a bat in the dustbin of european history
heikki jokinen

In 1988 I was head of the jury at the Tampere International Short Film Festival. We watched hundreds of films, and finally selected 68 to participate in the competition programme.
One cold winter day, the head of the festival and the programme director returned from Soviet Estonia, full of enthusiasm for the films they had seen there. 'These films will be included in the competition programme at once,' they declared unanimously. 'And the decision is final.' The films were Riho Unt and Hardi Volmer's puppet film War, Priit Pärn's animated film Luncheon on the Grass and Mark Soosaar's documentary Life Without... The whole jury watched them and agreed with the decision - these were remarkable films, uniting world-class professionalism with a readiness and ability to talk about essential issues.
The stranglehold of the Soviet Union on Estonia had relaxed and we could finally see something quite unique on the silver screen. We were allowed a truly perceptive look behind the curtains of totalitarianism, where even we, the neighbouring Finns, had not been able to go before. It was amazing that it was all made possible by the type of film that takes longest to make - animation.

I well remember the feeling while watching Unt and Volmer's film War in the grand cinema palace built in the 1920s. This is a 17-minute puppet animation about an old mill inhabited by a bat that finds itself caught in the middle of fighting between crows and rats. I am positive that every viewer in the cinema, even the most ignorant of history, realised that this was a film about Estonian history. Finnish viewers probably understood only too well what could happen to a small nation inside history's meat grinder.
At first viewing, the puppet film seemed deceptively cuddly, but in fact it talked about things that had been forbidden to be discussed in Soviet Estonia before. And this is how the viewers saw it, realising that Estonians had a lot to say, and this was just the beginning. The applause was spontaneous and lasted a long time.
Priit Pärn's wonderful Luncheon on the Grass was just as unforgettable. The film associated a totalitarian society with bold absurdity, discussing power, dreams and the role of the artist. The audience sat spellbound all through the film.

War received the Jury's Special Prize in Tampere and The Luncheon got the Grand Prix. In all the years I have participated in the Tampere festival, these awards were the only ones where nobody offered the slightest criticism of the jury's decision. At the awards ceremony, the hall erupted in raucous applause and repeated hoorahs...
Tampere was the first international film festival where these films were shown. From there they travelled on, to be showered by awards. I remember seeing the film directors on Estonian television talking about their success in Shanghai, wearing Mao hats.

I was familiar with Estonian animation well before that. I very much enjoyed Heino Pars's object animated film The Nail (1972), and his splendid Seven Devils (1985). I had also learned to appreciate Elbert Tuganov's films. Still, independence brought about a huge change in Estonian animation: professionalism, singular perception of art and political freedom functioned extremely well together! In the late 1980s, Rao Heidmets produced his fascinating films Papa Carlo's Theatre (1988), which depicted a weird and abnormal world; and Noblesse oblige (1989), where reality is hidden behind actors' masks. Only a few years later Mati Kütt completed one of his masterpieces, The Smoked Sprat Smoking in the Sun (1992), made by mixing all kinds of techniques and thus bewildering its viewers.
However, the Estonian puppet film for me is associated primarily with the name Riho Unt. Without exaggeration it could be said that Unt is the best in the world in his field. He who has any doubts in that respect, should watch Brothers Bearhearts (2005) - this film inspired by the painting titled Morning in the pine forest by Ivan Shishkin, a 19th century Russian painter, is the most charming and wonderful puppet film I have seen in many years. It vividly demonstrates how the world's smallest type of animation - puppet animation - in one of the smallest countries in the world, Estonia, has overcome the two obstacles preventing the making of a truly good film. Estonian animators, in fact, manage to produce films that are also artistically challenging for adults. Besides, they have experienced both Soviet-era totalitarianism and the greedy capitalism of today's Estonia. Puppet animation is an unparalleled part of Estonia's image, and greatly helps to promote Estonia abroad.


Heikki Jokinen is a freelance journalist and critic living in Helsinki, and a member of the board of Asifa, the International Animated Film Association.

ESTONIAN CULTURE 2/2006 (8) · ISSN 1406-8478