June 2015 – Animated Spirit

There are certain films I watch periodically for knowledge, growth and inspiration. In live action, they include films like The Godfather, Lawrence of Arabia, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Akira Kurasawa’s Ran. I never seem to get enough of those films because they are so epically crafted, rich in human emotion, and nearly flawless. I learn something new each time, and find myself in awe of the artistic mastery on display. It’s like experiencing a dream.

“I dream my painting and I paint my dream.” – Vincent Van Gogh

Animated films don’t carry nearly that kind of complexity, grandeur or critical acclaim. But I do have a special list of animated films that rank amongst the most magical. One of them is Walt Disney’s 1961 classic, 101 Dalmations. Both the story and animation are a charm. The designs are unique and timeless, and within its 103 minutes of run time lie some of the most original and appealing scenes in animation history. It’s a landmark film amongst Walt Disney’s bounty of animated productions.

But today, we’ll focus specifically on one scene from the movie animated by the magnificent Milt Kahl. It’s a clip that describes Roger and his dog Pongo anxiously awaiting the birth of puppies, like expectant fathers. The scene is short (more than half the shot is a series of small movements and holds) but loaded with personality, contrast and beauty.

Let’s break down some of the key areas of the animation choreography:

Set up

The initial setup is simple, clear and nicely balanced. A geometrically perfect triangle tells you exactly where to look. The line along Roger’s legs, back and arm, along with Pongo’s elongated neck, create a continuous line of travel for the viewer’s eyes. There is physical contact in the hands which pat Pongo’s head, as well as social-emotional contact created by the direct eye-to-eye connection.

Anticipation

In the first bit of significant action (anticipation), you see a strong coil-like build up of the bodies in nearly simultaneous action. The lines of action (depicted in blue) reverse. Compression occurs between the heads and shoulders, while areas like the hands, sweater, hair (red) and Pongo’s ears reveal shapes that contrast from their previous positions, either dragging, or expanding.

Action/Expression

In the action/expression phase, you can see that Kahl has taken advantage of the elasticity of animal anatomy to demonstrate extreme force and expression. The lines of action of the bodies now spring almost straight and upwards towards the screen, while elements of the arms, hands and jaws reflect drag (yellow), giving them weight and interest.

Hang Time

The most visually impressive and kinetic action occurs in the hang time, where Pongo frantically pedals his paws and Roger’s arms open upwards and outwards. Again, there is beautiful line of action in the main body masses, excellent display of overlapping action and shapes that give the shot depth, and a wonderful, almost floral texture and sense of excitement in the movement.

Follow thru

As the characters collide into each other, Kahl achieves another marvelous contrast from the previous phase of action. Here, you can see and feel the force of the bodies compress into each other, as the follow thru of elements like the ears, hair, tail, sleeves and paws give the action real heft and believability. The arcs are beautifully conceived, as each body part flows naturally from one position to the other. It’s most intelligently displayed in the action of Roger’s arms as they envelop his dog in circular motion.

Final Pose

In the final part of the scene, you see that Roger and Pongo, who were originally united by muted concern and only the slightest of contact, are now in full embrace at the end. Their arms and legs intertwine and overlap, their bodies glue together as one, while their attention jointly focuses towards the sudden alarm off screen. The conclusion of the action culminates perfectly.

People often attribute Milt Kahl’s notoriety due to his marvelous skill as a draftsman but when you look at a shot like this, you witness more than just beautiful draftsmanship or even perfect execution of technical elements. You realize that it’s all elegantly preconceived with much deliberation, effort and sincerity that shows how true the animator is to the characters and their situation.

“… it’s not the draftsmanship. It’s the conception.” – Milt Kahl

This sensational clip of animation is less than five seconds long, yet its quality and appeal is timeless. It’s a stark wake up call to all those animators who complain of doing “short shots.” It’s not the size or complexity that matters, it’s what you do with it.

Harrison Ford takes a leap of faith, in Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

Fear of the unknown is scary, but it can also be a good thing. It’s a natural reaction. It warns you of danger but it can also prompt you into decisive action.

Industrial pioneer, Henry Ford stated:

“One of the greatest discoveries a man makes, one of his great surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he couldn’t do.”

In art, fear of the unknown is a necessity. It can paralyze you like any other kind of fear can but it can also be the perfect confirmation that you’re onto something curious — something new and exciting. If it ain’t there, you face the most serious dangers an artist can face — sloppiness, stagnancy and banality.

Rowan Atkinson’s Mr. Bean was a curious cat.

When I animated I was always unsure. Do I know enough about the character? Do I understand the sequence? How will this connect with the shots around me? Can I make this work and do it on budget? If I wasn’t sure of a detail I’d go find out. Confirm the pitch. Do the research. Shoot the video reference. Act it out. Prepare, plan, and test. I had the same concerns and took similar action as a director. Even after all the preliminary work, that uncertainty would always persist. It’s there to remind you that you’re actually doing something new — an experience you can learn from, something that might matter. When that’s missing you won’t have fear. You also won’t make any big mistakes. Nor will you impress anyone let alone yourself.

The lesson is this: If you haven’t suffered any fear or uncertainty in your work process, then you know you’ve missed the target or worse, you weren’t even aiming for the right one. If you’re near what you think is completion yet you hadn’t faced any real difficulties then you’ve likely not challenged yourself (or your team). You’ve chosen the safe, easy path — the formulaic — the one you’ve chosen many times before or at least one that others have. Now, there are moments where it might be wise to pull out the old tricks, to cash in some hard earned chips over a long career, but be careful — this is how artists get careless or lazy and seasoned pros are especially susceptible.

Tortoise beats Hare by master director, Tex Avery.

It can be as simple as letting that first part of the sequence slide. You know, the part that no one commented on, or a semi-standard color key that slipped by with a relatively unconvincing “approval” during dailies. You’ve let it slide, setting aside any issues you saw earlier. But later on, you’ll notice that the other areas, those that displayed obvious problems and you’ve worked hard at, are now far better than those early, easy successes. You’re like the runner who’s coasting at the end of the race because of a good start or lucky break, and later finds himself shocked to see other runners surpass him at the finish line. We see this movie replayed all the time. Be wary of it in your work process. I look back at my career, and the work I’m most proud of, that is, work that has some hope of surviving the test of time, is work where I battled my ass off. The other stuff? eh.

The young visionaries Steve Wozniak and Steve Jobs, co-founders of Apple computers, 1976.

Throughout one’s career, you’ll notice that some people have formulas or routines that give them comfort, that get them thru it all. They have skill and confidence. They also know they’re not doing anything surprising or special as they repeat what’s been the tried and true. Formulas tend to do that in art. They fail to connect. The truly brave and tireless take on their challenges with zest despite fear or fatigue. They know they might not succeed but feel the calling that is theirs in each task they take on. These are your warriors, your innovators.