A rare film from Georgia Film's 1960s period, during which the studio was transitioning from the Stalinist to the post-Stalinist era. This period seems to be more poorly attested than the ones before or after... for example, this film seems to survive only in black & white (though I assume it was originally in colour). So far, this is the only Georgian cartoon from this period on the site, and might be one of their earliest puppet films. At around the same time, puppet films began to be created in other Soviet animation studios as well. Also, unlike all the earlier Georgian cartoons I've seen, this one doesn't have fantastical elements (well... except for the doctor somehow managing to re-attach the boy's leg after it has been ripped clean off!)

The 1965 date (which I've only found on the Arjlover forum) does seem more likely than the 1958 date which is almost everywhere else online, given that Sulakauri's biography says that he began to direct in 1964, and there is conspicuously a missing film in 1965. Still, it would be nice to see some more evidence...

Travancore originated from a misreading by the British when they first arrived in Thiruvithamkoor Kingdom [t̪iɾuʋid̪aːŋɡuːr], in what is now the Indian state of Kerala. The real meaning of the story is the origin of the formation of the universe. Asians believe that all things were created by the endless struggle of forces in the universe. However, that does not mean that Indians worship violence and war, but it explains that the universe would die if it remained in a state of inactivity.

This poem belongs to a genre that Vietnamese people often call "vè" (an onomatopoeic and almost meaningless word, it always begins every poem : Ve vẻ vè ve). It always rhymes and is repeated to help children practice their enunciation.

One of those really sweet Soviet cartoons that were made to encourage children to be kind.

By the way, I had to do some odd adjusting of the existing subtitles for the new video link. I'm going to detail the process below both as a reference for myself in the future, and to help others do the same if needed.

So, first I found two lines of dialogue near the beginning and the end that could be directly compared:
Line 1 at 01:29,500 in the old video is heard at 01:26,500 in the new video.
Line 2 at 05:19,500 in the old video is heard at 05:11,000 in the new video.

Assuming m = multiplier and o = offset, and converting the times to seconds, one gets two equations ("new" time is to the left of the equal sign):
86.5 = (m * 89.5) + o
311 = (m * 319.5) + o

Now to find the multiplier:
(311 - 86.5) = m * (319.5 - 89.5)
224.5 = m * 230
m = 224.5/230 = 0.9761 (roughly) = 24.4/25 (roughly)

And finally to find the offset (using either one of those two equations):
86.5 = (0.9761 * 89.5) + o
86.5 = 87.3 + o
o = -0.8 seconds

Just to double-check, I also found a place in the middle (at around 3:11 in the new video), and the dialogue matches there as well. Sometimes this method doesn't work very well because a bit of footage has been cut out in one of the versions (some theatres used to remove damaged sections, so the film would suddenly jump), but even then it's usually possible to get away with it.

So apparently the new video runs almost half a frame-per-second faster than the old one, although both are supposedly 25 frames per second. I have no idea what's going on here, but at least everything is synced now, without having to redo all the old subtitles (which I try to avoid if possible - I prefer to update them only for textual changes, not simply for a slightly differently-timed version of a film. Otherwise we'd have to update everything far too frequently).

Cynir tried to add a duplicate entry for this film; here are his plot summary and my comments below:
>There was a priest who killed his beloved dog just because the pet ate a piece of sausage. He immediately regretted it and decided to write on the fence in the hope of exorcising his guilt. That action took him traveling around the world. And when he returned home, he found a scene of devastation in his own house.

>The true meaning of the film is about the maturity in each person's perception, knowing how to put aside small benefits to do great things. However, it probably violated some principles of children's cinema censorship, and was therefore banned by the Soviet government. The film only really came to public attention during the Perestroyka, but unfortunately it remained shunned for decades. It wasn't until 2021 that an anonymous user scanned and uploaded the film to RuTracker with Soyuzmultfilm's approval. It immediately attracted the attention of the film community and led to a debate about its content.

I haven't found any support for the assertion that this cartoon was banned for the government; in fact the LostMedia wiki entry has some quotes from people mentioning that they saw it in a movie theatre at the time in a compilation with other animated shorts in the early 1980s (so certainly not during Perestroika). Although it is true that the film had not been released on home video or digitized since... but it is hardly unique in that.

Also, I've seen no evidence that that user who scanned and posted it (not to RuTracker initially) had Soyuzmultfilm's approval, though they haven't objected either... so who knows.

Nor have I noticed any debate about its content among the "film community" (at least if that means professionals), other than Yuriy Norshteyn praising it (although to be honest, I can no longer find that interview - perhaps I only imagined it?).

P.S. Cynir, I will add the Vietnamese title translation (Vị linh mục có một con chó) once the film has Vietnamese subtitles. ;)

I honestly did not expect how sweet this ended up being - this is feels like the earlier 1960s Estonian animations from Elbert Tuganov, not the other animation Estonia was producing in the 1980s. Perhaps the holiday season gave the directors the artistic license to be old-fashioned...

It's often rather hard to tell what's going on here, isn't it? The visual style often deliberately makes things more obscure than they would naturally be (maybe partly to make the animated parts look indistinguishable from the filmed parts), and as a result I find that this film moves back and forth between being poetic and incomprehensible. The story about the moth seems clear enough, but I'm still not sure exactly how the woman relates.

This seems to have been the director's only film. There was a trend of that sort of thing in the early 1990s.

The 2 animators were Boris Kalistratov and Flober Mukanov

Starevich made another film in 1912 called "Авиационная неделя насекомых" but it was lost.

Artists: Sarra Mokil, Aleksandr Ptushko, Yuri Lupandin, Nikolai Renkov. Composer: Sergei Ryauzov. Sound: Sergei Rensky, Boris Volsky. Text: Wilhelm Granov. Sung by: Nikolai Bravin. Assistant: Ivan Shkarenkov.