Editor's Note: Due to the sensitive nature
of the material in development, Warner Bros. was unable to provide artwork
from The Iron Giant or photos of the
studio. So, readers: use your imaginations and wait for the release in
1999! Many years ago, I had an argument with a fellow animator
(now a Disney director) about the way animated features were storyboarded.
This artist had been trained in the Disney method, as I had, and was convinced
that it was the most effective way to plan an animated film. Simply put, the
Disney method is to develop the "business" of the story (gags, situations,
emotions, etc.) completely before dealing with how the business is
to be presented. To consider the staging of a scene at this early point was
seen as a straight jacket; a restriction of possibilities and a liability
to the healthy growth of a story.
While I believed in the effectiveness of the Disney method (it's hard to argue
with Walt's results), my insatiable appetite for well-directed movies had
begun to have an effect on my own thought process. It became increasingly
harder for me to have an idea without simultaneously imagining how the idea
was staged. "Why separate it?" I challenged. "If someone comes
up with a better way to do a scene, you can always change it!"
While staging is no substitute for story, I felt then, as I do now, that the
camera is an unseen character, the eyes of the audience. It can assume a million
different natures: a restless child, a cold killer, a fly on the wall...
Developing Story and Scene
I had no idea at the time that my impatience with the process would save
my hide a few years later when working on The Simpsons, with its demanding
mixture of priceless material and merciless schedules. In almost every episode
there was a gag that was difficult to stage as written, plus, the comedy was
more complex and the show's pace more accelerated than any other comedy, live-action
or otherwise, on television.
At the time, all animated shows were staged in the same boring way: a wide
establishing shot every time a location was introduced, medium shots anytime
someone was moving around, close-ups whenever the characters were talking
-- all rendered at a consistent, and dull, eye-level.
It quickly became clear that the ambitious nature of The Simpsons scripts,
where the average half-hour contained an hour's worth of twists and turns,
demanded more elaborate staging than the delightful "one-minutes"
for The Tracy Ullman Show from which they sprang. The script's wild
veerings between the lowest butt-crack jokes and Noel Coward references demanded
a visual equivalent, and I started pushing the storyboard artists, many of
whom had trained on "Saturday morning animation," to think of each
episode as a movie, and to look toward Hitchcock, Welles, Kubrick and Scorcese
for inspiration rather than other animation.
Many of the techniques these master filmmakers used to heighten drama could
also be used to heighten comedy. We also tried to push the pace; doing long
takes (a tremendous hassle when one is filming one frame at a time) one minute
and then, going into a rapid series of jump cuts (also a hassle) the next.
Camera movement is always kept to a minimum in TV animation (pans are discouraged,
except to follow a character in a walk or run cycle), but I felt camera moves
were an important story-telling tool, especially because we had to keep our
drawing count down. I pushed the use of short pans to get more movement into
the shows, and as a way to reveal information in a comedic way. We had no
time to ponder how a show was to be depicted, we had to get it out now
because another episode was coming down the conveyer belt.
A Perpetual Battle
While I'm very proud of having been part of The Simpsons for so
many years, I missed the finesse of full animation, on which all of my early
training had focused. Many of my ambivalent feelings about the animation business
spring from a Sophie's Choice between:
A) the project with plenty of time, money and resources to execute beautifully
a narrow range of tired old material...or...
B) the project with almost no time and money to execute fresh and exciting
material.
Given this awful choice, I've reluctantly chosen the latter, and found myself
in television (i.e. The Simpsons), more often than not with material
superior to anything I'd encountered in feature animation. Then, however,
I was tied to a schedule that allowed us only to fill a few boxes with drawings
and detailed instructions before we had to send it overseas.
Fortunately, with The Iron Giant, Warner Bros. has offered me my first
opportunity to do something in feature animation outside of "the familiar
tale set to Broadway music" formula, but with a budget sufficient to
execute it here, in this country, under one roof and in full animation. Still,
our parameters are tight. With a production schedule a year shorter and a
budget less than half the size of our friends at either of the two D's (Disney
and DreamWorks), our margin for error is minuscule. However, we are determined
to tell our story as effectively as we can.
Enter the New Technology
One of our most useful tools has been the use of After Effects, an off-the-shelf
software technology by Adobe. My first exposure to this technology was several
years ago, when I was up North visiting a friend of mine, Matthew Robbins,
who, when not writing or directing feature films often directs commercials
for Industrial Light & Magic.
He asked me if I wanted to "see something cool" and proceeded to
show me a "moving storyboard" that had been executed just the night
before by I.L.M. effects supervisor John Knoll, co-author of Adobe Photoshop.
Using only the pre-existing storyboard drawings Matthew had been faxed by
the ad agency, a Macintosh computer and the program he'd co-created, Knoll
had added tremendous dimension and motion to the sketches, quickly transforming
them into real movie shots.
Tree limbs swayed in the wind as leaves blew through the air. Camera moves
turned flat drawings into dimensional multi-plane shots. I was hooked. I began
to imagine how I could use this fabulous technology in animation and now,
with The Iron Giant, I've finally gotten the chance.
Using camera moves on pose test reels is certainly nothing new, (we even used
them on The Simpsons to try to get our timing down before we shipped
the shows overseas), however, they have significant limitations; the artwork
is semi-transparent, and has to be carefully registered on animation paper.
Traditionally in feature animation, camera moves were developed much later
in the process, most often after animation was complete, and if the idea of
the shot wasn't solid, much more time and money had been wasted.
What is unique about After Effects, and another comparable program Macromedia's
Director (which we actually began with before switching to After-Effects full-time),
is the speed and flexibility of the program. One can simulate complex camera
moves with remarkable accuracy, using simple, unregistered artwork that is
opaque like finished animation.
Applying It To The Giant Because it allowed us to introduce much more movement
into our story reels, which can become almost painfully static, it enabled
us to get a much better approximation of the finished film at a much earlier
point, particularly when combined with a non-linear editing machine like an
AVID, which can easily speed up or slow down moves, lengthen holds or pluck
out frames.
Led by Jeff Lynch, our Iron Giant story team quickly grasped how
to prepare storyboards for Director and After Effects shots. In fact, once
they got it down, it was actually less work for them than conventional
storyboards. Soon, thanks to our gifted Macro (by the time we switched from
Director to After Effects, we had already coined this new department `Macro'
after the software manufacturer and somehow that never changed!) artist Andrew
Jimenez, some surprisingly effective shots were dropping into our story reel.
This was a very useful tool, not only for explaining the film to Warner Bros.
executives, but also to our own crew, which was growing rapidly.
Working with Jeff, who was part of that early Simpsons storyboard team,
and his stellar crew, we solved many timing and staging problems before
the scenes even started layout. This new process also occasionally influenced
my editing decisions, where the kinetics of certain shots suggested their
marriage, the way it often does in live-action films.
Many were skeptical of this technique, seeing it as an extra and unnecessary
step. Others were slow to embrace its usefulness as a tool, preferring more
familiar methods.
Did this process save us tremendous amounts of money?
No, but it gave us a chance to try things that were more ambitious than our
schedule and budget really allowed. We could imagine the pace and the unfolding
of our film accurately with a relatively small expenditure of resources. We
were free to make the big mistakes in the cheap part of the process.
We were only able to implement partially the process I imagined on The
Iron Giant, but based on my experience, I'm committed to implement it
completely on the next opportunity I'm offered.
Will other people adopt this process? Who knows? Maybe my old Disney friend
is reading this article right now...
Brad Bird started his first animated film at age 11, finishing it at age
13. The film brought him to the attention of Walt Disney Studios, where, at
age 14, Brad was mentored by Milt Kahl, one of Disney's legendary Nine Old
Men. In addition to working as an animator at Disney and other studios, Bird
has written screenplays for both live-action (*batteries not
included) and animation. He has since served as executive consultant
on The Simpsons and King of the Hill
and was the writer, director and co-producer of the original Family
Dog for Steven Spielberg's Amazing Stories. Currently,
Bird is the director and co-writer of The Iron Giant,
an animated feature being produced by Warner Bros.
Text © 1998 Brad Bird.
Links:
[1] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/1323
[2] http://www.awn.com/imagepicker/image/1324