animation studies vol. 3

8/19/2019 Animation Studies Vol. 3

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Animation Studies

Volume 32008


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Animation Studies

Editor

Nichola Dobson

Independent Scholar

Managing Editor

Timo LinsenmaierStaatliche Hochschule für Gestaltung Karlsruhe

Editorial Board

Charles da CostaSavannah College of Art and Design

Ethan de SeifeGettysburg College

Pierre FloquetENSEIRB, Université de Bordeaux

Maureen FurnissCalifornia Institute of the Arts

Amy Ratelle

Ryerson University/York University

Caroline RuddellSt. Mary’s College, University of Surrey

Paul WardBournemouth Arts Institute

Karin WehnUniversität Leipzig

Paul WellsLoughborough University

Animation Studies is published by the Society for Animation Studies,c/o Dr. Maureen Furniss (President), Department of Film and Video,

California Institute of the Arts, 24700 McBean ParkwayValencia, CA 91355 USA.

This journal publishes proceedings of the Society for Animation Studies’ conferences. For moreinformation on the Society, visit http://www.animationstudies.org.

Submission guidelines are available online at http://journal.animationstudies.org.

All articles are published under the Creative Commons “Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0” license. For a full text of this licence, please visit

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/For purposes exceeding this license, please contact the author concerned at the editor’s address.

Cover illustration: Birgitta Hosea

ISSN 1930-1928


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Animation Studies – Vol.3, 2008

Contents

iii Letter from the Editor

by Nichola Dobson

1 Half-breed Dog, Half-breed Film:Balto as Animelodramaby Amy Ratelle

6 The Newly Developed Form ofGanime and its Relation to SelectiveAnimation for Adults in Japanby Sheuo Hui Gan

18 “Steadier, happier, and quicker atthe work”? Women in CanadianAnimationby Caroline Ruddell

24 TV 2.0: Animation Readership/Authorship on the Internetby Birgitta Hosea

33 Visions of a Future Past: Ulysses 31,a Televised Re-interpretation ofHomer’s Classic Mythby María Lorenzo Hernández

42 The Spectre in the Screenby Alan Cholodenko

51 Why animation historiography?by Timo Linsenmaier

60 The Ontology of Performance in StopAnimationby Laura Ivins-Hulley

67 Taking an Appropriate Lineby Van Norris

77 Submission Guidelines &Creative Commons

Letter from the Editor

Welcome to Volume 3 of Animation Studies.

This year’s conference was held at the Arts In-stitute at Bournemouth and was a great successby all accounts. We had the largest number of presentations since I started attending a few years ago and as always the generation of someexcellent and thought-provoking papers.

This volume begins with past papers fromprevious SAS conferences. In “Half-breed Dog,Half-breed Film: Balto as Animelodrama” Amy

Ratelle examines the use of melodrama as a nar-rative tool in the anthropomorphic featureBalto (1995) and the extent to which it exagger-ated, or heightened the true life aspects of thestory. Sheuo Hui Gan describes “The NewlyDeveloped form of Ganime and its Relation toSelective Animation for Adults in Japan” – in-troducing a new type of animation which many

Japanese artists are embracing, and why thephrase “limited” animation is not a useful term.

Both of these papers were presented at the 2007SAS annual conference in Portland, Oregon.Lynne Perras added to our archive with her2006 SAS paper “Steadier, happier, and quickerat work? Women in Canadian Animation”providing us with another perspective on work-ing practises and traditions (and perceptions) inNorth America.

By widening the call to other animation sub-

ject papers we were able to include two papers which were presented at the PCA/ACA confer-ence held in San Francisco in 2008, which forthe first time, included an animation subjectarea. Birgitta Hosea considers the potential im-pact of technology in “TV 2.0: Animation Read-ership/Authorship on the Internet,” not only interms of audience consumption, but in a usefulcase study, demonstrates the scope of new webtechnologies for animation students. After look-ing to the future of animation Maria Lorenzo

Hernandez looked back, with “Visions of a Fu-

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ture Past. Ulysses 31: A Televised Re-Interpretation of Homer’s Classic Myth” whichexamines the 1980s television series. The paperconsiders the series’ use of ‘contemporary’

imagery to echo the past, and how it informsthe audience’s nostalgia. Presented at ‘Screen-scapes: Past, Present, Future,’ Alan Cholo-denko’s “The Spectre in the Screen,” seeks toelaborate a theory of spectatorship ‘proper to’animation, and film as a form of animation.This builds on his earlier work (including “TheDeath of the Animator” published in this jour-nal last year) to bring to the fore the crucialnature of animation for the thinking of not only

all forms but all aspects of cinema, of film, as aform of animation.

From this year’s Bournemouth conference we had several papers submitted and accepted,though not all ready for publication in this edi-tion. Timo Linsenmaier’s “Why Animation His-toriography? Or: Why the commissar shouldn’tvanish” suggests that the continued examina-tion of animation history is an important aspect

of animation studies, but we must be careful toconsider what assumptions (or indeed agenda)may have been made or inserted by the histori-an. In “The Ontology of Performance in StopAnimation: Kawamotos ‘House of Flame’ andSvankmajers ‘The Fall of the House of Usher’,”Laura Ivins-Hulley examines the nature of theperformance in puppet animation and the roleof the audience in the perception of the per-former, by considering two distinctly differentfilms. Van Norris looks at the use of comic in-

congruity in the representation of disability inanimation and in particular the Aardman“Creature Discomforts” in his paper, “Takingan Appropriate Line: Exploring Representa-tions of Disability within British MainstreamAnimation” and suggests that this type of com-edy, paired with the documentary style and stopmotion technique presents disability in a morepositive way than is often seen elsewhere.

I think you will agree that each paper here isquite different in its subject and approach andonce more representative of the great wealth of

work being carried out in the animation studies

community. The next edition will hopefullybuild on this and will anticipate the 2009 con-ference to be held in Atlanta, Georgia in July.Hope to see you all there.

Nichola Dobson

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Amy Ratelle

Half-breed Dog, Half-breed FilmBalto

as Animelodrama

Linda Willams (1998) defines melodrama as “a peculiarly democratic and American form thatseeks dramatic revelation of moral and emotional truths through a dialectic of pathos and action”(p. 42). This emphasis on moral and emotional truth, as opposed to cinematic realism oradherence to historical fact positions the figure of the “suffering innocent” (p. 43) as a dividingline between the oppositions of (cinematic) “good” and “evil.” Balto (1995) takes several liberties

with history. The nature of these liberties is of great interest, especially as the film is promoted asa “true” story (on its movie poster), and more particularly if we are to understand the film isoperating specifically as melodrama. This paper examines Balto in terms of its melodramaticstructure, and how the liberties taken with actual history serve to enhance the visceral impact of

the film.Melodrama is most often (pejoratively) deemed a genre of excess. Nearly all the writings on

melodrama focus on its excessive qualities as properties of the “woman’s film” (Williams, 1998;Gledhill 2000), and are framed in terms of issues of violations of good taste, in that they areoverly, often uncomfortably, sentimental. Children’s cinema is also often framed in terms of violations of good taste – too loud, too bright, too nonsensical. The similarity in negative views of these “marginalized” genres has yet to be noted in writings on melodrama or children’s cinema. Itseems only logical, then, to examine Balto in terms of its excessive pathos, sentimentality andaction-packed third act, especially in that the film undermines historical fact in order to drivehome a larger point on suffering and the rewards of virtue, and because it implicitly maintains a

tie to history, inherent in the live-action opening and closing “brackets”. Though most, if not all,children’s animation is melodramatic, Balto in particular is deserving of special attention by virtueof the tensions of pathos/action in the animated narrative, and the implicit “real-life” history inthe live-action, which requires an anchor to an actual lived experience, as provided by the live-action bookends. While other animated films may have this explicit division between live-actionand animation, in the case of Balto, the shift in medium is more than simply indicative of aflashback. As the human grandmother is revealed as Rosie, the little girl in the animated “coretext,” this lends greater historical credence to the emotional journey of Balto in the animatedportion of the film.

This troubled relationship to history is heightened by the division of the film into two parts – abrief live-action opening sequence, the animated “core text,” and a return to the live-action spaceat the end. Christine Gledhill (2000) further observes that “melodrama’s heightened contrasts andpolar oppositions aim to make the world morally legible” (2000, p. 234) – pure/impure,rural/urban, wild/domestic, and nostalgia/history. The division of the narrative into two separateparts highlights the grey areas between historical fact and emotional truth. The interdependenceof these two modes of representation as separate, yet inseparable parts of the same narrative iscrucial to understanding the film as melodrama.

In the animated portion of the film, Balto is an outcast wolf-husky cross breed, yearning at firstto be included as part of a dogsled racing team, then, after he meets purebred husky Jenna, to bedomesticated as a family pet, preferably within her family unit. Balto’s chance for greatness comesin the form of a diphtheria epidemic in his “hometown” of Nome, Alaska. Through his tentative

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friendship with Jenna, whose human owner, Rosie, a little girl, is struck down with the illness, heis exposed to a cozy family intimacy he has never been part of. Jenna, who loves her little-girlowner, is worried for her. Balto becomes worried, on Jenna’s behalf.

The first act of the film goes out of its way to create standard melodramatic oppositions of good/evil, pure/impure, domestic/savage, and civilization/wilderness, in order to position Baltoas a suffering innocent, beset by the injustices and indignities of being a misunderstood socialoutcast. He is distrusted by the humans of the town for his (allegedly) savage, unpredictable,‘wolfy’ nature; the canine residents mock him for the impurity of his bloodline. He is a loner of sorts – his only companion is Boris, a snow goose, who stubbornly refuses to fly south with hisown kind. Steel, the only other purebred husky, is Balto’s chief antagonist. He repeatedly bullieshim, and takes pains to ensure that Balto continues to be misunderstood and distrusted by thehumans of Nome. Steel and his gang, the other dogs on the winning sled team, call Balto names,threaten him, and beat him up. The length of screen-time and narrative focus on these incidentsresults in a pathos-heavy first act. Clearly, apart from Jenna, and by extension, Rosie, Balto is not

wanted in the town. His mixed heritage makes him a liability, which tugs at our heartstrings.However, he is just as uncomfortable with wolves. Early in the film, after being set-upon by

Steel, Balto slinks away, and encounters a wolf pack on his way home. High on a ridge, they callto him, howling out mournfully. He looks a lot more like them than he resembles even the other(non-Siberian) huskies in town, and they seem willing to have him as a part of their pack, butBalto yearns for Jenna, and ‘civilization.’ He slinks home, filled with shame over his impurebloodline. As this is (ostensibly) Balto’s story, the viewer is concretely aligned with Balto,suffering every indignity right along with him. We want him to win Jenna; we need him toovercome the stigma of his mixed blood origins. He is as much a victim of circumstance as he isof Steel’s bullying. As Williams (1998) puts it, “in melodrama, there is a moral, wish-fulfilling

impulse towards the achievement of justice… as the powerless yet virtuous seek to return to the‘innocence’ of their origins” (p. 48). In Balto’s case, this is a little complicated, as he is half-wolf,and thus already sullied at birth. As spectators, we need there to be a way for Balto to overcomethe stigma, to win Jenna, and a place within her family unit.

Balto’s affection for Jenna and his need to both impress her and save Rosie is his impetus torescue the sled team, which has become lost in the blizzard conditions. Balto is determined to getthe antitoxin serum from Nenana to Nome, even though the town has made it abundantly clearthat they have no use for him. Cut-aways to the lost team reveal, however, that it is not the

weather that has undone them, but Steel’s megalomania. At the beginning of the film, Steel isportrayed as merely high on himself. By the time the antitoxins have begun their Nome-ward

journey, Steel is very obviously insane. He has lost the trail, causing the sled to tip and the driverto pitch forward, rendering him unconscious, thus losing any human decision-making authority.Steel forbids the other dogs from attempting to regain the trail without him.

It is at this point that Balto (the film) becomes far less interested in pathos than it does inaction. Balto (the dog) braves every conceivable winter-related obstacle on his quest to save thesled team and the antitoxins. Setting out with Boris, he soon runs into trouble in the form of anenormous black bear, roused from winter hibernation. The bear is depicted as pure grizzly evil.Balto must fight the bear, but it is a losing battle until the bear is distracted by Jenna, who hasfollowed Balto, thinking to aid him on his journey. With her assistance he defeats the bear, but

Jenna has been injured, and Boris must escort her back into town for medical attention. Borisoffers Balto some parting advice: “A dog cannot make this journey alone. But, maybe, a wolf

can.”

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Thus Balto’s quest becomes not so much about helping Nome, but about finding his inner wolf and reconciling it with his outer dog.

Balto sniffs out the team on the winter wind. Setting off to find them, Balto marks his trailback to Nome. He finds the lost team quickly enough, but must contend with Steel’s madness.Each time Balto goes near the crate of medication, Steel runs him off. Balto demonstrates his“quality” through passive-resistance. Each time he is thrown by Steel, he gets back up, and tellshim, “I don’t want to fight you.” Unfortunately, Steel feels otherwise, and they do fight, ending

with (predictably) Steel falling off a cliff. In the meantime, Balto’s character has so impressed theother dogs, that they offer him Steel’s place as lead in the harness. In the spirit of non-stop action,Balto’s trials are hardly over. Steel survives his fall, and obliterates Balto’s trail by marking everytree. Balto is left with no alternative but to guess the way home, and fails miserably. He nearlytakes the team off (yet another) cliff. He saves the team from falling, but both he and the preciousantitoxin go over instead. He has an encounter with a wolf unlike any he, and by extension, we,have ever seen before.

This sequence is essentially the pivot on which the film turns. It is a quiet, spiritual moment in what is, up to that point, and for the rest of the third act, a dialogue- and action-heavy film. Baltoand the wolf howl together against a backdrop of blizzard and mountains. This mountainous

winter landscape takes on great symbolic importance, as does the whiteness of the spirit wolf, inthis specific moment and the film as a whole. Richard Dyer (1997) notes, about the stark, whitemountain landscape that

such places had a number of virtues: the clarity and cleanness of the air, the vigor demandedby the cold, the enterprise required by the harshness of the terrain and climate, the sublime,soul-elevating beauty of the mountain vistas, even the greater nearness to God above and thepresence of the whitest thing on earth, snow. (p. 21).

Or, at the very least, the snow is the second-whitest presence in the scene. The spirit-wolf (perhaps even the god of wolves) is the whitest thing set in a landscape of white things. Balto,searching for origin, finds that it is as lily-white, if not more so, as Jenna’s or Steel’s. His is a nobleorigin, far outreaching the mangy grey wolves he declined to join at the beginning of the film.Animation beautifully renders both the unusual appearance of the spirit-wolf – tall, slender, witha lovely, tapering snout, and yellow eyes with concentric pupils – as well as controls the blizzardbackground of delicate blue and green shades, warmed up by the presence of the wolf, emitting avery faint pink and yellow-tinged glow. The staggering revelation of Balto’s purity and inherent

worth is accomplished with little movement and no dialogue at all – the calm of centre of literal

blizzard conditions, and the storm in Balto’s heart. As Williams (1998) points out, “[t]herevelation occurs as a spectacular, moving sensation – that is, it is felt as sensation, and not simplyregistered as ratiocination in the cause-effect logic of narrative – because it shifts to a differentregister of signification, often bypassing language altogether” (p. 52). In a third act crammed withaction and spectacle, the quiet beauty of this communion stands as a moment out of the “time” of the narrative.

Balto then proceeds to climb back up the cliff, dragging the precious antitoxin with him, andleads the team back to Nome, foiling a broken bridge, treacherous ice caves, and other suchclichéd winter dangers to become the hero of the day, and Jenna’s chosen mate. He is acceptedinto the town with honours, reaping integrity’s rewards - “the recognition of virtue by the less

virtuous” (Williams, 1998, p. 52).

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But the film doesn’t end here - it ends as it begins, with a live-action grandmother andgranddaughter paying tribute to the statue of Balto in Central Park, New York City. The completefilm opens with the grandmother and granddaughter, dragging a purebred Siberian husky puppyaround the park, as they search for a place the grandmother knows, but is unable to easily find.

Granddaughter : “Grandma, what are we looking for?”Grandmother : “A statue…”

The grandmother launches into the story, which spawns a dissolve from a pan across brightly-coloured fall maples into the snowy forest-space of the animated “core text.” By the end of theanimated portion of the story, in the return to the closing bookend, they have found the statue of Balto, dedicated to the “indomitable spirit of the sled dog.”

Granddaughter : “Did Balto really do all that?”

To the grandmother, the answer is yes, but history itself tells a different, shorter, andultimately less exciting tale. The diphtheria epidemic was real, and so was Balto. The real Balto

was a dog on racing great Leonard Seppala’s second-string team, but Seppala didn’t think he’dmake a particularly effective lead dog. Seppala’s assistant disagreed, and hitched Balto up as thelead for his team for the last leg of the serum relay. Balto performed admirably, saving the teamfrom becoming lost on several occasions. Clearly, Balto (the film) ignores facts and embellishesothers to serve a greater emotional truth. The inclusion of the indexical relationship of live actorsto the camera indicates that more is at work than simply the embroidered recounting of one dog’stale. The live action sequences provide a symbolic anchor to history, lending greater weight andcredibility to the melodramatic animated bulk of the film. Balto’s achievement, in terms of theanimated text, as illustrated by the statue in Central Park, is a most public, and, in terms of thelive action, tangible, recognition of his inherent virtue, which transcends his shady background.The fictional Balto raises his social standing and reinforces the civilizing properties of the nuclearfamily, returning to an origin he has been denied; the real Balto saves some Inuit children fromcertain death. Both are memorialized in the single figure of the statue in Central Park, in all itsinscribed glory. Because Balto is melodrama, its core tenet is that anyone, whose heart andintentions are pure enough, can overcome the taint of their origins, and achieve public (andsometimes bronze) recognition of virtue. The dialectic of pathos and action played out in theanimated part of the film opens and closes in this quiet, “real world” corner of New York City.Because the melodramatic structure subverts actual history to provide a greater moral truth, the

bookends serve not only as a means to access the past, but also the future. The live action closingsequence carries Balto’s legacy of virtue into not only our “real,” urban world, but, as embodiedin Rosie’s granddaughter and her puppy, into the (filmed) bodies of generations to come.

Though by no means a comprehensive study of melodrama or children’s cinema, this paperdoes provide an inroad to further discourse in terms of how these two marginalized genres can be

woven together on their own terms, as well as offering potential avenues for future studies inanimation theory.

Amy Ratelle is currently a PhD student in the Joint Program in Communication and Culture at Ryerson

University and York University. Her research focuses on animal issues and animality in children’s film and television.

She holds a BFA in Film Studies from Ryerson University and a MA in Film Studies from Carleton University.

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References

Balto (1995). Directed by Simon Wells. Universal City, CA: Universal Pictures and AmblinEntertainment, 2001 [Video: DVD].

Dyer, Richard (1997). White. London, Routledge.Gledhill, Christine (2000). “Rethinking Genre”, in: Christine Gledhill and Linda Williams (eds.).

Reinventing Film Studies. New York, Oxford University Press, pp. 221-243.Williams, Linda (1998). “Melodrama Revised.” Refiguring American Film Genres. Nick Browne,

ed. Berkeley, University of California Press, pp. 42-88.

© Amy Ratelle

Edited by Nichola Dobson

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Sheuo Hui Gan

The Newly Developed Form of Ganime and its Relation to Selective Animation1

for Adults in Japan

Ganime is a new corporate project to develop the features of selective animation to provide amore flexible category of anime. Ganime was created jointly by Toei Animation and the publisherGentosha. The overall project is to promote auteurism in animation by encouraging creators tohave the freedom to exercise their imagination instead of conforming to the predetermined normsof the anime industry. The Ganime project also intends to liberate the artists’ creativity throughcollaboration among painters, novelists, musicians and film directors.

“Ga” is written with a character meaning “painting,” in their usage it is not restricted to anyparticular method but could be oil painting, ink painting, wood block printing, photography oreven clay models; “nime” is written with katakana as a shortened form of “anime.” As the projectname indicates, Ganime stresses the value of the drawing by the artists, treating them asestablishing the core to which words and music are integrated to create a new form of expression.

At time of writing, fourteen Ganime titles have been released since the project was launched atthe end of May 2006. Each work exhibits a different drawing technique, visual style andrepresents various genres. The Ganime Project also aims to incorporate works that employdifferent materials besides drawn animation. Most works have adapted noted examples of classicand contemporary literature and music to enrich the narrative element. 2 Ganime tends to becharacter-based, slower in pace and rendered with less motion than usually found in anime.Ganime has been introduced to the public as “the art of slow animation.”3 The works are beingreleased directly on DVDs without prior showing on television or in theatres. Ganime works vary

in length; the shortest being seventeen minutes, and the longest forty minutes, while most arebetween twenty to thirty minutes.

Tezuka’s Mushi Productions and Ganime Project

My interest in the Ganime project was triggered by the resemblance of their basic concept to what Tezuka Osamu envisioned in his works with Mushi Productions in the 1960s and early1970s. Tezuka is widely known for his early animated television series such as Tetsuwan Atomu(Astro Boy). Yet, he and the Mushi Productions staff also released a handful of shortexperimental animated films and three adult-oriented theatrical released animated films in Japan– One Thousand and One Nights (1969), Cleopatra (1971) and Kanashimi no Belladonna (1973),

which pioneered the possibility of animation as an entertainment for adult audiences in the early1970s. Although not all of these works gathered attention, or achieved great commercial success,(indeed they have often been overlooked), their artistic creativity and the method of marketingare historically significant. As Japanese animation scholar Tsugata Nobuyuki points out, Tezuka

1 Selective Animation is a new term intended to replace the older expression “limited animation”. I present the idea of selective animation in thecontext of a spectrum of animation techniques in my dissertation “The Concept of Selective Animation: Dropping the ‘Limited’ in LimitedAnimation.” It is also discussed in my forthcoming article “The Concept of Selective Animation and Its Relation to Anime” in Animeeshon eiga noatarashii riron to rekishi (The New Theory and History in Animated Film)2 The famous texts include works by Dazai Osamu (1909-1948), Hagiwara Sakutaro (1886-1942), Mori Ogai (1862-1922), Koizumi Yakumo (alsoknown as Lafcadio Hearn, 1850-1904), Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850) and H.P Lovecraft (1890-1937). Noted contemporaries include manga byHayashi Seiichi (1945 ~) and Koga Shiichi (1936 ~), photographs of Ueda Shoji (1913-2000), paintings of Yoh Shomei (1946?), Amano Yoshitakaand so forth.3 “Ganime: The Art of Slow Animation” is an article that appeared in the Arts Weekend’s column in the Daily Yomiuri, September 16, 2006.

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and Mushi Productions have had an indispensable influence on shaping the fundamentalcharacteristics of today’s Japanese anime. Tsugata even suggests that Miyazaki Hayao and OshiiMamoru, leading figures in Japanese animation today, built their styles and formats on thefoundation of the commercial anime that Mushi Pro inaugurated.4

Even though he died two decades ago, Tezuka is still a highly celebrated figure in Japan today.Many animation text books and articles continue to emphasize how he and Mushi Productionsmatured the use of simplified expression (limited-cel animation) and complex narrative structuresin manga and in animated films. These developments helped pave the way for Japanese anime toflourish in the succeeding decades. Ironically, it is not uncommon to find Tezuka and MushiProductions blamed for the very same reasons, especially by animators from orthodox studios

who had been trained to emulate animation from the Disney Studio. They considered Tezuka’sanimation to be poorly done, as the job of an animator was supposedly to employ a large numberof cels to depict motion but not to move the drawings themselves. 5 Moreover, these critics oftencomplained that Tezuka and his studio have established a low parameter for wages and aesthetics

which still sabotage the Japanese animation industry.6

Today, however, such simplified expressions are common in Japan, as several generations havegrown up with animated series on television where simplified expressions are standard. Inaddition, the international commercial success of anime in recent years has also increased theirconfidence that these expressions are effective, possessing a different aesthetic from the so-calledfull animation. It is this particular environment of Japanese anime that allows Toei Animation-Gentosha to come up with the Ganime project. It foregrounds the beauty found in the restrictionof motion, suggesting it can be viewed as a modern version of kamishibai (paper drama).

Both Tezuka and the Ganime creators share the similar idea of assembling a group of artists toexperiment with new techniques in order to establish a platform to restore auteurism for creators.

Additionally, Tezuka and Ganime creators chose a similar approach to producing their works.The need to economize motion for Tezuka and Mushi Productions was mainly driven by theireconomic constraints that forced them to develop an aesthetics approach to this new mode of animation. Ganime creators view the engagement of stillness or focused motion as a stylisticchoice that is made possible by the comparatively inexpensive techniques they employ. Thesecreators explicitly express their confidence in the usage of minimal motion in their animated filmsas a means of enriching their visual performance. This attitude is very different from theapologetic tone which was so often found in Tezuka’s statements regarding the use of therestricted movement in their early animated series. Nonetheless, both were highly motivated toproduce works that emphasize creative freedom, artistic individuality and regard animation as acomplex entertainment medium for an adult audience that enjoys emotionally serious andthoughtful works.

4 I agree with Tsugata that there has been very little serious study of Mushi Pro and Tezuka’s animation, as most research focused on Tezuka’smanga with its wide range of themes, visual styles and influence on subsequent manga. Most current discussions of Tezuka’s animation tend to beintroductory and placed as supplementary to his manga. There is another significant breakthrough that is often overlooked. Tezuka and MushiProductions’ serious attitude to make animation was not limited to introducing animation for adults; they also inspired the use of more complexand meaningful subject matter in animation for children. Children’s expressions and unsophisticated language were used to communicate a deepercontent. Therefore, their significant contribution to the popularization manga adaptations in to anime should be reconsidered in light of a keyfeature – the introduction of more serious issues and mature qualities into a stereotyped children’s genre.5 I am borrowing the phrase “moving drawings” from Thomas Lamarre’s paper titled “From Animation to Anime: Drawing Movements andMoving Drawings” in Japan Forum 14(2), 2002. Lamarre used the phrase moving drawings to describe the technique commonly found in anime.6 Recently there have been a few efforts to re-evaluate Tezuka’s achievements in animated films. Tsugata Nobuyuki’s new book, Anime sakka

toshite no Tezuka Osamu – sono kiseki to honsitsu (Tezuka Osamu as Anime Auteur: His Record and Essence, NTT Shuppan, 2007), is the firstsuch book, and is a useful reference work on these aspect of Tezuka Osamu.

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Ganime presents a striking contrast with its understanding of the possibilities that lie inselective animation. The Ganime project emphasizes the expression of a unique personal style

with a quiet atmosphere, generated by its slower pace. Some Ganime works do employ computergenerated techniques to ease the production process, but they are mainly employed as a tool

rather than an attempt to copy popular computer graphic styles. All these qualities have madeGanime an interesting sample to investigate the current alternative state of selective animation in

Japan.

The Analysis of Ganime Works

In the following section, I identify the characteristics, current status and future potential foundin three Ganime works. I have chosen two examples, Fantascope ~ tylostoma and Tori no uta (TheBird Song) by the illustrator Amano Yoshitaka, well known for his connection with OshiiMamoru’s Tenshi no tamago (Angel’s Egg, 1985), the character design for the anime VampireHunter D (1985), and the image design for the Final Fantasy game among others. As Ganime

advertising employs Amano’s illustrations, looking at his works forms a good introduction to theoverall ambition of the Ganime project. The third work examined here, The Dunwich Horror and Other Stories, is directed by Shinagawa Ryo, the editor of “Studio Voice” magazine and a filmdirector with character design and artworks by Yamashita Shohei. This work illustrates thediversity of Ganime with its use of three-dimensional mixed materials which differentiates it fromother drawn animations and computer-generated imagery. Furthermore, the main creators of The

Dunwich Horror and Other Stories are still in their 30s, revealing how this new generation handlesfocused motion and stillness in this unconventional format.

Fantascope ~ tylostoma

Fantascope ~ tylostoma (2006) is a fantasy narrative about a man who has been condemned to wander in nothingness, only being allowed to come back to earth once every seven hundredyears. During his current visit, he finds that the prosperous town he had known well had beenreplaced by a depressing vista of destruction. In these ruins, he encounters the only survivingperson, a woman who looks like a prostitute. At her request, he starts telling his story. Very soon,the woman invites him to bed. Later, a shell he found under the woman’s bed awakens a memory.She is actually the goddess whom he had fallen in love with long ago. She had agreed to let himmurder her in order for him to obtain eternal life. He had attempted to kill her, yet in a few moments it had become clear that she could not be killed. Although both were disappointed, the

goddess gave him eternal life and dis-appeared with the sea shell. Back in the

present, the woman tells him that she is theone responsible for arbitrarily destroying the

world and she has long been waiting for himto come back for her. The man is shockedand once again attempts to take her life. He

winds her hair around her neck and tries tokill her again, and yet, she reminds him thatthis will not work. Finally the man asks the

woman to take his life, in order to liberatehim from his tortured existence. She kissesthe man and slowly inhales his breath,

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gradually switching back to her youthful god-dess appearance. She commits suicide aftertaking his life. In the end, we see the man be-ing born again as a baby calling out “mother”

to a woman that looks like the goddess.Amano Yoshitaka is the key creator in

Fantascope. He takes charge of all the sumi-e(traditional ink-and-brush painting in EastAsia) style drawings and the original story,although it is directed by Kimura Soichi,known for creating commercials. This work isimpressive with its black-and-white sumi-estyle drawings, continual narrating voices,and the musical soundtrack that accompanies

the still drawings.The opening scene shows the creator

Amano Yoshitaka sitting in front of his desk narrating a fantasy about a shell that he has hadsince childhood. Through his monologue the viewer learns that there have been many stories toldabout this type of shell, dealing mostly with death and eternity. These other stories, including“The Flying Dutchman,” inspired him to create Fantascope, a narrative about a phantom shipcoming and going between death and eternity.

Showing the actual creator in live-action footage, including several close-ups of his hand in theact of drawing before the narrative unfolds, creates an intriguing introduction that is reminiscentof some early animations. The famous opening sequence of Winsor McCay’s Little Nemo (1911) is

a good example. McCay is first shown in live-action footage talking with his friends in a clubbefore the camera cuts to the performance of his animated characters. This comparison to anearly animation draws attention to its different attitude towards the rendering of motion. In LittleNemo, the creation of fluid motion and metamorphosis of line drawings are the eye-catcher, asshown by the phrase “watch me move.”

In Fantascope, on the contrary, stillness is used to increase the suggestiveness of the occasionalmotion. Most of the time, still drawings dominate each sequence. Occasionally, selected elements

within these drawings such as hair, clothing or curtains in the background are animated in asubtle manner. In most cases, the audiencemight not consciously notice these motions,yet they may sense their existence whileattentively scanning the images. Even thoughthese creators have the technology to portraymore complex action, they chose to be subtle.Indeed, besides the minimal motion, the onlydistinct visual effect we see is the integrationof smoke and fog with life-action footage andtwo dimensional sumi-e paintings. This com-bination creates a dreamlike state located be-tween fantasy and reality. This visual designfits the nature of the narrative. The subtle

motion amid stillness seduces the viewer into

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Fig. 1 & 2 – Fantascope ~ tylostoma – Sumi-e drawings aremixed with live-action footage. Image courtesy of Yoshitaka

Amano, 2005/Toei Animation Co., Ltd.


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enter a world opposite our everyday life thatis filled with constant motion shown on thescreens of computers, televisions, handphones and many others.

The use of imagery in Fantascope isdistinctly different from the common patternin anime, which tends to shorten the lengthof each shot generating a sense of rhythmthrough fast cutting. There is no sign of motion lines often used to suggest speed ormotion. Most of the camera angles are fromeye level, framed with a mixture of full shots,medium shots and close-ups. Occasionally,there are limited panning and zooming in

camera movements. These camera move-ments too were also rendered in a slowerpace. In other words, the viewer often gazes at a still drawing of characters while hearing a livelyconversation between them. This reduction of movement is more extreme than the commonanime practice of only animating the lips when a character is talking. In short, the depiction of motion in Fantascope is developed from stillness, where following the low voice of the narration

with the help of music, the viewer starts to “see” the still image as a smooth depiction through theviewer’s imagination instead of focusing on literal action. In other words, the viewer isencouraged to dive into the narrative and imagine elements suggested by the imagery. ViewingGanime is similar to the process of reading a manga, where active involvement and imaginationplay an important part in the whole process. There is an absence of conventional comicalexaggeration as well as the festive atmosphere found in many anime. Overall, quiet mood andatmosphere pervade Fantascope from beginning to end.

Alterations of the contrast, lighting and other techniques guide the audience to focus oncertain details of the drawing or stimulate the viewing process. For instance, the key color of Fantascope is grey. In the sequence where the man discovers the woman is actually the goddess hehad once attempted to kill, he is showered with complex feelings. Through manipulation of thehues of the drawings, the author not only generates a subtle illusion of motion, but alsosuccessfully emphasizes the turbulent emotions of the man at this critical point. Generally, thisapproach is quite different from the typical image of anime where the character and scene arepresented in consistent lighting and colour toning.

Regarding the aspect of depth, Fantascope lacks of a geometric perspective to suggest a realisticthree dimension space, like many of those recent alternative anime. 7 The sense of depth isconstructed through a compilation of a few different layers where the audience actually sees andfeels the gap between these layers.8 Even though this openness between layers does notcontribute to the verisimilitude of the image, it still effectively invites the audience to aninteresting visual perspective.

7 A good example that utilized this attitude is demonstrated by Gankutsuou – The Count of Mont Cristo , a series of anime episodes produced byGonzo, directed by Maeda Mahiro which originally ran from October 5, 2004 to March 29, 2005. There is an unusual sense of flatness inGankutsuou’s visual effects, even though the characters and backgrounds are all rendered in three dimensions. Furthermore, Gankutsuou employsan unusual visual style that employs layers of texture patterns in the characters’ clothing, instead of standard coloring and shadowing.8

For further interesting and detail discussion of flatness in anime and “animetism,” see “The Multiplanar Image” (120-143) by Thomas Lamarrein Mechademia: Emerging Worlds of Anime and Manga. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006.

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Fig. 3 & 4 – Fantascope ~ tylostoma – Hair movement isthe only motion found in these shots. Image courtesy of

Yoshitaka Amano, 2005/Toei Animation Co., Ltd.


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The soundtrack also has a major impact on the narrative. Although the third person narrationof the artist provides the audience information necessary to comprehend developments and issupported by conversation among the characters, music is used to enhance the key sentiments.Moreover, sound is also the key element in providing a lively flow to the overall narrative.

Additional sound effects are used to suggest activity within the still drawing. The tone of thevoices is rather different from those common in anime. The high pitch and child-like cuteness arereplaced by a lower tone and a more inwardly poetic sensibility. Though, similar to many anime,Fantascope is heavily narrated and gives an impression that the work relies too much on the audioelement to explain the narrative. Actually, the narrations could be further reduced and the story

would still be conveyed through the stunning images.

In short, the character figure design and background design, both distinct from the so-calledanime style, are the attractive features of Fantascope. The kawaii (“cute”) aspects are replaced bya more adult and artistic touch which emphasize personal style rather than copying existinganime visual norms. Thus, the use of the cyclic motion and stillness in Fantascope, while quite

similar to other anime, unexpectedly generate a new impression and visual experience.Fantascope is a good example to demonstrate how old techniques were used for new effects, acreative example of selective animation.

Tori no uta

Tori no uta is an erotic fantasy of a boy’s love for a girl he met in Shizuoka, Japan, around thelate 1950s and early 1960s. It begins with a boy describing a sudden downpour. He meets a verybeautiful girl in an eye-catching scarlet kimono, with a little green bird standing on her shoulder,

while taking shelter from the rain at her home. Even though the girl promises him they will seeeach other again, he fails to locate her and finally leaves the town as an adult. Fifty years pass andthe man goes back to his home town. There, he meets the girl again, unchanged despite thepassage of years. The man returns to his youthful appearance, telling the girl that he wishes thatthey can always spend time together like this. Responding to his wish, the girl shows him a glass

where there is miniature rainbow. This rainbow represents the dream of the boy. If he can tell herhis thoughts, and if he is sincere, the coloursof the rainbow will be released back into thesky. When all of the colours are released, thetwo of them will be together forever. At times,during this long narration, their imaginationseems to invade reality, and reality becomestheir imagination. In the end, we see the boy

walking hand in hand with the girl towards anunknown future.

In this work Amano created both theoriginal story and illustrations and did thedirection. The first impression of this work isits selective animation and the use of strikingcolours against an off-white background, the

dominant monologue, lyrical music and the careful placement of the narrative between fantasyand reality. The style of these illustrations shifted from his more western influenced earlier styleto a more explicitly Japanese style of drawing figures and settings.

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The monologue again plays a vital role providing necessary information. The framing of thebird’s-eye view moving slowly through live-action footage of smoke and zooming into the town

where the boy lives provides an establishing shot similar to Fantascope, inviting the audience toenter this imaginary world. Again, the voice

here is not the typical anime voice but some-thing more realistic as found in Oshii Mamoru’sanimated films.

Colour is used to differentiate the char-acters. For example, the boy and his sur-roundings are usually depicted in grey. Yet, thegirl and her surroundings are shown in gaudycolours, especially her appearance in his imag-ination. Also, colour is used to express thecharacter’s inner emotion. For instance, when

the boy relates that his memory of the girl hasslowly faded from his mind, she is depicted inan icy blue. Depictions of them together areusually done in off-white tones. Amano alsoexperiments with distorted perspectives to de-

pict dreamlike and surreal imagery. The distorted imagery resembles Salvador Dali’s style and theshifting images of real and surreal drawing quite successfully catch the viewer’s attention. Thistype of visualization of emotions is different from most anime. Even though there is no lack of surreal or dreamlike sequences in anime, Amano has interestingly designed and rendered his se-quence with references to other artists.

Compared to Fantascope, there is more diverse camera work, including pans, tilts and dissolvesinstead of simple straight cutting. This element has added a more cinematic momentum and livelyatmosphere yet it also draws Tori no uta back to a more mainstream construction of the images,like many other anime. Nonetheless, with its highly selective movement and relatively heavy usageof still images, the overall rhythm can still be considered slow, and the low monologue tone andsoft conversation among the characters still contribute to its unusually quiet atmosphere.

The rendering of depth in Tori no uta is similar to Fantascope. We can easily distinguish thedifferent layers which have been superimposed on each other in one image. The images do notlook real. However, the exposure of the construction of depth between the layers is interesting asit invite us to explore the possibility of depth in a new cinematic manner.

The Dunwich Horror and Other Stories

There are three short stories in this title, an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s short story with thesame title. The first story, The Picture in the House starts with a traveller seeking shelter from thestorm in an apparently abandoned wooden house. Later, the traveller meets the owner, an old

white-bearded man. The old man shows an unusual fascination for an engraving in an old bookdepicting a butcher shop of the “cannibal Anziques.” The old man speaks in such an uncannymanner that it strongly suggests that he hungers for a similar sensation and the taste of humanflesh. The traveller grows more and more uneasy with the old man. Before the old man couldfinish his talk, blood starts leaking from the ceiling onto the book they are looking at. The storyends abruptly when lightning strikes the house and everything falls into darkness.

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Fig. 5 & 6 – Tori no uta. Image courtesy of Yoshitaka Amano, 2005/Toei Animation Co., Ltd.


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As mentioned earlier, this work is the only three-dimensional work in the Ganime project thatemploys mixed materials. This work exhibits a more cinematic feel due to its use of extensivecamera work such as a faster pace of pans, zooms and transitions. There is a greater variety of camera angles and changes between the subjective viewpoints of the traveller and the old man.

The figures in The Picture in the House are designed to resemble human forms yet are lessflexible. This aspect helps in developing the uncanny atmosphere that surrounds the characters.Mixed material and puppets/models have never become mainstream in anime. Indeed, they areseldom categorized as “anime” but more often been labelled as “animation.”

In most scenes, changes are found in thecharacters’ facial expressions. Yet, thesechanges are rendered subtly and selectively,and sometimes are rather hard to distinguishin the dim surroundings. Although the ge-stures and facial expressions of these models

could have been rendered smoothly with thestop-motion technique, it was clearly notdesired. The creator only selectively animatedcertain elements such as the eyebrows andsome other small details of his models. Forinstance, in the scene where the traveller firstenters the house, his eyebrows are animatedto rise slightly due to the dusty and ghostlyatmosphere of the house. However, there arefew distinctive facial expressions of the tra-veller in the following shots.

The next observable changes are when thetraveller raises his eyebrows higher while lis-tening to the old man’s uncanny fascinationfor the butcher shop. The most dramaticchange in the traveller’s facial expression istowards the end of the narrative when he tiltshis head down and his eyebrows are intensely

wrinkled, reflecting his uneasy feelings towards the old man while he watches bloodleaking from the ceiling. It is true that the

changes of the eyebrows are minute, but dueto the focused attention on the slight move-ments of the eyebrows, the impact is strong. The restriction of facial expression is common inpuppet animation. However, the director has further minimized the motion of his figures and,unlike the common pattern in Japanese puppet animation, he painted the clothes instead of dressing the figures with fabric. As a result of this process of reduction, the rigidity of the figureshas effectively emphasized the alarming emotions of the character.

There is a mixture of reality and fantasy found in the overall construction of the models. Thelandscape details, including the muddy roads, rocks and sand, are all constructed realistically asare the wooden house and its interior. However, these realistic three-dimensional settings are

placed against a flat-painted sky where the paintbrush strokes clearly expose the unreality of the

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Fig. 7 & 8 – The Picture of the House. Image courtesy of

Spleen Films/Air Inc./Toei Animation Co., Ltd.


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set up. This generates an interesting contrast between the lifelike surroundings with their ambientatmosphere (such as the effect of the foggy weather, rain or the dusty room) and the artificiality of the brushwork. This contrast is enhanced by the difference in the human forms with their freelyhand-drawn hair, beards and facial expressions; the unnatural whitishness of the characters’ skin

color, as well as the texture of their skin suggested by the texture of the materials employed.The design of the sound corresponds to the context in which it appears, for instance the sound

effect of the rain, the footsteps, and the cracking sound of the door. The design of the diegeticand non-diegetic sound is similar to those in live-action films. However, the old man’s voice is theonly voice in the later part of the film. Although the majority of scenes are of the old man’sconversation with the traveler, only the old man’s voice is presented to the audience, hinting athis survival. These mixed realistic and unrealistic presentations intrigue the audience leadingthem into this unconventional space.

Ganime and Selective Animation

Okada Toshio,9 anime producer, author, co-founder and former president of the productioncompany Gainax, comments that Ganime is a movement that emphasizes a return to theindividualism of the creator. He comments that although Tezuka Osamu started “limitedanimation” and the cel bank system to limit the cost of producing animated television series,complex narratives and unique styles of directing were used to balance the stillness of theimagery. The finished animations were exported to foreign countries, emphasizing profits gainedby controlling the copyright.

Continuing this trend in the 1980s and 1990s, the construction of anime marketing through thecategorization of works directed towards different age and interest groups is still intensifyingtoday. Current anime creators are still constrained by marketing restrictions where the main rule

is to make profit and auteurism is no longer an important element. Okada went on to contrast thecareer of Tomino Yoshiyuki, a talented anime director, who has been restricted to Mobile Suit Gundam series, with the internationally famous Oshii Mamoru who was able to direct The

Amazing Lives of the Food Grifters (Tachiguishi Retsuden, 2006),10 even though it was notfinancially successful.11

Okada says the Ganime project can be seen as an extension of the new trend represented byShinkai Makoto. In 2002, Shinkai’s Hoshi no koe (The Voices of a Distant Star) attractedattention by proving that it is possible to create anime by oneself, presenting an alternative to theexisting anime production system in Japan. Shinkai adopted anime’s typical visual norms(particularly the drawing style), combining them with his atypical narrative setting to produce alove story. Even though his story involves a lot of fighting scenes, the emphasis is placed on thesensitive depiction of the inner emotions of the protagonist. This gives more depth and enjoymentthrough identification with the characters and poetic environment instead of the conventional fastpacing and flashing explosions typical of this genre. Besides its anime norms, the beauty of Shinkai’s Hoshi no koe is derived from careful observations and photographic-like details

9 Okada Toshio is considered a leading authority on otaku culture. He lectured on the topic at Tokyo University from 1992 to 1997. His booksinclude Bokutachi no sennou shakai (Our Brainwashed Society) published in 1995 and Otaku-gaku nyuumon (The Introduction to Otakuology)published in 1996.1 0 Despite what the official English title is, I think Biographies of the Distinguished Masters of Noodle Eating might be an attentive translationnearer to the meaning in the Japanese title. In this recent film, Oshii employs photography and CG to produce the effect of selective animation.1 1

See Okada Toshio’s article in New Media Creation – Jisedai kurietaa no tame no shinmedea ganime (New Media Ganime for the Creator of theNext Generation), published by Gentosha, 2006: 10-17.

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depicting the common sights and sounds of everyday life; for example, the signal of a railroadcrossing, a signboard in front of a convenience store, advertisements found in the bus station andtrain, hand phones and the sound of cicadas.

Ganime’s expression takes simplification farther than Shinkai’s, as an exploration of the natureof the anime medium. Okada also thinks the mission of Ganime is to shorten the distancebetween creator and audience, similar to the function of the special comic market for doujinshi manga fanzines. For example, Ganime is a platform for established artists to experiment beyondtheir usual style, or simply display their interests without much interference. On the other hand,for those who have yet to establish their own name, Ganime can be an excellent medium toexhibit their talent and gain attention. They can try to achieve genuine expression and anauteurist viewpoint rather than focus on the perfectionism of animation professionals.12

Okada’s sharp observations recognize the distinctive quality and possibilities of Ganime as anexcellent platform for the creators to explore and to experiment with a visual world that does notneed to conform to any set of rules. Amano also expressed the same opinion in an interview, “…

with Ga-Nime, I’m the only artist involved. Furthermore, by disregarding what is known as thestandard, and drawing unrequired imageries, I was able to discover new things from thisprocess.”13

Setting aside the marketing and commercial intention of Toei-Gentosha, the launching of theGanime project is extremely interesting. The Ganime project as a whole is trying to avoid many of the popular clichés in anime in order to explore new models of expression and visualization. Thatcyclic motion can be eye-catching if used creatively was shown in Fantascope and Tori no uta. Theintense personal style such as the sumi-e style drawing in Fantascope and strong Japanese styleimagery in Tori no uta has become a selling point. The integration of two-dimensional drawingsand three-dimensional visual effects powerfully construct a quiet dreamlike atmosphere which is

not based on the fluidity of the mediatory drawings found in full animation.Similar treatment can also found in The Picture in the House despite its unusual mixed

materials instead of drawn animation. The character figure designs for The Picture in the Housegenerated a style that is significantly different from the usual anime and successfully created aninteresting approach. Furthermore, the selective approach which usually animates facialexpressions and poses other body parts in still gestures skillfully incorporates metaphors of thecharacters’ inner state. This technique generates a stronger impact by focusing the viewersattention when they are moved at the right moment, as in the above example of the old man’seyes.

Ganime looks like a mixture of television anime series and feature-length animation, a

combination of selective animation with the detail and higher quality of drawings found in thebest theatrically released animation. However, Ganime targets an older, mature audience who wants something beyond the stereotyped formulas of anime. This audience enjoys film, literatureand music, with their complicated imagery and mature narratives.14

1 2 Okada 2006 p.17.1 3 An online interview with Amano conducted at August 20, 2007 by Sawakama Keiichiro. Phofa.net (Phenomena for art);http://www.phofa.net/feature/2007/07/0707eng.html1 4 Comparing a Ganime DVD priced 3129 yen to a thirty-minute DVD anime series, which usually ranges from 6300 to 8190 yen (occasionally

discounted) per episode, the price of Ganime is actually much cheaper. Whether there is a sufficient audience for this new mode remains to beseen.

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There has not been much discussion centred on Ganime in animation-related magazines.15

This lack of media coverage leads to the question of who is associated with this project. Lookingat the essays in the 2006 book about Ganime – New Media Creation published by Gentosha, mostcontributors are from the fields of media, art criticism, literature, and popular culture. There is an

unusual absence of film and animation-related specialists. A similar tendency can also be found inGanime works. For instance, there are only a handful of anime people as most creators are fromfields such as commercial directors, MTV directors, movie directors and artists. This unusualabsence of anime regulars shifts attention to some other aspects of Ganime. Almost all Ganimetitles have very high quality imagery whether they are drawings, engravings, photographs or CGIimages. However, it is true to say that not all of them are presented in an interesting manner norfully experimented upon in stretching the possibilities of the medium. Some of these great images

were simply “edited together,” without deeply considering the purpose of employing stillness ormotion, or their relation to the audio element. Therefore, these weaker examples do not breakfree from an amateurish look.

In the late sixties, Tezuka and Mushi Pro had employed comic gags and eroticism, and lateremployed a combination of avant-garde art and literature in order to attract an adult audience.Ganime in the twenty-first century tries to incorporate artists from different fields while alsostressing elements of literature and music applied to high quality imagery with selectiveanimation. Although the Ganime project has yet to achieve its goal, which is to break free fromthe current established anime pattern of industry and aesthetics, there is no doubt about itspotential to attract creators who are interested in experimenting with the medium. In addition,the recent “call for entries” announcement on the Ganime project website16 opens up thepossibility for new artists to create work with the financial backing of Toei Animation and with itspowerful distribution network.17 This project is unique as an experimental venue financed by amajor production company. It has the potential to extend the existing boundaries of animation,reaching a new audience through mainstream distribution channels.18 At the same time, it mayalso stimulate viewers to explore the new territories of animation. Ganime may not be the im-mediate answer to the current problem of the anime industry and it is also true that manyGanime creators are still influenced by the existing anime formats. Yet, these contemporarycreators are once again trying to break free from the traditional pattern found in animeproduction, much like Tezuka’s attempt in the late 1960s. It remains to be seen whether they willfinally be able to create an enduring creative future and spur new developments in anime.

The use of selective animation is not an uncommon visual expression in the contemporaryanime product. Indeed, there is no lack of quality works that have employed this visualexpression creatively. Anno Hideaki’s (the creator famous for his Neo Genesis Evangelion)

popular anime series Kareshi kanojo no jijo (His and Her Circumstances, 1998) is one of the goodexamples. The recently well received anime series by Mitsuo Iso, Dennou coiru (Coil – A Circle of Children. 2007) is another such work. However, it is easy to observe that the creative usage of selective animation is not a common standard in anime.

1 5 Nevertheless, the July 2007 issue of Animeeshon nooto – How to Make Animation Featuring Top Creators & Workflows featured a specialinterview with Amano Yoshitaka. They also used Amano’s female protagonist from Tori no uta for the front cover image.1 6 Retrieved on June 18, 2007 from http://www.Ganime.jp/apply.html. It is obvious that Toei-Gentosha tries to explore new approaches and new market by recruiting of new talents with the Ganime project, with a minimum investment risk.1 7 So far, the crucial financial aspect has yet to be clearly described by Toei-Gentosha.1 8

On the Toei Animation official website, they advertise the Ganime project advertisement with eye-catching imagery that portrays stylesdifferent from other Toei’s productions. See http://www.toei-anim.co.jp, retrieved on June 19, 2007.

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The importance of the Ganime project is its intent to reject existing anime norms byencouraging individuality and creative use of selective animation. Even though it has provendifficult to fully realize this statement, the Ganime project has demonstrated some of the manypossibilities of selective animation. Ganime creators have not only created new techniques, but

have successfully experimented with existing techniques by reusing them in a creative ways. Inshort, Ganime project has stimulated a new angle to look at selective animation, as a powerfulcreative tool instead of a mere production shortcut.

Sheuo Hui Gan is a postdoc fellow of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (JSPS) atKyoto University. This paper was presented at “Animation Universe”, the 19th Society of Animation Studies Conference, Portland; June 29th – July 1st, 2007.

References

Ga-nime Project. ed. (2006). New Media Creation – Jisedai kurietaa no tame no shinmedya ganime

(New Media Ga-nime for the Creator of the Next Generation). Tokyo, Gentosha MediaConsulting.

Gan, Sheuo Hui. (2006). “Prefiguring the Future: Tezuka Osamu’s adult Animation and itsInfluence on Later Animation in Japan” Proceedings of the Asia Culture Forum 2006 – APreliminary Project, October 26-29, 2006, Cinema In/On Asia. Ed. Shin Dong Kim & JoelDavid. Korea, Asia Future Initiative, pp.189-200.

Lamarre, T. (2002), ‘From animation to anime: drawing movements and moving drawings’, JapanForum, Vol. 14 (2), pp. 329-367.

Tsuki Mina, “Ga-nime: The Art of Slow Animation.” The Daily Yomiuri , September 16, 2006.Watanabe Tomohiro and Tanaka Kei (2007). “Animeeshon he no kaiki (The Return to

Animation).” in Animeeshon nooto – How to make animation, featuring top creators &workflows, June, pp. 6-25.Wells, P. (2002). Animation: Genre and Authorship. Wallflower Press: London & New York.

© Sheuo Hui Gan

Edited by Nichola Dobson

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Lynne Perras

“Steadier, happier, and quicker at the work”?

Women in Canadian Animation

In the film industry, historically it seems to be a truism that women have not occupied majorpositions. Although they have participated in the profession, there has been a relatively smallnumber of female producers, directors, and head writers for many years. A similarly smallnumber of women have held positions of influence in the animation industry.

A variety of reasons might be suggested for the scarcity of women animators: these mightinclude systemic discrimination, institutional bias, and the fact that traditional animation and itsfocus on violence and physicality appealed to very few women. The relative dearth of females inthe industry notwithstanding, the status of women in animation in Canada is anything butdiscouraging. From a cultural and historic perspective, this discussion will focus upon Canadian

female animators and their experiences and suggest that at least some of the pessimism regarding women’s contributions to animation may have been overstated. Through examination of thechallenges faced by female animators as well as strategies discovered that sustain their work, itbecomes apparent that there is clearly a reason to celebrate the efforts and progress of women inCanadian animation, past and present.

That women have not had an easy path in animation in general must not be forgotten. SharonCouzin remarks that with few exceptions, “Historically a woman had no voice at all in animation.The field was occupied by men in the conception, rendering and distribution” (Pilling, 1992, p.72). Karen Mazurkewich has called animation studios “boys’ clubs,” noting that there were “nogirls allowed – except in the paint and ink departments” (1999, p. 5). Jayne Pilling confirms

women’s somewhat lesser status when she notes that “[w]omen have always comprised a largepart of the animation workforce – as paint’n’tracers, or ink’n’painters, or in-betweeners, colour-ists or designers” (1992, p. 5).

In 1951, Canadian animator Colin Low observed that that “‘people best suited for [orga-nization of a cel cartoon film] are skillful at lettering. Girls are usually steadier, happier, andquicker at the work – they are neater and more methodical” (Mazurkewich, 1999, p. 185). WhileLow’s comments suggest that women indeed performed very useful functions in one form of animation, in this statement he seems to have relegated them to secondary, less significant, andperhaps less creative roles. Even almost a half a century later, Linda Simensky, Cartoon Network’sDirector of Programming, is only slightly more positive:

“First there is the history of the industry. While there have always been women in animation, historically themore important jobs have gone to men. This is much a function of the eras involved and of the history of the

business. When you consider that the entire animation industry has been around for less than a century, and that

for years women were systematically relegated to such ‘lesser’ jobs as ink and paint, women have actually done

fairly well even getting into any positions over the last twenty years.” (Simensky, 1996)

Nevertheless, a definite change for the better has been occurring for the female in animationmore recently. Maureen Furniss observes that there is “an effort to hire and promote females ascreators and producers (as well as in various other capacities) in order to rectify an imbalancecreated in the past by institutionalized policies of sexual discrimination – in part because womenhave made it to the top … and are now looking out for the future of other women” (1998, p.234). In Canada, the number of female animators has increased, both at the National Film Board

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and at independent film companies. Women have had and continue to have an increasinglystrong voice in animation. They enjoy many opportunities to practice in the field and aregenerally given considerable encouragement to do so. While in the commercial sector of theindustry women seem to have less of a presence, in other areas women’s work flourishes and adds

new perspectives, themes, and techniques, thereby immensely enriching Canadian animation as a whole.

Whether there are discernible gender differences between animation created by men and women has been a matter of some debate. Marian Quigley has noted that Australian AntoinetteStarkiewicz feels animation is “particularly suited to women because it requires infinite patience”(2005, p. 16). Ann Shenfield (who names Canadian animator Caroline Leaf one of her influences)sees a relationship between animation and gender, as she notes that “animation itself is like agender issue. Animation is marginal, without any doubt … .Being a woman animator is a bit likebeing against the margin of the margin – not that you can’t succeed, but … it’s tricky” (2005, p.93). Animator Carol Beecher perceives few significant differences in themes and approaches;

however, she adds that if violence occurs in women’s films, there is often a more obvious andconcrete psychological or sociological reason for it, whereas in animation created by men, theviolence sometimes exists for its own sake or for pure effect (Beecher interview, June 26, 2006,Calgary, Alberta). Jayne Pilling has noted that “[t]here is no overriding thesis about the specificityof women’s animation,” but concedes that persuasive theories exist (1992, p. 6). She believes that

women’s early experiences while growing up may account for their ability to express more easilypersonal emotions than their male counterparts: “men and women are socialized as children indifferent ways, with the result that women tend to be more able to explore and share personalexperience” in their work (1992, p. 6).

Not surprisingly, then, women’s animation has also explored and expressed feminist issues and

concerns specific to the female experience. In Women and Animation, Pilling als discussesanimator Susan Young’s belief that the fact that the socialization of boys emphasizes hierarchicalplay might help to explain men’s domination of character animation; the latter also thinks thatthis can account for women’s increased development of new styles and techniques of animation(1992, p. 6).

There is no question that women in Canada have made and continue to make their mark in thecountry’s animation, and one of Canada’s earliest and most talented animators was EvelynLambart. Most closely associated with Norman McLaren, Lambart’s early career was spent as theassistant to the Scottish animator, but Lambart played a role in helping McLaren achieve therecognition and respect that he did. Karen Mazurkewich specifically notes colour correction, theincorporation of dust into an artistic image, and the enhancement of the personification of thechair in films such as Begone Dull Care (1949), Mosaic (1965), and A Chairy Tale (1957)respectively as aspects added by Lambart to McLaren’s films. Mazurkewich is appalled thatLambart’s name was left off the credits of Chairy Tale (supposedly the film’s producer wanted tomaintain the illusion that the chair in the film was actually alive!) (Mazurkewich, 1999, p. 188).Nonetheless, in the end it was both Lambart’s technological knowledge and imaginativesensibilities that refined and improved the films on which the two worked (Ibid). Lambart herself seemed less bothered by the treatment she received and always felt grateful for the experience sheamassed in the years with McLaren. An independent spirit for the most part, Lambart said, “The

way I was brought up was to think of yourself as a person who had an obligation to use yourtalents in any way you could. Whether you were a man or a woman didn’t make any difference.”

(Munn, 1982, p. 64) In a 1988 interview, she described her early experiences as an animator:

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“I must say that in those early days everybody was always highly cooperative. There was never any question of discrimination. I didn’t feel any differences displayed between the men and the women. This was partly due to my

own background. My father had taught us that certain behaviour was expected of women and certain behaviour

of men, but that we all had the same intellectual capacity. (Pilling, 1992, p. 30)

Despite the fact that one might argue that Lambart spent much of her time in McLaren’sshadow, much to her detriment, and was recognized for her work far too late, that Lambartrefused to see herself as a kind of second class animator is telling. Lambart not only enrichedMcLaren’s work but she also benefited from his tutelage both with regards to technique andtheme. Gradually she came to learn what intrigued her and what no longer held her interest.Instead of simply taking McLaren’s lead, she kept pace with him despite the fact that the publicsaw only him for a large part of the time. Sociologist Seymour Lipsett has long comparedAmerican and Canadian values, and he maintains that Canadians typically are more collectivity-oriented than their southern neighbours. The belief that group effort and success is more im-portant than individual glory has pervaded the Canadian psyche, and the dynamics of the partner-

ship of Lambart and McLaren might have fit into this paradigm rather than a more hierarchicalmodel. (Lipsett, 1992).

Once her work with McLaren had slowed down, Lambart began to pursue her own style of film. She used wholly different techniques and content, leaving behind abstraction and pastelsand focusing on linear stories with animated cut-outs and bright blues and reds. Her films oftencentred on concrete stories, frequently fables incorporating animals as characters; for example,she made The story of Christmas (1973), Mr. Frog Went A-courting (1974), The Lion and the

Mouse (1976), and The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse (1980). She continued to make filmsfor both the National Film Board and independently for a great number of years.

Another renowned and highly gifted female animator, Caroline Leaf, also began her career

under the tutelage of a male artist, Derek Lamb. Leaf’s films have garnered much attention andreceived fulsome praise for their “compassionate sensibility to the lyricism and a humanity whichone finds all too rare in animation” (Talia Schenkel in Pilling, 1992, p. 41). Like Lambart, Leaf sees the value in working with and learning from others; in the many interviews she has given, shespeaks of her inexperience and her own uncertainty about her artistic ability rather than anyovertly sexist attitudes or behaviour as obstacles to overcome. Derek Lamb was not Leaf’s onlymentor; although he tried to get the National Film Board’s English Programme Unit to hire her,it was Co Hoedeman from the NFB’s French animation studio that ultimately hired her in 1972.

The French office of the NFB in fact actively promoted the hiring of women in its department,and it was most notably Rene Jodoin who supported female animators. In order to producehighly original films, Jodoin not only encouraged young artists, but mentored women artists inparticular. French-Canadian animator Francine Desbiens speaks fondly of her work with Jodoin:“At one time … there were more women than men. After he left the department, there were tenyears where not one woman was employed as a freelancer or as a permanent … [Jodoin] was wayout in front of everybody” (Robinson, 2000, p.2).

Like Lambart, Leaf strives for the merging of innovative techniques and compelling stories.Interestingly, Leaf began her career animating films using animals and legends – similar toLambart’s later work. Perhaps Leaf’s most famous technique to date involves her use of glass withsand or ink. Its originality and potential impressed even Norman McLaren who exclaimed, “Thisis wonderful! In all my years of animation, I’ve never thought of this!” (Talia Schenkel in Pilling1992, p. 41). In The Street (1976), the animated adaptation of Mordecai Richler’s touching story

of a child’s first experience with death, Leaf’s ink and glass brilliantly illustrate the use of

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metamorphosis, which evokes the passage of time and memory (Wells, 1998, p. 69). A morerecent film, Two Sisters (1990), reveals yet another technique involving etchings that transmitsboth the fragility and power underlying codependent sibling relationships as well as the darknessand stifling atmosphere that can pervade these relationships. Irrespective of the techniques, Leaf

consistently conveys a sense of pathos and authentic emotion. As Caryn James has observed, “Ather best … Leaf combines visual elegance with a deep humane narrative” (1992, p.1).

Animators following in Lambart’s and Leaf’s footsteps include Janet Perlman, Wendy Tilby,and Amanda Forbis. Like their predecessors, they focus on and value collaboration and thedevelopment of new techniques. Perlman, an independent animator for most of her career, hassuccessfully used cel animation in her acclaimed Lady Fishbourne’s Complete Guide to Better Tablele Manners (1978), Why Me (1978) (co-directed with Derek Lamb), The Tender Tale of Cinderella Penguin (1981), and Invasion of the Space Lobsters (2005), to name a few. Themes inher work range from the very silly to the very serious: Lady Fishbourne pokes fun at socialconventions while Why Me explores the nature of terminal illness.

Both from western Canada, Tilby and Forbis have been inspired by Caroline Leaf, but haveattempted to create their own individual techniques and narrative structures. Their award-

winning When the Day Breaks (1999) stands out for its complex technical execution; theanimators use Hi-8 film with live actors, photocopied frames, and re-drawings. The theme of thefilm examines the inter-relatedness of all people as it portrays how a chance encounter betweentwo strangers changes both of them forever. Although Tilby and Forbis each make their ownfilms, they value collaboration. Forbis says that their partnership, “allowed us to air and exploreideas in a way that we couldn’t have done alone” (Siegel, 1999, p. 4). She also commends theNFB for its unqualified support when she notes that she and Tilby were “supported, encouraged,and paid. We had excellent technical assistance, and our David Verrall not only championed the

project from beginning to end, but he also provided excellent insight in the editing room.”(Siegel, 1999, p. 9)

It is perhaps in the independent sector where the greatest number of female Canadiananimated artists can be found. As Harvey Deneroff points out, it is important to be aware of “thedominant role [women] play among independent animators, whose films often constitute half theofferings at major international animation festivals” (1996, p. 1). One organization specifically for

women animators is Women in Animation – an international support and resource system whosemembers mainly hail from the United States and Canada. Its mandate is “to foster the dignity,concerns and advancement of women who are involved in any and all aspects of the art andindustry of animation” (www.womeninanimation.org).

Open to both genders but no less supportive is the Quickdraw Animation Society (QAS) inCalgary, Alberta. Situated in a prairie city whose focus is on oil and gas and the corporate sector,QAS remains a strong and flourishing enterprise. Its official description calls it “a uniqueorganization operated by animation artists dedicated to the production, education, andappreciation of animation” (QAS pamphlet , 2005). Located in a set of rooms on the floor abovean ethnic restaurant in downtown Calgary, QAS contains all manner of equipment designed tocreate and enhance various forms of animation. Both traditional and computer animation can beproduced effectively at Quickdraw. The society boasts an impressive library of books onanimation as well as a huge array of tapes, disks, and other animation paraphernalia.

What is most striking about Quickdraw, however, is the artistic and emotional support givento animators and would-be animators. Classes, workshops, and less structured events are offered

to both the aspiring and the more seasoned artist. Animator Richard Reeves maintains that the

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society consciously strives to make the atmosphere welcoming to animators of both genders, and women who have been associated with the society concur (Reeves interview, October 10, 2005,Calgary, Alberta). Carol Beecher is one such animator who has branched out on her own and now is co-owner of Fifteen Pound Pink Productions, a small animation company. Her influences

include Norman McLaren, Caroline Leaf, Wendy Tilby, and Amanda Forbis (the latter two alsospent time at Quickdraw themselves). Another favourite animator of Beecher’s is Gail Noonan,an animator living in British Columbia. Noonan’s work often centers on issues more gearedtowards women’s interests: two of her most comical films are The Menopause Song (1995) andYour Name in Cellulite (1995). It is Beecher’s opinion that it might be easier for female animatorsto produce films in Canada than in the U.S. because the former provides more grants to auteursthan the latter. She also states that she perceives sexism in the industry to be far less prevalent inCanada than in other countries, most notably Japan and the U.K. (Beecher interview, June 26,2006, Calgary, Alberta) Her work (often done in collaboration with Kevin Kurytnik) includessatire or parody rather than introspection or social commentary. The Wind between my Ears

(2000) comments on the vacuous nature of television, while the cel-animated Mr. Reaper’s Really Bad Morning (2004) pokes fun at death itself. Her most current project is Intergallactical Who’sWho (2006), which parodies Hinterland’s Who’s Who, CBC’s short fillers that spotlight Canadian

wilderness animals.

Keltie Duncan and Anne Koizumi are Calgary animators whose enthusiasm for their work isinfectious. Duncan has spent time at Quickdraw, and like Beecher, she feels that women and menare treated equally by the organization, and she sees few obvious or significant differences inanimation done by men and women. Nonetheless, she adds that male and female animators oftencan contribute different strengths to each film and is not surprising that some of the finestanimation has both men and women working along side each other. Men and women view the

world differently in many respects, and each perspective complements each other (Duncaninterview, June 26, 2006, Calgary, Alberta). Koizumi recently returned from the National FilmBoard’s Hothouse Project in Montreal, where she made a short film using plasticine on glass withpaper cutouts. She believes that gender differences in animation may exist, but she feels morecomfortable saying that every animator is different regardless of his or her gender. Because she isan independent animator, like Carol Beecher, she sees little sexism in the industry. Like otherindependent animators, she strongly encourages others to continue actively pursuing theirinterests (Koizumi interview, June 26, 2006, Calgary, Alberta).

To conclude, the fact that female animators in general have not been afforded the sameopportunities as men throughout history should not be ignored. However, in Canada womenartists have done very well in the field despite their lesser numbers. More importantly, women

animators seem to have found ways to remain optimistic and creative, and when discussing women animators, perhaps more emphasis should be placed on their success than has previouslybeen done. Colin Low may have been unknowingly prophetic when he used the words “steadier,happier, and quicker at the work,” in his discussion of women in Canadian animation. They havebeen parti

animation studies vol. 3

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