At the end of this post, I will post links to view each of the cartoons mentioned here.

I could write this better perhaps, but it’s something that’s been on my mind as I’ve recently come to know someone from Russia, someone who grew up in the USSR, and that same person, a person abused as a child, as many of us have been. As I write this, in fact a bit of European lace curtain sits before me.
The thought is of a cartoon and how a cartoon can bear the weight, hopes, dreams, and disorder of a nation, its culture, its people. I recently came to be exposed to 2 Russian cartoons: the Russian version of Winnie the Pooh, and a lovely, endearing, and sweet small creature named Cheburashka. I quickly came to learn that during Soviet times, they did not produce long-running series, so rather, these 2 cartoons for example, consisted of a couple full-length movies that were cup into a few episodes each. I won’t lie; that was a total BUMMER when I realized I had so quickly seen every episode already.
Yet, what lasting, captivating effect each of these cartoons had, in both their opening and closing sequences, and interspersed throughout each episode. I speak of the music, the aesthetic presented in the cartoons, and the cultivation of the characters. I suspect the same to be true of many European cartoons in general. So much more ARTFUL. Those who know me know how I ADORE Peanuts and Snoopy, and the music was a refreshing glint, but still, what was it but jazz. And, you can use jazz anywhere in the world. It’s the lack of fear to steep these cartoons with their own culture through music, again for instance, heavily, and beautifully, into something seemingly as simple as a cartoon, for children to take in, soak up. And, if you could just take the time to watch an episode of Cheburashka, you would see pop-out whimsical trees amongst the rather cutting-edge (for the Soviet Union) puppetry, much like a dreamy drawing for sale on Etsy.
Soviet Winnie is a very different character from we’re used to. His voice is unpleasant, but he’s kind- but at times slightly conniving, along with Owl. Winnie is eager to visit a “friend”, merely to eat and overstay his welcome. Not hesitating to use a friend’s only balloon to try to float to the top of a tree to obtain honey, as well. And, the WAY he looks and HOW he climbs trees, are just golden. The commentary made by each character is just charming, even in their somewhat chaotic and childish world. What really cuts through in this cartoon to communicate the weight and sadness of the Russian people, in addition to the music used, is the character of Eeyore. If you thought he was depressed, never before have I seen so sorrowful a presentation of the character, one whose view purely glooms. He makes me to cry, in fact.
Let’s talk about Cheburashka, a sweet monkey-like creature discovered sleeping in a crate of oranges that had arrived at some fruit stand in the Soviet Union. While Eeyore, you want to comfort and heal because he is so heavy and you can’t help but immediately think of the hurting Soviet child, as it is a children’s show, Cheburashka is sadness due to effective and affective creation of an entirely childlike character, so untainted by the world, but realizing he does not fit in. Quickly however, we learn that none of his cast-mates really do, and STARVE for companionship. How evident this is, before Cheburashka meets his soon-to-be best friend Gena the crocodile (who “works” as a crocodile in the zoo), in the scene in which he finishes his day’s work, redresses in his distinguished attire, and heads home to play chess with himself, and to “smoke” his pipe, which he uses to produce soap bubbles. He soon pens an ad reading, “Young crocodile seeks friends…”; how moving to the soul, and how as humans, we all relate to this at some level, is this not?
The facial expressions alone of this claymation/puppet show, without words, to me, can speak it all. It seems to me, in their brief run, the creators of each of these cartoons were brilliant, and it was their way of expressing their own sincere sorrow, both by nature given their culture, and of outside forces, their government. Cheburashka is the most sweet-voiced of creatures, and is akin to an orphaned child.
Of course, as I watch these shows or think on them, I think of the aforementioned person I have come to know. What effect then it shows me, that both these shows and this person have on me, given their roots, and the success these shows had in moving a heart. I struggle to reconcile these shows being a part of my friend’s childhood, with the abuse this person also endured in childhood, and it makes me to cry. The cartoons are locked in time, but their effect continues, and my friend is free.
If we look at almost anything, we see that humans have found a way to convey, to express, to free themselves, in the most secret and untouched of places. Looking into the little eyes of Cheburashka, and even of Gena, I see a whole people, and I see their sadness, yearning, and calling for affirmation.