Women Break Out of the Cel Block

‘Traditionally, animation has been dominated by men, but today the best animators are women,” declares Jules Engel, head of the experimental animation department at CalArts. “Women are taking animation into complex new thematic terrain--I don’t know any male animator in America presently making work that has the presence and originality I’ve been seeing in work by women filmmakers.”

Engel, a Hungarian Abstractionist who immigrated to the United States in 1929, has had an eye on animation for more than 60 years. A skilled animator himself, with extensive knowledge of dance, Engel choreographed the Chinese and the Russian dance sequences in “Fantasia” and worked in the ‘50s for UPA, the animation studio that gave birth to Mr. Magoo.

So, when his pal Anai s Nin introduced him to several people who were launching the California Institute of the Arts in Valencia in the late ‘60s, he seemed the ideal candidate to head the animation department. Largely financed by Disney, which came by much of its money via animated films, CalArts regarded the animation school as a high priority.

“I set the department up and ran it for four years, but the Disney people were unhappy with me because they felt I wasn’t producing talent for their needs,” says Engel, now in his 80s.

“Unfortunately for them, they couldn’t fire me, though,” he says with a laugh, “because I’d already established a presence of my students all over the world. So we split the animation department into two parts, one to develop Disney-style animators, the other to encourage filmmaking of a more experimental nature.

“Animation is much more than cartooning, but most people think that’s all there is to it--and that’s why Disney was unhappy when they discovered what I intended to do at CalArts,” Engel says of the school, now in its 25th year.

“The Disney people have a trade-school mentality, and 98% of the people in the animation industry have probably never been to an art exhibit, concert or a ballet. They’re interested in comic books, not fine art,” says Engel, who continues to paint and had an exhibition of his work last year at L.A.’s Tobey Moss Gallery.

“Don’t get me wrong--Disney is the greatest,” Engel says. “With films like ‘The Lion King’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’ they’re taking animation to new heights of refinement; however, to see something really new, you have to go to the animation festivals. There are 45 of them around the world every year, and that’s where you see the groundbreaking work.”

Women animators--the subject of a four-part series, “Animated Women,” beginning Friday on PBS--have long had a high profile at CalArts. Maureen Selwood, an animator who has taught there for two years, gives Engel much of the credit for the high quality of the work that comes out of the school.

“Jules established the philosophy of the animation department, and he’s not didactic in any way, nor is he heavily into theory, which is big at CalArts,” she says. “He dismisses the idea that you must be aware of what’s being written about art before you attempt to make any, and the students we pick for the school aren’t always the ones whose work is superior in terms of craft and presentation. Your work can be messy and unfocused, but if it shows the potential for stretching the limits of animation, this school is the place for you.”

As far as defining animation trends currently being hammered out by women, Selwood says: “I’ve always resisted saying that women approach animation differently than men do, but I actually think they do. Men tend to make films where the pacing is fast, a strong sense of anticipation is created, and a resolution comes that’s very heartfelt.

“Women, on the other hand, aren’t afraid of messier textures and more complex layering and are comfortable in an atmosphere where there’s the suggestion of something that isn’t entirely clear,” adds Selwood, who teaches an animation class titled “Dream, Myth and the Explosion of Memory.”

The best of this new work out of CalArts takes animation into previously uncharted terrain:

* A janitor recounts a conversation with God in Vanessa Schwartz’s “The Janitor,” which was nominated for a best animated short Oscar this year; the work, loosely drawn in a style evocative of Viennese artist Egon Schiele, is a sophisticated exploration of the subject of faith.

* Liz Brown creates a powerful indictment of racism in “Rebirth of Golden Fruits,” which pairs the Billie Holiday classic “Strange Fruit” with images of the civil rights movement and graphic photographs of lynchings.

* The quest for identity is central to Joanna Priestly’s “Grown Up.”

* The cultural imperialism of Christopher Columbus is explored in Ruth Hayes’ work in progress “Reign of the Dog.”

* “Los Muertitos” (Little Deaths) is Isabel Herguera’s moving elegy to the struggle that regularly occurs at the border separating the United States and Mexico.

* Lisa Mann’s “Seven Lucky Charms” looks at domestic violence and the psychology of victims.

* Clare Crespo’s “Plenty” uses a Diane Arbus photograph, “The Sword Swallower,” as a launching point for a meditation on AIDS, love and death.

Although none of this subject matter sounds terribly radical, it is pointedly at odds with traditional animation. Humor has always been considered of paramount importance in animation, much of which has revolved around broad slapstick comedy and visual pyrotechnics. Animation is supposed to be clever and not terribly taxing to watch, but these female animators don’t make it quite so easy for the viewer. Evoking a psychological rather than fantasy landscape, these films are quiet and reflective--and require the viewer to connect the dots to a much greater degree.

“My early films tried to express an interior place and an emotional reality, and I didn’t concern myself much with creating a coherent story line,” says Selwood, who graduated from college in 1968 and enrolled at New York University planning to be a camera operator. Instead, she wound up making three films of her own there, the last of which was animated.

“It was called ‘The Six Sillies’ and was an attempt to explore my family,” says Selwood, who has completed seven films and is working on a series exploring the myth of Daphne and Apollo that combines video and animation. “My newest film, ‘Flying Circus,’ is also about my family--more important, perhaps, it marks a turning away from pure animation in that it incorporates photographs along with drawings.”

It is commonly assumed that computers have revolutionized “pure animation.” “ Engel, however, scoffs at the idea that the old days of sitting at a table and drawing for months on end are over.

“People talk all the time about how much less time it takes to do animation on a computer, but what does time have to do with art?” he says. “Computers help in layout and background, but the characters themselves must be done by hand.

So, you spend five years making a personal film--a single minute of animated film requires 1,440 images, and a 20-minute film can easily devour several years. Then what? How do you make a living? Where can people see your work?

“Many people from the experimental school make their way into jobs in commercial animation, but they bring something special to their work because of their background in art,” says Engel, who mentions Henry Selick, director of “Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas,” as one of CalArts’ successful crossovers. With luck, unconventional animators may end up working for “Sesame Street” or creating station IDs for MTV. For the most part, however, offbeat animation remains a tough way to make a living.

“It’s a myth that people who made short films had an easier time of it when movie theaters used to screen shorts,” Engel says. “Sales departments have never wanted to bother with shorts, because in the time it takes to sell a short they can sell a feature.

“Oddly enough, however, the market for them has actually never been better, and in a sense, we’re in the midst of a golden period for animation,” adds Engel, who himself has recently completed three new films (“Toy Shop,” “Lilac Garden” and “Aviary”). “When a film like ‘The Lion King’ makes $250 million, you can bet all the studios are going to attempt to cash in on that market, and I get several calls a week from people looking for short films.”

One would assume that it would be easier to get offbeat animated films aired on television these days. The huge increase in channels has created a lot of air time to fill; and just as there’s room now for a voluminous amount of schlock, one would think there’s more room for “arty” stuff too. In fact, it’s still a major battle to get an unusual film by a relatively unknown filmmaker on television.

“Nonetheless,” Selwood says, “I can’t work with the attitude that my films are a labor of love that will never be seen anywhere, and I don’t encourage students to work that way either. Obviously, you have to be true to what’s on your mind when you make something, and you can dilute its strength if you treat it as a committee process, but if you disregard the idea of an audience, you risk crossing over into a terrain where your work speaks to no one but you. This is the danger of independent work, and that’s why it’s important to try to show your work as much as you can.”