Tuesday, 11 August 2015

‘Mary and Max’ and the Revival of Adult Animation

Since I started writing this blog, I’ve often campaigned for the dissolving of the perception that aligns the animated film primarily with younger audiences. The perception derives from decades of marketing efforts that understandably saw children as an easy target for the cartoon (and still do). There’s no doubt that it works, and to a substantial extent at that. But we are now in an uncomfortable age in which it is becoming increasingly difficult to separate and distinguish ‘the child-friendly’ from ‘the cartoon’ – two once distinct genres that have become unfortunately synonymous in recent times, despite the fact that a large quantity of animated pictures were created without a specific audience in mind. As a matter of fact, the Warner Bros. shorts of the Golden Age were never made for children, at all. There have, however, been some notable attempts to disavow this rather narrow concept – even from the likes of Disney who have attempted to broaden their appeal with the likes of The Black Cauldron (1985) and Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001). But very few strictly ‘adult’ animations have been realised, Adam Elliot’s Mary and Max (Melodrama Pictures, 2009) being one of them; one which frankly deserves at least some acknowledgement for its blurring of the boundaries between the animated and the live-action feature, in terms of content.

A film far beyond the comprehension of young audiences, Adam Elliot’s adult Claymation Mary and Max utilises traditional techniques to convey a story that is both hilarious and heart-wrenching. It’s essentially a tragicomedy, and Elliot’s simple, exaggerated modelling style aids the reinforcement of basic stereotypes, the presentation of which, in turn, aids the unravelling of an array of complex and very real characters, particularly with regards to the eponymous protagonists.

Elliot’s black comedy, narrated by Barry Humphries, follows the ongoing relationship between pen pals Mary Dinkle (Toni Collette), a girl from Australia with a troubled family background, and middle-aged Max Horowitz (Philip Seymour Hoffman) of New York, who has a social impairment (later revealed to be Asperger’s Syndrome). It conveys Mary’s journey into adulthood, and Max’s transference into old age, juxtaposing two characters who find themselves equally alienated by a confusing, frightening and altogether rather dark world, further emphasised by its almost monochrome/sepia presentation.

The screenplay cleverly juxtaposes basic and oftentimes crude gags with sophisticated character-based humour geared primarily toward a mature audience. Indeed, much of the comedy derives from Max’s naivety, lack of understanding, and consequent inappropriateness in his communication with Mary. Not only does Elliot’s masterpiece convey a very relatable, funny story, but its tackling of what might even be perceived to be a taboo area of comedy (that of autism) aids the promotion of a marginalised and often neglected identity. It’s brash and fearless in its comedy, but manages to maintain a strangely bittersweet tone that diminishes its occasional coarseness, rendering it an underexposed work of ingenuity; black comedy at its finest.

Visually, the film is highly commendable, not to mention extremely complex. The character designs are hideous – and that’s a good thing. This is not a pretty film, and its grotesque caricaturing helps both to reinforce the comedy and what is undoubtedly a sad and unrelentingly depressive narrative. The film’s colours (or lack thereof) emphasise the characters’ perceptions of their respective worlds; the Australian village of Mount Waverley is conveyed to be brown – almost sepia – in tone, while Max’s world is almost wholly grey. Items sent by mail from one location to another retain their colours rather than blending in seamlessly with their new backdrops, emanating a cognisant awareness of the convergence of the two worlds, and the developmental bond between the characters therein. The only colour besides these is red – a colour ambiguous in its connotations. In some senses, it could be construed to represent warmth, comfort and significance, but other instances convey it as a connotation of danger. In any case, the obscurity and oftentimes absence of the colour further emphasise the characters’ loneliness and alienation.

But the visuals comprise just one aspect of this masterpiece. The most remarkable aspect is the personal communicative effect of the narrative and its characters. Initially, the film’s titular identities appear plain and two-dimensional, but through a solid script and inspired character animation (particular in Max), Elliot relays to his audience an incredibly emotive and mature story – one which maintains more personality and realism than most live-action efforts; a truly outstanding feat especially considering the genre with which it corresponds. Indeed, Mary and Max is a revolutionary tour de force, an exemplary delineation of what animation can achieve if exploited to its full potential.

Images from:
Mary and Max (2010). [DVD] Melodrama Pictures. Distributed by Soda Pictures, London, United Kingdom.

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