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Interview: The Brothers Quay

Interview: The Brothers Quay (photo)

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You may not know about Stephen and Timothy Quay, but you’re probably familiar with their work — they’re identical twin animators best known for stop-motion shorts that bring together the strange, the beautiful and the grotesque, and that have been ripped off by countless music video and art directors. Though not always the most accessible of artists, the brothers Quay have plenty of fans among critics, cinephiles and the other filmmakers — Terry Gilliam selected their 1986 “Street of Crocodiles” as one of the ten best animated films of all time.

“The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes” is only the second feature-length film from the Quays — it tells a Jules Verne-inspired story of the mad Dr. Droz (Gottfried John), who abducts a beautiful opera singer (Amira Casar) and takes her to his island filled with Victorian-style automatons. A piano tuner (César Saracho) summoned to care for the mechanisms becomes obsessed with rescuing her. I spoke to the Quays on the phone from London, where they live — the two tend to speak for one another and finish each other’s sentences, and so have been treated as one entity below.

So “The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes” is your second film, and like your first film (1995’s “Institute Benjamenta, or This Dream People Call Human Life”) it’s mainly live action. Is this for practical reasons?

Oh, we would never enter into doing a feature-length animation. You know, you need a team of people for that. We don’t invite people to animate for us, it’d be a labor of love and it’d be foolish, too big for us. It’s like three, four, five years out of your life. I don’t think anyone would trust us with a [full-length] film that wasn’t live action — with live action they’re willing to give you the benefit of the doubt now and then. Well, two times in our lives.

How was this experience versus “Benjamenta”? Do you feel like you’ve come in any wiser?

Well, “Benjamenta” took eight, nine years to get off the ground. Then this one took another eight, nine years…it’s not like you stay in practice. You have to start all over again. It’s a shame — we really like going between animation and live action. We work in the theater, we work in the opera, we work in the ballet, on décor, so it’s very nice to move back and forth between these difference disciplines. It’s something that we find very important and you bring all those elements to bear when you make a feature film.

Clearly, working with actors is a different experience…

Well, when we do a puppet film, we impose the performance upon that puppet, it’s our performance. We have a kind of secret collaboration with the puppet — we bring out what’s living inside it, what its potential is. With an actor, we invite the collaboration. We do not impose a performance, nor do I think do they impose a performance upon us. It’s a kind of woeful collaboration, where each is trying to divine each others secrets.

How did you approach the narrative process with “Piano Tuner”? Did you feel a need to shape the film differently than you do the shorts?

You do try to shape it in some way — a lot of people say they’re not happy about the way we work with narrative, but you know, that’s always going to be something of personal taste. We don’t make classical Hollywood narratives; otherwise we’d be in Hollywood making them. And life doesn’t follow Hollywood narratives, so either way, you know, it’s kind of irrelevant.

In the US, your work is constantly grouped with Jan Svankmajer’s. You’ve never hidden your admiration of his work, but how close of a relationship do you have with him?

We made a documentary, and basically this documentary [1984’s “The Cabinet of Jan Svankmajer: Prague’s Alchemist of Film”] delivered him to the West. We never studied with him — in fact, apart from the documentary, we’ve only met him a handful of times. Our greatest influence has been a Polish animator, Walerian Borowczyk, which everybody seems to ignore. It’s easier for people to traffic us with Svankmajer because we made that one little documentary for Channel 4. We have the greatest admiration for this man’s work, but he’s not the only one, and people tend to forget that.

Do you consider yourselves Surrealists, à la Svankmajer?

The thing about Svankmajer is that he’s a militant surrealist, he claims it, and it’s very important to his entire body of work. We’ve never subscribed to being a part of the Surrealist school. We talk about poetry — the way a poet uses his language doesn’t just make him a Surrealist. You use a much kinder work, you might say it’s poetic or lyrical, but everything is put into this easy camp of the Surrealists, it’s a good catch-all phase. We’ve never said we’re Surrealists, never once in our lives, and I don’t feel that we could qualify for that club. I think there are genuine Surrealists, and Svankmajer’s one of them. I don’t think David Lynch would subscribe to Surrealism either. People just see him as dark, nightmarish, but you never see people really throw the word Surrealism at him. It seems to overweight the situation.

You’ve managed to fold some stop-motion animated sequences into “Piano Tuner,” for the automatons. What’s the enduring appeal of the medium for you?

I think what we like is that it’s just the two of us here, we’re on our own in the studio. It’s a long journey; you’re using the stop motion because it has fantastic control. You build the puppets, you build the décor, you do the lighting, you do the editing, you do the animation, you animate the camera. It’s a very humbling process — you get down on your hands and knees and you push the camera one little millimeter, it’s all part of trying to equip the idea you have about what each film can be. I think we like that journey, that sense of control. We very much think of our studio as a laboratory, it’s there to make discoveries. It’s a thing that you miss on a live action set, that sense of freedom to discover. With the animation films, they just leave you alone, they forget you: “Oh, when was that film supposed to be ready?” One and a half years roll by, and it’s for us to make the decisions of when that film is ready.

With films like Richard Linklater’s rotoscoped “A Scanner Darkly” at Cannes, this seems to be a new age for animation to be taken seriously, to be intended for a grown-up audience.

That’s not exactly our notion of animation; you can see the motion, and it’s like putting a blueprint on top of something and pushing the render button. Those people aren’t animators. It’s an appearance; I wouldn’t be duped by that. It’s just another effect. I mean, no offense to them.

Do you feel the same way about CGI?

You know, when it’s good, it’s great, the same thing with traditional animation. When it’s good, it’s fabulous, when it’s bad, it’s crap. Each has its greatnesses and each has its miserablenesses. We’re great admirers of what can be done with CGI.

So is there anything you’ve seen lately, animated or not, that you’ve liked?

There’s this Hungarian film called “Twilight” [1990] by György Fehér — it’s absolutely stunning, it knocked us for a loop. In terms of animation, we’re both very impressed by the Miyazaki films, “Princess Mononoke” and the like, we finally got a chance to see them and they really hold up…

You know, we haven’t really been to the cinema recently.

“The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes” opens in New York on November 17th (official site).


Hacked In

Funny or Die Is Taking Over

FOD TV comes to IFC every Saturday night.

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We’ve been fans of Funny or Die since we first met The Landlord. That enduring love makes it more than logical, then, that IFC is totally cool with FOD hijacking the airwaves every Saturday night. Yes, that’s happening.

The appropriately titled FOD TV looks like something pulled from public access television in the nineties. Like lo-fi broken-antenna reception and warped VHS tapes. Equal parts WTF and UHF.

Get ready for characters including The Shirtless Painter, Long-Haired Businessmen, and Pigeon Man. They’re aptly named, but for a better sense of what’s in store, here’s a taste of ASMR with Kelly Whispers:

Watch FOD TV every Saturday night during IFC’s regularly scheduled movies.


Wicked Good

See More Evil

Stan Against Evil Season 1 is on Hulu.

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GIFs via Giphy

Okay, so you missed the entire first season of Stan Against Evil. There’s no shame in that, per se. But here’s the thing: Season 2 is just around the corner and you don’t want to lag behind. After all, Season 1 had some critical character development, not to mention countless plot twists, and a breathless finale cliffhanger that’s been begging for resolution since last fall. It also had this:


The good news is that you can catch up right now on Hulu. Phew. But if you aren’t streaming yet, here’s a basic primer…

Willards Mill Is Evil

Stan spent his whole career as sheriff oblivious to the fact that his town has a nasty curse. Mostly because his recently-deceased wife was secretly killing demons and keeping Stan alive.

Demons Really Want To Kill Stan

The curse on Willards Mill stipulates that damned souls must hunt and kill each and every town sheriff, or “constable.” Oh, and these demons are shockingly creative.


They Also Want To Kill Evie

Why? Because Evie’s a sheriff too, and the curse on Willard’s Mill doesn’t have a “one at a time” clause. Bummer, Evie.

Stan and Evie Must Work Together

Beating the curse will take two, baby, but that’s easier said than done because Stan doesn’t always seem to give a damn. Damn!


Beware of Goats

It goes without saying for anyone who’s seen the show: If you know that ancient evil wants to kill you, be wary of anything that has cloven feet.


Season 2 Is Lurking

Scary new things are slouching towards Willards Mill. An impending darkness descending on Stan, Evie and their cohort – eviler evil, more demony demons, and whatnot. And if Stan wants to survive, he’ll have to get even Stanlier.

Stan Against Evil Season 1 is now streaming right now on Hulu.



Reminders that the ’90s were a thing

"The Place We Live" is available for a Jessie Spano-level binge on Comedy Crib.

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GIFs via Giphy

Unless you stopped paying attention to the world at large in 1989, you are of course aware that the ’90s are having their pop cultural second coming. Nobody is more acutely aware of this than Dara Katz and Betsy Kenney, two comedians who met doing improv comedy and have just made their Comedy Crib debut with the hilarious ’90s TV throwback series, The Place We Live.

IFC: How would you describe “The Place We Live” to a fancy network executive you just met in an elevator?

Dara: It’s everything you loved–or loved to hate—from Melrose Place and 90210 but condensed to five minutes, funny (on purpose) and totally absurd.

IFC: How would you describe “The Place We Live” to a drunk friend of a friend you met in a bar?

Betsy: “Hey Todd, why don’t you have a sip of water. Also, I think you’ll love The Place We Live because everyone has issues…just like you, Todd.”


IFC: When you were living through the ’90s, did you think it was television’s golden age or the pop culture apocalypse?

Betsy: I wasn’t sure I knew what it was, I just knew I loved it!

Dara: Same. Was just happy that my parents let me watch. But looking back, the ’90s honored The Teen. And for that, it’s the golden age of pop culture. 

IFC: Which ’90s shows did you mine for the series, and why?

Betsy: Melrose and 90210 for the most part. If you watch an episode of either of those shows you’ll see they’re a comedic gold mine. In one single episode, they cover serious crimes, drug problems, sex and working in a law firm and/or gallery, all while being young, hot and skinny.

Dara: And almost any series we were watching in the ’90s, Full House, Saved By the Bell, My So Called Life has very similar themes, archetypes and really stupid-intense drama. We took from a lot of places. 


IFC: How would you describe each of the show’s characters in terms of their ’90s TV stereotype?

Dara: Autumn (Sunita Mani) is the femme fatale. Robin (Dara Katz) is the book worm (because she wears glasses). Candace (Betsy Kenney) is Corey’s twin and gives great advice and has really great hair. Corey (Casey Jost) is the boy next door/popular guy. Candace and Corey’s parents decided to live in a car so the gang can live in their house. 
Lee (Jonathan Braylock) is the jock.

IFC: Why do you think the world is ready for this series?

Dara: Because everyone’s feeling major ’90s nostalgia right now, and this is that, on steroids while also being a totally new, silly thing.

Delight in the whole season of The Place We Live right now on IFC’s Comedy Crib. It’ll take you back in all the right ways.