Animated cartoons

Many of the striking ways of telling incidents of an animated cartoon put one in mind of the pictorial symbols of primitive man. An example is that of a vision appearing above the head of some one in doubt or in a revery. Then there is the miniature scene floating over a sleeper to tell that of which he is dreaming. These and other similar forms are supplementary ways of explaining incidents in a screen story. They are also used in the regular photographic film; but they are specifically typical of the animated cartoon.

They are amusing additions to a film that are certain to please whether used to apprise the audience of what is going on in the character’s mind, or to explain the dream of a sleeper as he lies abed.

There are several modes of creating any of these effects. The usual way would be that of having the quiescent part, say it is a sleeper, limned on the celluloid; and the details of the moving part, say the vision, on three or five sheets of paper.

Perhaps the humorist-artist wishes to make his picture a little bit more telling by indicating, with appropriate onomatopœic consonants, the sound of snoring. These additions can be drawn while the photography is taking place on a blank celluloid sheet superimposed over all the drawings in a way explained in a preceding chapter.

Symbols of musical notation and sound-imitating words are often introduced into a screen picture. They can be made to dance in rhythm, or at haphazard, by drawing them in series of three or so, on celluloid sheets. These would be placed, one at a time, in their order over the general scene and repeated as long as desired.

The employment of balloons—they have been alluded to before—is a frequent one in comic screen work. They are the mouthpieces containing the dialogue of the characters. Their outline, more or less balloon-shaped, hovers over the heads of the speakers. The lines defining the balloons can come into the scene gradually in a lively way, and the dialogue itself can come in word by word. This latter scheme itself suggests talking.

When the first animated cartoons were produced and an effect with balloons was intended, the artist thought that he was doing well enough if he showed the lettering and merely had the person supposed to be speaking standing motionless. But now an artist who cares enough for his craft to put as much business into the scenes as possible will show the lips moving and the arms gesticulating at the same time that the lettering appears.

There are innumerable things that the artist must think of while he is photographing his drawings, and one of the weighty ones is to have the lettering for any particular dialogue, or explanation, held long enough on the screen for it to be read. Every studio has its own special rule as to the number of separate frames of a film to allow for a word. The only way to arrive at any conclusion as to how much film to take for any sentence in a balloon, or on a title, is to have some one read it and then time this reading. In this way the artist will be able to tell how much to give any particular wording. He will be able, too, after a while, to formulate his own rule with regard to the matter.

A favorite method of telling something, or to hint as to that which is to follow, is to have a character discovered reading a newspaper upon which the item explaining the matter shows in an exaggerated type. The design is usually enclosed within a circle with the outside space a solid black. There is no special reason for using this particular encircling design. It is a way often used. Technically it is a good plan to employ this telescopic mat, as it may be called, as its forcible contrast of solid black margin breaks the monotony of the general uniform photographic tone of the rest of the film.

An amusing occurrence sometimes brought into a story is that of having a man’s hat fly from his head into the air and come down upon his head again. Of course, the practical way of putting this on a length of film would be that of having a little cut-out dummy. The artist, however, takes the trouble of making several dummies of the hat drawn in different views. A single dummy would show but a mere mechanical turning, but by using several in different views, he gets a very good similitude of actuality in the wind twirling the hat around in a lively way. A little point to help the humor of the situation is that of having the hat hesitate, as it were, and give an extra spin immediately before it lands upon the head.

It isn’t always necessary for an artist to make a cycle or a series of drawings for a movement. For instance, he is showing a rather large face on the screen and it is intended that the eyes move. This could be effected by drawings, but there is a much simpler way. The places for the eyes on the main drawing are left blank and holes cut out the size of these blank spaces. On a narrow piece of paper at the proper distance, two eyes are drawn. This paper, with the eyes, is slipped underneath the one with the drawing that has the eye spaces cut out. Now the manipulation of this paper, holding the eyes while in position under the face, is easy. The various positions in which the eyes are placed, it is understood, will be photographed by the stop-motion method.

The true artist, in keeping with his talent for creative work, will be disposed to devise helpful contrivances or expedients to lighten irksome and monotonous details arising in this art. And in addition to the possession of this talent, and that of good draftsmanship, he must be quick in deciding on the best means of economizing labor, so that he can spend more time where thorough drawing is needed. He must, in short, in any particular case, put in as much work as it requires and no more. By experience he will learn to know where to slight—“slight” isn’t exactly the word, but it will do—the drawing.

With respect to this latter point, suppose there is some arm movement, with the arm swinging as it does in a hurried walk. Hands, it is certain, are difficult details to draw, and if they are carefully rendered in all of the positions it would take a long time to draw the entire series. But the experienced animator has learned that at times he can, for some of the positions, every other one perhaps, make quickly lined marks indicative of hands. These quickly made lines, however, must be drawn in a way that will help the action. Exactly how to make them and to what extent to “slight” them is learned only by long experience.

Often there is a question as to the number of drawings necessary for a movement. If a hand, for example, is to be moved from the side of the thigh to the head and then to touch the brim of the hat, one single position half-way between the two extreme ones may do for some swift action in a humorous cartoon, but if it is for a slower action it should have at least three positions between the extremes.

But it doesn’t worry the skilled animator very much whether he makes three, five, or even more drawings between the extreme positions of any gesture or action. Nevertheless, while the artist is making these arm movements he must put thought into the work. There is, for instance, a certain matter with respect to drawing the relative axes of the segments of a limb that requires reflective attention. To be precise, suppose the action is to represent an arm moving from below and pointing with the index-finger skyward. Now, in any directly following phases of the movement the same degree of flexure at the articulations must not be present in the drawings. The whole arm as it hangs by the side, before the action begins, is nearly straight, with very little bending at either elbow or wrist. In moving it upward, it is not to be traced with this same relative straightness and same degree of joint angularity in all the positions. It would move then on the screen with the ungracefulness of an automaton.

Instead, the several drawings should have the joints—elbow and wrist—at different degrees of flexure. Especially is this difference to vary from one drawing to a succeeding one, with the angle at the joint, just a little more, or just a little less. The whole matter can be best comprehended if the artist, before depicting this action, try it himself. Then he would see that if he moves the arm as if it were a rigid thing, only hinged at the shoulder, the movement would be false and not characteristic of a living organism. The natural way is an unconstrained, easy bending movement. The animator in his drawings slightly emphasizes this manner of moving.

An artist shows his aptness for character delineation in the way in which he draws the views of a face for turning it from side to side. A graphic caricaturist of limited scope has a proneness for adhering to a few stencil patterns, in the matter of pose, for his characters. Front face, profile, and occasionally a three-quarter view make up his catalogue of facial picturing. The animator uses this delineatory trilogy, too, in the ordinary turning of the head from side to side. But he must be skilled, besides that of portraying a face in these views, in drawing it in any view. And a skill that is still more needed is that of being able to keep the portraiture of a character throughout any series of drawings.

To keep the features the same throughout a number of drawings it is found advantageous to spend a little more time in the preliminary planning when creating the original sketch for the character. The idea is not so much to make a face that is easy to draw as to give it certain distinguishing lineaments that are recognizable in the varying positions needed in animating it.

Besides, when originating a face for frequent repetition in a cartoon, seeking one that can be drawn quickly and easily represented in any view facilitates the work of the tracers.

A little trick of comic graphic artists is that of making the features of a face in small circles, or somewhat roundish curves. This sort of thing is not conducive to good character drawing. The animator also uses these forms—round eyes, circle-like nose, and a circular twist in other parts of the features. Now in his case, this can be forgiven, perhaps, when one considers the difficulties of his art; for these particular forms are, as we shall try to explain immediately below, easy to copy and trace. As in caligraphy, unfixed and diverse in its qualities and peculiarities, so with every individual in pen drawing, certain traits occur in the strokes. In pen-and-ink drawing the more individual and distinctive the style, the harder it will be to copy or counterfeit it. But if the markings approach the geometric, definite and precise, then they are easily copied and imitated. This is why the little circles and similar curved markings are so frequently used in animated cartoons. There is nothing ambiguous in the lineaments of a face made with saucer-like eyes, and a nose like a circle. Its peculiarities are quickly noticed, easily remembered, and traced with facility.

As has been explained, an artist rarely finishes an entire set of drawings for a film without help, but has a staff of helpers. It can be well understood, then, that an essential to success is that the members of this staff keep the same quality of line in all the drawings. One of the difficulties in a staff of helpers is that of keeping a uniformity of portraiture in the characters. And because the circular lineaments are easy to trace that is the reason why they are chosen to form the basis for the details of a face.

There is a tendency in every one, even on the part of the author of the original model, to depart from the first-planned type of face. The approved way of avoiding this is to have a set of sketches of the characters drawn on special sheets of paper that are to be used by all the workers to trace from. In a studio with numerous workers, all rushing to finish a five-hundred-foot reel in every week, it is the custom to have plates engraved from the original sketches and a number of copies printed, so that all may have a set. With these printed copies it will then be merely a matter of having a steady hand and an ability to trace accurately from the copy on to a fresh sheet of paper placed over the illuminated glass of the drawing-board.

No doubt, as it has been referred to so many times, it is clearly understood now what an important part transparent celluloid plays in this art. It is employed not only to save the labor of reproducing a number of times the details of a scene, but also to help keep these details coincident, or uniform. In a face, there is a certainty that its lineaments will be the same if it is drawn but once on celluloid; but if it is copied each time on a long string of successive sheets of paper, there is a likelihood that it will vary and so give the lines on the screen an effect of wiggling about.

There are many little matters of technic and rendering that arise in this art. For example, in making certain parts of a figure, say a coat, in solid black, it has been found best, instead of making it an absolute silhouette, to indicate by the thinnest of white lines the contours of the details. A sleeve, for instance, should be outlined with such a white line. This seems to be a lot of trouble for so little, but, judged by the result on the screen, has been shown to be worth while.

At this point we can touch upon the question of what is meant by “animation.” An artist with little experience may make a series of movement phases for an action, but when the drawings are tested it is found that they do not animate; that is, give in synthesis the illusion of easy motion. It may be a matter of incorrect drawing, perhaps, or he may have the drawings nearly correct, but he has failed to make use of certain little tricks, or, shall we say, failed to observe certain dexterous points in the technic of the art?

We will cite one little trick—humoring the vision, if one may put it this way: have a spot, or patch, of black repeated relatively in the same position throughout the series of a movement. An example is that of having the boots of a figure of a solid black. The eye catching the two black spots as they alternately go back and forth is deluded with respect to the forcibleness of the animation even if the walking action is not as correctly drawn as it should be. An added effect is given to this illusory ruse if a tiny high light is left on the toe of each black boot.

The final test for drawings for animation is, it stands to reason, the result on the screen. One may, though, approximately find out whether or not any sequence of drawings animate by flapping them in a sort of way akin to the book-form kineograph novelty noted in a preceding chapter. Two immediately following drawings can be tested this way: with one hand they are held near one corner pressed against the drawing-board, then with the other hand the top drawing is moved rapidly up and down. In this way the two drawings are synthesized somewhat, and if the action is delineated correctly there will be some notion of the appearance on the screen.

This little experiment crudely demonstrates the phenomenon of after-images and the operation typifies a simple synthesizing apparatus.

A significant addition to a scene, if it is suited to the story and consistent with the general plan, is to have some foreground detail in front of the moving figure, or figures. This sometimes consists of a rock, a clump of foliage, or a tree trunk. The contrast of the inertness in these details gives an added force to the animating that takes place back of their mass.

This feature of a picture is drawn on celluloid that is placed on top of the rest of the set having to do with the particular animation. It is possible, though, for an artist, if he is dexterous, to fasten this inert foreground to the under-side of the glass in the frame which is pressed down over the drawings during the photography. The foreground feature, of course, is cut out in silhouette and fastened with an adhesive like rubber cement. This cement is an article of great usefulness in a photographic studio; especially for temporary use over drawings, as it can be easily rubbed off afterward by the friction of the finger-tips.

Radically opposite in method to the scheme described above, in which an inert object helps the animation, is the panorama. In this screen illusion the figure, which is thought of as moving, occupies the same position; while the landscape, normally quiet, is in motion.

Certainly we have all experienced the sensation, when seated in a railway-train waiting for it to go, of suddenly imagining that it has started; when, in fact, it has not budged. This simply has happened: while occupied with thoughts not pertaining to our surroundings—perhaps reading—we casually caught sight of a moving train on an adjacent track, and as we were in the state of expectancy of at any moment being on the move, we immediately thought that our anticipation had been fulfilled. Even if, in a moment or two, we realize that our senses have deceived us, it is hard to shake off the first-formed delusion of being in motion.

Now the screen panorama is a similar delusion. We see near the centre of the screen a figure going through the motions of progression, but we know perfectly well that he is in the same place all the time. And we know that the landscape is drawn on a band of paper that is pushed along back of the figure. All our knowing does not help us. In spite of it the little figure spectrally advances and the landscape deceptively passes by as we know it does (visionally) when we ourselves are running very fast.

The manner in which a panorama is produced is this: the landscape is drawn on a long strip of paper; this is to be moved little by little and photographed at each place to which it has been moved. The figure that is to walk, or run, is drawn in the different phases of action on sheets of celluloid. These are placed in their order over the landscape during the photography. The separate drawings of the actions of the figure were drawn so that the bodies remained relatively in the same place, but the limbs, or heads, varied in attitudes. The planning of the action in a figure for a panorama is proceeded with in the same way as that for producing a regular walk or run. One special care in the work, however, is this: the limbs as they are sketched in their appropriate attitudes in the several drawings must not have identical outlines. That is, explaining it in another way, if all of the set are placed together over the illuminated tracing glass, no two drawings should correspond with respect to the positions of the limbs. The bodies in the drawings should exactly concur in position, but if some attention is given to the rise and fall of the trunk, as in a typical walk, the screen illusion will be very much better. Slightly shifting it up and down on a vertical would effect this.

The band of paper with the landscape is moved in the direction opposite to that in which the figure is supposed to go.

The photographer has many things to think of while he is putting this panorama effect on a film. He must move the landscape strip; sometimes as little as one-sixteenth of an inch at a time; put a celluloid sheet with one of the phases of the action in place, get it in its proper order, and then turn the camera gearing to make the exposure. In some special cases he will have another matter to think of; namely, a second panorama strip to move, and at a different speed.

This is when he wishes to give a little better representation of verisimilitude than that produced by the single panorama strip.

Far-off moving objects, as we know, appear to go slower than those that are close to us. We are aware of this in looking at a distant airplane high up in the sky that we know is going very fast but seems as though it is going very slowly. And at night an illuminated railway-train in the valley below us, when we are on an elevation, seems to creep along like a snail.

To bring it to pass that a panorama have the effect of near objects going faster than those that are distant, it is necessary to have two strips of panorama details. One strip will represent the foreground, which is to be moved much quicker, one-eighth of an inch, or so. A second strip will answer for the distance, which is moved, about one-sixteenth of an inch, or even less. If the foreground strip is moved at rather wide intervals, the effect on the screen will be a little like that which we see from the window of a railway-coach when telegraph-poles and near objects seem to fly by.

The panorama strip for the foreground is designed with simple elements so that it can be cut out in silhouette and laid over the other one. With reference to the quality of the details of a scene on a panorama; although it is usual to fill up the whole length with items of interest, there must be observed some degree of simplicity. Perhaps it might be best to say that there should be a subordination in the details, even if they are numerous, and then have some striking feature or object occurring every once in a while, to catch the eye and so help the movement.

Objects, too, automobiles and other vehicles, are combined with these panoramas. This brings us to the consideration of the matter of animating wheels, or making them turn in the screen illusion.

A wheel true and accurately adjusted and going rapidly gives—with the exception of a blurring of spokes, if there are any—very little evidence of rotation. It is only when it turns unsteadily, or when there is some distinguishing mark found on or near the rim, that we see plainly that the wheel turns. Sometimes it is a stain, a spot on the tire, a temporary repair, or a piece of paper that has caught in the spokes that indicates a turning of the wheel. Further amplification is needless, as a glance at the vehicles, as they pass in the roadway, will make clear. So the animator, when he wishes to show a wheel turning, simply copies actuality by drawing a wheel with some such feature as noted above. A mere black spot on a wheel near the circumference is sometimes sufficient. It is usual to have the wheels drawn on thin cardboard and cut out and fastened in their proper places so that they can be turned. They are turned a little at a time and photographed after each turn.