Street of Crocodiles

This is an incredibly powerful work. Using stop-motion animation, the brothers Quay produce a dark, claustrophobic universe of animated detritus. The events of this universe seem to have meaning, but that meaning is altogether withheld from the viewer.

Devotees of Jan Svankmajer and Kafka, identical twins Stephen and Timothy Quay distill every disturbing dream you've ever had into a decidedly unsettling short film. American by birth, the twins seem European by sensibility and have settled in London to make their films. Street of Crocodiles is one of their better known efforts and is obliquely influenced by Polish writer Bruno Schulz, who published the memoirs of his solitary life under the title, Sklepy Cynamonowe (literally translated as The Cinnamon Shops, although generally known in the English speaking world as Street of Crocodiles). The Quay's short follows a gaunt puppet who is released from his strings as he explores his bizarre surroundings: rooms full of dark shadows, unexplained machinery and strange eyeless dolls. Everything has a sense of decay and Victorian melancholy. There is a notion of a plot, possibly dealing with sexual tension, but really Street of Crocodiles is about establishing a mood and a nightmarish and deeply sinister world. The Quay's use of tracking shots and selective focus is unparallelled in the world of stop motion.

We feel as if we're in a completely different world watching this -- and not necessarily just because of the animation, which is spectacular. It has more to do with the architecture of the images, and the way the camera investigates the space -- you feel as if you're in a shoebox, tinted with brown-gold sepia tones of rot. The way the camera moves is really very striking. For the comparisons to Kafka, I think it's specifically in the dislocation of the image that the Quays bring out his influence. This film is as if Jack Skellington went down the wrong tree. (The eyeless dolls must have influenced "Toy Story"'s horror sequence.) We're in this strange, unfamiliar place, and the camera slides around in very smooth yet jittery movements as if our eyes. We see objects like screws move around on their own, and objects drop calmly as if the sky is falling; our vision is distorted as images of our hero are stretched. I haven't read the Bruno Schulz, so I'm pretty much limited strictly to experiencing this visually. 10/10

I have seen this film numerous times before buying it on dvd this year and I have to say that it's impact has not wavered in the slightest.

Wonderful set design to house the strange, almost nightmarish characters and bodies that only the Brothers Quay could bring to life. The legitstics and reality of this world are unimportant and have no baring on the minimal plot. One is simply asked to believe that this place exists for the ungodly creatures to inhabit. To say that this film brings up moments of some childhood nightmare wihtin us is not far from the truth. But what the Quay Brothers manage to do (for me, anyways) is open up the possibility of worlds never explored within the sub-conscious, to allow oneself to be absorbed by the rust and decay and follow the trails of strings into the darkness, hoping to find some answers to questions you forgot you had.

As soon as I saw this I knew that they had tapped into the dreams that some of us wished we didn't have, but would have been upset had we not had them shown to us to begin with. This is probably the best work by the brothers that you could possibly see.

I've seen this three times, once in 35mm, once in 16mm (or through a dim projector bulb) and once on video. The first time it impressed me, short as it is, as one of the best horror films I'd ever seen, if not the best. The second and third time, to my disappointment, it didn't work very well because I couldn't see it properly. Some of the detail is gossamer-fine and must be seen in a clear print on a theatrical screen (or perhaps a large-screen TV) to be seen at all. The film is elusive enough anyway. Like many of the Quays' films it takes the viewer inside a world of cracked dolls and pieces of antique machinery, where the dolls are victims of totalitarian control. Of the Quays' short films I've seen, this is the most disturbing. It's best seen, I think, apart from the others, as I first saw it. The other major ones are of a piece with it and become somewhat redundant taken in a group. The slighter ones are also somewhat tedious. The general meaning of this is clear enough, but the exact topical application, if there is one, and if it isn't explained by the quotation given, which I didn't recognize, is obscure to me. I also wonder how serious the filmmakers are when they use, and use up, their style and technique on music videos. I prefer to think of this film as I came to it originally, as one of a kind. It's an unnerving experience.