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The Adventures of Mark Twain

"There go those two unaccountable freaks."

A handcrafted work of art evokes a real sense of wonder: look at this! Look at all the care that went into it!

In The Adventures of Mark Twain, a claymation children’s film from 1985 that combines “suicidal Mark Twain” with “steampunk adventure” and “short story adaptations,” there’s an early scene that is, for me, roughly as breathtaking as the Grand Canyon. It’s when the camera gives us an awestruck tour of Twain’s Halley’s Comet-bound airship.

Usually, when films stall their story to show off their artistry, I’m annoyed. Not so here.

To be fair, that’s partly because when the story starts, it spends a while as little more than three kids—Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, and Becky Thatcher—droning leaden dialogue at each other and doing dumb, joyless kid things without any enlivening Twain spark. I don’t mind delaying that in favor to “here’s a tour of our claymation set.” (The story gets livelier as it goes, especially once we get a few more voices in the mix.)

But mostly, this works because the detail is so comprehensive and endearing. Tiny billiard balls! A little armchair! Books! An ornate clock! Clay water spilling out of an opened copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn! Before our eyes, a pocket watch melts into the shape of a turtle!

This is as much spectacle as any IMAX vista, and it’s impossible for me to divorce the experience of watching it from my admiration of the people who made it. It doesn’t look so real that I forget myself: it looks so handmade that I want to reach out and touch it. It’s unmistakably art, but it’s brought down to earth: the kind of movie that makes me marvel at how they did that and makes me want to do it too. The clay modeling here may not be perfect—aside from Twain and Eve, the people all look a bit janky, expressive or not—but it’s tactile, evocative, and lovable. When “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” ends with a frog getting turned upside down so an entire junkyard’s worth of scrap can pour out of him, the movie hits an ecstatic combination of animated inventiveness and live action tactility. It’s what this medium is for.

The story, as I implied above, doesn’t always work as well as the art, but that goes too far into damning it with faint praise. The “Extracts from Adam’s Diary” two-parter, featuring a sitcom-y Adam and Eve who gradually grow through a somewhat stale, sitcom-y relationship and into a long partnership full of real marriage, is a highlight1, and the movie also benefits from pulling in a fair number of real-life Twain quotes. One of them is on a magnet on my fridge.

The most memorable piece here leads Tom, Huck, and Becky to the Mysterious Stranger, a Satan whose eeriness—two voices blended together with a wavery seam still purposely showing; a white mask held up over empty space—is, though subtle, an uncanny mini-masterpiece of horror. The Mysterious Stranger has an icily solipsistic disconnect (“I can do no wrong, for I do not know what it is”) from both his creations and his cruelty, and while vestiges of the anti-theology in Twain’s fiction shows through here, in the movie’s own context, he feels more powerfully like a metaphor for Twain’s implied depression: “Nothing exists, save empty space and you.” No wonder Twain doesn’t join the children in that particular story. He knows it already, even better than he knows the other tales.

The framework here, after all, involves an aged Twain wanting to “go out” with Halley’s Comet, which was also in the sky when he was born. The card at the opening tells us that Twain did die the year the comet returned, so we know what to expect, but the way this old man speeds to death, and how he feels about it, still matters to us. The kids, understandably, are worried about whether he’ll take them with him; viewers can also wonder if this will feel like an exhausted, grief-stricken suicide—a widower with writer’s block and little remaining interest in the world—or a peaceful, curious embrace of whatever comes next.

The movie resolves that tension, as much as it can, with a little Star Trek-like flair, and it still makes time to thumb its nose at the irritating Tom Sawyer in its final moments. All of this feels like enough for any minor children’s classic.

  1. Which is to say that I cried, but thinking of the end of that book has been an easy way to make myself cry ever since I first read it. ↩︎

The Adventures of Mark Twain is streaming on Kanopy, Tubi, and Amazon Prime.