Showing posts with label Channel 4. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Channel 4. Show all posts
Sunday, 26 May 2013
Margaret Thatcher: Where am I Now? by Bob Godfrey and Steve Bell
Margaret Thatcher: Where am I Now? was a 1999 collaboration between Bob Godfrey, who directed, and the political cartoonist Steve Bell. It took the form of five episodes, each one three minutes long, which were screened on Channel 4.
The first episode can be viewed here.
Sunday, 7 April 2013
British Animation goes to Troperville
I've been tinkering with TV Tropes lately. After familiarising myself with the site, I thought I'd write down a few of my thoughts.
For those unfamiliar with it, TV Tropes works like Wikipedia in that any of its readers can edit it. Unlike Wikipedia, it expressly rejects any concept of "notability" when it comes to the material it covers. Almost any work of fiction is considered fair game for a page on TV Tropes: it just needs somebody willing to start one.
TV Tropes has good coverage of mainstream American animation (with a particular fondness for superhero cartoons, it seems) and anime, but has many blind spots when it comes to the wider world of animation - to use its own terminology, it suffers from something of a Small Reference Pool.
Hedgehog in the Fog: A Norstein animation. Not to be confused with Digimon.
There are some bright spots, to be fair: TV Tropes has a burgeoning section on Eastern European animation, including pages covering individual directors such as Jan Svankmajer, and there is also a short page on the National Film Board of Canada which briefly celebrates the NFB's contributions to animation. When I searched the site for pages mentioning Yuri Norstein, however, all I found were articles discussing Thomas Norstein (a character from the anime series Digimon) and a single forum post dismissing Tale of Tales and Hedgehog in the Fog as "pretentious shit". Alas, this would seem to be the dominant milieu in Troperville.
TV Tropes is, of course, a site compiled by and for the geek demographic, which has its ups and downs. One thing I appreciate about geekdom is the total lack of any conventional snobbery: on a site like TV Tropes, animation and comics will be covered alongside live action and prose fiction, with no assumption that they are in any way less deserving of discussion.
Kihachiro Kawamoto: a Japanese animator beloved by animation enthusiasts - except for fans of Japanese animation.
The downside is that geek culture is rife with a sort of inverted snobbery. A vast quantity of work is dismissed as "pretentious" or "artsy" without a second thought merely for not fitting into the dominant comfort zone, often simply because it has not been quite so heavily commercialised as, say, Hollywood films or Marvel comics. Perhaps the best evidence of this on TV Tropes is the fact that, while the site has reams of pages covering various anime - including anime which have never officially been translated into English, and even large amounts of pornographic anime until this started to get the site in trouble - there does not appear to be a single page mentioning Kihachiro Kawamoto. Kawamoto's stop-motion films have been admired by the Western animation community for decades, but are apparently not "geek" enough for TV Tropes.
At first, the site's skewed emphasis might seem justifiable. The whole point of TV Tropes is documenting the building blocks of popular fiction, from The Scrappy (an annoying sidekick) to the Heel Face Turn (when a bad guy becomes a good guy). Idiosyncratic animators such as Svankmajer, Norman McLaren and the Brothers Quay are less reliant on conventional narrative, and so less reliant on these building blocks. Attempts to describe their work in TV Tropes terms tend to fall back on vague labels such as Deranged Animation (basically, animation which looks odd), Nightmare Fuel (things which are mildly creepy) and What Do You Mean, It Wasn't Made on Drugs? (self explanatory).
However, while these animators may not be using existing building blocks, they are certainly creating building blocks of their own. As I mentioned in another post a while ago, the creators of The Mighty Boosh have described their series as "Svankmajer-esque", and a search on Google turns up over one thousand examples of this phrase being used to describe everything from Being John Malkovitch to the films of Tim Burton. The influence of Norstein, Svankmajer and other key animators looms large, and no discussion of recurring motifs in animation would be complete without at least namechecking them.
So, with that commentary out of the way, how does British animation fare on TV Tropes?
Well, the internationally recognised animations are there. Aardman and Cosgrove-Hall have their own pages, as do most of their key works (including each individual Wallace and Gromit film); there are also pages on Yellow Submarine and Watership Down (covering the novel as well as its animated adaptations). I also notice a few works which are probably little-known outside Britain, such as The Wombles, The Clangers and a very thorough page on The Dreamstone. Some examples of British web animation - Weebl and Bob, Salad Fingers, Cyriak - are also covered. There were a few entries which pleasantly surprised me with their presence, including Richard Williams' The Little Island.
On to the big gaps. TV Tropes currently has almost no coverage of Halas & Batchelor: judging by a quick search, the only significant mention of the studio is on the page for Orwell's Animal Farm, which has a paragraph briefly discussing the animated feature. The Brothers Quay have been mentioned a few times on the site, but neither they nor any of their films have pages yet.
Granted, the films of the Quays are fine examples of the kind of which is awkward to cover on TV Tropes due to their non-narrative content. Most of Halas & Batchelor's better-known works, meanwhile, are perfectly accessible and could easily be covered by TV Tropes pages; the issue in this case is more of a generation gap. Most of the site's contributors are children of the eighties, nineties and early 2000s, and series such as DoDo, The Kid From Outer Space will have been before their time.
But anyway, as I said before, any of TV Tropes' readers can add a new page to the site. With that in mind, I went and started a short page about Channel 4 animation. How will this bastion of more experimental animation fare in the geek-centric world of TV Tropes? Time will tell...
Saturday, 16 March 2013
Max Headroom and the strange world of pseudo-CGI
I've come across people who believe that Max Headroom, the Channel 4 character from the eighties, was computer animated. But although it was the animators Rocky Morton and Annabel Jankel who brought him to life, Max himself was the actor Matt Frewer placed into latex makeup and a shiny costume and set amidst a range of technological tricks.
"Channel 4's greatest animated hit turned out not to be animated at all", commented Clare Kitson in her book British Animation: The Channel 4 Factor. But as she went on to argue, perhaps it is time for a reappraisal:
I wonder if we might indeed classify those sequences as animation nowadays. With the plethora of different technologies now employed, the previous narrow definition (which insisted that the movement itself must be created by the animator) seems a bit old-fashioned. These days anything that appears on a screen and moves but is not a record of real life - including creatures moved by motion capture - tends to fall under the animation umbrella.
Max Headroom was indeed a live actor... [but he] was shot against a blue screen with light sources to simulate the computer-generated images of the period, and the blue screen was replaced in post-production with an animated, computer-generated moving background grid; every other frame was removed, and the remaining frames doubled, to simulate the effect when animators 'shot on doubles'; and finally, various frames were repeated to simulate faults. The current popular synonym for animation, 'manipulated moving image', seems to be made for Max.
Max Headroom was created at a time when 3D CGI animation was desirable, but not always affordable; if budget did not allow it, then producers had to fake computer animation in front of the camera - a process which seems somewhat surreal today in our brave new world of Xtranormal and Blender. Perhaps the most famous instance of this is Disney's Tron, from 1982, which contained genuine CGI animation backed up with large amounts of compositing tricks based around matte effects and backlighting to make the live action footage look as though it was digitally processed.
Another example is the opening sequence to the 1981 American film Escape from New York, which shows what appears to be a wireframe model of Manhattan. In actual fact, it's a physical model, with ultraviolet light and reflective tape combining to emulate primitive CGI.
You could also point to Rod Lord's animation work on the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy television series from 1981. Designed to suggest digital graphics, the sequences were actually created using litho film and coloured gels.
Primitive computer graphics have had something of a resurgence across the past decade or so, to the point in which pastiches of 8-bit pixel graphics have found their way into mainstream productions such as Wreck-It Ralph. Perhaps it's time today's animators rediscovered the lesser-known cousin of this aesthetic...
Well, just so long as they put it to better use than this fellow.
Labels:
1980s,
Channel 4,
Kitson; Clare,
Lord; Rod,
television graphics
Sunday, 21 October 2012
The Animators: Playing God
My transcript of the second episode of The Animators, a 1989 BBC documentary about West Country animators (go here for the first episode). The first half of the episode covers CMBT, the studio behind The Trap Door and Stoppit and Tidyup (along with an unmade feature, tantalising concept art for which is shown). The second half covers Maya Brandt, an independent animator who had recently begun her career with a couple of shorts made for Channel 4; again, concept art for an apparently unfinished film is showcased in the documentary.
Footage of the CMBT studio accompanied by The Trap Door's opening narration and theme song ("Don't you Open that Trap Door")
Narrator: But if you do open the trap door, all you will find are three amiable chaps called Charlie, Terry and Steve, presiding geniuses of a Bristol company called CMBT. The partnership goes back to Speedwell Junior School in Bristol, when Charlie Mills - who was good at drawing things - began knocking around with Terry Brain, who was good at making them. The Trap Door is their most ambitious creation. It's about a chap called Berk, who lives below stairs in a castle with his friend Boni, a philosopher who seems to have mislaid his body along the way, and beneath them, below the trap door, is is a whole collection of downtrodden monsters who spend their lives giving Berk and Boni a bad time.
Footage from The Trap Door, along with its sets and puppets.
Narrator: The Tony Hart programmes for children, made by the BBC in Bristol, gave Charlie and Terry - like so many others - the perfect opening to make their first short animation pieces. The two series of Trap Door, commissioned by Channel 4, allowed them to be disgusting on the grand scale.
Terry Brain: We wanted to do a series where we could have a bit of fun, and also do a certain amount of experimentation, so by having the trap door in it we could introduce a new character in each episode that moved in a different way.
Charles Mills: It's all always kind of been monsters and creepy things and strange things and things getting squashed and puled apart, and generally pretty messy stuff, you know. Who wouldn't like to spend their life playing with Plasticine? The essence of animating with Plasticine, really, is the flexibility of it.
Charles Mills: And If I destroy this worm for a moment - take his eyes out - once you've got a lump of Plasticine nice and warm in your hands, because you're taking things frame by frame, the actual physical properties of the Plasticine as it stands don't actually come into it, but if you can make it look slug-like by just sort of squashing it slowly, take your two frames, then squash it a little bit more, then you're to get something really squirming along really nice and slowly.
Terry Brain: with the main shots where the bugs were everywhere, and Berk walking thorough the middle of them, all we did was pour a load of Plasticine over the set, and you take a few frames, wiggle it about, and move Berk and you'd have two or three actually animated bugs going across the top, but the illusion is that they're all quite well animated - I hope.
Charles Mills: What we didn't want to do was actually work to a voice that was already recorded, because that would mean we'd be totally rigid as to what we could make Berk say and what we could make him do because of the voice it'd already been mapped out. So we decided that we'll work out what we roughly want him to say, and we'll make him say it - I'll show you in a minute - and then the person who's going to do the voiceovers, in this case Willie Rushton, could actually fit the voices to the mouth. Now, the way that we cam up with for making Berk speak, with his mouth, we just cut out little paper mouths...
Charles Mills: I don't know if you can see that there, that's a little Berk's mouth, I'll get rid of this scunge of him here, and just lift one mouth off and you can see the mouth that was there leaves a slightly impression in the plasticine so you can see where to put the next one, and then pop the next mouth on there.
And if you break down words into roughly where mouths are, I mean like an "oooh" is basically a roundish mouth, it's roughly vowels, then you only need six or seven different mouths to encompass the expressions and you just roughly time them and you think, well, the word "what" is probably an eight-frame word and the word and is probably a six- frame word, it's really done very roughly like that, and Willie, using his amazing skills, manages to say his lines to fit the synch of the mouths.
The other thing that was really nice about filming that way is that it meant that Willie has the opportunity, when he saw the pictures, for the first time, of sort of spontaneous reaction to them, which... I mean, there were quite a lot of script changes made, actually, that were dubbed because of something funny Wilie's said, because he hadn't seen the film before and he was seeing this character waddling about and he'd just think of something that struck him as being funny about the scene and substitute that for out script, it was ever so funny to do, I mean we were in fits most of the time.
Steve Box sits with the denizens of The Trap Door.
Narrator: Everybody does a bit of everything at the Kingswood factory, but many of the models are now made by the most recent arrival here, Steve Box.
Steve Box: Well, some of the oddments over there on the sponge are made out of a substance called Milliput, which is a two-part proxy, it's like green party and white putty that you mix together and leave it to set for about half an hour. And other characters, like this one I've just been working on, it's what I've stolen from my mother's marble collection.
Footage from Stoppit and Tidyup.
Charles Mills: Stoppit and Tidyup we filmed using cutout animation, which is really much easier to do than cel because, say, you don't have to do a drawing for every frame, all you need to do is make a cut-out of your character - this is Stoppit - in paper, and we just cover it with sticky clear film, and then do the same thing for his arms and legs and then you can just reposition arms and legs or different angles on the legs or arms around the body, position him, take a frame, move him to his next position, take another frame and away you go.
Behind the scenes: the Stoppit drawer.
Charles Mills: The reason, one of the nice things about doing it this way is that actually -as with models - you're creating animation under the camera and you don't have to go through a massive amount of planning or anything, you can go in there, get the character, get your hands on it and do it. Great, it's a good way to work. one thing that's handy when you're doing stuff like this is this particular device here, which isn't too expensive - a few hundred pounds really - can record single frames directly into its memory and then can play them back, and that's useful for testing things out before committing them to film. Now this one we did when we were working out Clean Your Teeth's walk, if I load that up you can see what it does.
Clean Your Teeth's walk cycle, shown on a computer.
Terry Brain: Unfortunately, animation is a very expensive process, and TV companies might not pay enough to cover the cost of making the programme.
Terry Brain showcasing the amount of merchandise for the series.
Terry Brain: And that's when you have to resort to merchandise, such as these things, These cuddly toys here, then you also get duvet covers, greetings cards, books, badges, you name it, they make it. And sometimes it seems that the programme is just an advert for the toys, but that's not always the case, sometimes you need the toys to make the programmes.
Concept art for The Pudding.
Terry Brain: This is our next project, which is going back to model animation, much as the Trap Door was but taking things a bit further. It's called The Pudding and it's an hour and a quarter feature. We've been developing this project for about... must be about four years now, and basically it concerns these two characters, Hoodgurn and Groyle, who land on Earth in a remote country village at Christmastime and find that this thing, the Gert, is pinching the Christmas presents from the village, and it's their job to make sure he doesn't succeed.
Narrator: All they need now is eight hundred thousand pounds. Full-length animation features are enormously expensive, so the knack of persuading people to invest in your efforts is a key skill which Maya Brandt seems to possess. Her work is in stark contrast to most of the other West Country animators. It's not for children, and it's often angry - a personal statement on the world around her.
Footage of Maya Brandt drawing.
Maya Brandt: I started when I was at art college on a foundation course and i made this little film about fruits coming to life out of this basket. and it was a Super 8 film, it was dead rough, because it was just set up in the studio with... everyone kept walking past, bumping the lights, bumping into the camera so it was all jumping over the place, so it looked pretty awful. But it was good fun to do and it just sort of got me started, and later on when I was doing what was supposed to be a graphics course - I didn't actually do very much - we got set this project about birth, marriage and death which are big issues in life. And so I made Funny Valentine then I decided to go into making animation, and it took off in a way that I hadn't expected.
Footage from Funny Valentine.
Maya Brandt: Because it fitted the medium so perfectly, very simple perfect kind of Plasticine thing, even though it's technically quite naff, it just seemed to... because the simplicity of them message and just keeping it together just seemed to work very well. Knowing they're silly little people really, I suppose, but it just worked.
Maya Brandt: I mean, I suppose I consider myself a feminist, but, you know, I'm not going to do something to fit into a particular slot and with that I'm afraid I probably do offend people - go forth an be offended, really, I just think it's good to be truthful and if the truth hurts then so be it.
Maya Brandt: Well, they always come out of direct experiences in one way or another, it's either something that has happened to me or quite often it comes out of dreams, and I keep a dreambook by my bed so that when I wake up I can write down the stuff that comes up and, well, it always starts from something real but then I will work at something consciously that could come from the subconscious, and it's always about things that appeal to me directly and it just comes from the heart, things that do effect me very much emotionally... quite often it comes out of anger and its may way of, my revenge on the world things that I like to do, I reckon, and never did at the time, my way of getting on with it.
Maya Brandt at home.
Maya Brandt: But it always starts with words because the concept of the films is always most important, the message, it doesn't have to have, like, a moral message but it has to say something it has to be about something that appeals directly to me and it always starts with a word, then I start to make a storyboard. It's when they have... it's sort of like a comic book really, but it's the sequence of how the shorts will go, so it's the middle stage on from the words to the pictures before it actually becomes models so it's a guide to shooting and how it will look, that's what you show the commissioning editor or whoever you're trying to get money off.
I suppose I'm trying to edit on the page first of all, although in fact when I have... I do always shoot more like live action in that it's more free and that I do overshoot more than what I originally intend I suppose, because you can never , or I can never envisage exactly how it's going to look, you know, when I've actually got the models here because it's several processes - it's words to pictures then making it into models putting it onto film and then the sound and it is in fact all quite separate stages.
Footage from Gladis in the Underground.
Maya Brandt: That actually came out of several travels on the underground. I just found that whenever I went to London and spent any time in the underground I just found it so incredibly depressing, something awful would always happen. I'd always witness somebody getting beaten up and attacked, mugged or something and just a very unpleasant feeling always seemed to come out of this place, I mean ,different stations, but it always had that same kind of nightmarish feel, and then it just developed into a metaphor of life I suppose.
Maya Brandt: I do like working with other people, I like the energy of it. Basically, so much of it is don on my own anyway, I conceive the idea on my own, I draw the pictures, I try and work out how it's going to look all on my own. And so it's important to have a spin off other people's energy and ideas during a shoot, and I like working with editors as well, although I could cut it myself it's nice to be able to sit back and, well, order somebody around, of course! But it's just nice to have other people's energy and feedback all the way through the later stages, and working with sound, that's very exciting. I do think sound is very important and underused in animation films because I think it's got all the importance that is put into feature films, because feature films put an enormous amount of effort into their tracks - they've got footsteps tracks, dialogue tracks, and all kids of stuff that they spend ages preparing, and quite often I've found with animation films they just do this sort of plinky-plonky piano and shove it on and that will do. I just think it's really important to spend a lot of time getting the sound right there.
Maya Brandt: When I was working on Gladis in the Underground that was my first experience of a big budget, directing a lot of people and it was very strange, actually, because it was just so different, it turned out on that one that I actually wasn't doing any animation it made me feel that I was not in touch with it, it's really important for me to keep in touch with my work and actually put my guts into it I do feel very passionate about everything I do I love to do drawings, painting, sets construction - well, I do need help with the actual construction of sets and models, basically because I'm not very good at it!
Interviewer: Do you like the control that's inherent in animation, doing it all yourself?
Maya Brandt: Oh, yes, I love that. I think that's what's much more appealing than, you know, real film with actors. you know: you actually create this world. The actors do exactly what you want because you are the actors, you know What I like about it is, I suppose I can put all my acting ambitions or whatever into these little plasticine blobs and bring them to life. But it is, it's playing God, you know it's crating a whole world that has its own rules its, own time, and that's very exciting.
Footage from What's Cooking.
Maya Brandt: That came about, well, a few years ago. A friend of mine was working in this restaurant, so I used to go and spend a lot of time there as well. I used to hear all these extraordinary stories of the goings on, because it was full of gangsters and things that used to go there, and just all kinds of really weird tales, I suppose. And I used to go in there and spend time in the kitchen as well, and watching the cook chopping up all these bits of animals and stuff and I sort of became a vegetarian! And it's just... I think after that I began to watch people in restaurants and just... looking at greed and consumerism, people stuffing themselves, these ghastly people who hung around in this place, I mean, because also, in that particular restaurant it was very close to a casino, and then... but all the local gangsters did used to go in there and they'd be sort of letching over every young woman that came, or every young boy, just sort of anything that moved, slavering over them.
Maya Brandt: Well, at the moment I'm working on a series of five-ten minute ideas that are based on dream images. I mean, they're very much more directly dream images, I suppose than I've done before. At the moment its working title is Menagerie of Dreams and basically it's a series of journeys for different characters.
Concept art for Menagerie of Dreams.
Maya Brandt: They will go through the film and meet different versions of themselves, different characters that are another aspect of themselves, their darker sides in a sense, as though it's a sort of journey of self discovery. Perhaps it's much more more spiritually based than 've done before, but quite often the characters are meeting themselves as wild animals, there's quite a lot of vicious dogs in there - I mean, they're not at all cutesy.
Maya Brandt: But I think they're much more poetic maybe. I'm going for happy endings but not in a sloppy sense, just in a way of going through something, to go through a dark patch in order to get to the light, you know.
The ending to Gladis in the Underground.
Labels:
1980s,
BBC,
Box; Steve,
Brandt; Maya,
Channel 4,
CMBT,
short films,
television series
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