Al enige tijd vraag ik me af of Zdenek Miler, de auteur van Krtek, nog leeft. Een flink aantal filmpjes zijn immers al zo oud! En jawel, hij leeft nog! Een interview van NY Times heeft me (best moeilijk te vinden) informatie over Miler opgeleverd. Geboren in 1921 in Kladno, woont hij nu in een ´bescheiden´ woning in Praag. Wel lijdt hij aan de ziekte van Lyme. Het laatste (62e) boek-filmpje is in 2002 verschenen.
De eerste film verscheen in 1954, over Krtek´s broek. Krtek was bedacht om op een meer speelse manier de totstandkoming van katoenen kleding uit te leggen. Hij is op de figuur van Krtek gekomen toen hij ooit over een molshoop struikelde. Hij was al in de oorlog met animatiefilmpjes begonnen en werkte in het begin bij Jiri Trnka.
Miler heeft Krtek nooit willen verkopen aan bijv. Disney. Hij had wel gehoopt op een doorbraak in de USA, maar die is er (ondanks support van Michael Medved) niet van gekomen. Hij is vooral populair in Duitsland en Japan en natuurlijk Tsjechie.
Volgens mij moet Miler steenrijk zijn, maar het interview met hem laat daar niets over kwijt. Al die merchandising staat immers op zijn naam. Maar uit het interview blijkt dat hij niet echt koud of warm van dit al wordt, hij wil gewoon mooie verhaaltjes maken.
Zdenek Miler, de Tsjechische Dick Bruna?
Overzicht van zijn oevre vind je hier
De complete tekst van het interview uit New York Times in 2004 volgt hier.
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/03/06/international/europe/06FPRO.html
SATURDAY PROFILE
50 Years of Burrowing Gently Into Czech Culture
By IAN FISHER
Published: March 6, 2004
PRAGUE -- In America, anvils were falling. A coyote strapped on Acme
rocket skates. A slobbering duck kept getting his beak blasted off and,
sadly for him, it may actually have been wabbit season. It was quieter
here in 1954, when a frustrated Czech animator went for an evening walk
in the woods searching for his own blockbuster of a cartoon character.
"It was already dark," the animator, Zdenek Miler, now 83, remembers.
"It was kind of hard to see. I tripped over something and I fell. I
turned around to see what I fell on. It was a mole's burrow. I said,
'Here's a good idea.' "
It took three months of artistic tweaking to turn the real animal's
blind face into Krtek, or Little Mole. Over nearly five decades, Krtek
starred in 62 short animated films for children that thrived despite
the complete absence of exploding cigars. Krtek outsells Disney here,
his anatomically incorrect eyes poking out from book bags, puzzles and
pillow cases everywhere.
He is shown around the world, and is especially popular in Germany and
Japan. (A 20-something Iraqi recently turned to goo when he spotted a
foreigner in Baghdad wearing a Krtek T-shirt).
But Krtek never caught on in the United States. Ask why of Mr. Miler
(pronounced miller), or his colleagues in the renowned world of Czech
animation, and they say Krtek may be just too slow for the frantic land
of the Cartoon Network. Krtek films are, in fact, slow, but also
lyrical and so hypnotically distinct that they can feel less like
watching movies than climbing into another human's head. That would be
Mr. Miler's.
"It's an alternate universe, like all of the best animated stuff is,"
Michael Medved, the film critic, who has tried for years to stoke a
Krtek following in America, said in a telephone interview. "But it's an
alternate universe that feels astonishingly refreshing and kind."
Mr. Medved added, "I have always considered Miler to be perhaps the
greatest living animator."
Now feeble from age and Lyme disease, but the vision of a kindly old
man, Mr. Miler is doing something else that few of his American
counterparts would dream of: despite offers, Mr. Miler is refusing to
sell off the rights to Krtek -- similar, in a smaller way, to if Disney
studios had folded when Walt Disney died in 1966. The last Krtek film
was made in 2002. What may be the last Krtek book -- five million have
been sold -- comes out this month.
"If I sold Krtek," he said, "it would be like I killed him."
The truth is that the association between Krtek and his creator, who
meticulously oversaw every frame of his hand-drawn films, may be a
little too close to put up for sale.
"You should be able to say it very simply: You created yourself," said
his wife of 46 years, Emilie, with some combination of love and
impatience, in their modest home in Prague. She then walked out of the
room.
"My wife is allergic to it, because for everyone who comes I have to
tell the story of how I created Krtek," Mr. Miler explained before
recounting his "supernatural" stumble over the mole burrow in 1954. But
near the end of an interview, kept to an hour so as not to tire him, he
conceded that she was right.
"It took me a long time to realize it, but when I draw Krtek I am
drawing myself," he said. "What I mean is that Krtek is the ideal that
should be me. But I can't meet that ideal."
Born in 1921 in Kladno, just west of Prague, Mr. Miler began his work
as an animator while Czechoslovakia was still under Nazi occupation.
After the war he worked as an animator on the first films of Jiri
Trnka, the guru of Czech animators. In 1948 he made his first film,
"The Millionaire Who Stole the Sun," still highly regarded today.
In 1954, while working at Barrandov Studios here, he was assigned to
make a film for children showing how linen is made. He puzzled, feeling
that a fairly dull subject needed to be livened up by a compelling
character. That turned out to be Krtek. Without the budgets of the
American animation studios that Mr. Miler admired so much -- Disney's
"Snow White," he said, is "unbelievable" -- the first Krtek film took
one and a half.
In it, Krtek makes a pair of linen overalls, with help from a frog who
soaks the flax, spiders who spin the yarn, ants who weave the cloth, a
crawfish who cuts the fabric. Krtek changed slightly over time, but the
basics were there: the forest, other animals, a problem Krtek solves
entertainingly.
Zdenka Deitch, head of the Barrandov animation studio, who worked on
the first film, said Krtek was considered a peculiarity amid the
high-art production of Czech animation at the time.
"When I was working on this first film, I didn't get his idea," she
said. But when it was finished, she said, "it was a very charming
film." It won a first prize in the Venice Film Festival in 1957.
This first movie was the only one in which Krtek actually spoke. The
rest were pantomime, apart from a few Czech words and the recorded
giggles of his daughters. That turned out to be convenient for both
Krtek and Mr. Miler: The films sold easily around the world, in 85
countries, and Krtek's adventures became a popular export for the
Communist government.
"Krtek was very important to the regime because it earned them foreign
currency," said Mr. Miler, who did well, too, when capitalism came in
1989 and opened the door to Krtek merchandise.
Mr. Miler said he steered clear of politics, but as Krtek became his
life's work, the films did not shut out the real world, before or after
the fall of Communism. Bureaucrats were poked fun at. He lamented the
destruction of the environment. He showed a rabbit graphically giving
birth. One film had Krtek traveling the world, stunned at an American
mole's superior burrowing technology.
But it was always gentle, like the man.
"He's different," Ms. Deitch said. "He's quiet. He has a few friends.
And otherwise he is living some kind of lonesome life with the
characters that he drew. His whole life was to draw something nice."
At the twilight of his career -- and with little chance of any new
Krtek adventures -- Mr. Miler seems only to wish that Krtek had found an
audience in America. In the mid-1990's, a collection of the films was
released there and praised by fans like Mr. Medved. But there never was
a market, baffling to fans who admire Krtek for his sweetness without
saccharine.
"Pretty much the whole world knows Krtek," Mr. Miler said. "America,
which is usually first in everything, is last in this."
"I always look at American history," he said, "and it is a very hard
one. People came. They conquered a continent. They suffered hardships,
and that hardship is reflected in its movies. I look at children there
and think what they are watching is a reflection of that hardness. If
you look at America, it is epic. Whereas here, it is more poetic. I
feel here there is more lyricism." [afbeelding]
De eerste film verscheen in 1954, over Krtek´s broek. Krtek was bedacht om op een meer speelse manier de totstandkoming van katoenen kleding uit te leggen. Hij is op de figuur van Krtek gekomen toen hij ooit over een molshoop struikelde. Hij was al in de oorlog met animatiefilmpjes begonnen en werkte in het begin bij Jiri Trnka.
Miler heeft Krtek nooit willen verkopen aan bijv. Disney. Hij had wel gehoopt op een doorbraak in de USA, maar die is er (ondanks support van Michael Medved) niet van gekomen. Hij is vooral populair in Duitsland en Japan en natuurlijk Tsjechie.
Volgens mij moet Miler steenrijk zijn, maar het interview met hem laat daar niets over kwijt. Al die merchandising staat immers op zijn naam. Maar uit het interview blijkt dat hij niet echt koud of warm van dit al wordt, hij wil gewoon mooie verhaaltjes maken.
Zdenek Miler, de Tsjechische Dick Bruna?
Overzicht van zijn oevre vind je hier
De complete tekst van het interview uit New York Times in 2004 volgt hier.
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/03/06/international/europe/06FPRO.html
SATURDAY PROFILE
50 Years of Burrowing Gently Into Czech Culture
By IAN FISHER
Published: March 6, 2004
PRAGUE -- In America, anvils were falling. A coyote strapped on Acme
rocket skates. A slobbering duck kept getting his beak blasted off and,
sadly for him, it may actually have been wabbit season. It was quieter
here in 1954, when a frustrated Czech animator went for an evening walk
in the woods searching for his own blockbuster of a cartoon character.
"It was already dark," the animator, Zdenek Miler, now 83, remembers.
"It was kind of hard to see. I tripped over something and I fell. I
turned around to see what I fell on. It was a mole's burrow. I said,
'Here's a good idea.' "
It took three months of artistic tweaking to turn the real animal's
blind face into Krtek, or Little Mole. Over nearly five decades, Krtek
starred in 62 short animated films for children that thrived despite
the complete absence of exploding cigars. Krtek outsells Disney here,
his anatomically incorrect eyes poking out from book bags, puzzles and
pillow cases everywhere.
He is shown around the world, and is especially popular in Germany and
Japan. (A 20-something Iraqi recently turned to goo when he spotted a
foreigner in Baghdad wearing a Krtek T-shirt).
But Krtek never caught on in the United States. Ask why of Mr. Miler
(pronounced miller), or his colleagues in the renowned world of Czech
animation, and they say Krtek may be just too slow for the frantic land
of the Cartoon Network. Krtek films are, in fact, slow, but also
lyrical and so hypnotically distinct that they can feel less like
watching movies than climbing into another human's head. That would be
Mr. Miler's.
"It's an alternate universe, like all of the best animated stuff is,"
Michael Medved, the film critic, who has tried for years to stoke a
Krtek following in America, said in a telephone interview. "But it's an
alternate universe that feels astonishingly refreshing and kind."
Mr. Medved added, "I have always considered Miler to be perhaps the
greatest living animator."
Now feeble from age and Lyme disease, but the vision of a kindly old
man, Mr. Miler is doing something else that few of his American
counterparts would dream of: despite offers, Mr. Miler is refusing to
sell off the rights to Krtek -- similar, in a smaller way, to if Disney
studios had folded when Walt Disney died in 1966. The last Krtek film
was made in 2002. What may be the last Krtek book -- five million have
been sold -- comes out this month.
"If I sold Krtek," he said, "it would be like I killed him."
The truth is that the association between Krtek and his creator, who
meticulously oversaw every frame of his hand-drawn films, may be a
little too close to put up for sale.
"You should be able to say it very simply: You created yourself," said
his wife of 46 years, Emilie, with some combination of love and
impatience, in their modest home in Prague. She then walked out of the
room.
"My wife is allergic to it, because for everyone who comes I have to
tell the story of how I created Krtek," Mr. Miler explained before
recounting his "supernatural" stumble over the mole burrow in 1954. But
near the end of an interview, kept to an hour so as not to tire him, he
conceded that she was right.
"It took me a long time to realize it, but when I draw Krtek I am
drawing myself," he said. "What I mean is that Krtek is the ideal that
should be me. But I can't meet that ideal."
Born in 1921 in Kladno, just west of Prague, Mr. Miler began his work
as an animator while Czechoslovakia was still under Nazi occupation.
After the war he worked as an animator on the first films of Jiri
Trnka, the guru of Czech animators. In 1948 he made his first film,
"The Millionaire Who Stole the Sun," still highly regarded today.
In 1954, while working at Barrandov Studios here, he was assigned to
make a film for children showing how linen is made. He puzzled, feeling
that a fairly dull subject needed to be livened up by a compelling
character. That turned out to be Krtek. Without the budgets of the
American animation studios that Mr. Miler admired so much -- Disney's
"Snow White," he said, is "unbelievable" -- the first Krtek film took
one and a half.
In it, Krtek makes a pair of linen overalls, with help from a frog who
soaks the flax, spiders who spin the yarn, ants who weave the cloth, a
crawfish who cuts the fabric. Krtek changed slightly over time, but the
basics were there: the forest, other animals, a problem Krtek solves
entertainingly.
Zdenka Deitch, head of the Barrandov animation studio, who worked on
the first film, said Krtek was considered a peculiarity amid the
high-art production of Czech animation at the time.
"When I was working on this first film, I didn't get his idea," she
said. But when it was finished, she said, "it was a very charming
film." It won a first prize in the Venice Film Festival in 1957.
This first movie was the only one in which Krtek actually spoke. The
rest were pantomime, apart from a few Czech words and the recorded
giggles of his daughters. That turned out to be convenient for both
Krtek and Mr. Miler: The films sold easily around the world, in 85
countries, and Krtek's adventures became a popular export for the
Communist government.
"Krtek was very important to the regime because it earned them foreign
currency," said Mr. Miler, who did well, too, when capitalism came in
1989 and opened the door to Krtek merchandise.
Mr. Miler said he steered clear of politics, but as Krtek became his
life's work, the films did not shut out the real world, before or after
the fall of Communism. Bureaucrats were poked fun at. He lamented the
destruction of the environment. He showed a rabbit graphically giving
birth. One film had Krtek traveling the world, stunned at an American
mole's superior burrowing technology.
But it was always gentle, like the man.
"He's different," Ms. Deitch said. "He's quiet. He has a few friends.
And otherwise he is living some kind of lonesome life with the
characters that he drew. His whole life was to draw something nice."
At the twilight of his career -- and with little chance of any new
Krtek adventures -- Mr. Miler seems only to wish that Krtek had found an
audience in America. In the mid-1990's, a collection of the films was
released there and praised by fans like Mr. Medved. But there never was
a market, baffling to fans who admire Krtek for his sweetness without
saccharine.
"Pretty much the whole world knows Krtek," Mr. Miler said. "America,
which is usually first in everything, is last in this."
"I always look at American history," he said, "and it is a very hard
one. People came. They conquered a continent. They suffered hardships,
and that hardship is reflected in its movies. I look at children there
and think what they are watching is a reflection of that hardness. If
you look at America, it is epic. Whereas here, it is more poetic. I
feel here there is more lyricism." [afbeelding]