The Fine Art of Keeping Cartoons in Business

As recently as five years ago, there were only three animation studios in Moscow: Soyuzmultfilm, Multelefilm and Pilot. Of these, Pilot was the newest and the least likely to stick to the beaten path. The studio opened in September, 1988, setting up shop in the Church of the Three Saints -- perhaps following the example of the other two studios, which were located in churches as well -- thanks to the gargantuan efforts of its founder, filmmaker Alexander Tatarsky.


Now Moscow has 11 studios dedicated to animation -- firms like Animafilm, 13 and Christmas -- but Pilot, which from its conception was a canny combination of artistic flair and keen business sense, is still at the forefront of the city's animation scene.


Tatarsky made a name for himself in the multfilm world with popular hits like 1980's "The Plasticine Crow," a tale of transformation ripe with humor and with a catchy soundtrack, which he made after leaving Kiev to work for Multelefilm. His ascension to state-approved animation came only after years of creating underground cartoons on an animation stand he had made himself in his determination to churn out films in his own personal style.


Tatarsky's "Tatar-style," as it has come to be known, uses the malleable, imaginative powers unique to animation to create unexpected, magical alterations in his films' characters. Films like "Last Year Snow Was Falling" and "The Other Side of the Moon" find their roots deep in Russian folklore, and are full of mystical mermaids, goblins and other evil spirits.


Even with the added responsibilities of running his own studio, Tatarsky has managed to continue putting out numerous animated films, including the recent stylish remakes, "L'Arriv? d'un train en gare" and "Gone with the Wind."


In addition to Pilot's production studio, which comes out with between five and six new films a year, Tatarsky and his staff also manage their own animation school, a tuition-free education for which competition is extremely stiff. Some of Pilot's graduates have gone on to create their own studios, including Vladislav Barbe's up-and-coming Classics Studio, and many have won prizes at international animation competitions.


One of Tatarsky's students, Mikhail Aldashin, has received awards in Kiev, Montreal and Los Angeles for his three-minute short, "The Coup," a sardonic look at a smiling Boris Yeltsin happily flushing hardliners and tanks alike down a toilet. Aldashin has already been contracted by a Hollywood animation studio, as has Igor Kovalev, a talented artist who, along with Tatarsky, was one of the founders of the Pilot studio. Kovalev, who has signed a one-year contract, is not likely ever to return to Russia, Tatarsky said.


"It's a very complicated problem, determining which Russian artists can fit Western standards," said Anatoly Prokhorov, the director of Pilot's research center, which deals with marketing problems as well as keeping track of international seminars and conferences. "Kovalev has got a bright, surreal perception, which comes through very vividly in his cartoons, and this style is gradually getting more and more popular in American and European animation. Western teenagers admire its sinister quality. Other talented Russian cartoonists, like Oleg Nazarov, whose characters are more charming and sympathetic, aren't likely to do as well there."


Back in Russia, money is a primary concern for Pilot, which like all arts-related organizations is feeling the pinch of the break with the state. The studio breaks its production work into two categories, ideally both money-making: the creative work that will win the studio recognition, and ultimately prize money, in international competitions, and the commercial work, for which studio employees must actively scout out potentially interested clients.


"It's getting more and more difficult to tell these two functions apart," Tatarsky said. "Our commercials are pretty peculiar. We don't take routine orders -- the entire idea and initiative belongs to us. We have our own consultants doing market research and our own people to write the texts for the commercials. Western advertising devices don't really work well with the Russian mentality. I think we've got a better understanding of how to hook our audience. It would be rewarding to make series of commercials for the really huge companies like Coca-Cola or McDonald's, to try and expand their influence on the Russian market."


In the meantime, however, the studio is busying itself with advertising work for businesses like Salamander and Panasonic, charging the lowest prices on the world animation market -- $150 per second and up. For such low fees, Pilot's animation art is exceptionally sophisticated -- many of the studio's artists have already begun adding elements of computer-graphics design to their projects, and Prokhorov said they will be adding a full range of Apple design equipment soon.


"We want to be able to work with every customer, even those who want to produce something relatively small and comfortable," he said.


One final goal of the Pilot studio is somewhat more lofty: Tatarland, a Disneyland-style amusement park, where Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck would be replaced with famous characters from Tatarsky's cartoons. "Kids can play, and parents can enjoy shops and dining -- they can even go to casinos," Tatarsky said enthusiastically, rattling off the sales pitch he usually gives to city authorities. So far there has been no answer, but Tatarsky refuses to give up his dream project just yet.