Many have praised Finding Nemo’s balance of technology and tale, but Ellen Besen begs to differ. © Disney Enterprises Inc./Pixar Animation Studios. All rights reserved.

Finding Nemo is a huge success and frankly, this has me worried. Very worried.

So far in this series we’ve examined the “what” of creating an animated film, as in what are the underpinnings, and the “why,” as in why understanding them makes a difference. And we’ve had a damn time doing it, haven’t we?

So now it’s time to look at the “how.” By this I don’t mean a review of stretch and squash or model building or other animation production techniques. What I would like to take a look at is our preconceptions about those techniques and then consider how we can make our films more truly animated.

But why would we fool around with the current formula? Animation has never been more popular, so we must be doing something right… right?

Well, yes and no. The technical end is thriving, but in spite of (or maybe because of) the success of films like Finding Nemo, animation is in denial: it’s cut off from a crucial aspect of itself and, as a result, is at risk of losing its identity.

Uh oh, you’re now thinking, another article criticizing the industry for favoring technology and technique over story. But we need to be careful here. “Animation, as it is currently done, sucks” is at risk of becoming as much of a knee-jerk reaction as automatically treating the latest Pixar release as if Moses just brought it down from the mountain. And any automatic reaction can become just one more barrier in the way of making better films.

Yes, we do have a tendency, particularly in recent years, to focus on the technical side of animation as an end goal. But can we solve this by simply reversing the roles? I would say no.

Instead, we need to recognize that technology and technique are part of the content just like plot, camera angles or abstract visuals. And, as with the other parts, we need to first understand what we can communicate through the technical side and then build a strategy that will focus all the pieces on a common goal. In other words, the point of the whole exercise is to communicate something, not just move things around, regardless of how cool the means for moving them might be.

The conflict around tech and content is especially hot in 3D animation. Of course, CG is in a rapid state of growth, so it’s easy to understand that people are excited about creating and applying new developments.

But I’ve been to the meetings where hours are spent finessing the technical details and then everyone laughs when a flaw in the story logic is pointed out. We’ve all been there. And the truth is that when stories are viewed as merely being showcases for the latest technological breakthrough (Hair! We’ve got hair! Now what are we going to do with it?), we are letting the tail wag the dog.

This reminds me of Disney’s history. Over the years, that studio produced one major technical advancement after another but they always found a synergistic relationship between the technical and the story. Each new development released a different kind of storytelling: breakthroughs in emotional expression opened the door to commercial animated features; 101 Dalmatians was made possible by the advent of Xerox technology (imagine hand-inking all those spots). Tech may have been a driving force but it never ruled the roost.

So how is this playing out today? Chris Landreth’s films (Bingo - 1998; The End - 1995) show us how technology can inspire story in personal filmmaking. In fact, these films were conceived as in-house tests for Alias|Wavefront’s software but you would never guess it. Both make clear that a strong concept can use technology without being owned by it.

And how about commercial applications, like Pixar’s films? Do they hold up as well?