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To clear the record and correct you all. Bob Gardiner wrote, directed, and made Closed Mondays and California Raisons. Vinton claimed both films along with many others that Gardiner made. Vinton in no small way contributed to Gardiner's decline in later years and helped to cut down one of the greatest minds in the history of stop motion animation. Vinton was a partner in these projects, but its Gardiner's vision and execution that gave the world these films. Please, if you are to discuss these films further, give Bob Gardiner the credit he deserves and thank him, not Vinton, for Closed Mondays. Thank you for time and enjoy this great piece of stop motion animation.

I saw this film on video when I was about seven years old. It was on a tape of various animated shorts, including "Sundae in New York". This was the last film to play, and I have to say I was astounded. Even as a child, I admired the haunting beauty of the animation, and the simple but surreal plot line. I already was a fan of Wil Vinton's work in "Return to Oz", but this film showed a unique creativity that still affects me to this day. I think that it is a crime that it is not available on DVD, and should be offered alongside some of Jan Svankmajer's work. The end (which I will not reveal) still makes me wonder about the nature of the man in the museum.

The 1974 winner of Best Animated Short depicts a man looking at artwork that appears to come to life. I especially liked the malfunctioning computer. One might interpret Will Vinton's "Closed Mondays" as a look at the relationship between humanity and the art that we produce. There's even the question of how to define art. I wouldn't call this my favorite Will Vinton cartoon, but I enjoyed it. Personally I don't think that enough people get to see the nominated animated shorts. They tend to be far more interesting than the features voiced by the celebrities of the moment.

Anyway, this one is worth seeing. It's too bad that Phil Knight took over Will Vinton's studio and fired Vinton from it.

It's been 25 years since Closed Mondays was released, and at least 20 since I've seen it... so my fond memories of this short are a testament to it's lasting impact. I too lament it's unavailability on video. I just saw the Wallace and Gromit series, and would love to see Closed Mondays again to remember all the little details.

I've always preferred traditional animation to stop-motion/claymation. Whether it's Wilfred Jackson's 'The Old Mill (1937)' or Chuck Jones' 'What's Opera, Doc?,' classic animation indefinitely retains its timelessness and the ability to transport the viewer into a visual dimension entirely different from our own. When done correctly, claymation can, of course, be equally effective, but I didn't find this to be the case in 'Closed Mondays (1974),' an Oscar-winning short directed by Bob Gardiner and Will Vinton. When I looked at the old man in the art gallery, I wasn't transported into the film's world, but, rather, I recognised the character as a mass of shifting clay – several inches in height – and grimaced wryly as he shuffled across the floor in a completely awkward and unrealistic gait. The film contains some interesting ideas, but the animation is accomplished so clumsily that I was barred from entering its world; if films like 'A Grand Day Out with Wallace and Gromit (1989)' and 'Harvie Krumpet (2004)' were able to avoid these complications, then I'm less willing to cut this one some slack.

Nevertheless, I was certainly impressed with what 'Close Mondays' had to say about the nature of art. To consider each picture frame as a window into another world, filled with animate people and objects, is to add a new dimension to how one critically evaluates art. A masterpiece should possess the ability to make itself come to life before our eyes, and it is up to the viewer to contemplate the meaning of what we are seeing, and the events that might have led towards the image depicted in a painting. The frame of the lonely maid, forever condemned to solemnly scrub the cold stone floor, is almost heartbreaking in its poignancy; if only the remainder of the artworks were just as meaningful {I'm still trying to decide what that metamorphic super-computer was all about}. And, of course, I enjoyed the ending, confirming that behind every piece of art there is considerably more than initially meets the eye, an entire story just waiting to be told… even if nobody is watching.