Hi Dr. Toon,
I was wondering your opinion (sic) on how cartoons and animated films have changed in the past century. If you could e-mail me I would really appreciate it.
Now, this query demands an answer worthy of a dissertation. In fact, many points contained within such an answer would deserve book-length treatment. In one hundred years animation has changed radically in terms of technology, thematics, storylines, plots, gags, graphics, studio and distributive politics, timing, medium of presentation, and cultural/political content. Where, indeed, does one begin?
After pondering the question I finally decided to narrow my answer down to a "top ten" list of events that I personally believe shaped, changed, and defined animation history. I have expanded these points into a column-length exposition for your entertainment and edification (not to mention my deadline). A caveat: This list represents my own haughty views and stubborn opinions. Many of you may disagree with, or wish to dabate, various inclusions and/or exclusions. If you do, so much the better. The cartoons listed signify either "breakthrough" events or are so highly representative of them as to be iconic in nature. Hererwith, in chronological order, Dr. Toon's Top Ten:
1. Night of the Living Chalkboard (Humorous Phases of Funny Faces, 1906)
Arguably the very first animated short. J. Stuart Blackton, a vaudeville
"lightning sketch" chalkboard artist, loved to experiment with early movie
cameras at his Vitagraph studio. He already knew that turning the camera
crank for a frame-by-frame exposure allowed him to do many amusing and
interesting tricks; when he applied the method to material from one of his
vaudeville "chalk-talks", animation was born. Humorous Phases is a
plotless, unconnected series of very brief vignettes; only the opening
sequence (featuring frontal facial views of a man and a woman) are actually
animated through stop-motion drawings. Much of the rest is done with
cut-outs made of cardboard added to the drawings. Taken as a whole, the
short seems to be a series of experiments by Blackton despite the fact that
an (animated) title appears at the beginning. This crude but revolutionary
film was truly the first to make drawings come to life.
2. "She Eats, Drinks, and Breathes!" (Gertie the Dinosaur, 1914)
It was Winsor McCay's misfortune that his skills, ideas, and perfect
sense of animation timing and direction were light-years ahead of existing
technology. It is a tribute to the man that none of these limitations
stopped him from creating the first real piece of character animation...and
one of the finest short films of all time. Using little more than a barrel
of ink, some reams of rice paper, and a store-bought pen, McCay created a
work of wonderment that retains it's enduring and magical charm even when viewed today. Each frame, including the backgrounds, were laboriously
traced and retraced until McCay and a young assistant produced some 10,000
drawings over a two-year period. McCay's petulant but playful "trained
dinosaurus" was the first (and best) example of character animation ever to
wow an adoring public, and some of the greatest animators of the 1930's and
40's have categorically stated that seeing Gertie influenced their decision to join the ranks of pen and ink. It is difficult to decide which is more amazing - Gertie's personality of McCay's awesome draftsmanship. This film is of vital importance for revealing the potentials and possibilities of
animation's future.
3. The Celluloid Solution (1914)
One of the most important yet obscure figures in the early history of
animation was Earl Hurd. This seminal animator solved one of the industry's greatest dilemmas when he patented the idea of inking drawings directly on to transparent sheets of celluloid. This step saved time, tracing, and ink. This innovation also did away with many of the technical problems
encountered with paper such as wrinkles, discolorations, creases, and
cockles (caused by wet ink). The use of overlaid celluloid sheets
containing separate drawings also eliminated the irregularities of the
"slash system" where overlapping pieces of paper were used to animate
partial movement; the cutout lines were plainly visible on film. The
"cels", as they came to be known, could also be washed off and re-used,
saving money as well. For nearly ninety years these humble sheets captured
the talents of the world's most legendary animators and froze them in time
for the appreciation of animation and art lovers alike.
4. "Felix Kept on Walking..." (Felix in Hollywood, 1923)
The above line from a popular song in England sums it up. By the height
of his popularity, Felix the Cat had walked (or rather paced) his way into
the heart of every civilized nation on earth. The fabulous feline was a
joint cration of Pat Sullivan and Otto Messmer, but it was Messmer who
developed Felix' mannerisms, personality, and uncannily human reactions to a surreal and unpredictable world. The first great master of personality
animation, Messmer was aided by such giants as Bill Nolan, Raoul Barre, and
Al Eugster. Felix in Hollywood was representative of some of the best
aspect of the series; his imitation of (and showdown with) Charlie Chaplin
is only one great moment in an unforgettable short. Felix was also the
first cartoon creation to become a major mercahndising figure, and by 1925
his image was on hundreds of licensed products. This revealed a lucrative
side to animation that had never been mined before; the lesson would not be
lost on others. For being the first cartoon superstar, for highlighting the
vital importance of personality in animation, and for becoming the first
important marketable character, Felix the Cat represents a paramount moment in animation history.
5. Let There Be Sound (Steamboat Willie, 1928)
It was not the first cartoon with a soundtrack. It was not even the first
cartoon starring Mickey Mouse. It doesn't much matter; Steamboat Willie created such a stir when it premiered at the Colony Theter in New York on November 18th that an animated star was born and cartoons changed forever. 1928 was a desperate year for Walt Disney: He had lost his star character, Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, in a bitter fight with his distributor. Walt's independently produced replacement, Mickey Mouse, was not setting the world on fire either. Disney seized on the novelty of symchronized sound as a savior. Most Disneyphiles know the story well: The sound experiments with Ub Iwerks, Wilfred Jackson, and Jonny Cannon in Walt's garage; Walt's
frenzied search for a sound system; dealing with the rascally Pat Powers
and his bootleg Cinephone; the disastrous recording sessions; Walt selling
his car to keep the project going; the difficulties booking the film; and
finally, the magnificent triumph that lifted Walt, Mickey, and animated
short subjects into a new realm of unprecedented popularity. Today, the
image of Mickey in a jaunty cap, happily whistling as he spins a ship's
wheel, recalls for us a momentous event. Cartoons would be silent no more.
6. So Many Fantastic Colors (Flowers and Trees, 1932)
Disney strikes again. It can be said that color cartoons went clear back
to 1911, when Winsor McCay hand-tinted his own work. Later color sysytems
such as Cinecolor utilizeda two-strip process which basically derived color
from very limited portions of the spectrum. The results were often dull,
unattractive, and unsatisfying to viewers. Without going into the details,
suffice it to say that a creative and scientifically-minded chap by the
name of Nathalie Kalmus came up with a "three"-color process grandly known as Technicolor. The results? Awesome. The cost? Equally awesome. Walt Disney's regard for the cost? After visiting Kalmus' lab disney decreed
that all future cartoon films at his studio would be considered for
Technicolor. Walt seized on a nearly-finished film, an idyll called
Flowers and Trees as his flagship color feature. It did not matter much to Walt that the film had to be scrapped and then reconstructed or that its final budget would run three-quarters over initial projections. When
Flowers and Trees premiered at Grauman's Chinese Theater on July 30, the audience went wild, reviewers gaped, and cartoon history was made once more. Before picking up his (very first) Academy Award for this film,
Disney wisely shut out the competition by signing a three-year exclusive
deal with Technicolor.
7. Heigh-Ho, A Full-Length Show (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937)
It has been related that Walt Disney, while touring Europe, observed
theaters stringing together six or seven of his shorts to make an ersatz
"feature presentation"; this reportedly gave him the idea to attempt a
feature-length film. This may or may not be the truth, but this much is
certain: Snow White was the greatest and riskiest project the studio had undertaken to date, and that risk resulted in a landmark film that once
again changed history. Again, this was perhaps the second (or possibly even
third) full length animated feature ever done, but for all that it was
certainly the first to become commercially successful and to gain critical
acclaim in all corners. Snow White was unlike anything done before. This picture is a compendium of the most advanced techniques being used in
animation at the time, executed by the most masterful craftspersons on the
planet, under the guidance of the medium's most gifted visionary. Snow
White is also a masterpiece of story telling and characterization, a film
with countless nuances and few flaws; in short, a great film. Snow White may have gone far overbudget and been interminably long in production but in the end the picture originally known in industry circles as "Disney's Folly" proved to critics, finamciers, and the public that animation had a permanent place on the silver screen that would last longer than a mere seven minutes at a time.
8. A Revolution in Style (Gerald Mc Boing Boing, 1951)
For at least two decades Disney's brand of cinematic realism dominated
cartoon style. Then came United Productions of America (UPA) with a bold,
fresh, formalist style that changed the look of animation. Stylization,
minimalism, and graphic design were in; realism, depth, and sentimentality
were out. Many of the artists who formed this company were in fact Disney
dropouts [Actually artists who were locked out of The Disney Company during the big strike -- Webkeeper] who wanted to open a new frontier. Animators such as Stephen Bosustow, Dave Hilberman, John Hubley, Bill Melendez, Phil Monroe and Jules Engel pioneered a new style based on lessons they had picked up while making military training films during WWII such as minimalist, limited animation, and modern graphics. Soon these would be wedded to striking use of color and artistic design. A UPA cartoon was akin to a free-form jazz piece, what with wild linear patterns, doors, windows and other objects suspended in midair, and ever-changing backgrounds shifting in and out while characters trotted in place. Many striking cartoons were "mood pieces" intentionally devoid of humor. UPA produced a "star" (Mister Magoo), but the elan of the studio is perhaps best caught in the delightful Bobe Cannon-Ted (Dr. Seuss) Geisel collaboration Gerald Mc Boing Boing. That the studio did not survive commercially is a matter of indifference; the artists of UPA influenced a generation of European and American animators, and echoes of UPA style would resonate everywhere...even at Disney.
9. From Big Screen to Small (Huckleberry Hound, 1958)
Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera made the most of a bad situation when MGM's
animation unit closed in 1957. After seven Academy Awards for Tom And Jerry, the duo had to hit the road along with everyone else. Fortunately, they were prepared. Using a limited form of animation to keep costs down, Hanna and Barbera decided to pitch original cartoons to television. It had been done before, notably with Jay Ward's Crusader Rabbit. The genius of Hanna-Barbera (as the studio was known) lay in aggressive salesmanship to "name" corporate sponsors, inexpensive production that could be done on a grueling schedule, and strong scriptwriting by ex-MGM and Warner Bros. luminaries such as Warren Foster and Michael Maltese. Following a trial run with a series called Ruff and Reddy, HB managed to land Kellogg's as a sponsor. The pair pitched a show full of original characters featuring such immortals as Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear, Pixie, Dixie, and Mr. Jinks, and Hokey Wolf. HB's distributor, Screen Gems, opted for immediate syndication to television markets and within a year Huckleberry Hound was playing in 192 markets to the tune of 16,000,000 viewers weekly. The show won an Emmy and opened the door for a merchandising bonanza, a second brilliant career for Hanna and Barbera, and the legitimization of original animated series as a TV staple. Within ten years, cartoons would own Saturday mornings and appear in prime time as well. In later years, the Hanna-Barbera studio would be reviled for cheap animation, nondescript characters, and bland, interchangeable series, but let us not forget their accomplishments. HB's commercially successful made-for-TV cartoons and shrewd use of television markets heralded a new era in American animation.
10. Lasseter's Magic Lamp (Luxo Jr., 1986)
Long before the resounding success of Toy Story, Pixar was little more than George Lucas' computer graphics team. John Lasseter was then a young animator knocking around the Disney studio seeking a creative niche when he became interested in the hot new field of computer animation. Actually, simple computer animation had been used in TV commercials as far back as 1971 but high costs had kept its usage down. When Lasseter came to Lucasfilm in 1984 he joined a team of CGI wizards led by Dr. Ed Catmull;
with funding from Lucas, cost was not neccesarily a problem. After some
stunning experiments it was clear that the Lucasfilm CGI crew were on to
something new and wonderful. Lucasfilm, however, did not wish to commit to animated features. The division was sold off to Steven Jobs of Apple and
officially named "Pixar". Their first short as an independent was a
90-second quasi-experiment directed by Lasseter called Luxo Jr. This
charming short featured a father-and-son pair of desk lamps. Strong
characterizations (isn't this where we came in?) along with a new CGI
technique that allowed for ultra-realistic shadowing resulted in a 1986
Oscar nomination and a very bright future for Lasseter, Pixar, and CGI in
general. Since that time, computer hardware, software, and programming
technologies have exploded into a full-fledged revolution that shows no
signs of slowing down. Lasseter's tiny lamps lit the way into the next
century of animation history: Novus ordo seclorum!
And there you have it: Ten for all time. As you sit back to enjoy your favorite toons this month, remember these pioneers who helped make it all possible. I salute, in advance, the heroes and heroines of the next hundred years who will take animation to heights we cannot yet imagine.
Care to discuss it with Dr. Toon? I await your thoughts and opinions.
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