Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Walt Disney: Ten Days of Remembrance

Walter Elias Disney was born on December 5, 1901, and passed away on December 15, 1966.

The "Ten Days of Remembrance" is the tribute "holiday" I have informally celebrated in honor of Walt Disney's life, or more specifically, the impact and influence his vision and work has instilled in me.

Each year during this ten day span, I typically read a book detailing Walt's life, research to learn more about a specific studio project, and watch a memorable Disney film each day. Over the years, the nightly viewings have been presented chronologically, by genre or theme, or even randomly. The purpose has always been centered around the spirit of the experience rather than a particular practice or protocol.

I think Uncle Walt would proudly approve.

It may seem a bit eccentric, but this "season" is always a unique opportunity for me to personally celebrate the arts, imagination, and inspiration. Although it has previously been a time for individual reflection, my wife and children have since come to appreciate how much it has meant to me over the years, and now actively participate with enthusiasm. It's truly become a fun family tradition.

I hope that you may also be encouraged, in your own time and manner, to remember those that have inspired and challenged you to follow your dreams.

Until next time...

JP

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Where The Wild Things Are

Where The Wild Things Are connected with me on a surprisingly personal level. While I have been a lifelong fan of Maurice Sendak's book (and artwork), the reaction I had to the film was curiously influenced by the strangely familiar connection I felt to Max. Watching this film felt like watching an alternate, untold story of my adolescence, and at times the cinematic empathy was powerful. As a creative, intellectual adult I am only just beginning to process internal darkness and volatility. Just because I was a smart (ass) kid and had a big imagination didn't mean I was equipped to process the emotions, loneliness, and isolation I often felt. Like Max, I eventually escaped feeling unknown through imagination and inspiration, into created worlds where I was fully known, and could fully know, the mystery of the surrounding Universe. The truth is that this illusion of escape was often misguided distraction in disguise. But it was still a gift. Sometimes primal feelings are not supposed to be tamed. Wild things, indeed…

In my opinion, the Spike Jonze film is a brilliant work of art that paints a lush landscape of childhood imaginings, where every thicket of trees is an ancient forest and every stretch of sand is an endless desert. It is a diverse and believable vision of men and monsters, and the artisans and actors bring them to life with stunning results. The practical creature-suit and CGI amalgams feel like the real future of created characters - physically present in the scene and digitally enhanced, pushing them seamlessly to the next level. At the very least, it's an enchanting story that will charm and challenge anyone who is open to its offbeat perspective.

Max is a bright, caring, and creative boy who has difficulty communicating his feelings and thoughts. Yet he remains open to life, and that makes him vulnerable. This leaves Max hurt, scared and very, very lonely. But life is hard, and Max is in danger. He is in danger of leaving behind the purest part of childhood - the part with backyard forts and unashamed imagination and wolf suits. After a fight at home, Max runs away in anger, and pretends to sail across the ocean until he comes to a lost island, inhabited by giant, furry, wild things. These wild things are an odd, dysfunctional group who fight amongst each other and who are essentially giant children themselves. They appoint Max as their king, and in time, the bonds they share are wonderful and heartbreaking and real.

Where The Wild Things Are is filled with melancholy, and every happy moment is bittersweet because it is offset by the thought of something sad or scary. The thought of being tackled and smashed under a pile of wild things or being eaten by a grumpy monster is scary. Scarier still is thinking about your family falling apart. Or not being understood. Or being alone. Or loving someone so much... and not being loved the same way in return. Thankfully, the film does not seem to be seeking a pulpit to preach these potential parallels. It's a story that's fundamentally sad at its core, but is also uplifting and wonderful in its hopeful belief that love and forgiveness are more powerful than fear or pain.

Perhaps Jonze hasn't so much adapted the book as he has revived its nostalgic insight. Certainly, the main elements of Sendak's story remain, but they are enhanced, enlarged, and seen through new lenses of revelation. Part of Jonze's revealing look at the truth of childhood is the way that he embraces emotional, psychological, and physical damage. The story doesn't flinch from joy or pain, and that's why it feels true.

Where The Wild Things Are is ultimately a modern day fairy-tale about the wonders and sorrows of growing up. It is also a beautifully simple tale about real acceptance, real imagination, and real love. In no way does it conform to the cowardly, preconceived expectations of how a children's film should be experienced. In fact, it isn't a children's film, at all. It is a film about the child in each of us, and the wild things waiting deep inside.

Until next time…

JP

Thursday, September 3, 2009

The Marvelous World of Disney

After a $4 billion agreement, The Walt Disney Company is now the proud owner of Marvel Entertainment. An estimated 5000 characters (including Captain America, The Hulk, Iron Man, Spider-Man, and the X-Men) will be added to Disney's cast.

Considering that Disney already owns some of the most famous and popular properties in existence, along with the recent acquisition of Pixar, and now Marvel, the possibilities of creative expansion are proving to be virtually limitless.

"We believe that adding Marvel to Disney's unique portfolio of brands provides significant opportunities for long-term growth and value creation," Bob Iger, Disney CEO, said in a statement announcing the deal. The announcement was big; the deal may prove to be bigger, still.

But is this a good deal? Only time will tell. Disney has historically succeeded with a foundational formula of quality art and storytelling, which has been embraced, if not championed, by Pixar. Marvel is formidable in their own right, currently celebrating a 70
year anniversary, and comic book art and stories (not to mention lucrative feature films) are showing no signs of decreasing in demand.

News reports indicate that there are no immediate plans to have a Mickey / Spidey team-up. Nevertheless, it sounds like with the addition of Marvel's sizable infantry, the Magic Kingdom is well on its way to becoming an Empire.

"Disney is the perfect home for Marvel's fantastic library of characters given its proven ability to expand content creation and licensing businesses," said Marvel CEO, Ike Perlmutter. "This is an unparalleled opportunity for Marvel to build upon its vibrant brand and character properties by accessing Disney's tremendous global organization and infrastructure around the world."

Either way, Iger admits that Disney is now in a power position to renegotiate any deal with competitors, such as Sony, Universal, and Warner Brothers.

And we know that with great power, comes great responsibility.

Until next time…

JP

Sunday, August 23, 2009

The Iron Giant: Celebrating Ten Years

Not long ago, I created a custom poster for my studio office, as a tribute to one of my favorite films of all time, The Iron Giant. The fact that the inspirational story is animated is an added bonus for me, and as I was working toward re-imagining the source material's look and tone, I began to consider how influential this modern masterpiece has been in my life and career.

In many ways, The Iron Giant models the class of artist and storyteller I dream of becoming.

In contrast, I have been rather underwhelmed following the rolling credits of many movies over the past several years. In truth, I am still a supporter of substance within a story. I find no satisfaction in meaningless dialogue, exploitative sensuality, and pointless plot twists. It seems that this recipe, along with oversized guns, endless ammo, and slow-motion explosions are Hollywood's status quo formulas for passable entertainment. And why not? Mindless violence, sex, and weak stories apparently sell tickets. And in an age where profit trumps purpose, film lovers become casualties as tickets become box-office weapons, and stories lose their souls.

Now imagine a story that asks: "What if a weapon had a soul?"

That's the foundational, thematic question of the vastly underrated and beautifully animated film, The Iron Giant. The film opened ten years ago to empty theaters and absentee acclaim. Almost seamlessly combining early CGI and traditional hand-drawn animation, the acclaimed (yet often ignored) feature animation debut by Brad Bird pondered how a paranoid, post-war America might react to an overwhelmingly powerful interstellar invader.

Now, one decade later, the cult classic stands out as one of the most intellectually and emotionally moving science-fiction tales in recent history.

Although financially considered to be a box-office flop, The Iron Giant is anything but a failure. It's a humorous, moving, and fantastic analysis of paranoia on parade, and how it can be stopped if we decide to stop using our fists and start using our hearts and minds.

Ten years later, the quality and style of The Iron Giant still impresses, and its stature has only grown. Since then, Brad Bird has risen with a vengeance, writing and directing animated feature films like Pixar's The Incredibles and Ratatouille. As much as I love these most recent achievements, in my opinion, The Iron Giant remains Bird's greatest triumph.

Happy 10th Anniversary, Iron Giant. Thank you for a beautiful story about a boy and his robot, and for reminding us that a heroic heart is not forged from power, but born from the soul.

Until next time…

JP

Monday, June 15, 2009

Up

Up, Pixar’s tenth theatrical release and the latest animated feature directed by Pete Docter, is a cinematic expedition that confidently explores the uncharted territory of an over saturated, youth-fixated culture. Most family-oriented adventure stories present their protagonists as youthful, energetic stereotypes that are ultimately too immature to realistically deal with their surroundings and circumstances. The typical result is a weak film focused on forced visuals and characters that feels tried and deflated. This underwhelming formula often sabotages any real story potential, and expectant audience members become captives, rather than captivated.

Most modern animation studios have green-lit concepts that rely on “safe” stories and gimmicks, in the likely hopes of broader marketing appeal and maximum box-office profits. In reality, these projects will remain orphaned in the shallows, rather than becoming timeless classics that will continue to be discovered and cherished for generations. That is why Bambi will be remembered forever, and Home On The Range has already been forgotten. Animated films from the not too distant past, such as The Lion King and Finding Nemo, tackled themes including life, death, and sacrifice. We should take a moment to recall that these honest elements were also present in the first animated feature, Walt Disney’s Snow White.

With Up, themes of growth (moving on with life following tragedy) and maturity (keeping a promise) are approached with obvious and subtle delivery. To assist in the balance of this delivery, the non-traditional protagonist in Up is Carl Fredricksen, a crotchety old man in his late seventies. A persistent 8-year old Wilderness Explorer named Russell serves as a supporting sidekick and is a nice point of empathy for kids, but this is centrally Carl’s story. Additional characters, both human and animal, are primarily reserved for comic relief.

The spectacular prologue - easily my favorite sequence of the film - tells the story of a boy who dreams of global travels like his heroic childhood idol, adventurer Charles Muntz. But he allows life to alter his course and so never accomplishes his dream of exploring the outside world. He loses his childhood sweetheart and wife. Before he knows it, Carl becomes a grumpy, old, and very lonely man. This brief, emotional, and silent life story includes childhood and adulthood, marriage, infertility, and even the death of a loved one. It is full of disappointment and drama, but offers the hopeful assurance that people can still find happiness while learning to be happy with less. Now, the rest of the story is ready to begin:

As Carl and Russell take flight in a house lifted by several thousand helium balloons, the viewer is allowed to watch the journey unfold as the unlikely duo encounter wild South American terrain, unusual jungle creatures, an unexpected villain, and talking dogs.

The film’s narrative is engaging and eccentric, and the characters, of course, are highly detailed and well animated. As a matter of artistic opinion, the aesthetic design and modeling for the lead characters is surprisingly my least favorite from Pixar’s films. I personally found the dimensions and proportions distracting, but to be fair, this in no way diminished their performances.

Personal preferences notwithstanding, there are a number of noteworthy sequences, in particular the house flying into a beautifully rendered thunderstorm, with Carl and Russell tumbling about as they are bombarded with furniture and knickknacks. Even smaller touches showcase Pixar’s brilliant attention to detail. For example, as Carl climbs the front porch steps, each board slightly compresses and bows under his weight.

While Up offers the promise of adventure, neatly packaged with a rich palette of fun ideas, it is simultaneously a simple, sentimental, and generally satisfying story. And although I did not find it as creatively or visually stimulating as Monster’s, Inc., The Incredibles, or Wall-E, it is quite beautiful.

As a technical achievement, this marks the first Pixar film created and rendered in 3D. I’m not entirely convinced this technique deserves such mass allure, but I will mention that it is utilized well in Up and free from the gag device of random objects flying pointlessly toward the audience. Several scenes appear to truly benefit from the 3D treatment, such as the initial rising house sequence, but the 2D format will not lessen any of the film’s appeal.

Without surprise, Michael Giacchino provides another great score, almost perfectly timed and balanced within the narrative. The music cues are not as dramatic as previous Pixar themes, but it feels like an intentional decision.

Like previous Pixar theatrical releases, an animated short precedes the film. In this case, it’s Partly Cloudy (the directorial debut of storyboard artist and animator Peter Sohn), a charming story of where babies come from.

Unfortunately, many animated films of the recent past and present seem to purposefully avoid any emotional, mature, or serious topics. This is one of my biggest praises for the artists and storytellers of Pixar, and Up. This is especially true when there is a cultural hive-mindset that believes a cartoon is no place for such themes. I wholeheartedly agree, but not due to any morally or socially conscious reasons. Cartoons are entertainment products. Animation is an art form. The two can indeed coexist, and often do, but they are not exclusively synonymous.

I believe that the people of Pixar understand and embrace this principle, and that is why their stories of life, love, and adventure will continue to soar.

Until next time…

JP

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Eastbound and Down

Historically speaking, I have always been much more interested in film than television (with the obvious exception of classic Saturday morning cartoons). However, there is the occasional small-screen treasure (such as Arrested Development, Entourage, and The Office) that grabs my attention and just refuses to let go.

I recently discovered a rather risqué series that grabbed my attention with the same class and charisma as an angry, washed-up jock grabbing his crotch during the seventh-inning stretch.

Eastbound & Down is an irreverent, comedic masterpiece starring Danny McBride as a former professional athlete, who after a disappointing career is forced to return to his hometown middle-school in Shelby, North Carolina, and suffer employment as a substitute physical education teacher.

McBride plays Kenny Powers, a former Major League fastball pitcher ousted due to egomania, substance abuse, and some very politically incorrect comments about his teammates. Now Kenny finds himself back in his hometown, living with his older brother and furious at himself because he's seriously considering a job as a P.E. teacher at the local middle school.

Playing arrogance and ignorance as likable qualities is McBride's secret weapon as a comic, and characters don't get any more arrogant than Kenny. He's a nonstop offender, coming on to the art teacher, an old flame currently engaged to the clueless principal, and arranging for the services of a prostitute on the phone in his brother's living room, shocking his sister-in-law with his very specific sexual demands.

What elevates Eastbound & Down above mere intolerant, bigoted gutter humor is McBride's ongoing love affair with the lower-middle class. He revels in getting all the details right, from his brother's cramped suburban house to the seedy bar where Kenny drinks boilermakers in the front and inhales cocaine in the storage room. Plus, you've just got to love a sitcom that uses the Freddie King version of Don Nix's great, stormy, blues-rocker, ''Going Down,'' as a theme song.

Although not for the pious or faint of heart, I believe Eastbound & Down is a winner about a real loser.

Until next time…

JP

Monday, February 9, 2009

Coraline

There are themes and situations in Coraline that may frighten children. This is not so much a warning as it is an informative recommendation. Stories that have the courage to elicit a response of uneasiness and questions can be a healthy antidote for souls polluted and poisoned by sterile "family" entertainment. In other words, that which seems good may not necessarily be true.

Henry Selick's Coraline is a beautifully realized and imaginative adaptation of the beloved Neil Gaiman novel. Whereas the film is indeed animated, it is also an antithesis to a stereotypical children's feature.

Technically speaking, Coraline has the distinction of being the first hi-def, stop-motion animated feature filmed entirely in stereoscopic 3D. With the current abundance of 3D gimmicks, Coraline feels deliberately restrained in this area. The result is a refreshing balance of substance, story, and style. Here, the 3D elements are used in artistic contrast to the tactile nature of Selick's stop-motion animation. For fans of animation, that is a milestone achievement. For the general audience, that translates as an entertaining and immersive movie experience.

When the story begins, a bored and isolated girl named Coraline has just moved in to a gloomy old house. Her dull and distracted parents ignore and neglect her. Her new neighbors include a pair of flamboyant elderly actresses, a former circus acrobat with a troupe of trained mice, and an odd boy with a creepy black cat.

Late one night, she discovers a small, hidden door inside the house. To her surprise and relief, the door is actually a magic portal to an alternate version of her life. In this vivid surrogate reality, Coraline's "other" parents seem much more lively and interesting. Better still, they seem much more interested in Coraline. In fact, they're glad to provide whatever she wants - even if she doesn't know she wants it.

In this enchanted existence, a lavish outdoor garden has been landscaped to look like Coraline's likeness, the neighbor's eccentricities increase, and the odd boy's creepy black cat is able to speak with charming, albeit distressed, articulation. When Coraline begins to discover that her parallel is not without peril, she also learns that she could become trapped inside forever.

Although there seems to be a subtle emotional detachment between the characters themselves, this (arguably) weak connection may not actually be transferred to the audience. In fact, the decision to direct the cast toward a slightly superficial performance may have been intentional, as a warmer, more personal approach may have felt too predictable, and provided a less interesting foundation to the protagonist's journey.

Overall, Coraline is a delightful story that explores the wisdom of limitations, and serves as a prompt reminder that in life people often seek escape from the lives they've created. While the film offers a delicate illumination to the dangers of desire, the symmetry of tale and technique is delivered brilliantly.

Like most enduring children's tales, the book and film both explore the wonders of adolescence, but not at the exclusion of adult-themed malevolence. This may be a key to the secret door of timeless stories.

Until next time…

JP

Friday, January 23, 2009

Inauguration

Greetings, Universe.

Let's start with the obligatory autobiographical hors d'oeuvres:

Professionally, I work in the Nashville area as a Creative Director, focusing on a number of media-driven projects for animation, film, print, and music.

Personally, I am happily married to the most beautiful woman you may ever see and Daddy to two of the most precious kids that you might ever meet.

Privately, I occasionally enforce justice as a costumed crimefighter.

Although starting a personal blog is still something new for me, I want to invite you to join the story. And as I continue learning about this process, I hope to share some creative images, thoughts, and discoveries along the way.

I'm looking forward to getting better acquainted as we share in the amazing adventures of imagination and inspiration.

Until next time...

JP