Acting and Performance for Animation

Derek Hayes

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9781138428508
• eBook ISBN: 9781136135972
• Topic: Computer Science
• Subtopic: Digital Media
• Index: Computer Science

Character animation involves more than the principles of animation and the mechanics of motion. Unique, believeable characters that think, feel and captivate your audience are ones that involve emotion, performance, personality, acting and story. Successful animators balance all of these elements within a single character and narrative. With Acting and Performance for Animation, discover how to create dynamic, dramatic performances and believeable character interaction. An invaluable resource for animators, Acting and Performance for Animators is a practical guide to the variety of performance techniques relevant to animators. Develop believable character interactions with chapters detailing the principles of performance, performance types, character emotion and personality, physical and psychological performance, and scene composition. Analyze scripts, sound,acting, action and performance with the practical hints and tips, hands-on assignments and animated examples featured in an extensive guide for animators working in film, TV, games and commercials. Explore different performance techniques based upon the experiences of seasoned animators with case studies featuring John Lasseter, Ray Harryhausen, Nick Park, Joanna Quinn. Expand your own performance techniques with the accompanying DVD which will feature live action reference shorts, production stills, animated examples, and further hands-on assignments.

Chapter 1

Aspects of Acting for Animation

As animators working with character-based narratives, we must start by considering ourselves as actors and performers; it is just that instead of treading the boards ourselves, we send out our creations to do our bidding in front of the audience. We must also appreciate that acting is not simply a group of characters performing the lines written in the script. Much of a performance may be completely unrelated to the actual dialogue a character delivers, and it may not be even be shaped or driven by the characters at all but by a raft of other elements relating to the narrative. In this chapter, we take a brief look at a number of elements that the animator may have to consider when dealing with performance-based work. You will see that what makes a good performance possible is the coming together of these elements, with each having their own part to play.

As an actor of any worth, you must gain a full appreciation of the story you are attempting to tell, but in addition to this, you must be aware of cinematography, editing, the environment, backgrounds and sets, sound, and character design. All of these aspects shape and determine the type of performance you are able to achieve. Who said being an animator was easy?

Creative Approaches to Animation

It might prove useful at this stage to discuss how the approach the filmmaker, not the animator (in this instance, they are not one and the same thing), takes toward creating animation and animation timing impacts on the kinds of performance that are ultimately achieved. Animation may be categorized in various ways, and one of these classifies animation in a way that helps to determine the type of performance the animation is designed to achieve. It helps to establish a creative approach to animation. This form of classification of animation allows it to sit within three distinct categories: simulation, representation, and interpretation. By understanding which creative approach you are taking, it will help you determine your practical approach to animation and performance and give you a clear idea of the results you are aiming to achieve. If what you aim to achieve is clear to you, then you are in a better position to ascertain if you have been successful or not.

Simulation

This classification of animation is one that aims for a high degree of accuracy in its replication of naturalistic actions that can only be applied to movements that are seen in nature. By the very definition, nothing can simulate the action or behavior of things that do not exist. Simulation animation aims to replicate exactly or as nearly as possible the actual action or dynamics of objects or phenomena. Using this approach, it should be possible to test the simulated animation against the action of real objects or events. This approach is often used to create highly naturalistic movement of objects, figures, and effects such as water, flame, and smoke that appear in live-action films. In these instances, it is critical that the suspension of disbelief be total, and in order to do that, the animation and must sit together seamlessly. A good example of this can be found in the film The Perfect Storm directed by Wolfgang Petersen (USA, Warner Bros. 2000). This relied heavily on the simulated effects of a hurricane at sea. To maintain the suspension of disbelief creating the illusion of water in all its separate forms was vital: the swell of the ocean, the giant wave, the individual waves that occurred on the surface of the giant wave, the small wavelets that appear on the surface of these normal size waves, and finally the spray and spume that occurs where water and air meet. All of these combined to create a totally believable illusion. Simulation animation is used when a high degree of realism is called for, and in most instances, animators need not go to such lengths. There is an old adage that animators sometimes use and may be useful to bear in mind: if it looks right, it’s right.

Representation

The kind of animation that falls into the category of representational animation does not have the same constraints as simulation animation. It may demand less accurate movement than can be seen in the actual behavior of the subject, and while this classification of animation may be extended to movements that seem real, it can also be applied to subjects that may pass as real. We see this in the animation of things that no longer exist and in things that have never existed and are a creation of our imagination.

The highly acclaimed BBC TV documentary series Walking with Dinosaurs (1999) dealt with this issue very well. There is no doubt that these animals actually did exist, but there is no hard evidence of how they moved, and though we can get a good idea from the evidence of their fossilized remains, there is still a degree of disagreement among paleontologists. Be that as it may, animators are left with the task of making animation that represents what we believe to be true. Reasonable assumptions about dinosaurs’ movements can be made and as a result rather convincing or at least acceptable animation can be achieved. If it looks right, it’s right.

Using this same approach, it is possible to create “believable” animation of creatures that are completely fictitious. Using reference material gathered from appropriate sources will allow the animator to make a more than passable performance. While an audience may not be able to compare the animation with the real thing, he or she may be able to see the comparison with things that are similar, of a similar size and shape, and therefore of action. It becomes perfectly possible that unicorns, dragons, trolls, and hobgoblins—even Old Nick himself—may all be represented by levels of believable motion. Some of the animated elements in The Lord of the Rings directed by Peter Jackson (USA/New Zealand, New Line Cinema, 2001– 2003) integrated within the live-action footage are completely convincing. The evil Nazgul’s dragon-like steeds are not only terrifying, but they also are totally believable.

This representational approach to animation applies not only to motion and dynamics but also to lip sync and acting. Using this approach, it is perfectly possible for animators to create believable lip sync for creatures that we have no first-hand experience of that once lived but became extinct long before man set foot on the earth and that never spoke when they did exist. The Land Before Time directed by Don Bluth (USA, Universal Studios, 1988) is packed with talking dinosaurs that move, behave, perform, and talk in a completely convincing manner. I guess that’s the magic of animation.

Interpretation

This kind of approach to animation allows for a more creative and individual use of animation and dynamics. It opens up possibilities for a more personal creative expression that neither depends on naturalistic or believable movements nor is constrained by considerations other than the imagination of the animator. Abstraction of movement and dynamics, which includes the creation of completely abstract animation, falls into this category. However, interpretation is not limited to abstract forms. Some of the best-known and well-loved cartoon characters are simple interpretations of the subjects they represent. In its most abstract form, interpretative animation may not be animation of a subject but may be animation about the subject. The work of Clive Walley, one of the most underrated animators of our time, is a good example of this. His piece Dark Matter (one of the six three-minute films in Divertimenti 1983) deals with subatomic matter and theoretical aspects of quantum mechanics. It is a beautiful film that neither illustrates nor explains these topics but is a personal response to them, a creative interpretation and engagement with something that remains hidden to our everyday experience and yet permeates all of creation.

Other work that is less abstract may still, due to its very design, display movements that are clearly never intended to reflect the actual movement of the subject. It has become almost a given that cartoon characters have a physiognomy that is rather extraordinary: large heads, oddly shaped bodies, hands with insufficient digits, and a basic anatomy that defies all the restrictions a regular skeletal structure would incur. As a consequence, they move in a manner that is determined not by nature or natural laws (though they may conform to some of them) but by the imagination of the artist. Rather than obeying the same laws of physics as the audience, many cartoon characters seem to be ruled by cartoon laws of motion. They are able to shed and gain mass almost at will, capable of impossible feats of strength and agility and can be broken apart and reinstated in the blink of an eye.

Many animated characters possess few if any discernible physical qualities that their “real” counterparts possess, yet the audience is still able to accept them as being representatives of their forms. This seems to be possible as long as they possess the minimal requirements for recognition. Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck have few real rabbit or duck attributes but perhaps have enough to engage the audience. I would not argue that these are there to create the suspension of disbelief, surely no one seeing Daffy Duck would interpret the character as an actual duck, but instead to create a unique cartoon duck; a creature of the artist’s imagination and one that conforms to the parameters set by the artists. The extent to which the artist and the designer are able to take this interpretation is extreme, and as long as it provides a logic (albeit a twisted one), the audience may go along with it.

Story, Story, Story

All forms of animation (documentary, comedy, drama, etc.) need a gripping narrative structure and characters we want to get to know; even if they are unsympathetic or villainous, the audience must be interested in what they do and why they are doing it. Obviously, if the character is the hero of the piece, then it is even more important to make sure the audience connects with his or her personality and concerns.

If you keep abreast of developments in moviemaking, it won’t have escaped your notice that the idea that story is king, and the basis of all good films has become a kind of mantra. Sadly for scriptwriters, it seems everyone has an opinion on a script and everyone has notes that will transform it into a work of genius. Studios will change scriptwriters on a project at the drop of a hat. There are many books, seminars, and courses that promise to reveal the formula for writing the perfect script. In the majority of animated features coming out of Hollywood, the script is not the end to changes in the story either; at the point that everybody is happy with the current version of the script, it is turned over to the storyboard artists whose job is not just to render the script in pictures but to add ideas, business, even new subplots, and sometimes to take the film in a whole new direction.

You might think that all of the above would produce scripts that were well honed, tightly plotted, and fun and often that is the case. A new writer can provide an outside eye that can spot the flaws in the previous scribe’s work, and storyboard artists can provide brilliant moments and often catch and strengthen the tone of a piece. A few years ago, I was visiting a friend of mine who was working at DreamWorks for a tour. As we were leaving, I noticed some design work on the wall from a different production and asked him what it was. “Oh,” he said “that’s a thing called ‘Shrek’, but it isn’t going well and they can’t seem to get the feel of it right. They’re thinking of canning it.” Later, after “Shrek” had come out to massive acclaim, he told me that it had been a storyboard artist (I’m guessing it was Conrad Vernon), new to the job, who had come in and done the sequence in which Lord Farquaad tortures the Gingerbread man, who had given the movie a whole new tone. When Jeffrey Katzenberg saw that, he had immediately decided that this was the direction in which the movie had to go and the rest, as the cliché has it, is history. Or at least movie history.

However, films keep coming out that have clichéd storylines, flat, obvious narratives and lots of pop cultural jokes and references in place of real characterization.

This is not a manual for writing the animated film, but directors and animators must understand something about story and script before they can begin to produce a vital and interesting character performance. Where is the essence of the film coming from, if not the script?

Character design is full of clues to personality (and we will cover this later), but the design will have come out of the needs of the script; it is much harder to start with a character design and find a story than to start with a story and design the character. Just as an actor will mine the script for clues to her character’s personality, so too must the director or animator who wants to produce work that rises above the merely pedestrian, that is, original and really engages an audience’s imagination.

We need to look at this when writing and working with our own scripts as well as looking at what directors and animators need to do when working with scripts from other writers.

Working with an Existing Script

As an animator, I think it is vital that you read the whole script, not just your part of it. You will get so much more information about the intention of the piece and about who the characters are, even the ones you aren’t animating. Those characters’ actions may have a definite bearing upon yours, even if they never come into contact.

Have you any empathy for the story or characters? It may be that what is going on has very little relevance to your life, the story may be set in an unfamiliar milieu, the characters may act in a way you find ridiculous or plain stupid; how do you get a purchase on the script so that you can do your job to the best of your ability?

If a little research would help you understand the script better, then do it. Try to find links between your own life and aspirations and that of the characters, break things down so that you can see the needs and desires behind their actions.

If you need to talk to the scriptwriter to find out where he’s coming from on the project, do so.

Consider the script as if it had no words, try to forget what the characters are saying, and tell the story without dialogue. It would be worth finding a sympathetic ear, someone who isn’t involved with the production, and try to do this out loud. In this way, you may find you both understand the story better and can create a structure that doesn’t rely on the words. You may, in fact, be able to drop a line or two and show rather than tell.

Writing Your Own Script

Most students, and many people who make their own, independent films, write their own scripts; indeed, this is the great attraction of making your own film, the opportunity to tell your story the way you want to tell it.

The upside of a self-penned script can be the filmmaker’s real engagement with the material and a thorough knowledge of the situation and characters. The downside can often be that, having come from the visual side of the process, the filmmaker may be too interested in working with a new animation technique or doing something visually stunning or wildly experimental. There is nothing wrong with any of these things, but audiences do not go into cinemas or turn on the TV for the visuals; they are looking for a strong story and compelling characters. The character design and visual effects are just a bonus to an outstanding story.

In a culture that often values words over pictures, it is hard to fight the urge to write a line that will explain a situation rather than work to understand the situation well enough to create images that will do the same job in a more direct and vital way. Our sense of sight is more powerful than our sense of hearing, and the visual cues will provide enormous amounts of information before we hear anything at all. Animation tells stories without words, and if its practitioners can short-circuit the habits of verbal thought, this can lead to images of telling simplicity and emotion. Michael Dudok de Wit’s Father and Daughter (UK, Belgium, Netherlands 2001) is a great example.

Don’t put into a script things the camera can’t show. It is no good saying that a character has a happy-go-lucky disposition if you don’t show this. Creating a problem for a happy-go-lucky character won’t work if she hasn’t been established as happy-go-lucky by some previous action.

Fig. 1.1 Father and Daughter (Michael Dudok de Wit)tells the story of a father who leaves his daughter behind when he goes on a trip. As the years pass and he fails to return, the girl grows up and has a family of her own, but she never loses faith with her memory of him. A wonderfully affecting story of enduring love, defined in the simplest of graphic terms, but with a very sophisticated sensibility. A well-deserved Oscar winner.

© CinéTé Filmproducties & Cloudrunner Ltd.

Equally, remember that all good stories come from somewhere, they have “backstory,” the events that led up to the story you are telling. You may not show any of this but you need to know it exists, particularly on a character level so that whatever you write for the character is true to that character’s personality.

In talking to students and looking at their screenplays and storyboards, I often find myself saying, “I think what you need here is X,” and I often get the response, “Oh, I had that in there but I took it out because I thought it was too obvious.” Remember that the audience knows nothing about your story beyon...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• Chapter 1: Aspects of Acting for Animation
• Chapter 2: Types of Performance
• Chapter 3: Format, Genre, and Audience
• Chapter 4: Character and Personality
• Chapter 5: Principles of Performance
• Chapter 6: Making a Performance
• Chapter 7: Scene Composition
• Chapter 8: Working with Actors
• Index