Your blue meteorite is flying. Before the Blue Meteorite, Anatoly Petrov directed only two works (although he acted as an animator in another twenty-two, or perhaps even more), and in both cases they were very... feature films. Artistic – not in the sense in which this word is used in relation to gaming (as a synonym for “game”), but in the sense of “relevant to the visual arts”. For example, “Behemoth” from the collection “Kaleidoscope-68” refers to the graphics of Picasso, and “Dispersed Giovanni” – to the works of Fernand Leger. “Blue Meteorite” was also inspired by works of painting – contrary to the claims of Wikipedia, not hyperrealism, but rather pop art by Andy Warhol – with unusual color solutions, acid-looking colors, lack of clear outline, making human figures seem only slightly formed shadows, sets of bright spots. This creates a very interesting effect, especially in motion: a modern look, spoiled by animation with a clear line, sometimes can not immediately distinguish the acting character from the background - only by his movements, but the drawing does not create the impression of unfinished. Obviously, this is a style that would seem psychedelic and annoying in more footage, and here, in the framework of the cartoon crumb from the collection “Merry Carousel”, he feels at his plate.
But how can such a visual decision be perceived by an unprepared viewer, especially a child?
Well, why not? Another thing is that such a visual solution contrasts strongly with the idea and atmosphere of the film: pop art is rarely used in thoughtful metaphysical paintings, even if they are supposed to be a positive motivating tale for younger audiences (“So, while it races, hurry to learn”). And to perceive otherwise “Blue meteorite” does not work physically: because of the solemn reading of Maria Babanova, the music of Sandor Kallosh (something resembling music from the more action “Secrets of the Third Planet”), semi-vague characters and the central image of the whole film – a blue meteorite, lonely plowing the cosmic vacuum. And the cartoon is directed in such a way that the loneliness of the main character and the phenomenon of a blue meteorite come to the fore not as a precious find, but as something wonderful and literally alien, not an artifact that should go to the main character, but something that people do not yet understand. Perhaps they will understand if they study and become astrophysicists, but not necessarily.
Interestingly, no one usually deals with the problem of film adaptation of poems, and in fact “Blue meteorite” can be a great material for this kind of research. After all, it must be incredibly interesting to trace, to discover how a sweet poem about an accessible (necessarily reachable!) dream turns into a poetry of cosmic loneliness and collision with the beautiful, but inevitable.
Isn't that true?