Yet contrary to what one might expect of such a minimal line, Blechman’s every last pen stroke is purposely, often excruciatingly composed. He has been known to draw dozens of tiny squiggly noses, for instance, on adhesive-backed paper until the right one materializes; then he meticulously cuts it out with an Xacto knife and pastes it onto the image. The final drawing is pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle. And as studied as this process is, the end product is the perfect marriage of comedy and emotion—accomplished through signature gestures.
When Blechman’s art was on its ascent during the late fifties and sixties, he bucked the prevailing style of gag cartoons. With the notable exception of James Thurber’s primitive scrawls and Robert Osborn’s expressionist brush strokes, abstraction was frowned upon. Blechman’s abstract linear economy was innovative, but so were his themes. The 1953 adaptation of The Juggler of Our Lady, which prefigured today’s graphic novels by decades, was not the usual cartoon or comic fare. Likewise, his 1977 No Room at the Inn, a retelling of the nativity myth, was surprisingly warm and spiritual. His drawing is a form of writing and his writing brilliantly complements his drawing.
It is tempting to refer to Blechman’s wit as deadpan, but that designation does not take into account the inherent joy that pervades even the most somber work. His 1966 Christmas Message, broadcast for many years on CBS, is an animated, ecumenical paean to the season that resonates to this day. A lumberjack, standing before a tree, uses his saw as a violin and plays a Christmas carol. In the tree are birds and therein is the tension between holiday tradition, consumerism, and the human condition. In the hands of more slapstick cartoonists the humor might be there, but not the cathartic power.
Blechman is a “perfectionist.” Witness his first feature film, Igor Stravinsky’s heartbreaking The Soldier’s Tale. The intense energy it cost to make the outcome flawless, drained seemingly indefatigable resources. For him, as an independent producer, to engage in such a mammoth undertaking before the age of CGI, showed not only commitment to his art, but also a devotion to narratives that go deep into his persona. This was no easy task. Adapting this tale of war and its ravages to the screen was difficult enough. To make a story compelling with nervously drawn characters took him years. But from the moment it premiered, viewers were pulled into Blechman’s universe. It was not simply an animated rendition of a classic work, it was a total sensory experience that transcended the existing paradigms of animation and filmmaking. And yet it is a cartoon.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
