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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