Brent Green has a melodic voice with a soft-spoken inflection and an articulate delivery that belies that he is, in fact, the narrator of his animated films. Rather, the narrator of Green’s shorts does not sound like the soft-spoken, articulate person who is speaking over the phone during the interview, but instead he becomes a fresh-faced and enthusiastic storefront preacher who yells and garbles lines of the story with fervor.
Green first began making films when he decided that a story of his, “Susa’s Red Ears,” would make a good animated film. At the time, he had no drawing or film making experience. After asking a friend who had attended school for comic book drawing, Green set to work on the film, learning as he went along. “At first, I didn’t know that you set it on the floor. I thought you kept it on the wall, like when you watch it,” he says. “And I kept getting frustrated and frustrated because it wouldn’t stay until I realized that you don’t.”
When the film was finished, it was full of uneven edges, unfinished structures and exposed cells that gave it a raw beauty. And when Green showed “Susa’s Red Ears” to others, “[they] said it was really good and that I should send it to people. But I didn’t know who to send it to, so I sent it to bands I like,” he says. Only one band— Califone — replied to Green, and the band’s frontman, Tim Rutili, asked Green to adapt one of his own stories, “Francis,” to film.
The fact that Green chose to send the film to bands instead of filmmakers isn’t surprising. Rather, it’s almost fitting for someone who does not list a single filmmaker under his influences and inspirations, but instead cites a hefty list of authors and musicians who have helped shape his work and how he presents it.
It’s something that carries into most of the screenings of his films can easily be compared to concerts. Many times, the score for the film is played live with Green yelling the story with manic intensity.
These performances are so intense that Green used a recording from one of these for his most recent film, “Hadacol Christmas.” Green tells the story of a misanthropic, eccentric and emaciated Santa Claus who downs cough syrup daily (which happens to contain 40 percent alcohol) and makes seemingly useless inventions in a world occupied by crows and dancing mice. The narration may contain some of Green’s most beautiful and poetic writing, with lines like, “[S]caring the snow to the ground.”
In reality, though, “Hadacol Christmas” was not penned as a Christmas story. Rather, it is ode to Green’s late grandfather, who according to Green, died several times before being revived and is not unlike the feisty protagonist of the film. And while an audience would not pick up on these references, those close to Green were able to. “Everyone in my family who read it was like, ‘Oh, that’s about your grandfather,’” he says.
It’s this kind of further meaning that makes Green’s films so intriguing. There’s always something lurking beyond the surface of the animation — even if the seams of it are exposed.