … to tell that story with doll characters.”
Though “I didn’t see Sleeping Beauty as trapped,” said another participant. “She’s able to make choices.” Every agreed to enjoying the film’s sardonic ending, which doesn’t offer an exactly happy ending even as the protagonist does seem fine.
“There’s a lot d personality in that character for such a short film. She’s got a cynicism,” Grunloh said. The participants noted how the film touched on issues of depression and redemption before turning to Kawamoto’s animation style across all the films, from the elaborate sets he created for the dolls to inhabit, to some of the more fantastical elements of the stories rendered in exquisite style, “like a Hiroshige print come to life,” said one participant. “Just to watch the quality of the animation, the startlingly lifelike movement — it was very beautiful.”
“There’s so much care in the little irregular movements that people make — so many moments that aren’t necessary to tell the story, but tell you a lot about the character,” Grunloh said. “Little things like the queen’s necklace getting caught on the nurses’s hair.” Adding those details “make the dolls feel that much more alive.”
“He’s such an awesome filmmaker from a technical and storytelling perspective,” one participant said. “Not that complexity that you expect in films with dolls. Some really profound human personality dynamics. Very impressive.”
“If you’re going to take risks and experiment with the style, it makes sense to lean on a story that you know will reach people,” Grunloh said. “But these films are so emotionally resonant.”
Grunloh noted that in May, “Animation Celebration” would be celebrating its one-year anniversary. Its original vision was to be a virtual progran. But now the library was beginning to open up. A participant had a question: “Will this series continue?” Even after the everything opened up? There was hope in her voice as she asked.
