During the last six or seven years, Estonian animators Janno Põldma and Heiki Ernits have produced a series of successful children's animation series (Tom and Fluffy, Lotte, Ladybirds' Christmas, and most recently, Concert of Carrotpie) that have brought some much-needed income to the animation studio, Eesti Joonisfilm (Estonian Animation Studio). In a sense, the duo has saved Eesti Joonisfilm and provided hope for the survival of Estonian animation in a global marketplace.

When Estonia became re-independent in 1991, animation, among many other aspects of Estonian life, was faced with new challenges. In animation, Moscow had handled everything. They approved, censored, funded and distributed the films. When the Soviet Union collapsed, Soviet censorship went with it but so too did funding and distribution channels. These days, the Estonian animator has to find both money and an audience. The Estonian government has helped to a large degree by continuing to support animation production, but the amount is relatively small and the animation studios (Eesti Joonisfilm and Nukufilm are the oldest, biggest and most successful) are now forced to look for co-production partners abroad.

There are few marketing possibilities for 'personal' or author animation films. If they are lucky, a film might tour the international festival circuit for a couple of years and if luckier still, manage to find a couple of TV buyers. Rarely are personal animation films distributed beyond festival screenings. This has, of course, meant that Estonian animators have had to become more knowledgeable about the industrial marketplace, and, in turn, create works more suited to television and children - works that can be sold internationally. Given the overall lack of production experience in Estonian animation, it is something of a miracle that Põldma and Ernits have been so successful. Their first attempt at a series was Tom and Fluffy (1997). The idea for the series was based on Põldma's puppet play, Dog's Wedding, and follows the adventures of the inhabitants of a small seaside village. Lotte (1999) was a continuation of sorts, this time focussing on a young dog named Lotte who lives in the same seaside village.

Tom and Fluffy and especially Lotte were a success internationally. Lotte was sold to twenty countries including Germany, France, Italy, China, and Australia. The response at home was just as positive from both a popular and critical perspective. The Lotte and Tom and Fluffy videos have sold more than any other Estonian films. Lotte has even spawned merchandising opportunities like Lotte ice cream. Lotte also won two major cinema prizes in Estonia: Best Estonian Film of 2000, and the Film Critics' Prize.

With the sales of Lotte, Põldma and Ernits decided to shoot a Christmas special, Lepatriinude Jõulud (Ladybirds' Christmas) to bring in some revenue for Joonisfilm. In the film, two ladybirds find themselves in a human house after their tree is taken from the forest so it can be used as a Christmas tree. The characters spend the rest of the film trying to find their way back to the forest with an odd assortment of insects living in the house. Ladybird turned out to be a phenomenal success, breaking box office records in Estonian cinemas in 2002. The film was also released on video and published as a children's book. Joonisfilm even licensed the use of some characters for a Coca-Cola drink, and Estonia Theatre is also interested in producing a musical based on the film.

Põldma and Ernits most recently finished Concert for Carrotpie. Because of a disagreement with fellow animator Mati Kütt, Joonisfilm was faced with a production void and had to rush to create another film. "We had plans for Mati's film," says Põldma, "and we had to create a fast script to fill the gap because everyone else was busy." The film, Concert to Carrotpie is for children and will tell a story within a music concert (composed by Olav Ehala). The basic storyline follows a grandfather and granddaughter as they search for the grandmother who has gone missing from home. Along the way, we meet a variety of characters including some familiar (design-wise) ladybugs and a rabbit whose main desire in life is to wish everyone 'a good morning'. As the story unfolds, a musical band and their conductor appear occasionally on the screen to introduce a piece of music they will perform. The musical styles are quite diverse, ranging from Celtic to jazz and even some bossa nova.

Concert for Carrotpie is beautifully designed, mixing Heiki Ernits' more subdued 'earthy' tones from Lotte and Tom and Fluffy with the more vibrant colours of Ladybirds' Christmas. As with the earlier works, Carrotpie stands out for its simple, understated stories. We meet simple characters leading simple lives where unexpected things sometimes happen to them. There are no politically correct morality lessons, no product placements, just a glimpse into a life in process.

In typical Estonian fashion, Carrotpie is filled with an assortment of strange characters and actions that would be called surreal if they were found in an adult film (e.g. when the sun comes out of a door to take over the moon's shift). Here, they are merely surprising actions in the course of life. Perhaps it is in these children's films that we find much of the core of Estonian animation. What we call surreal or absurd or bizarre, might in fact be quite natural and in a sense innocent (for example, what is so strange really about a person who simply wishes to say 'Good morning!' to everyone?). Children say and imagine some of the most seemingly bizarre things (although quite often you find that there is an inner logic to their words, but that the confusion is the result of a struggle with words and their meanings). In a sense, some of the Estonian work of the Priit Pärn era is similar. This does not mean that Pärn and company have a child-like, naive perspective, but rather that their way of perceiving and articulating the world, which is so closely bound up with a language that is spoken by so few, is different from 'ours' (from my Western English perspective). When Estonians speak, and remember there is no gender separation, the language and people are so entwined with the landscape around them. Westerners, with our heavy burden of historical amnesia and Orwellian doublespeak, are perhaps not fully capable of appreciating, let alone understanding, the refreshing, unfiltered nature of Estonian language and thought.

Given their relative inexperience producing commercial work, how is it that Põldma and Ernits have succeeded so quickly? Certainly part of the domestic success can be attributed to a desire for original Estonian stories. In Estonia, as elsewhere, much of the television and cinema material is foreign. Furthermore, while the 'festival' animation films have been successful internationally, a very small audience in Estonia actually sees them. In Estonia, as elsewhere, 'art' animation has limited popular appeal. But clearly much of the success is due to the very simple fact that the films are good. Põldma and Ernits approached the children's films with the same passion and seriousness that they give their independent films. "Of course we were worried about selling our films," says Põldma, "but we tried first to make films which were interesting for us." Like the pioneer animators, Elbert Tuganov, Heino Pars and others, Ernits and Põldma respect children. There is no violence, there are no smart-ass kids, and most significantly, there is no treating the child viewers as if they were idiots. In many cases, the narration is minimal, leaving a combination of the images (the character designs in Ladybird are especially original) and the imaginations of children to fill in the gaps.

More materially, the success of these works has opened up new and much needed channels of funding for Joonisfilm. The money made from sales revenue goes into new equipment and independent productions. The success of their three projects also shows that quality children's programmes can be artistically satisfying and financially viable.

In this on-going era of bland power-driven global culture, the success of Põldma and Ernits' films shows us that indigenous expressions are not only possible, but essential to the preservation of national identity.