Surpassing the freedom of subject and setting that the advent of film and portable camera provided the art of visual storytelling is that of the animated film. Unburdened by the limitations of physical construction, the animated set can take on any form the creator imagines. This liberty allows strange and fantastic worlds formed in the individual mind to take form on screen, and take on life in the imaginations of the collective audience.
Paprika, a film by Satoshi Kon, uses animation to bridge the gap between the world of dreams and the world of reality. Vivid colours and dynamic environments set the tone for this surrealist fantasy. The film introduces a therapeutic device, the D.C. Mini, which is used by psychiatrists to enter their patients’ dreams. The devices are stolen, and soon the line between the characters’ conscious and unconscious worlds begins to blur as the instruments are manipulated by the film’s villain in order to achieve a sort of mind control. The use of an animated environment is paramount in creating the atmosphere for this film, as it must be able to morph and twist both the dream state and reality, creating an ambiguity between the two. Consider how the corridor in Detective Kogawa’s dream crumples like fabric as he struggles to pursue a suspect; such a scene would not be possible using conventional filming techniques and such special effects would be hard to accomplish. The most memorable sequence from the film, that of a giant dream parade of toys and other inanimate objects, similarly produces an effect that would be hard to duplicate using other means of representation. In this case, animation allows the audience to put aside their own realities and enter a state of suspended disbelief. From there, they enter a world of endless and frightening possibility which echoes the film’s theme concerning the uncertain morality of scientific progress.
Roger Waters’ The Wall also uses animation to represent a sort of dream state. The film mixes actual footage with animated sequences in an attempt to portray the memories and delusions of the title character: Pink Floyd. The movie deals with an increasing isolation experienced by Pink as he contemplates his past, mixing it with fantasy, and eventually descending into insanity. The animated sequences, though infrequent in the beginning of the film, are more and more prevalent as the story progresses. As animation, by nature, feels removed from our daily reality, the strategy is an effective method of portraying Pink’s increasing detachment from this reality throughout the course of the film. Furthermore, the inherent editing involved in the animation progress (everything must be drawn, and is therefore present for a reason) reveals a much more distilled and symbolic interpretation of events than their filmed counterparts. For instance, in animation, Pink’s elementary school teacher becomes much taller, more imposing, and takes on a repulsive, sickly green countenance. In the flower sequence, the blossoms representing Pink’s past relationships with women morph and take on the characteristics of the male and female genitalia, the woman flower eventually biting off the head of the man’s. This same phenomenon can be noted in the only scene where animation and live action are combined: a giant plant resembling a vaginal opening attacks the title character. This combination of styles is meant to indicate a breaking point where Pink can no longer tell the difference between his fantasies and his reality. One final example of the power of the animated set in The Wall can be seen near the films end, where the concrete block wall that has been built over the course of the narrative takes on human characteristics and screams. The mouth opens so wide one feels they could be swallowed, engulfed in the same alienation that has driven Pink to insanity. This frightening mental picture would be impossible to duplicate in live action without the use of extensive CGI.
The black and white world of Christian Volckman’s Renaissance is another example of the possibilities available to filmmakers employing animated sets. The creators of Renaissance did not start traditionally with a narrative they wanted to explore, but with a vision they wanted to create: that of a high contrast, futuristic Paris. The result is a film that reads like a living, breathing graphic novel. Situating monumental, modernized architecture within a three dimensional model of the existing fabric of the city (linked by a labyrinth of dark passages), the animators create a layered, haunting sci-fi metropolis. The story is a typical film noir mystery, where the purely black and white animation serves as a foil highlighting the grey-area morality of the film’s characters. Lurid lighting techniques, evocative transparencies and dynamic manipulation of shadow and light provides a perpetually moving visual mosaic in which to display the film’s complex animations and settings. Motion capture technology brings a high degree of realism to the life in this alternate reality, and striking, sweeping shots of the futuristic Paris, which would not be possible with live action filming techniques, reveal the complexities of the city’s design. In the end, Volckman provides us with a compelling, iconographic environment filled with intrigue, bringing bright light into the dark corners of a world which values scientific progress above all else.