Animation Nation
I've come across two really good articles about animated stuffs today that I want to share.
The first isn't entirely about animation, but is instead about what the creators of a popular animated TV show do in response to controversy. Of course, I'm talking about South Park.
Honestly, I love that Matt and Trey are doing this. I haven't seen South Park in years, until just this past Sunday where I caught the famous "You Got Served" episode. Thanks to the Isaac Hayes controversy, I'm definitely going to find the Scientology episode now. The fact that the Scientologists are throwing up protests (and possibly using underhanded methods to keep an episode criticizing them from being shown again on television) is making me want to watch the show more than ever.
So, the creators are lampooning the fact that Isaac Hayes has pulled out. I couldn't have expected anything less (or is it more?) of them. Apparently the turn-around time for an episode is short enough they can do this in time to have it be the new season premiere. I'm sure they still like Isaac Hayes, but they've never been afraid to lambast people who they feel are being stupid for no good reason, so since that's what's happening here, I look forward to seeing this resolved in animation.
The second is about talking in animation and is perhaps the most brilliant bit of writing yet to come out of The New York Times about movies or anything, really. I remember a year ago ranting at how a review of Family Guy and American Dad made some disparaging remarks about the 'flatness' of Japanese animation in particular (side note: here is that rant).
Yet Miyazaki gets especial credit in this article for being a "master of nonverbal animated moments," with My Neighbor Totoro being cited in chief for its waiting for the bus moment where Satsuki finally sees the big Totoro for the first time. How quickly they forget.
This, like articles bemoaning and finger-pointing over the drop in theater attendance, is still a bit off the reason animated features aren't doing as well as they could be doing in the American cinema. It comes close, sure, to say that the excessive talkiness of some Disney-fied films ruins them, but that's a symptom, not the cause. A better investigation would ask the question, "Why are these films so talky?"
And I answer: because the voice actors are so famous. If you're going to shell out the $10 or $15 million dollars a star like Ben Stiller can and will demand for his voicing Alex the lion in Madagascar, you want to make the most of him, give him the chance to "spice up" your animated film that's really and excuse for him to act silly without having to take any more hits (hey, he's getting up there in years). And then you add Chris Rock, Jada Pinkett Smith, David Schwimmer, Ali G, Cedric the Entertainer, and Andy Richter. Hello, $$$$ being spent on voices. Best you use them, then.
And what's the best part of all Madagascar? The penguins. The penguins who convey in short phrases the whole of their mad scheme to escape to the wild and embellish the, well, cartoonishness of their actions by animated, speechless or minimally verbal gestures (the Private jumping up and down on the keyboard to enter the code to control the ship, Kowalski straddling the map then shrugging when he can't make it out, etc etc etc). That's why the whole of Madagascar is still less funny than the five whole minutes the penguins are onscreen, and that as a whole is less funny than the short "A Christmas Caper" staring the same penguins. That showed with Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, another film cited here as genius for it's lack of speech (notable in the extreme as Gromit has never talked).
Another answer to the talkiness question: animated films produced in this country tend to treat their viewers as simpletons, as not prepared to tackle heavy issues, serious debate and reflection alongside their laughs and guffaws. The notable exception here are the Pixar films which are more trusting of their audiences, which I feel stems from greater, more thorough research--if you're going to spend millions on getting the depiction of the Great Barrier Reef accurate and life-like, you're going to want to be damned sure the people watching will appreciate it. How many Dreamworks or Disney films would even think to introduce something as exotic and practically useless to Americans as the EAC? Or hire locals to do voice work for the Australians featured?
There is a definite difference between simple and simplistic, and, in the Disney-fication of American animation, combined with the presell trend of all movies to bankroll based on bankable stars, this detail is getting lost. Why make genuinely, non-topically funny movies like The Incredibles when you can rope together a few comedians and have them blather a mile a minute about consumerism taking over as Shrek 2 did as often as it could?
I saw Totoro for the first time two weekends ago, and I have to agree that the big Totoro's introduction to Satsuki is one of the most charming-slash-terrifying ever done. It's weird and creepy and not afraid not to make it completely silly and important all at the same time. Totoro hasn't got a plot, really, as there's little dramatic tension without an overall problem that needs to be resolved, so it can afford to spare the time to such fun bits as watching a mythical, magical creature appreciate the sound of raindrops on an umbrella.
Totoro isn't the exception, however. Japanese animation is more reflective in general than American (excluding, of course, the low-brow animated fare from the country, the Yu-Gi-Ohs, the Pokemons, and their ilk), allowing for greater appreciation with less resolution or boxing in of major characters or even whole stories. Villains are sympathetic or at least so strange as to defy absolute hatred in many series and movies (using Miyazaki I've seen as evidence, look at Yu Baba in Spirited Away, who was actually stolen from by Chihiro's parents and who manages to be an overindulgent mother and hostess on top of being a domineering, frightening, and fairly merciless employer/sorceress; or Lady Eboshi who protects the women under her care against the abuse they faced in other places, even shelters and tends to lepers, and whose actions, though they destroy the forest gods, are really done for better reasons than your average villain out for revenge or self-promotion).
Likewise, heroes aren't ever simple. They're often avaricious (the Bebop crew), vain (sorry, feiran but Hotohori so is), a little dim (hello, Sailor Moon), or just out right ridiculous (Vash!) And they don't always win (in shojo they tend to, but not always), and that's okay. You'd think in a country where we dole out "As for effort" we would appreciate heroes who do the same...
The first isn't entirely about animation, but is instead about what the creators of a popular animated TV show do in response to controversy. Of course, I'm talking about South Park.
Honestly, I love that Matt and Trey are doing this. I haven't seen South Park in years, until just this past Sunday where I caught the famous "You Got Served" episode. Thanks to the Isaac Hayes controversy, I'm definitely going to find the Scientology episode now. The fact that the Scientologists are throwing up protests (and possibly using underhanded methods to keep an episode criticizing them from being shown again on television) is making me want to watch the show more than ever.
So, the creators are lampooning the fact that Isaac Hayes has pulled out. I couldn't have expected anything less (or is it more?) of them. Apparently the turn-around time for an episode is short enough they can do this in time to have it be the new season premiere. I'm sure they still like Isaac Hayes, but they've never been afraid to lambast people who they feel are being stupid for no good reason, so since that's what's happening here, I look forward to seeing this resolved in animation.
The second is about talking in animation and is perhaps the most brilliant bit of writing yet to come out of The New York Times about movies or anything, really. I remember a year ago ranting at how a review of Family Guy and American Dad made some disparaging remarks about the 'flatness' of Japanese animation in particular (side note: here is that rant).
Yet Miyazaki gets especial credit in this article for being a "master of nonverbal animated moments," with My Neighbor Totoro being cited in chief for its waiting for the bus moment where Satsuki finally sees the big Totoro for the first time. How quickly they forget.
This, like articles bemoaning and finger-pointing over the drop in theater attendance, is still a bit off the reason animated features aren't doing as well as they could be doing in the American cinema. It comes close, sure, to say that the excessive talkiness of some Disney-fied films ruins them, but that's a symptom, not the cause. A better investigation would ask the question, "Why are these films so talky?"
And I answer: because the voice actors are so famous. If you're going to shell out the $10 or $15 million dollars a star like Ben Stiller can and will demand for his voicing Alex the lion in Madagascar, you want to make the most of him, give him the chance to "spice up" your animated film that's really and excuse for him to act silly without having to take any more hits (hey, he's getting up there in years). And then you add Chris Rock, Jada Pinkett Smith, David Schwimmer, Ali G, Cedric the Entertainer, and Andy Richter. Hello, $$$$ being spent on voices. Best you use them, then.
And what's the best part of all Madagascar? The penguins. The penguins who convey in short phrases the whole of their mad scheme to escape to the wild and embellish the, well, cartoonishness of their actions by animated, speechless or minimally verbal gestures (the Private jumping up and down on the keyboard to enter the code to control the ship, Kowalski straddling the map then shrugging when he can't make it out, etc etc etc). That's why the whole of Madagascar is still less funny than the five whole minutes the penguins are onscreen, and that as a whole is less funny than the short "A Christmas Caper" staring the same penguins. That showed with Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, another film cited here as genius for it's lack of speech (notable in the extreme as Gromit has never talked).
Another answer to the talkiness question: animated films produced in this country tend to treat their viewers as simpletons, as not prepared to tackle heavy issues, serious debate and reflection alongside their laughs and guffaws. The notable exception here are the Pixar films which are more trusting of their audiences, which I feel stems from greater, more thorough research--if you're going to spend millions on getting the depiction of the Great Barrier Reef accurate and life-like, you're going to want to be damned sure the people watching will appreciate it. How many Dreamworks or Disney films would even think to introduce something as exotic and practically useless to Americans as the EAC? Or hire locals to do voice work for the Australians featured?
There is a definite difference between simple and simplistic, and, in the Disney-fication of American animation, combined with the presell trend of all movies to bankroll based on bankable stars, this detail is getting lost. Why make genuinely, non-topically funny movies like The Incredibles when you can rope together a few comedians and have them blather a mile a minute about consumerism taking over as Shrek 2 did as often as it could?
I saw Totoro for the first time two weekends ago, and I have to agree that the big Totoro's introduction to Satsuki is one of the most charming-slash-terrifying ever done. It's weird and creepy and not afraid not to make it completely silly and important all at the same time. Totoro hasn't got a plot, really, as there's little dramatic tension without an overall problem that needs to be resolved, so it can afford to spare the time to such fun bits as watching a mythical, magical creature appreciate the sound of raindrops on an umbrella.
Totoro isn't the exception, however. Japanese animation is more reflective in general than American (excluding, of course, the low-brow animated fare from the country, the Yu-Gi-Ohs, the Pokemons, and their ilk), allowing for greater appreciation with less resolution or boxing in of major characters or even whole stories. Villains are sympathetic or at least so strange as to defy absolute hatred in many series and movies (using Miyazaki I've seen as evidence, look at Yu Baba in Spirited Away, who was actually stolen from by Chihiro's parents and who manages to be an overindulgent mother and hostess on top of being a domineering, frightening, and fairly merciless employer/sorceress; or Lady Eboshi who protects the women under her care against the abuse they faced in other places, even shelters and tends to lepers, and whose actions, though they destroy the forest gods, are really done for better reasons than your average villain out for revenge or self-promotion).
Likewise, heroes aren't ever simple. They're often avaricious (the Bebop crew), vain (sorry, feiran but Hotohori so is), a little dim (hello, Sailor Moon), or just out right ridiculous (Vash!) And they don't always win (in shojo they tend to, but not always), and that's okay. You'd think in a country where we dole out "As for effort" we would appreciate heroes who do the same...