Constantine Rusanov '01 and Professor of Russian Jane Taubman translated Norstein's speech from the Russian. Norstein focused on the difficulties in translating literature into film as exemplified by his work on "The Overcoat."
"What is the greatest difference between the word and the image?" Norstein asked. "Every word that exists in our memory brings with it a cascade of images. Even if we say the simplest words-chair, table-everyone has his own visual memory of them."
The answer, said Norstein, is that the reader's unique interpretation of the story's visual aspect is lost in film. "The problem is that in film, every image is fixed," he said. "At first you think, 'So what? That's what film is for.' But the problem with this is that the struggle for strong visual imagery imposes on the viewer that image."
According to Norstein, problems also arise when a writer's words don't lend themselves to visual interpretation, "If you take Pushkin's famous line, 'tormented by a spiritual thirst,' how am I going to film that?" he said. "I've given a very coarse example, but when you try to film the literary image, you always end up simplifying things."
Norstein used his interpretation of "The Overcoat" to illustrate the process of turning literature into film, focusing on a not-yet-drawn scene in which the story's hero, Akakii Akakievich, imagines giving his overcoat to one of the letters he loves in order to protect it from the cold.
"Gogol didn't write this scene, but it is in Gogol," said Norstein. "You film what's between the lines. To film a story, you have to find scenes that aren't in the text, but inherent in them."
Norstein's first film, "Hedgehog in the Fog," is the story of a young hedgehog who goes to visit his friend, a bear cub. On the way, he sees a white horse grazing in the fog. He approaches it and loses his way, running into all kinds of creatures, some friendly and some terrifying, as he tries to find his friend. Eventually he makes his way to the bear cub's house; while his friend fusses over him and prepares the tea, the hedgehog stares at the stars, still awestruck by the experience.
"Tale of Tales" is a less straightforward piece. The film is a series of free associations centering around two recurring songs: a lullaby and "Burnt By The Sun," a popular '30s tango. The lullaby's lyrics, roughly paraphrased, are "Sleep, baby, but don't lie too close to the edge of the bed, or the little wolf will steal you while you sleep and take you into the dark woods." The film's hero is the little wolf, who steals a glowing manuscript that turns into a baby.
There is quite a bit of unspoken social commentary in "Tale of Tales." In fact, the only spoken words are the lyrics of the lullaby. We are given several glimpses into a sparely drawn, nostalgic world, contrasted sharply in rendering and action to the world in which the little wolf actually lives. Scenes of men disappearing from the arms of their dance partners, who then receive telegrams describing their wounding or death, and of a child, who is wrenched from his fantasies by a drunken father, reveal a harsh view of Soviet Russia on the part of Norstein-a view that has since dogged his heels and hindered his efforts to fund his animation.