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a little potter. and his plant. a huge hand. and a statue. one of the most impressive animation. for the simplicity of great art. and for its status of warning. against totalitarian regime. about the resistance against it. about forms of freedom. and its price. so, more than a film. a document. and a testimony. about art as form of free speech in dark ages. this detail does "Ruka " special. a film about fragility. and about its delicate force. as inspired support. for reflection.

At first, it feels like a slightly black, but still innocent enough, surrealist comedy, but it soon declines into total, terrifying darkness that ends on a fittingly somber note. "Ruka" is one of the most influential and intelligent stop motion films ever made as it contains a powerful message that is expressed in an engaging and bizarre manner. It contains a different sort of "horror"...a type of horror rooted in both fantasy and reality, a type of horror that is layered by symbolism, meaning, and freaky animation. The visuals are vibrant in a semi-subtle way, the entire mood clearly influenced the great Jan Svankmajer, and thank God it did because this is the sort of atmospheric I crave when I view a film like this!

"Ruka" may be odd and it may not be the type of film you show your friends for a good laugh, but it is still a vital piece of animation history and quite possibly one of the greatest and scariest movies ever made.

Jiøí Trnka made his last animated short an indictment of totalitarism, which caused him trouble in his native Czechoslovakia. The elements are few, the symbolisms simple, and his trademark ornaments almost absent here, allowing the viewer to concentrate on the fable. A man in his room dedicates to pottery and to take care of his only plant. But suddenly a huge hand enters the room and orders him to make a statue of itself. The man refuses and he's persecuted by the ominous gloved hand. In these days, where the impression of reality factor seems to be erased from most animations that try to replace the real world, it is refreshing to watch a film, which makes its technique part of the enjoyment.

'The Hand (1965)' is a Czech new-wave stop-motion short by Jirí Trnka. It tells the tale of a harlequin sculptor who wants nothing more than to take care of his houseplant and create his art (it seems to be a bowl of some sort). In comes a giant hand demanding the sculptor make a statue in its image, and thus the conflict of the picture begins. The thing can easily be read as an allegory for the communism that the Czech Republic (formerly Czechoslovakia) found itself stifled by in the mid-to-late 20th century. The hand is an oppressive force that wants to make the sculptor conform to his wishes; it utilises a number of techniques, some more underhanded than others, to achieve this goal. Unsurprisingly, this leads to nothing other than tragedy. The sculptor will not allow himself to be controlled, so he fights back at every opportunity he gets. However, his fight ultimately feels a little futile because he's trapped no matter which way you look at it (the choice to have his house be surrounded by a void, almost as if it's the set of this film itself, compounds this). Technically speaking, this short is incredible. The animation is wonderfully fluid and instils a real sense of character to its simple protagonist despite his limitations (he doesn't blink, for example). The escalating interactions between the sculptor and the hand are also surprisingly believable. Plus, there are several visually inspired sequences, such as a 'thought bubble' phone conversation, and a generally engrossing atmosphere. It's a really engaging, entertaining and, ultimately, quietly affecting short film. 8/10.

One of the few truly captivating short films that conveys every plot point or social message as articulately as if spoken but entirely through images and sound.

The animation is slick, eerie and beautiful, the juxtaposition with live action is vivid but still seamless.

A haunting, pertinent and very poignant experience.