THE BELIEVER READER

Animation couldn't be more appropriately named in Don Hertzfeldt's case. He does exactly that. He creates curious beings and animates them, gives them life, and then swiftly leads them to their demise. Unlike the violence that descends upon other animated characters, Hertzfeldt's characters die, presumably because what is happening to the character is more important than the character itself. The fuzzballs, the humanoid bananas, the aliens, the indistinct people have no identifying traits, no personalities.

In fact, Hertzfeldt's characters are more akin to lab rats than they are to Mickey Mouse. They are simply set down in a stark landscape with nothing more than their quickly developing deformities and maladies to entertain themselves. They stare blankly into the distance or at one another until something happens, typically something terrible, unforseen, unforseeable. They are guinea pigs, made to be burned, crushed, beaten and torn apart simply to see what reactions are exhibited, what humor can be gotten out of their fantastic pain.

Perhaps Hertzfeldt takes so much painstaking care in creating them because it allays the guilt of their destruction. Or perhaps they are destroyed precisely because the power inherent in that action is inversely equal to the power of creation, thereby maintaining some kind of co(s)mic equilibrium.

Whatever the case, Don Hertzfeldt and his suffering creations rule.