A delightful moment of pageantry from THE EMPEROR’S NIGHTINGALE, the centerpiece of Image Entertainment’s must-have DVD THE PUPPET FILMS OF KIRI TRNKA.
actually a combination of two separate programs, despite packaging to the contrary. THE PUPPET FILMS OF JIRI TRNKA collects five of the best short films in which the artist was involved (not all of them are “puppet” films, nor did all of them feature Trnka as director), as well as a documentary overview. “Story of the Bass Cello” [Ro­
man s Basou, 1949; 13m 3s] is a stop-motion puppet rendition of a popular story by Anton Chekhov in which a concert cel­ list, on his way to a command performance, finds himself at an embarrassing disadvantage when he stops for a bath in a river— only to have every stitch of his clothing stolen. Complicating the matter is the presence of the very noblewoman for whom he was to perform—caught in the very same predicament. With a large
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cello case providing the only available cover, the two must somehow make it back to the palace. Trnka’s characters, re­ sembling lovingly-painted an­ tique dolls, convey the story beautifully, silently and humor­ ously—John Cleese and Connie Booth went through the same paces (rather more explicitly) in the live-action short ROMANCE WITH A DOUBLE BASS (1974). “The Song of the Prairie”
[Arie Prerie, 1949; 21m 3s] is Trnka at his most broadly comic; it’s a puppet spoof of Hollywood Westerns that fre­ quently reaches insanity on a Tex Avery level. The singing cowboy, the damsel in distress, the sneering, mustachioed vil­ lain and the besieged stagecoach are all there, and the sight gags fly as fast as the bullets. Particu­ larly funny is a plunge into a
chasm so deep that the victim has plenty of time to weigh his options—wind up as buzzard bait or take a bottle of poison on the way down? “The Merry Circus” (1 lm 7s;
1951) was constructed entirely of colorful paper cutouts set to motion by Trnka. There’s no plot to speak of—just a succession of charming “acts” by acrobats, clowns and animals; some of which would be quite difficult to duplicate in real life. The lack of a third dimension hinders Trnka not at all. The animator subsequently
lent his puppetry talents to di­ rector Bretislav Pojar for “A Drop Too Much” [O sklenicu vie, 1954; 13m 49s], the sad, cau­
tionary tale of a motorcycle tour­ ist who allows poor judgment to get the better of him at a road­ side tavern while en route to visit
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