The animation industry’s flaws are well-known; archaic formats pressure creators whose works are further diluted by production committees with financial incentives. They invest in safety while sacrificing quality with notoriously spartan scheduling. Animators are paid pennies and are overworked — sometimes fatally — on their labor-heavy jobs. The business runs largely on passion, but I wonder: how often creators are doing what they love?
Short animation breaks free from those commercial shackles. The unadulterated creativity compensates for its innate limited narrative range. In fact, time constraints are often strengths for idiosyncratic creators whose ideas are unfeasible in longer formats. An expanding market spurred by an increased level of access allowed many animators with unique voices to flourish. Standing out individually has become harder than ever, but that competition means there’s no shortage of amazing animation waiting to be uncovered on goldmines like YouTube and Vimeo. Animation is at its purest when there’s no reason for compromise and I hope It’s Bunsnax can help you find a way into these bite-sized adventures!
Cencoroll
2009
studio Think Corporation (Japan)
dir. Atsuya Uki
Adapted from the award-winning one shot Amon Game by Uki
27 minutes
The most famous one-man anime project goes by the name of Cencoroll. With financial backing from the now-defunct Anime Innovation Tokyo, Atsuya Uki managed to adapt his award-winning one-shot Amon Game all by himself. Cencoroll is a bright example of independent animation’s strengths: all of its 27 minutes is one artist’s uncompromised vision, from its enigmatic worldbuilding to an iconic flat visual style.
Cencoroll‘s setting raises many questions, and it might frustrate viewers how little the 27-minute movie answers. The film’s sparse sound direction and plain character designs exude a sense of normalcy which sometimes feels detached from the alien spectacle. The main cast’s muted — yet detailed — performances keep it grounded as to immerse the viewer better into the worldbuilding. The homely atmosphere paired with Uki’s meticulous background art are captivating, and once the viewer is fully eased in is when Cencoroll starts violently morphing.
It’s remarkable how Atsuya Uki adapts and reaps the benefits of animation without sacrificing his strengths as an illustrator. Amon Game struggled to convey motion with its chaotic panels, but anime’s larger canvas keeps movement understandable in ambitious compositions. Despite Uki’s inexperience, he has a strong sense for pretty shots and makes sure to incorporate lots of objects in the background to always convey scale. While Cencoroll confidently lingers in its backdrops, it has no trouble exploding into animation. They are fierce bursts; like the alien creatures’ fluid morphing or flying debris after one of many violent impacts.
Cencoroll‘s tremendous success caused Atsuya Uki’s popularity to soar, to the detriment of the sequel’s production. Animating an entire painstakingly detailed short-length film was already a herculean task, but now he had to juggle other responsibilities along with it. It wasn’t until after Cencoroll‘s ten-year anniversary that its sequel was released in a joint screening aptly titled Cencoroll Connect.
It’s easy to see why part two took that long to materialize. Uki still doesn’t cut corners or sacrifice frames to what isn’t directly his vision. In fact, he ambitiously doubles down in Cencoroll 2‘s 48-minute runtime. The sequel takes a longer time fleshing out its narrative and increases the mystery by introducing new characters, each with their own controllable alien. Cencoroll Connect‘s epilogue announced a much-needed part three whose ten-second preview already raises new questions. Hopefully, it doesn’t take another ten years before I can cover that installment; I can’t wait to reside in the beauty of Atsuya Uki’s flat world once again.
Hinata no Aoshigure (Rain in the Sunshine)
2013
studio Colorido (Japan)
dir. Hiroyasu Ishida (Penguin Highway, Poretto no Isu)
18 minutes
It took only a decade for studio Colorido to evolve into a powerhouse. Producer Hideo Uda founded the studio without a particular artistic vision, instead focusing on its business ventures. Uda figured that if he shielded his employees from bad industry practices, eventually their creativity would develop Colorido’s identity. And they did! Newcomer Hiroyasu “tete” Ishida, who gained popularity in 2009 with Fumiko’s Confession, quickly became the leading director because of his imaginative vision and all-round skillset. His talents were bolstered by Yojiro Arai, who blossomed into an incredible background artist during his tenure at Ghibli. That tag team was responsible for Colorido’s co-debut: Hinata no Aoshigure, localized as Rain in the Sunshine, whose style indicates what the studio came to be.
Colorido differentiate themselves by digitizing nearly every step of their production. Their time-efficient processes free up resources poured into character movement, which is necessary for Hinata no Aoshigure‘s motion heavy storyboards. Ishida benefits greatly from digital developments: he thrives in 3D spaces with his crazy dynamic camerawork and he uses loads of CG objects to create rich compositions when needed.
Hinata no Aoshigure is cheerful with Haruko Nobori’s coloring and silly character acting through which it develops its cast. Hinata is in perpetual motion through his facial expressions, hair flowing in the wind, or by stumbling literally head over heels for Shigure. Ishida taps further into the movie’s joviality by connecting the visuals to Hinata’s feelings: he finds peace through drawing, his comfort zones turn gloomy with him, and in his mind he’s flying after a train on a big swan when really he’s chasing a car on foot. Soaring through the skies and backed to a power-pop soundtrack, Hinata conjures an entire world filled with organic elements that contrast his reality: birds versus vehicles and vegetation on asphalt. While Ishida’s photography suggests Hinata’s imagination is greater than the movie can present, it’s still memorable because its landmarks like the helipad building or train ramp are used for great setpieces. Even the lamppost Hinata walks into is integral in creating that immersive space.
Technical jargon aside, ‘feeling’ is ultimately the most important factor in anime and Hinata no Aoshigure has got that in spades. It feels like an adaptation of a happy picture book, yet is crafted perfectly for its medium. The visuals and story are reminiscent of Ghibli, but charming enough to not feel derivative. It’s a self-celebratory 18 minutes wherein an artist overcomes obstacles by drawing strength from the world he conjures. Hinata no Aoshigure simply radiates a passion true to the studio’s founding philosophy: Colorido has become a place where creators make what they love.
SpongeBob Anime Ep1: Bubble Bass Arc
2020
Newgrounds (United States)
dir. Narmak
15 minutes
Watch on YouTube or Newgrounds
A clever parody was born amidst the heightening popularity of SpongeBob memes and anime. In 2017 independent animator Narmak caught lightning in a bottle by crossing Bikini Bottom’s iconic denizens through an overly serious shounen lens. Despite SpongeBob OP1‘s brevity and rough edges it became a hit all over social media, now sitting at 18 million views on YouTube.
Narmak returned three years later with a full fledged and massively improved 15-minute episode. Bubble Bass Arc is a testament to his artistic growth, especially comparing it to his previous outings. His older openings are novel proof-of-concepts that struggle honing in on their fragmented ideas, contrary to the concise OP3 included in this episode. Narmak paces himself better with his increasingly dynamic editing. These tighter storyboards replaced slowly panning head shots with fighting cuts and other movement while blazing through the character cast and their respective juxtapositions. It’s a near professionally refined opening that succeeds in feeling like part of a larger series.
Bubble Bass Arc is a labor of love. It’s entirely solo-animated and not without shortcomings, but Narmak is evidently a studious director. He grasps the essence of iconic layouts and creatively strings them together into confident storyboards. By recycling commonplace shounen settings the viewer doesn’t need to familiarize themselves, which gives the script greater leeway to reimagine SpongeBob’s characters and gags. The first half is especially rife with hilarious recontextualizations: Squidwards‘ pessimism here is an inferiority complex to foil SpongeBob’s protagonism, whereas Mr. Krabs is a secretive mentor past his best days opposing typical shounen main character naivete. Sandy and Patrick get little screen time but still fulfill side cast archetypes without straying far from the original series’ intentions. Bubble Bass Arc continuously takes those clever angles to successfully parody SpongeBob, and steadily distills nearly every shounen trope along the way. Perhaps it exhausts too much inspiration here to make an additional episode worthwhile, but Bubble Bass Arc stands on its own legs as an exemplary way to conduct a parody.
The Bunnykill series
2005-2011
Newgrounds (United States)
dir. Juuso “Mottis” Andelin
68 minutes in total
Watch on Newgrounds
For my first Its Bunsnax article, I have to pay respects to a childhood classic. Bunnykill is a series of Flash animations about bunnies slicing and exploding through waves of generic enemies, a concept Mottis admits he owes to fellow Newgrounds hit Madness. Bunnykill differentiates itself from its inspiration with cutesy bunny designs and vibrant coloring, which always makes it easier and more enjoyable to parse the dense action scenes. Its style remained consistent through the years, but there is very noticeable creative growth over each installment. While the original was just a homage, by part four Bunnykill had grown into its own as more varied setpieces came into play, and the action choreography became increasingly elaborate. Each entry is more dynamic than the last, with so much happening across the screen that it necessitates rewatching. That is no punishment: Bunnykill managed to stay amusingly ‘badass’ through its run despite being so edgy you could cut yourself on it. Unfortunately, Mottis hasn’t uploaded since the 2011 finale and formally announced his animation retirement this year, admitting Bunnykill has become incompatible with his personal life. It’s a shame we won’t witness another leap in quality for this constantly evolving series, but Mottis can look back proudly on the 7 million views he amassed.
Mochibei
2005
independent (Japan)
dir. Keita Kurosaka (Agitated Screams of Maggots, My Face)
1 minute
Watch on YouTube
Mochibei (“Fatass“) has always dangled at the deep depths of anime rating sites. Its reputation as a ‘shock film’ is unsurprising, given how abrasive and viscerally disgusting it is. However, Mochibei’s unpleasant nature is not some sick joke, but instead an insight into the suffering of someone with body dysmorphia. Our point of view is like that of a mirror as we face a disfigured and disturbed entity yelling curses while banging their head against the camera. No matter how much they change or cry, Mochibei finds their face so unbearably ugly it drives them to suicide. It’s a deeply unsettling one minute movie which you’ll probably hate, but that’s exactly what Mochibei wants you to feel.
MEGAWATCH 