Animation, Entertainment I & II

Entertainment I
Animation Theory & Practice: Notes from a Lecture by Ham Luske 08.19.1936
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TRAINING COURSE LECTURE
Meeting held: WEDNESDAY AUGUST 19, 1936.

Speaker: HAM LUSKE
Topic: ANIMATION THEORY AND PRACTICE

DISCUSSION OF ANIMATION TEST ASSIGNMENT
DRAKE: I want to introduce Ham Luske who will talk on action, directness, presentation. He will give you
an animator's slant on picking up work, discussing the points that must be taken into consideration at that time,
as well as the procedure in handling a sequence test or animation of any kind. Some of you men in the main
building will not be required to do the test to which Ham will refer specifically; but we thought you would still like
to hear his views on direct action which may be applied in the more advanced tests to be assigned to you in the
future..,
George has told you what I sin supposed to talk about. First I think it would be best to tell you why we apply
direct action, exaggeration, etc., in our pictures.
If you were working on a newspaper cartoon or magazine, you would have to put your idea over on that page so
that anyone looking at it would be able to know what you were talking about in your picture. In our cartoons we
must do the same thing, but we haven't as much time to do it in ... the film goes by - your scene is past ... and if
you haven't put over the idea you were supposed to express, the opportunity to do so is gone... you have
committed an almost unpardonable sin — you have confused your audience and let an idea go by. We have
only the fraction of' a minute in which the scene we are working on passes on the screen, to carry along the idea
and to let the audience know in the clearest, funniest way just what is essential to put across at that point. The
thing we are trying to say should not be out of line with the story; and since we are making comedies, it should
be done with punch and with all the personality the character on the screen would put into it himself ... his
attitude, distinguishing characteristics, action, etc., all contribute to putting over what you have to say, be it ever
so simple.
George has asked me to tell you how an animator picks up a scene; how it starts, is carried thru to the point
where the animator picks it up.
First the story is worked out by the Story Department, and is finally divided into sequences and scenes. Some
are individual cutting scenes; some are gag scenes. The director picks that up. He has a crew working under
him - layout men who express the scene business in backgrounds and positions, so that the idea contained can
be put over to the audience.
The director is a trained man in putting over ideas. He will never do anything knowingly that fails to put across
the idea. As a rule the director has been an animator and has learned the art of putting things over thru actual
experience. The combination of this ability of the director's and the animator's ability which is put to the test
when he works on the scene, generally reveals any flaws which either one may have overlooked working alone.
The layout man has been trained to carry out directions; he will place the objects used. in a scene to follow the
continuity and to put over the action. After the director tells the layout man what is required, the layout man
prepares an action sketch for the animator to enlarge upon. At this point it is important to remember that the
layout man is not a trained animator. His sketch will probably show size and quality of the picture, but it will not
have the spirit the animator expects to put in.
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(I have found all the way thru this plant that we are too prone to use the sketch the layout man has made as
part of the scene, which does not help the scene in any way.)
The animator then picks up the scene from the director. He will act it out, work out the continuity that precedes
and follows his scene, and determine what part his scene plays in the whole picture. A scene will have a
definite length of time in which to put over its message. This time is not arbitrarily arrived at; the scene has been
acted out either physically or mentally, to the tempo that the character involved might be doing the action. The
Tortoise, for example, would do something in a slow way; the hare in a quick way; the length of the scene would
be determined by the speed of either one of those characters (and the action to be put over.)
When the scene is given to the animator, the director tells him just how he (the director) visualizes it; the
animator is supposed to put it over. Let us sey the scene is 5 seconds long— approximately 120 exposures, as
indicated on the exposure sheet, 24 drawings a second. You are working with individual drawings now; if you
make ten drawings and think it would be fine to put in an effective or cute bit in the next ten drawings
(something that was not planned originally) - you will get extra action that does not count and probably confuses
the main action.
I heard a remark recently that all the pictures seem to go by so fast that one can't pick up anything. The director
did not do that ... he gave the work to animators who put in extra stuff instead of putting over the essentials in a
simple way; consequently the picture missed in those spots and failed to put over the necessary feeling.
If our hypothetical scene is 5 seconds long - 120 drawings on the exposure sheet - you have sufficient time only
to go thru the action, without adding any confusing details. Let us say the scene calls for a man to come up and
look into a big urn. You take your layout or backgrounds... You must show in that picture that the urn is higher
than the man is - high enough to make him get on tiptoes to reach it; that he must look down into it ... That is all
you must express. You will have to make a drawing to look as much like a man doing that business as possible.
Take your layout mans drawing as the first drawing if it is in the best possible position you can conceive, in line
with the continuity of the story; strengthen that drawing, make it as good as you can, and then draw it again to
see how you can strengthen that; show the man is looking directly into the urn; see that his whole body is
expressing it; that he is tipped over; eyes looking down into the urn; leaning on his hands which are pressing on
top of the urn... Then all you must do is progress him there .. leaning up - looking in - and you have done your
job.
Our whole concept of comedy, or half of it at any rate, is based on action and reaction, cause and result. We
must make everything appear possible, whether or not it is possible. If something is done at the end of a scene
that results in something happening of a different character, there must be a tie between the two. And that is
called. “working on a line”. (It is difficult to divide this talk into sequences because all things are tied together so
closely)
Returning to our example of a scene in which a man is looking down into a vase - he is up on his toes and his
head is turned down peering into the vase ... his whole attitude is being in line with the action of looking into the
urn. If he does it in a half-hearted manner, or is at a distance from the vase, the action will lack the punch that
leaning him over the vase would give.
The same thing happens if we have a running business ... Tortoise and the Hare, for example, the Hare playing
tennis from one scene to another, hitting back and forth. (demonstrated the mechanics of this scene on board)
In one scene the hare served and hit the ball; the next scene (not a pan) showed the ball come bouncing in
over the net, the hare came in and hit the ball; the next scene was the reverse of the previous scene. We
established a net between the scenes of the hare bouncing back and forth, and the ball bouncing... It might be
thought we would have to use a pan, but the only way we could really establish that action was to have it on a
line; when the hare hit the ball, it had to come out of scene 1 and enter the next scene and retain the feeling of
coming out of one and entering the other on the same trajectory ... we established the hit-run entrance from one
scene to the next.
Would it make any difference, in the transition from one scene to the next, whether the
same foot used in the first scene followed thru in the next?
No, especially not in this case which was so speedy that you couldn't see his foot. When you make a “cut”, it
gives a feeling of a lapse of time, and you can assume either that it is a direct cut, instantaneously, or that
there is a second in time in between; in that particular example it was the direction that counted more than the
position, although being on a line with position is the same thing. If the hare's body had been crouched in one
scene, it would have been well to have him in a crouch and straightening up in the next scene. That would be
the important thing in that example; but in the previous example used the feet were not important so would not
have to be on a line... there would be nothing wrong, however, in covering the feet.
I said before it was a cardinal sin not to put over each piece of business in our scene. In order to accomplish
that, we must do the action out in the clear where it can be seen. We must anticipate so the audience will know
what will happen, and then show the result of the action. An actor on the stage would rehearse his lines and
position and part, so that if he were going to reach for a match and light it at a definite time, he would do it
where the audience could see him do it; if he were pulling a gun to fire, he would do it so the audience could
see the action. If he were to shoot it from his pocket, he would show a bulge in his pocket which could be seen
by the audience.
In TORTOISE AND HARE, the hare would anticipate his serve, then serve, then anticipate, and run out to the
next scene where he received the ball. We showed he was going to serve by moving his swing one way before
turning it into the serve... It doesn't have to be a stop anticipation. The anticipation is obvious in a tennis stroke
because it is built up on anticipation. But anticipation must be considered in the other action.
DON'T EVER FORGET - ANTICIPATE BEFORE YOU DO THE THING - THEN DO IT OUT WHERE THE
AUDIENCE CAN SEE IT. It sounds silly to put that in words, but I have seen this point ignored or lost so many
times in our own animation that I knew someone of you here will overlook it sometime. I have seen a pup bite
Mickey's finger, and that finger is not in plain sight ... Even if the layout man gives you that problem, you should
go back and discuss it with him and with the director to get a better way of doing it so the gag will not be
missed. We should be especially careful of these points now that we are getting a little more elaborate with
gags and don't follow the old method of doing all the work in profile — a forced artificial device, but the
business did get over then.
(continuing discussion of on a line action) I had a problem once of some cats pulling a grave each had hold of
the tail of the cat preceding it, pulling the tail over its shoulder... the feeling of the whole progression was that of
the Volga Boatman number — the line of cats pulling a rope made up of tails .... (demonstrated the manner of
getting over this impression --- the first drawing, one in which I worked a long time, was a straight line to serve
as the rope or tail action, the cats pulling thru it. After that was settled, it was a matter of working on the cats to
show where their heads and fannies would show the biggest strain and pull.)
Another example of working on a line; a person hitting another on the chin. The hit might be an upper cut, a
punch, or a glancing blow. If it is an upper cut, for the action and reaction you must make first the strongest
drawing for the upper cut itself; after you have made that drawing, make three or four more to make the
drawing even stronger; perhaps bring the foot in; after that you have an arc of a line from punch to head; the
head must react to the force of the punch ... it is almost more important than the punch itself. (Forget all the
other ways of doing things ... there is an exception to every rule, but I will just hit the rule in elaborating on
these examples.)
If the force of your punch came at one point, the head that was caught would follow thru along the line of the
force of the punch. If the receiver's body pulls thru, the blow will probably snap his neck back and he would
probably be dragged thru the air following thru on the line of the blow. If the punch is a lift up, the body will
follow thru ...
Another example: the turtle we discussed at one of these meetings when we described the handling of the
animals in SNOW WHITE. The turtle has a shell — the house he lives in. The turtle has a body - head and tail
come thru at either end of the shell. You must feel the animal is tied together. If you work a gag in which you pull
the tail out, the head will be pulled in; the force of a blow on the upper shell would push out everything under the
shell.. there are natural forces which must be applied in a natural way. If you get a drawing of a turtle from the
layout man which is inadequate, make a drawing of a squashed turtle (if that is your action) to improve on the
layout man's sketch...The layout man is not an animator and should not be expected to get all the action into his
drawing.
The same principle applies to drawing of the human body ... but these points are not always remembered. An
animator will show a character talking with his head and hands, but he won't have the action follow thru to the feet
and the rest of the body. That applies too to a position like that of a man leaning over an urn it should be expressed
all the way down to the man's toes.
(asked Ham to discuss the animation problem to be given out (scene from a carnival) from the
standpoint of action and line, directness, presentation, taking into consideration that Mickey is a
show-off and wants to show Minnie how strong he is... no strength or action at the start, just set
up...)
We were going to ask the men to make their own layout and present the action in the most direct way they could.
Mickey should be strong enough to handle the hammer, or it may be too heavy for him to handle it easily ... scene
length about six feet ... exposure sheet will show definite length and the beat on the hit.
(warned the men at the start against doing too much instead of too little in animating the problem Drake assigned.)
I still do too much half the time, but up to a recent period I was always doing too much . . .You are bound to run into
the same thing yourselves as you study animation... if you are trying to find a short cut to animation without being
restricted by your experience in it, the suggestion I would offer is to absorb such points as these and apply them as
soon as and as much as possible in working out your scenes; profit by the mistakes and experience of others;
figure out your scene; make your drawings; then examine your drawings again and say, "someone told me my
drawing won't be strong enough"... you will probably think it is as strong as you can make it; consult someone else
and ask if the drawing is strong enough. A week from the time you made the drawing, you yourself will find in
looking at it again that it is very weak ... it never fails.
In the assignment outlined, it might be well for you to do too little rather than too much. If Mickey is standing without
any weight in his hands, he will pick up the hammer ... you will want to got the biggest anticipation you can at that
point ... if he is going to hit something down, he will have to go as high as he can. I would start with that anticipation
and carry it as high as I could. The hammer is a heavy one - Mickey is able to handle it, but not easily; he gets it as
high as he can — then continues the arc ... it comes down strongly enough so he really hits the base; perhaps the
force throws him up on the reaction.
Remember it takes some time to start a heavy thing in progress ... as the hammer is pulled up it moves more
easily; as it comes over the top it has a force to it; as it comes down, it has all the arc and weight behind it; when it
comes down, it can hit and bounce. If at the end of it Mickey were thrown up in the air, his reaction would be in line
with the action of the handle of the hammer.
In doing this problem, I'd make first my starting drawing — then the anticipation up which is half way thru the swing;
my hit; and the anticipation back. Get that group of drawings first ... (if you work from one to the other you would
have stiff action); then work back and get your straight animation from the first extreme to the second, third, etc.
You will probably have to change your first drawings a bit to follow thru on the swoop.
(illustrating point with another example) If I had a scene of a target with a bull's eye, and we're going, to shoot an
arrow from a distant point to hit the bull's eye — that would be to me an example of working from extreme to
extreme, because I'd want the arrow to be pointed directly to the target. If' I worked straight ahead, I probably
would not hit the bull's eye; but if I drew a drawing next to the bull's eye; then drew a line to chart the course of
the arrow; then I could put the other drawings in and probably do the problem in an accurate way. The arrow
might be of a harpoon type and have a rope attached to it; we might consider the rope weaving along the wake of
the course followed by the arrow. It might be hard to draw the rope weaving from drawing to drawing; in that case
it would be well after finishing the arrow, to go back to the rope, getting a flow to it that would be more convincing
than following the rope action with the arrow on inbetweens.
Would you pick up the two extremes on your rope, or follow thru from drawing to drawing?
I would consider that rope straight for a distance, perhaps about to the middle of the action, then add the weaving
action to get the flow ... In the action of a character crouched in one scene, and coming up in the next — even the
you have two different scenes, it would be well to make the crouch drawing first; the up drawing next; half-way
up. Then the lean. Then make rough drawings of the half-way points in which the character is straightening up
(but we would not get the subtle twist of the body and the subtle leg action here.) Then work straight ahead from
the drawings you have to complete the action.
The same applies to your animation problem. It would be very hard to start Mickey and go straight ahead ... it
would be hard to get the best anticipation drawings, to get as high up as you could before hitting down. If you use
these extremes first as a chart, then you can go straight ahead with the other drawings.
What do you mean by “doing too little instead of too much?
You have six feet for the scene — that is, four seconds. If you map out the action of hitting a hammer on the
ground, in four seconds, you will find you have no time to spit on your hands, to turn around to look at Minnie to
see how she is taking it; you can't put a couple of extra swings in; you have only four seconds, which is just
enough time to get the hammer started, hit it, and react to it. You will be surprised to find how many other little
things you are going to put into that action, even though you have only six feet on the exposure sheet and must
make 120 drawings.
We have something we are going to hit — Mickey is standing near — the blow is to come down and squash the
base. One drawing is a force drawing — Mickey is way up in the air; if he wears a coat, his sleeves would be
pulled up because his arms are way up. You don't have to hesitate on the action. The extreme on the highest
point is the force drawing, just as the blow is. The slow spot is at the beginning. If it's a heavy hammer, you would
want to show its weight. Both drawings have equal importance but the first one has more time, the second more
force.
Would you say the actual hit is the most important thing in the scene?
It is important only in so far as you keep the audience with you ... your anticipation may take more drawings but
the hit is the more important thing, then. (Ham agreed)
Do you consider the anticipation taking hold of the hammer and swinging back? Is there an
anticipation to Mickey's actually starting to lift the hammer?
There you are with six feet again - and there is where you will do too much, possibly. You will find 100 ways of
doing anything you want to do; if you act out the business, you will discover a complicated or a simple way of
doing it. In six feet, you will have to use the simple way. Rather than get a lift, then a swing back, try to act it out
with just a swing back. One method is as good as the other, but time determines which you should use, and a
great deal depends on the picture that goes before the action you are animating.
Is it important to have the anticipation to the wind-up?
I wouldn't answer that without knowing more about the scene and its place in the picture.
Wouldn't the act of picking the hammer up serve as the anticipation — overlapping action?
The simplest way to do the business would be to have overlapping anticipation. Different actors would do a
piece of business in different ways. If a tough man were doing it, he would probably put a swagger into it, but
you would have to have time to project that. In this case, Mickey is doing it, so I think your overlapping
anticipation would be the thing. Later on, if you are given some problem with another character who is very
confident and assured, you would have to be given more time to put over the action.
As you progress in the work, you will be given scenes of varying lengths determined in advance ... one scene
may be merely a connecting scene in which you are supposed to do nothing but run or walk a character across
from one scene to the next. To do more than you are supposed to would possibly kill a gag that is to follow; so
find out what has gone before and what follows, and use common sense in handling your scene; you can't do it
without acting it out yourself.
What determines your choice of poses in planning an action?
The series of pictures that I know must go into that scene. If you were laying out a comic strip, you would figure
out how many squares were needed to tell the story, and that would be your line of drawings. Here we have a
scene that must go thru a certain number of steps ... it may have several stops which may mean that many
more anticipations. In a comic strip the reader can go back to something he did not get; but he can't do this in a
moving picture. Act the stuff out before a mirror, or if you can, visualize it - see how many moves you must go
thru to put over the idea — stop moves, moving moves, then result moves. I'd make all those drawings first;
then the next important ones so one thing leads to another; then your inbetweens or straight animation can
pass thru those.
You will have an opportunity to apply the points discussed at this meeting in your animation of the problem
assigned to you.
How are you going to show just how much swing to give to the mallet?
There would be two ways of swinging that mallet: one, pick it up and with no extra effort the mallet would swoop
up and hit; the other, you come up, a pause, then come down and hit the base. Get a mallet - try it out - and
determine for yourself which method you will animate.
In our cartoons we are imitating moving pictures ... we get into the feeling here that all action is done in jerks;
but actually we are moving continuously thru an action and the movie camera is only a mechanical thing that
follows thru on the action. Our camera very mechanically shoots 24 frames a second, just as rhythmically as
possible, which means our action is divided off rhythmically. Examine a group of cels painted here that are well
done and you will notice a very nice progression in the action. Or trace a moving picture of an action on
celluloid and you will see it is very rhythmically divided. It is impossible for timing to be slow, then gain speed
and then come down slowly and go fast again. It cannot be done (eliminate the exceptions to the rule) — but
generally speaking this is true.
TIMING
(demonstrated — spaced two drawings close together, the third a distance away — these three set the placing
of the fourth drawing.) If an action is gaining in speed, the fourth drawing cannot help but be in an ordained
position. No matter what your action, it is impossible to break up the drawings except in a definite way.
On the hammer swing, it will have to so slowly, mechanically pick up until it socks down on the hit; if it slows up
then speeds up, you would have to indicate that in the timing of the action. If you hold too long at the upper
point, you would got a screwy effect.
It takes at least three exposures to feel a contact, You are all accustomed to shooting stuff on two exposures
each for a continuous action. If someone were running fast, his movements quite large, the best we could do
would be to put that action on ones, since we can't sheet half an exposure on each drawing; we would still get a
progression that would be all right on ones. If the action is moving too far, we get a better result by blurring. In
other words, if we had a baseball that had to travel a distance in one exposure, a camera shooting that would
pick up a blur that would overlap ... it would be quite a brilliant white ball and would dim out into an airbrush
feeling. We imitate that and put the action on one exposure. If the baseball ( or a better example would be a
hand) were overlapping itself on one exposure, it would be all right; if we did it very slowly, we could shoot both
overlappings on two exposures rather than doing inbetweens and shooting them on ones. It might be impossible
to draw the lines close enough together when shooting such overlapping on ones; shooting on twos would avoid
inbetweening overlapping and resultant wiggling of line.
If we put the action on three exposure, it would take care of the very slow swinging of arms from back forward.
The general rule is never put slow action (of hand) on threes; you would get little steps because threes would
give you the feeling of contact or stop. The smallest hit that would give you contact on the hit would be three
exposures (someone running and the feet just hitting the ground).. You wouldn't get the necessary contact in two
exposures. Although there is nothing wrong with using twos, you would not feel the feet actually hitting the
ground. If you wanted to get a real contact on the mallet coming down, you would have to use 5 to 6
exposures... you would have to hit the base — possibly get force in two or three exposures — flattening it out -
one exposure of hitting the block — one getting flat— 2 flattening it out— There are many ways of doing it, but if
you have a blow, contact, hold on the contact - you would take care of the hit.
Would you plot out how you would work thru a slow animated hold?
One of the nicest and most necessary effects we get working here is a movement and, a stop; that stop we call
a hold, and our movement is a change of timing and going into that pause. The pause is done so we can see the
action. On the stage, for example, if someone sees something - he steps and looks; a dancer executes a
movement and comes to a stop, poised; you cannot think of an example where you do not have movement and
a stop. We have a way of taking care of such stops in cartoons — I speak of drawings which express the
position. It is impossible for me to come to a point and stop in one exposure; though the action may seem to
freeze, there is a very slow movement beyond the frozen position almost indistinguishable but present. That is
what we have to do in animation. You may call it a trick - something we learned in drawing, but it is necessary
that we resort to it. You have an animal with his head down, asleep, logs curled up under him; he sits up into a
sitting position because he hears something; this last may be your tenth drawing — let's consider that the
previous drawings were not so good; after you have made the best drawing you could possibly make - the tenth
in this case - make a better one coming up higher than the good one you made (the tenth)... keep the tenth ...
the animal's eyes would open wider on the new drawing, his legs would come up higher, his tail would straighten
out; Now you have two holds that are exactly the same picture, but one is a strengthened version of the other ...
it hasn't done something new — it is just intensified; you would want to catch an accent on it and have the
animal sit up quickly. Anything we start moving, we must start moving slowly ... Start the animal coming up with
his head moving just a trifle — eye opening just a trifle - ear pricking up just a trifle; the next one a little more
intensified and from that go quickly into the next to the last drawing (the tenth) ... that seemed to give a very
good hold; from that to the best drawing put as many inbetweens as you can - 7 to 10; and that intensifying that
action would be a mechanical way of taking care of the barely distinguishable action. That is one type of
animated hold.
Another might be a person coming up and settling down from a hold (as well as coming up to one and
intensifying it.) In the settling feeling, the next to the last drawing would still be the wide-open one, and the
next one would be a little settling.
The holds I have been discussing are anchored holds on the ground; but there are times we want to show
something happening in the air; that is where we have more leeway than the movie camera. One example -
Fred Astaire could jump up in the air, come down, and hit a pose. Mickey night jump up in the air - hit a pose in
the air - and then come down. If he were to do that, it would be handled in the same manner as Mickey
catching a baseball (discussed earlier.)
In the Astaire action, the movement coming up would be starting and increasing the speed coming to the pose;
go further with it and stronger and use the best drawing you have, then the one better than that ,.. go into it
rhythmically Astaire would be moving and coming into a pose you would hardly feel; he would come up into the
stop and the pause at that point ... that is where you would hit the actual hold; then come back. On the
baseball example, you had to get Mickey's arm out where the glove caught the ball. As the ball hit the glove,
you would have to have the glove open - the ball buried in it; from the arm extending to the glove, one
inbetween; then a relaxing to show Mickey had caught the ball; a hold to show the ball was caught. You hit the
extreme very fast and then slowly back ... a pause of 12 or 16 exposures (a second or half a second); we took
care of the hold - kept it moving, and put over the action by hitting it strong and having a movement that was
right in line with the thing. The extreme isn't held more than two exposures; you might even put it as one
exposure, and two exposures into the coming back.
How can you keep Mickey still while his hand comes back with the ball?
(Ham here explained pan movement in relation to movement of a character) If character is moving in one
place, he is running at the same speed as the pan; if character is gaining on the pan, he is running at the
speed of the pan plus the speed he is gaining; if character is losing on pan, ho is running at pan speed less the
distance he is losing. The action of the pan slowing down gave the effect of Mickey slowing down as he
reached out for the ball (in example of exaggerated Mickey catching baseball in glove) ... the arcs describing
his action could be done in any way - but that would be an individual problem to be handled as it arises.
Suppose that there were a take and you wanted to get the feeling of an exaggerated, distorted
drawing, without being conscious of the distortion ... how would you obtain that in timing?
Using the example of an animal sitting up — we will take him in a very excited hold instead of merely sitting up;
if the extreme were an ugly drawing — just something for effect — we would have just one exposure on it; the
next drawing would be calmed down quite a bit on one exposure; and the next one would be the nice drawing.
Why do you exaggerate so much instead of just bringing the animal up into a natural “take”
position? Why do you go so much further?
Perhaps to show greater emotional strain — the character might be terrifically scared. If he were just
interested, we would show him as discussed before. If a gun went off, to got over the effect of his fright, his hat,
if he had one, might go up; his coat might come up; the thing we are caricaturing in our cartoons - the
impression — those things an actor cannot do — are what would be shown in the accent drawings. The actor
can go only as far as his body will permit; we can go farther.
In the character's take, I would stretch the arm out more than the body (referring to Mickey catching baseball);
the whole body, however, would react to the movement — the sweater would have to be pulled up on the
body, cuff and sleeves would be involved. In the air, catching the ball, the arm would have to be shown starting
to go out from the body... You have only one drawing to express the whole change from the extreme to the
hold ... The feeling of the hold to the little more relaxed position would be 8, 16, or 24 exposures...
Must the figure be on balance all the time? (question referred still to Mickey and his seeming
unbalance when up in the air catching the ball)
The pulled-out position of the hare, returning to that example, is naturally not a balanced position ... A man doing
a hundred-yard dash would be leaning forward, off balance as far as his body wore concerned, but his speed
would put him in balance his speed and running - would be in combination to give him balance.
In the extreme drawings when the hare is catching the ball, he should not be in balance ... he leaped up in the air
and was pulled off balance, if anything. When the momentum slowed him down, his feet would put him in
balance, and from that into a pose position with the ball. I have often puzzled ever the question of when a
character should be in balance and when he should not be. Whenever a figure is down on the ground and into a
pose, he is in balance. If he is going to stop, he would have to be in balance; but if he is in the air, reacting to
something, he would not be in balance on the reaction or the extreme of the reaction.
Balance must have some definite relation to the ground... the character could be up in the air and still give feeling
of balance...
Isn't off-balance a pose counterbalanced by the momentum of the action? (further

discussion on this point not noted)
...What license may animators take in timing and fast action and putting punch into their work? (as in TORTOISE
AND HARE, when the tennis racquet came across in three frames and yet was easy to follow,)
First I would say you can do anything, but then I'm afraid that you might do “anything” in every scene. When you
are trying to put over an illusion of speed, go as fast as you want; but when you are putting over ordinary
everyday action, do it carefully; save the exaggerated speed spots just as you would save exaggerated drawings
for the time they are necessary - they come up only once in a while.
As I said before with reference to timing, it is impossible for something to go fast and slow, fast and slow; you will
find most of' your scenes will have to progress very smoothly. You know when a ball goes up in the air, it starts
slowly, speeds up, slows up, then comes down fast again. That happens with almost every action...
No matter what you do, you will want to start the audience's eye out in the direction you are going. If a hand is at
one spot and moving to another, you must allow the audience to see the hand going out the drawings are slow
there; as the hand goes out, it gains speed but it continues to be a nice smooth effect; but if that hand is to go out
in the hardest punch you can put over, start it slowly, pick up with a couple of exposures, and then if you wanted
and had a progression, go beyond in timing, but after that come back to your conventional timing. It is the
variation of slow and fast that helps.
How about speed lines?
Generally they are unnecessary. I have seen a lot of movie film frame by frame and it's surprising to see how
many blurs we get, things you think would be clear are not so at all. A certain amount of distortion is pretty good
in moving a hand across a scene, for example, if you can take care of it with hand and fingers stretched out a bit
to carry across the illusion. If you use speed lines you may get an impression that I don't think we want at any
time - an impression of netting dragging along behind the object. Remember that if the camera is taking a picture
of a foot in one frame, and another foot in the next frame, the space between being blurred out, it is impossible
for the camera to take a picture of its own blur. Many ask if we should fade out speed lines and gradually show
them disappearing. A camera would not do it - there is nothing to be disappeared on the third picture, so don't put
anything there, If you have any blur, have it take place before the third foot is shown.
I think you can get the same effect without using speed lines ... they have their place ... We had to use them in
TORTOISE AND HARE to got an effect of great speed and pinwheel. I would recommend, when in doubt as to
whether or not to use speed lines, to leave them off.
We have discussed. them before and Don and I both agree they are not necessary.
Most people get into the feeling of speed lines because they have made illustrations and cartoons before they
came here; our technique here requires different handling, however here we have a moving picture and already
have movements, so why put them in. Speed lines should be used just for exceptional handling. If you had a
hand dragging thru a scene, make it a streamlined hand for the required effect. In making the hand go thru
lengthwise, you can make it longer at the fingers; or wider, if the hand goes thru palm up, but not so wide that
the audience will see it as a white streak across the screen.
Getting back to discussion of feeling and meaning of action which are probably the most
important phases do you plan action graphically, based on your analysis of the action,
and then work into the caricature feeling?
I generally find my first day is lost or wasted ... After working on a thing a while I got a better idea of it later after
it has seeped in. Often I think I have given a scene all the thought I should and start work on it, but it doesn't
seem good to me and I find I'm not getting a kick out of it. Then I get home, work in front of a mirror - get an
idea which may pop me up then go back to the scene, put in the extra touch, or do it the new way that occurred
to me. If all that planning had been done before starting work, the time would not have been lost. In most cases
we don't do enough planning. The difficulty may often lie in just simple things; often further thought will furnish a
whole new slant on a scene; at other times you may got a new feeling for personality.
You must exaggerate a character very much - it is impossible for us to do things straight - we don't want to. We
are making exaggerations in our pictures. Once you have picked up a character and are working on him, getting
to know him better and better, you will find moving pictures of other people will suggest attitudes, poses,
characteristics you would want to get into your character. It's a matter of observation and trying to apply these
observations to your work. Often a dopey fellow like Joe Penner or W.C. Fields will suggest characteristics that
you can enlarge upon in a dopey character. If you were doing the hare, you would start noticing cocky people -
you would see their fancy ways of doing things and you might caricature those. There's a progression from
straight thinking to building toward a stronger feeling; but it comes gradually, and the more you think of it before
time, the better off you will be.
In our simple test of Mickey, if we want to bring out the feeling he is showing off — how
would that be done? In the stages of planning the action; the layout is based on the
analysis of the action; then you bring out things in the drawing that give you the
feeling?
I think the best thing an animator could possibly do would be to learn to be an observer. Sometimes I get into
the habit, and it's wonderful; at other times I may go for months without thinking of it... You might go down to the
beach, for instance, and lie there all day long watching the waves come in, but they won't mean anything.
However, if you think of them in terms of animation, you will find the foam does certain things when it comes up
on the beach; that the surf breaks a certain way ... I know if I had not actually observed that recently and
someone had given me a beach problem to do, I would just have had a mental impression of waves coming in
which would not be as good as my impression is now which is based on conscious analytical observation. If you
watch someone do a dance at a show, you can accept it, or observe it critically noting its significance,
technique, its importance to you in form ... the dancer may go thru certain movements you would like to imitate
in animation. That sounds like a speech, but it has proved helpful to me to study action when watching things
move. If you go to the zoo, don't go for the express purpose of studying action - just make it a habit to think in
terms of animation whenever you look at anything, so that when you do go to the zoo, your observation and
analysis will be a matter of habit and storing away of detail rather than a task.
I'd like the men to develop themselves so they may be able to do good roughs for
sweatbox. Could you outline what is essential in roughs so they may have an idea of the
importance of the rough — what should be in, what may be left out, what the director
expects to see in the rough?
Different animators at the studio work differently - to our disadvantage most of the time. I have worked on my
first poses in rather a cleanup manner because I am not good enough to put them down in the rough. There are
other people who can get in the rough pose the same thing I have to work toward in cleanup, but after I have
come to that spot, I can work as roughly as they do. Some of you may work one way or another. In any case,
my cleanup roughs don't have have any of the details, (illustrated a rough of hare catching a ball) I would want
to show the sleeve being pulled out of the arm — I would strengthen the line at that point so that it would then
have only to be carried out by the next man; put in wrinkles on the sweater; If the sweater were pulled up on the
body, I would show that ... that detail would have to be carried only where it is actually being used. If the
sweater had not reacted to the catch, I would not carry it at all. In other words, there are many characters you
do not have to dress at all. In this case, the hare's ears are necessary because they give you a chance to follow
thru in action; his feet are necessary as far as shape and position are concerned; no need of toes; on the head
tilt I generally find I can carry a double circle to indicate its tilt; a line that travels in the direction the head is to be
tilted is helpful; if it is a circle with two forms on it, use them; if a scared mouth expression were to be used, put
that in; put in eyes when necessary, or as a line when they are not.
These roughs as drawn on the board would read as well on fast action as in cleanup action; but if a fellow had a
pose with fingers in his suspenders, I would have to put time on it — I'd put the wrinkles in, the smile, all the
form - but no buttons on clothes. After that pose were drawn, drawings leading into it could be drawn very
roughly.
We talk of caricaturing things and poses. When you start working on something, think of how you can caricature
what you are after. With the hare we caricatured everything on athletic goods - we went big on the baseball, the
tennis racquet. With Mickey and the sledge hammer, think of caricaturing the size of the hammer. If the sweater
were supposed to be tight-fitting, get it that way and see how it works. If a character is supposed to be dapper,
caricature the crease in his pants and the tight - fitting waist of his jacket.
How about correcting tests — is that as difficult or more so than making the test?
Correcting is rather difficult, but if you have worked from key positions (as I think is necessary) it is much
simpler. Instead of starting the swings in your problem and then having to correct something - a difficult thing to
do - if you have made your poses you will knew where your stop-in and starting places are and corrections will
be easier. No one can set a rule about which is the best way to work. Some problems must be worked straight
ahead - others from pose to pose; but if you have your poses you will know how to go ahead.
It's easy to get a metronome or have someone put a stopwatch on you and go thru your action ... dope it out
first and you won't be so far off in your animation. After you do that, caricature your timing, make the parts faster
or slower as you see them. If the director works all the timing out for you, you won't get the results achieved
when you work together. If you are a help to the director, he will want to work with you; but if you are
uncooperative or unable to help, you will have to depend altogether on his timing as he gives it to you and very
likely you will miss out on something he wanted. It is a good idea to work on it together, but in your first
assignments you will be getting the stuff pretty well established; as you start contributing essential things to the
scene, the director will know he can start working with you. The timing is built up primarily by the director and
the story department.
Regarding pans - their use is determined by the director, but the animator determines the distance. A director
may even give an animator a pan and a blank space in between that is not set until you tell him how far to move
the pan.
(by Ham)
Remember you must put over a scene - you never can go back on it draw a picture that puts it over to
you - show that picture to someone else and ask that person if the picture expresses what you are trying
to show; if he asks, “what is that?” — do it over again.
Anticipation: put that over as strongly as possible and show result. Plan it out very strongly first before
you start working on it; nine times out of ten you will find you put too much instead of too little into the
animation; you won't pick the simple way which is the best way of attacking the problem. You know what
is coming, but the audience does not; if you haven't shown it simply, the audience won't get it.
Build up from the simple way, and your corrections will come more easily. If you put in a simple hold
which is wrong, you can liven it up; but if you go elaborate on it, your problem is made more difficult.
Entertainment II
"The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" in an animated film By Eric Larson
Animation "The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

DRAWINGS THAT LIVE
Acting is a recreation of emotions, and animation is acting!
"We must recognize both the validity of tradition and the necessity of exploration and discovery. We need
a knowledge of the past and a basic and realistic understanding of the present, so that our creative
energies can be fully geared towards our desired goals."
Why this discussion?
To focus on our: Responsibilities
Talents
Perspective
Discipline
Where are we at this time and place? Our responsibility is to a team effort but also to ourselves. If we do
not hold ourselves accountable for doing our very best, our contribution to the team effort becomes nil.
Our talents have to be nourished every day through observation, analysis, discussion, application and
doing.
2 Animation "The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

The Handout
Our perspective has to be long ranged,having the ability to adjust, to view things in their true relationship,
to know that creative activities are always demanding and that one accomplishment calls for the pursuit of
another.
Discipline is a basic factor in our work. Are we giving our best in thought and execution of our
assignments? Are we respectful of the contributions of others? Are we freely exchanging ideas and
making use of them when they fit?
As animators (the actors), our closest contacts and relationships on a picture may well be with the
Directors. A mutual respect and understanding is imperative.
The Director has the responsibility to inspire and enthuse the animators and all others on the picture,
regardless of position or function.
The animator has the same responsibility. He should inspire the Director and he should never leave the
Director’s room without a thorough understanding of the scene or series of scenes he’s picking up -- the
business ,the mood, the dialogue, the staging. Everything that will make the scenes come to life.
In the first handout from the Director, an animator has his first in-depth contact with the picture. Thoughts
relating to the handout session might include:
1 What’s the story point in the scene and how does this scene relate to those ahead and to follow?
2 What’s the situation and mood of the character or characters?
3 How will "the business" best be acted out and staged?
4 Is there enough or too much footage?
5 Be sure you, as the animator, understand the character; you’ll have to be it when you get to working
it all out on the drawing board.
6 Have the Director act out the action and attitudes as he sees them. Offer suggestions.
7 Do some acting yourself. Get some criticism.
8 How will the action best phrase to get the desired results?
9 Mood-wise, action-wise, attitude-wise, does the dialogue inspire? Does it say it like it should be
said?
10 Don’t do a thing without knowing why.
11 Don’t argue! Discuss constructively.

ACTION PHRASING
Getting it on the screen: That’s your challenge, and to be sincere it has to be a part of you. Our drawing:
What is a good drawing? A good drawing must be alive, simple as possible -- it must have rhythm,
movement, weight, balance and attitude.
The poses in the scene should make positive statements, put over the story point and mood, have a
silhouette quality as much as possible, be on character and have correct volume, proportions, looks, and
shape.What’s the point in having our character go through all that great action looking like something else?
Consider twists through the body, chest to pelvic area, roll and angle of head, angle of shoulders.
Does the
drawing have
direction?
Is it easily understood?
Does it have appeal?
Our character Its physical makeup and emotions. These have a positive bearing on how it moves. Is he
(or it) fat, skinny, short, tall, sloppy, trim, etc.? Is he (or it) excited,dejected, determined, inquisitive,
surprised, scheming, thoughtful, haughty, flirtatious or what? Would all: characters, regardless of physical
makeup, react alike in given moods and emotions? No! The physical makeup of the character and his
emotions have everything to do with the way he moves and acts. They dictate.
(Consider: Chaplin’s Little Tramp, Keaton’s poker face and impulsive moods, Lou Costello’s frustration,
Harpo Marx the busybody.)

ACTION PHRASING
Action: What is it? Webster says: "The bringing about of an alteration by force." Is it "The manner or
method of performance"?
Don Graham wrote: "Animation is unique in the story of action in that characters, the actors, are
drawn. Because they are drawn, they are not earthbound like (merely) human performers--they are free!"
Ham Luske: "We must make our action stronger than it would be in real life -- or we are not taking
advantage of our medium. Remember, in your work, the thought comes first--think, see and feel before you
begin to draw. Keep your action simple and clear-cut. Keep every movement and expression visible to your
audience. Never make a movement or gesture without a reason. Analyze every movement and gesture
until you are satisfied that it is the most truthful, effective and direct way to present your character. Make
only one gesture or movement at a time. Know that you have created a clear-cut characterization and that
the action has begun definitely, remained clear through-out and come to a conclusion. Is the character
interesting, honest, alive? Do you become emotionally involved with it? Are the gestures and movements
sincere, clear, convincing and properly motivated? Does the action help delineate the character? Is the
action realistic and prolonged sufficiently and exaggerated enough to appeal and communicate with the
audience? Does your character have the charisma you desire! Pantomime is humor, love, drama, hate.
It’s wistful,arrogant, mischievous, spunky. It’s animation."
Don Graham said: "The essentials which made the drawing come to life, the gesture, the staging,
the expression, the inner vitality, have all been established by the animator. Only through trulygreat
draftsmanship in the sense; not rendering, but of creation, can the animated drawing be significant. This is
the new drawingof our time."

Thought Process
Consider thought processes: Mood, being a state of mind, isthe force which dictates body attitude, action
and expression.It dictates behavior.
Examples:
1 Fear-Action and decisions. Erratic, undisciplined

2 Frenzied, staccato.
3 Composed-Action warm, graceful, considerate.
4 Depressed-Action confined, minimal.
Action will be prompted by the character’s emotions and hisphysical capabilities.
Would a frightened man with a bad leg run like the frightened man whose legs were whole?
Would the frightened fat man run like the frightened thin man?
Would the frightened, bewildered animal turn directly to a haven or would the action have added tension
and excitement if some feeling of indecision were shown?

PHRASING - TIMING SYNONYMOUS
Good phrasing punctuates an action -- it makes it readable. It’s to action what the comma, the exclamation
point, and the period are to writing.
The mood and the nature of the action must be carefully analyzed. How would a certain personality with a
given physical makeup best do it to create the maximum entertainment?
Once determined, keep the action simple, crisp and to the point. We now have something to say, so let’s
say it! Embellishments (will) or (may) be added later. But the cart does not come before the horse. We
know that the considered spacing of the drawings between our final key poses will "carry" the action and
show off our phrasing, mood and attitudes and hopefully bring the desired life and believability to our
character(s) on the screen.
But first, we must know our character, his physical and emotional makeup and the acting it is to do on the
screen, We must know what we want to say and how we’re going to say it, then work out the needs in the
scene by thumbnailing the action and the staging. Remember, the animator has control of that camera;
make it work for you to get dramatic results.
The business in our scenes must be basically sincere then caricatured to get the crisp, alive quality we
want, Walt said: "Our story of the actual is not so that we may be able to accomplish the actual, but so that
we may have a basis upon which to go into the fantastic, the unreal, the imaginative, and yet to let it have
a foundation of fact in order that it may more easily possess sincerity and contact with the public. By
contact we mean that there must be a familiar, subconscious association; somewhere or at some time, the
audience has felt, or met with, or seen or dreamt, the situation pictured."
In the phrasing of action, staging (cosmopolitan) is vital! It’s the challenge of clearly presenting the action
on screen to the viewer, in a positive, interesting and artistic way. Constantly, we should give thought to
the speed of our film through the projector and remind ourselves of the need and value of good staging.
(A second is of essence) "Get it all out in the open," someone said. Everything should be clearly defined.

Staging & Anticipation
In staging, let’s make full use of the screen. Many actions justify it and make it exciting. (As walking,
running, rolling, etc.) If we plan for our character to gain and lose in the field we will get a fluid feeling
which will add interest and excitement to the action. (The character gains on the camera, the camera may
then catch up and pass him.)
Anticipation is a vital part of good phrasing. It sets the action. (Go one way before you go another.)
Anticipation, and very few actions can succeed without it, is like building up a head of steam. It does two
things: it tells the viewer something is going to happen and it gathers up the needed energy to make it
happen.
Anticipation is:
1 The cocking of your arms to get power enough to give your adversary a sock in the face.
2 It’s the wind-up of a pitcher before he speeds the ball toward the batter.
3 It’s the subtle lift of the hand as one readies to affectionately pat a youngster on the head.
4 It’s the little lift of the guy up onto his toes as he goes into his walk.
5 It’s the "introduction" to almost all we do.
It’s the action that says: "I’m about to perform," There’s a joy and a sensation to be experienced as we
watch something in action -- the exotic and graceful movements to be found in animals and humans, the
personality that the characters exhibit when in action (joy,depression,arrogance, anger etc·), you name it.
There’s positive personality in action. Let’s be good students; we never know when or where we will see
something to inspire our animation. Observe and analyze--two key points in good animation.

Dialogue Phrasing
In dialogue phrasing, the mood, attitude, and movement of the "body" are the keys to convincing delivery
and sync of your dialogue lines. if the body isn’t saying it, it just isn’t said!(If our Character is in a medium
or C.U. shot, we should know what the off-stage body attitude is so that the action on stage will be
sincere.) And to be sincere it has to be a part of you! How does that line of dialogue you’re concerned with
break down for you? Does the line feel right? How would the character’s mood or situation dictate the
phrasing of the action to get the sync and sincerity you want? Your character might say: "Oh! Get out of
here." How would you phrase the action?
1 If he were angry?
2 If he were emotionally hurt?
3 If he were annoyed?
Consider: Animation, action-wise, is a pantomime medium, and pantomime may be our greatest
challenge - every thought, attitude,expression, action, reaction, etc., has to be told in drawings expressing
charm and appeal, and sans dialogue.
For us, there are

two basic type of
action:
1 Primary action--motivated by a thought process on the part of the character

2 Secondary action--the result of a primary action. It’s the swirling of the dress on a dancer - the
looseness (flutter) of the coat tails on a running character, it’s anything reacting to whatever the
primary action is doing.

The illusion of action
How do we create the illusion of action? By the change of shapes (squash and stretch - but keep the
volume), the reversal in drawings, the clarity of poses, positive arcs, staging. In considering our approach
to action, here are some thoughts from "The Stage and The School" by Katherine Ommanney and Harry
Schanker. (They have been revised some to better apply to animation.)
About the
character we are
to animate:
1 What is his age?
2 What are his physical traits?
3 What makes him a distinctive individual?
Only when you can see him clearly in your mind, will you be able to make him alive.
Be sure you’re making every use of the situation before as well as when your character is saying his line.
Question: Would little Thumper’s response to his mother’s question, "What did your father tell you this
morning?" have been just as significant if he had not had an attitude (personality) buildup before delivering
his lines? Would his audience appeal have been just as strong, if he had just blurted out his lines without
an attitude buildup? Action on the mouth,eyes, brows, etc., are embellishments in our dialogue -- they add
to the charm and sincerity of it and our characters. But we must have a good framework before we add the
trim.
Just try saying something in which you want a given emotional impact, strong or quiet, and see if you can
do it without body involvement and still have a believable feeling. Our dialogue will always fall into body
and word phrasing, even if we just say the word: "No!" We search for those phrase identifications. Act it
out and ask yourself, "If my character on the screen were in silhouette, would it still have a good dialogue
sync"
That’s a big step in the right direction.
Eric Larson

Entertainment III
"Acting for Animation" By Eric Larson
PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

Acting for Animation
Entertainment Series III - By Eric Larson
How much thought has each of us given to our acting career? Sometimes we even forget we have one!
Acting: But, we have - each and every one of us - and our "roles" are of great variety and every one makes a great
demand: "GET INTO CHARACTER."
Getting into character is no small assignment. It’s like changing dress for different moods of the day, but
not quite so easy. It can’t be done with a brew such as Dr. Jekyll used to create Mr. Hyde. It isn’t physical
transformation - it’s an image born of observation and imagination.
That big sheet of clean white paper on our drawing board is just waiting for something to happen. The
question is - will it be something exciting and entertaining or will it be - just something?
We’ve explored and planned the "scene business" with or thumbnail sketches. We have thought well on it
and know what we want to do and to get the best results we review some very basic things, such as the
quality of our drawing and the need for weight, balance, rhythm and attitude in it - we review the need for
proportions and personality in our character - the phrasing of action and dialogue - caricature - silhouette -
arcs - perspective - timing (pacing) - pantomime - staging and of course, acting!
Goofy might insist that "acting is just pretending." Well, maybe so, but when we, as animators, "pretend,"
we really act. We want that linear character of ours to be as alive as life itself!
Walt practiced what he preached in acting out the "business," as he saw it, in story discussions or in the
critical analysis of the animators’ scenes in the rough showings in sweatbox - and, too, sometimes in the
hallway or parking lot - wherever he was, he "lived" it. He pantomimed action and "rehearsed" dialogue
attitudes and phrasing. He put on a real show - and it was positive, constructive and entertaining. IN the
old studio on Hyperion Street in Los Angeles, each animation room was equipped with a full length mirror,
usually mounted on the door, before which one could act out, for himself, the business routines in his
scenes. On a wing, attached to the animation desk, was fastened a large mirror in which the artist could
see himself acting out the desired facial expressions and dialogue, suggesting the emotions and feelings of
his animated character, be it Mickey, Pluto, a Dwarf , Stromboli or whoever. We have long held on to the
desk mirror, but the full-length one gradually disappeared.
2 PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

The Physical Properties of a character
We’ve been reminded time and again, that to make our animated character act and emote sincerely we
must know his physical possibilities, his emotional range and depth, his sensitivity, etc. For instance, we
could hardly expect Dopey to get as involved in a situation as would Grumpy. Neither could we expect
"Friar Tuck" or "The Tortoise" to run the "hurdle" course with the same ease and skill with which the "hare"
would do it.
The reward in animation comes with knowing and studying the traits and mannerisms of our characters -
analyzing the possibilities each presents in whatever "role" the story places them - putting ourselves in
their places and acting out the action and dialogue, phrase by phrase, for ourselves and then, with thought,
putting it all down on paper and timing it for "life." Many of the early animators , Ham Luske, Norm
Ferguson , Fred Moore , Bill Tytla and others, who carved out the Disney tradition in the early and mid-
thirties , made good use of those mirrors we mentioned. They did some pretty good acting in front of them.
they acted it all out - analyzed and planned the business carefully - then put it down on the board.
In those days, an assistant, working within a tight animation unit, might be asked to assume poses , move
into and out of them , do a "type" of walk, turn, react in surprise or fear or do a "skip." Endless were the
requests and as they were performed the animator, observing carefully such important things as body
attitude, weight shift, balance and strength of pose, made his quick sketches for inspiration - all is the
search for better animation.
Today, as then, the person in the next room may be helpful.1 Maybe he’s a bit more of a "ham" than we
are - less self-conscious Let’s get him or her to "act it out" for us. The performance will not be
"professional" perhaps, but we’re bound to get ideas from it, and we’re searching for ideas - some we will
keep and use, others we will discard.
1 "You are only as fgood as your materials lend you to be ! Don’t forget animators should be social creatures as well - so also , animators can
be good "material" to use."
3 Entertainment III "Acting for Animation" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

We are at our best as actors when we can visualize clearly in our minds exactly what our character must
do and how he’s going to do it. We close our eyes and "see" the action as it passes in review.
We "see" our character , robust and arrogant , stomp and gesture his way through the planned action.
We "see" Grecian Gods, reciting their incantation, summoning the four winds to playfully wreak havoc upon
a mortal world.
We "see" Taran , frightened but resolute, as he meets the Horned King.
We "see" little Hen Wen as she tenses and playfully challenges Taran to "watch after her."
Or we may be doing a little Chaplin like character, and after studying the Chaplin films, we "build" on the
little shuffle walk, the little hops which often lead into his walks, the twirl of his cane, the tipping of his
derby, the little happy side to side motion on his head and all else our character will have to do be a
caricature of Chaplin who, as the "Little Tramp" is indeed, a great caricature of a personality.
Acting doesn’t have to be complicated or emotional to deserve our close attention, A simple thing like
Action Analysis descending a stairway calls for us to actually do it slowly and analytically to find out just what happens.
Let’s try it:
On step one, we contact the stair tread with a straight leg and foot - we squash , as needed, for weight -
then lift up to the height we need to pull our opposite leg through in anticipation of our next step down we
drop into our step , contact the tread - squash for weight and again into the up anticipation to pull the
opposite leg through - step down to the tread - squash for weight, and so continuing to the bottom of the
stairs. Basically descending the stairs has quite the same pattern as does a walk on a smooth surface with
its positive ups and downs, squashes and stretches .If we forget to use these basics we lose weight and
believability, We slide down the stairs, the mood and situation our character is in will dictate our timing. He
may be happy and bounce down the stairs. He may be deep in thought and drop into each step with a
dejected attitude. In any case, the lift and fall in the step pattern must be positive.
Our acting abilities improve as our imagination expands and becomes more and more exciting. It comes
about through interest, dedication and work. Remember Stanislavsky’s advice? "Imagination ," he said,
"must be cultivated and developed; it must be alert, rich and active." He was talking to actors - he also
talks directly to us. We should be involved in this pursuit every waking hour of every day. So much is
going on around us! Let’s not let it go by unobserved.

But back to our acting, with some thought to this little problem: Maybe the character in our scene is a
swashbuckling swordsman - a daredevil with talent and skill. We research the great romantics - the
Flynns, the Doug Fairbanks, etc. We study their heroic actions, moods and poses. With what ease and
flair they move! With what disdain they look upon the adversary! So far so good - we’re getting to know
what makes this character tick.
Now the challenge. It so happens that the Goof is our daredevil swordsman. Now what? Caricature, that’s
The Goof what! So we now take a good look at the Goof and his manners and ways. In the early nineteen-thirties
Ted Sears, one of the best storymen the Studio ever had, put down and analysis of the Goof:
" He is on the silly side and always harmless. he tries to do things in a way he considers clever - he always
does them wrong, and ends up with a foolish apologetic laugh, He seldom loses his temper. Always have
him go about an action in his own, particularly Goofy way. He does practically everything backwards and
is amused at the results, even though he suffers from it. The Goof laughs at his mistakes or makes the
most of an incidental happening."
Later, in 1939 in "Goofy and Wilbur" the Goof took on a very warm, emotional charm, so he does have his
moments of pathos.
Now we have the Goof in the role of the romantic, daring swordsman, ready to exhibit his skills. He must
be the Goof and he must have the movement and show of a Flynn of Fairbanks - but in his own Goofy
way.
The Goofy challenge is not unlike those we face every day. In our work we, as animators, are constantly
challenged to be consistently creative and entertaining. Maybe yesterday we were Mickey or Donald
Duck or Jiminy Cricket. Today we might be Eilonwy, Taran, Scrooge, Willie the Giant or Gurgi - or even an
inanimate chair come to life. Tomorrow maybe a Thumper, an ostrich, a dog, a Cinderella or a Captain
Hook. Who knows? But whoever or whatever the character and the role, we must make it and its acting an
important part of us. We are expected to no less and to perform with taste and sincerity.
So to the front must come our acting abilities to combine with all the other essential talents good animation
demands. All are mst important to our success and that of the picture we’re working on.
Eric Larson
9-29-81

Entertainment IV
“Drawing for Animation” by Eric Larson

“Drawing for Animation” Notes 03.03.82
OUR DRAWING:
The little man from China who, thousands of years ago, stood firm in the defense of his art with his
cry: “A good picture is worth a thousand words!” may not have~realized just how true his
conviction was. If it be so - and we know it is - that drawing we make must say a lot of things and
do it at first glance. It must be alive and believable and convincing.
(Please review thoughts in “Our Drawing” and “Our Character” on pages 3 and 4 of 2/11/81 notes.)
Our drawing and what it “says” is our communication with the audience. It is the visual factor in
our efforts to entertain. It interprets life, caricatured and alive. Our drawing is a statement of
personality and attitude - be it saucy, bold, impudent, arrogant, accusing, happy, sad, quizzical,
embarrassed - whatever mood the story demands, our drawing must express it simply and clearly.
As we have often discussed, in our drawing we must search for interesting, expressive poses that
make strong, easily understood statements, all in keeping with our character’s personality and
physical structure. Will not a child and a grown-up, experiencing similar emotional reactions, show
their feelings in different body attitudes? Will not their physical make-up help dictate? We know
that in adults, children, animals or birds, no two are alike; similar maybe, but not exactly alike, So
let’s let nothing become “stock.” We can’t afford to be lazy and follow the thinking: “It was good
enough in that picture - so why not in this?”
(Though this is what has taken place in many scene: admissible though, for compensation of lack
of talents. Hopefully, not a permanent thing!? ) Given the same situation and mood, no two
characters will move, stand, sit or laugh in the same way. We must always consider this fact so
our drawings will reflect good analysis and will be more interesting and entertaining.
Sometimes we might say: “I know all that, I know my drawings must appeal to an audience and
convey a thought - how else can I communicate?” Knowing all this as we do, we still so often
minimize their importance and our efforts. We “sluff off.” Don Graham used to say in his quiet but
positive way, that we were lazy when we failed to constantly search for the very best way to
present an action and an emotion on the screen. Today we, too, might pay attention and give
heed to his words.
We must always be fully aware of the life a good animation drawing can project - of the emotional
experience and sincere response it can induce. It takes nothing from reality - it flavors it - it makes
it more exciting, more imaginative and more enjoyable. As animators, do we not secretly wish to
put something extremely humorous or dramatic on the screen - to create a bit of lasting
entertainment?
How often have we thought of Robert Newton and his delightful and pleasantly villainous portrayal
of “Long John Silver” in our live action picture “Treasure Island,” and how we might like to animate
old “Long John” displaying all the qualities Newton put into the character - and maybe try to add a
little plus? If we doubt it possible to plus Mr. Newton, think again Live action and animation
are two different worlds:
Just what might be the limits of an accomplished actor’s performance of “Stromboli” in

“Pinocchio?” His acting talents, his physical and emotional capabilities-? Of course: Considering
everything, could he out-spirit the acting and personality shown in the animated “Stromboli?”
Could his performance be more convincing and memorable than that which was in the drawings
brought to life through the masterful draftsmanship, timing and imagination of one of us, Mr.Bill
Tytla? We certainly doubt it.
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Bill Tytla put himself wholeheartedly into every drawing he made, in every sequence in every picture
he worked on. It might have been a dwarf, Stromboli, the devil on “Bald Mountain”, a gossipy old
elephant in “Dumbo”. Whatever and wherever it was he left not a thing. undone or slighted over.
What inspired his drive toward such perfection? Could it have been his Desire to be creative? To be
an actor? To entertain? Was it in the challenge of breathing imaginative life and personality into
linear drawings? Was it in his wisdom to understand and caricature the believable.
Each of us may draw our own conclusion. The lasting proof of Bill Tytla’s creative and analytical
abilities, his acting and drawing abilities and his dedication to his work and to Disney performance
and tradition are indelibly etched on film for audiences to enjoy for times to come. This is our
opportunity too.
We must remember that that which gave Bill Tytla the visual outlet for all his talents is the same
strength we all must rely on - DRAWING. To be able to make positive and convincing statements
with drawings we make, is paramount. we have no alternative if it’s success we’re after.
So what goes into the “making” of a good drawing? Let’s think--back on a few basic things. First, we
must have the desire and accept the responsibility to make good, imaginative, expressive drawings,
well defined in attitude, action, volume and perspective. We must know our character, his strong
points and his weaknesses. He has certain physical traits and proportions. He has emotions,
mannerisms and energies. He has weight, balance, solidity and rhythm, even if he’s stumbling or
trying to balance himself on a rolling log. He overacts or he underacts, according to the situation and
his personality. He lends himself to caricature in his make-up and dress and in the things he does.
His proportions and mood will have a positive bearing on how he moves, stands, sits and gestures.
His thought processes and actions resulting from them must be positive and well displayed. And in
all this, for the sake of communicating with our audience, we must constantly consider simplicity and
directness and the visual importance of such in our drawings.
Before we begin drawing we should have on our desk, in note form, all the tangible personality and
physical peculiarities our character may have. As we begin to animate, additional qualities and
possibilities in his ‘‘make up" will develop through story and what we, the animators, learn as we
“make him act.” His true self will become exciting: But all this only if we have honestly put ourselves
and our imagination into our drawings.
We can never ignore the need for us to really “become” the character and live it up:
A few sentences back we mentioned (as we so often have) the need of weight, balance, solidity and
rhythm in our drawings. Weight and balance might be more easily applied to our work than solidity
and rhythm, but neither will be convincing without the latter two.
In the quest of solidity, we must always consider the relationship of each part of the body, one to
another, so we do not get disjointed units and figures. Even in the strongest caricature, it’s desirable
to have a head that has a proper relationship to the neck, a neck that properly relates to the
shoulders (even when shoulders are minimal, as are Donald Duck’s), shoulders that relate properly
to each other in all perspectives, a torso that logically connects all this with legs that are properly
related to the body as a whole and can sustain its weight. We should always be aware of the form
underneath the clothes our character is wearing and, too, the basic anatomy hidden under the fur or
hair on the animal we’re drawing. As animators, we exhibited a lack of concern for the relationship of
clothing to the anatomy in much of the drawing of the old Hunter in our picture THE FOX AND THE
HOUND and this threw a heavy and unfair burden upon those people responsible for the clean-up
function in the picture as they struggled to make him look sincere.
This “concern” we speak of should be deep within each one of us, in all areas of animation. The
anatomy of any character can be envisioned and simplified by any one of us and we cannot move
our characters convincingly and in an entertaining way without the knowledge and use of it.
We may try. We may “fake” it. But that is disastrous and certainly unnecessary. Clean-up people
should not be expected to save our work. We should take great care and be sure the features and
other identification (hair, beards, ribbons, etc.) are solidly placed on the head form of our character
and kept in proper relationship to that head form in all moves and perspectives. Too, we should, as
Don Graham repeatedly pointed out, know where elbows, wrists, knees and ankles are and how
and when they work for us to embellish our character’s actions. We should strive to know and show
how his coat collar fits around his neck and over his shoulders - how long his coat sleeves are -
how tight or loose his coat and pants happen to be - How big his feet are and the shape and fit of
his shoes. Regardless of design and style of his clothing, whether it’s baggy, tight or torn, he should
“wear” it in a way to give emphasis to his character and personality. So elementary, we might say -
but, also easily forgotten and not made use of:
And what about rhythm? Isn’t it another way of saying our drawing has movement, twist, form and
feeling - that it’s alive and appealing and truly has something to say? Rhythm keeps our drawing
from being static, brittle, lifeless and as stoic as a cement column holding up a government
building.
We readily associate the word “rhythm” with a musical beat, with the dance, with the pattern of
ocean waves hitting against the rocks or surging and retreating on a sandy beach - things and
action that repeat over and over in an ordered recurrent pattern. But in an animation drawing we
have to consider rhythm as being an expression or statement of action, of movement, of pose, of
attitude, of emotion. We strive for it in a single drawing or in a series of drawings, timed and
phrased to give “an illusion of life.” Certainly all poses from the least active, like the dwarfs at Snow
White’s bier, to the explosive ones of a villainess like Maleficent must have “rhythm” if we expect
them to convey a positive thought to an audience.
We will further consider the “rhythm” thought later in a discussion on action and phrasing. For now,
let’s look again at this reminder from Don Graham on the animated drawing:
“The essentials which made the drawing come to life, the gesture, the
staging, the expression, the inner vitality, have all been established by the
animator. Only through truly great draftsmanship in the sense, not rendering,
but of creation, can the animated drawing be significant, this is the new
drawing of our time."
Eric Larson
Entertainment V
“The Character & Texture of Action in Animation” by Eric Larson

The Character & Texture of Action in Animation Notes 05.25.82
ACTION: ITS CHARACTER AND TEXTURE

We tell our stories through action. It reflects the emotions our characters experience to give that
illusion of life we must put on the screen. We are not in the business of just making drawings move,
though the fact they can and do, is still a fascination. We are in the business of entertainment,
making believable personalities become manifest in linear drawings -alive in a fantasy world.
Action is a manifestation of force — something caused it. This we must understand before we can
interpret it in our drawings.
Action is easily thought of as movement. But it is more than that. Action has character, too.If it is
what we term primary (P. 4 - 2/11/81 notes), it is motivated by emotional dictations, brought about
through the “thought process” created by varied situations and circumstances our character finds
himself in.
If the action is secondary (P. 5 — 2/11/81 notes) - an action resulting from a primary action — it
could still have “character.” It might be in the swirling movement of a full, loose skirt — a reaction to
a primary action of maybe a dancer in a graceful pivoting motion. The weight of the skirt fabric, be it
silk, cotton, wool or whatever, plus the speed of the dancer’s pivot, will dictate the flow and the
opening and closing patterns in the cloth’s movement. A heavy fabric will have more flare and
accent in its movement than would a light-weight cloth, such as silk. Consequently it will be a much
more exciting action.
As a personal experiment, take two three foot lengths of heavy string and at the end
of one attach a slight weight. Then, holding both with thumb and finger, begin a
simple wrist movement which will force each string into a figure “8” pattern and
check which of the two gives the better visual and rhythmic show. The weighted one
will, undoubtedly. The arcs in the action will be full and the timing between the
extreme positions will have a much livelier flow; more entertainment.
As we attempt to identify and clarify the “character” and “texture” of action, we will be a bit repetitive
inasmuch as the discussion of the one might well overlap the other at times. As a starter, however,
we should ask ourselves some questions pertinent to the “action” our animated character is to go
through: First — what is it? Second — why is it? Third — how will it best be done?
Because two of these questions, “what” and “why”, would be prompted by an emotion (happiness,
fear, jealousy, anxiety, anger, etc.) we would consider them to be in the “character” of action. Walt
cautioned us that, “In most instances, the driving force behind the action is the mood, the
personality, the attitude of the character — or all three.” Now we must consider the way our
animated character will perform, it being prompted by the “what” and “why“ query we made, and we
realize that that performance must have texture - a physical display! This might well be the “how” of
our query and would hinge upon the physical make—up of our animated character, his size, weight,
agility, etc. (See 2/11/81 notes on “Our Character” P. 4, 5 and 6.)
Consider: Given the same reason for their anger, wouldn’t the big, burly bully react differently than
the defiant, cocky little guy?
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Let’s think of action as an expression of the body. In his memo to Don Graham, December 23,
1935, Walt chided us saying: “The animators go through animation and don’t make the positions of
the body express anything.” How often do we do that? We just make ‘em move and accept that as
being animation. It’s certainly difficult to express a positive thought when we move a character all
over the screen, failing to accept the fact that such action so often destroys personality, making it
impossible for the audience to appreciate and relate to our animated character’s emotions.
As in all things, there are exceptions. The Araquan bird, for example, could not be too confined.
When he moved, he covered much of the screen. That movement, that nervous energy, was his
character, his whole personality.
In the pattern of their flights, the winged horses in FANTASIA’S “pastoral”, used the whole field
making good use of graceful arcs and turns to give a gracious, poetic quality to their flight. Without
space to move the desired result could not have been achieved. The flight over London in PETER
PAN with Pan and the children, would have lacked appeal and fantasy if we had not made use of
the full field and camera moves in and out to give the desired perspective and dramatic effects in
the flight design.
Countless things excite an emotion and dictate the action resulting from it. An angered Friar Tuck,
frustrated and steaming mad, tried to push the obnoxious Sheriff out of his church by defiantly
bumping him with his big, fat belly. An adamant bear in SONG OF THE SOUTH, bent on knocking
Brer Rabbit’s “head clean off”, walked right over Brer Fox. Donald Duck has usually given vent to his
outrage in childish tantrums. A character might “sneak” up on a victim with a long, stealthy stride,
using maybe 32 frames per step to have time for the deliberate reach in the step and the moving of
the body cautiously forward as the weight moves onto the extended leg. The action could suggest a
sinister or a playful attitude and to enhance the mood, a short pause or a furtive look might be
added. But then again, a “sneak” might suggest a joyous anticipation of things to be, using short,
excited phrases of “tippy—toe” action like the wolf did as he approached the little pigs’ houses.
Laughter, like all emotion, has many expressions and actions, all resulting from the inward feelings
of the character at the time. Think of the innocent, childish laughter of little Thumper as he rolled on
the ground, almost beside himself, because Bambi had called the little skunk a flower and in great
contrast the forced, sneering laugh of Maleficent standing before King Stefan and his court
sarcastically noting that she wasn't invited to the christening of the little Princess Aurora. And then
there’s the outward, exhilarating joyof the King in CINDERELLA at the thought of being a
grandfather. Because of the action this was most contagious and spilled over into the audience.
Each scene we animate is a new challenge and any character in a given mood and in a given
situation in that scene we know demands our serious study and analysis. This we cannot ignore.
Let’s consider the “how” of action. Call it texture —the fiber, the structure, the strength and vitality,
the reality and spirit of what we put on the screen. This is the showmanship we, the animators,
display. To accomplish our goal all the “basics” we have talked about, over and over, come into use.
Here, we might list and review some of them briefly.
Observation - weight and balance - squash and stretch (change of, shapes)
- reverses.
Others such as movement, rhythm, anticipation timing (phrasing), drawing, volume, staging, arcs,
silhouette, caricature and pantomime will be considered separately.
OBSERVATION: (See notes 7/22/82 P. 1 & 2)
Without observation our scope would be as limited as that of a horse wearing blinders. Our sense of
what goes on around us, be it real or pictured or written, would be minimal. Our springboard into
imagination would be static. Observation is often prompted by curiosity. Let’s keep a wide open eye
and mind. The Disney philosophy of animation is “to give a caricature of life and action.” And, if you
remember, Walt added to this with: “Our study of the actual is not so that we may be able to
accomplish the actual, but so that we may have a basis upon which to go into the fantastic, the
unreal, the imaginative — and yet to let it have a foundation of fact in order that it may more richly
possess sincerity and contact with the public. I definitely feel that we cannot do the fantastic things
based on the real, unless we first know the real.”
We must think of observation as a way of “coming to know”; a way of broadening our horizons.
Observation is a personal experience and how we use it is up to each of us. But one thing is certain
— it’s the personal observation and how we use it that inspires variety, strength and “character” to
our animation, keeping it out of the “stock stream.” Walt used to ask: “Isn’t there another way to do
that action?” And there is, for somewhere along the way we have observed an applicable action
that, if we use it as a base and caricature, will give us something different and entertaining and will
not be “stock.” We must keep our eyes open and our ears alert for we never know just when, how,
where or why we will have reason to use, with proper analysis and caricature, our observations in
the scenes we animate.
ANALYSIS: (See P. 3 of 3/20/81 notes)
How do we put that which we have observed to work? What is its inspiration? Where and how might
it fit in? What does it suggest that would be entertaining? Does it offer a new thought on character
personality — on humor — on drama — on caricature? Does it suggest an interesting, funny walk,
an unusual body attitude and expression, a strange way to swing a tennis racquet, a golf club?
We observe and study an animal trait and movement and probably apply it mostly in an animal
action. But, too, more often than not, we find reason to adapt it to a human. The old saying, “mean
as an old bear,” has some significance. We observe a child in a tantrum and 10 and behold, that
childish explosion in detail and caricature becomes an expression of personality and mood in a
small animal and we are deep in the world of fantasy.
And there’s the “waddle” of the duck. How many variations might we make of it? And all in keeping
with the physical make—up of our character and the emotional stimulant that might prompt his
action; Chaplin created a most memorable caricature with his “Little Tramp.” The duck waddle in his
walk is most apparent, timed and tuned to the gait of a carefree, sympathetic little fellow. Whenever
you have the opportunity to view the “Little Tramp,” regardless of the picture, sit back and
concentrate on the richness of Chaplin’s caricature and how simply he presents it Ah, simplicity! A
word and meaning we so often sidestep and ignore!
IMAGINATION: (See 7/22/81 notes — P. 2 & 3)

We once mentioned that perhaps imagination is where ideas begin to take leave of reality and perform
believably in a world of fantasy. Reality, that which we know regardless of how we have come by it, is
the stimuli to the imagination and imagination might well be considered one of the very important
needs in our animation — drawing being another. Our degree of success may well be dependent on
the richness and scope of our imagination and our ability to draw and bring to life that which we
imagine. As Stanislavsky pointed out, imagination is more than a gift — it is a talent, a very special
talent, that “must be cultivated and developed — it must be alert, rich and active.” And he reminds us
that this talent can grow only as fast and successfully as we, ourselves, may want it to. No one can do
it for us, but never forget, good discussions and the exchange of ideas with other people are certainly
a very valuable source of inspiration and part of our growing experience.
We often say we want more fantasy - more whimsy - in our pictures. And we really mean it. Both,
more often than not, find their “roots” in reality, as our consideration of FANTASIA pointed out
(7/22/81 P. 3). We reach for them in the unusual, the ethereal, the dramatic. Remember Snow White’s
nightmare after the huntsman sent her into the woods? And in deep contrast, the whimsy in the pouty,
jealous, unpredictable antics of a little one like Tinker Bell?
Certainly our animation shows off as we add touches of the unusual to the simplest of actions. Did you
ever take note of the “exotic” foot actions possible within the unordinary walk of the Goof, which in his.
case because he is the Goof, is the ordinary? Maybe we pay little attention, but if those little extra
twists of those big feet swiveling on those ankles were not there as he steps, it just wouldn’t be
Goofy’s walk, would it? We would lose a lot
of entertainment!
Let’s think back on some everyday situations and actions which, through imagination, became gems
of entertainment. Remember Thumper’s problems with Bambi on the ice? “Sasha”, the bird, in PETER
AND THE WOLF? The meeting of Donald Duck, Carioca and Panchito in THREE CABALLEROS?
Snow White and the animals cleaning up the kitchen? Imagination — without it we fail.
We have to remember that the animator’s world is a fanciful one, as unlimited as his imagination and
other talents will allow him to make it. Think about it: Elephants can dance the ballet — musical
instruments can be made to walk and talk - animals can take on human personalities and think, act,
sing and talk. Maybe imagination is to the animator what the pole is to the pole vaulter; the success of
his jump depends greatly on how good it is. Let’s give it some thought.
WEIGHT AND BALANCE:

As animators, we have the power to defy gravity but when that power is used, it should be with
purpose and reason and with entertainment in mind.
In our work we strive for weight and balance - for sincerity, with caricature, in movement and pose,
giving our characters believability. We lose all this if, in a normal walk for instance, our character
“floats” giving us a lack of weight as he moves along. There are those times, however, when a
“floating” or “soaring” action makes for part of the “spirit” in a scene. The old Owl in BAMBI, giving his
views on “twitter— pated,” visually was “walking on air” to warn Bambi, Thumper and Flower of the
effect love would have on its victims.Pecos Bill’s gal Sue bounced “clean to the moon.” And remember
the love chase of Bambi and Faline through the clouds? The contacts each made with the “ground,”
though on a fleecy surface, had weight. Their push-offs for the next leaps were strong and then, for
the heavenly effect they both went into a long “float” before the next landing. This defiance of gravity
put emphasis on the emotional feelings of the two.
Every normal action needs weight. Every pose needs weight. We sit in a chair; our posture will
suggest weight and balance We lean on a table and there’s body weight on the arm and hand in
contact with the table, giving balance. We lift a heavy object and prove it’s heavy through the
points of tension and shifts within the lifter’s body, suggesting the changes of balance needed to
counter the weight of the object being lifted off the ground.
Weight and balance mean that our characters stand firmly on the “ground” or sit solidly in the
“chair.” It’s just as easy to do this convincingly as it is to make weightless wonders out of them —
so weightless that they might be blown away with the slightest puff.
SQUASH AND STRETCH: (The change of shapes)

In descriptive wording, “squash and stretch” might well be called the visual needs of animation
life. Close attention and application of them in all our work is our responsibility.
Animation is a change of shapes, which in turn, gives meaningful movement and personality to
our linear drawings on the screen. We take our cue from reality and caricature it. In every move
things change shape. Our arm bends at the elbow in anticipation before it straightens out to reach
for something A round ball, hit by a bat, flattens into an oval on contact. Our face explodes from
anger into laughter. You name it —if it moves it changes shape — it animates - it’s alive! That life
we want to put on the screen may sometimes seem complicated. But it really isn’t. The problem
may be in that we fail to appreciate the tools we have to work with and how best to use them.
To drive a nail, we position it right and hit it on the head with a hammer. A very simple action. To
take a normal step we reach out for that step with a straight leg. On contact the leg bends as the
body weight, moving forward, is put upon it, then to move into the next step the bent leg
straightens to give the body the needed push to lift it into the up position preparatory to reaching
out for that next step.
This example, by all measures, is downright simple but what we note of consequence, is that to
display that step, the leg had to change shape in order to show the “reach,” the body “weight and
balance” and the “energy” needed to keep the action going. Naturally this action would have a
positive effect on the whole body and we have to carefully
analyze the character of the walk we’re doing to know just what that effect will be and how we’re
going to handle it.
We have to be ever aware of the make-up of the body (human and animal) and how these “parts”
work in bringing about the “change of shapes” so necessary, to show movement and expression
in real life and the animated drawing. Let’s consider them briefly: we have shoulders, elbows,
wrists, finger and toe joints, hips, knees and ankles. They bend, turn and twist. We have a head
that rotates easily on the neck, which in itself, is flexible. On it, the head moves side to side, rolls
backward and forward and tilts at angles. We have eyes that can open wide, close or shift; eye—
brows that knit in anger or curiosity and lift high in surprise. We have a nose that wrinkles up in
disgust or laughter and a mouth that obligingly changes shape as the emotion and expression
might demand. To compliment the mouth action, our cheeks broaden with the mouth in a smile or
pull down as the mouth opens wide in fright. Hair and ears (remember Dopey) play their part too.
The point, Don Graham insisted, is that we must remember that our characters have all these
common things to work with and we must make good use of all of them. As we do, shapes
change convincingly, we get squash and stretch in our action — we get believability. We put life,
into our animation: We create entertainment!
REVERSES:
Reverses in life often mean getting kicked in the teeth, but reverses in our drawings - well,
that’s good: They give emphasis and strength to an action and pose. They are a part of the
“change of shapes” we’ve discussed. Consider the reverses that would be used in this simple
action:
Goofy, way off balance, is leaning into a strong wind. His steps, as he digs in,
are short and labored. (The arc of the body action is way forward.) A big gust
of wind sweeps Goofy into a strong, off balance pose. (His body becomes a
completely reversed curve.) He desperately back— paddles to keep from
being blown over. Suddenly he is successful and, in control, throws himself
into a forward pose, again desperately fighting the wind.
We have used this wind idea before, but it offers a good visual use of “reverses” in our work.
Here, within a limited space, without moving our character all over the screen, we create a very
graphic, active picture of a guy with problems — his fight against a very persistent wind.
The use of “reverses” brings out the rhythm and attitude in our poses. Thinking and working
from reverse to reverse adds immeasurable strength and sincerity to an action - all well staged
within limited areas so the audience readily understands what is going on.
Fred Moore was a master at many things, among them the use of “reverses." Beautiful, indeed,
were his poses -simple, vibrant, appealing — all because the flow in the action line from his
character’s feet, through the body to the head or outstretched arms was never broken.
How much strength in “reverses?” We might try to answer that with this simple exercise: Let’s
draw a straight vertical line, the top of it suggesting our character’s “head” position; the bottom
being his “feet,” the center being his “fanny” or “belly.” Keeping the “foot” position fixed, let’s
bend our line to the right, throwing the"head” out beyond the “feet” and for balance, moving the
center point in our line (the “fanny”) well to the left of the “foot” position. We now have a flowing
line of action, swinging left from the “foot” position to the “fanny” and then to the “head” position
giving a graceful curve from the “foot,” passing through the “fanny” position and out into the
“head.”
Now let’s reverse the action line and, keeping the “feet” in
the fixed position, move the “fanny” area to the right of the
“feet” and the “bead” to the left of the “feet,” giving a
complete reversal in our action line with the flow going to
the right from the “feet,” through the “fanny” and then
gracefully left up to the “head.”
A B C
In analysis, attitude wise the straight line we first drew might suggest our character in normal, erect
pose. The first curve of action to the right, might suggest his looking questioningly at something off
stage. The second action curve, to the left, (a complete reverse) might suggest a take or fear
reaction to what he saw. So, in the most direct manner, we see the positive value of “reverses” —
another way of changing shapes.
Eric Larson
Entertainment VI
“Movement, Rhythm, and Timing for Animation” by Eric Larson

“Movement, Rhythm, and Timing for Animation” Notes 07.01.82
Good pantomimists have always insisted that action should be simple and direct - it should not be
overdone. This thought was given emphasis by Ham Luske and others in the mid-thirties when the
character and meaning of Disney animation was beginning to find its place in the field of
entertainment.
How often do we give thought to the inward sensation we experience as we view something in
motion be it human, bird or animal — be it trees or grasses pushed by the wind - or water
cascading down a canyon wall or ominous cloud formations gathering in a threatening storm
pattern? Wherever we look there’s something in motion and most of it is exciting. Why then
shouldn’t the movement and rhythm we put into our scenes, regardless of nature or content, be a
satisfying experience for our audience?
In our action the big moves may move us from place to place, suggesting the spirit and emotion in
our character, but the smaller moves, the embellishments within the big moves, magnify the
attitude and emotion and add dimension and sincerity, keeping our action from being Just ordinary
or passable.
Do you remember seeing a frollicking colt, running pell-mell across an open field, suddenly
jumping into the air, wildly tossing his head side to side, giving an exuberant kick with his back
legs, landing and then right back into full stride, never missing a step? Or a baby crawling hurriedly
across the floor, all ‘fours” working feverishly, his little rump and shoulders rolling from side to side,
his whole body alive in great anticipation of “getting there”?
These actions are not just ordinary or passable. The big movements in the run of the colt and the
baby’s crawling, provide the excitement or “being”. The little happenings within the big moves add
strength and emotion - they pull the audience into the scene.
Our inward feelings are often expressed in minimal moves
— little things like the downward roll of the head in disappointment or sadness — the sharp lift of it
in arrogance or contempt — the roll to the side that questions or wonders — the hips and
shoulders which move and roll forward and back to help arms and legs function properly and with
rhythm. All are relatively limited moves, but are a vital part of bigger body moves. We cannot
successfully consider the most simple or the most complex moves without a thorough analysis of
the workings of every part of the body, one with or counter to another, and then making good use
of them in our action.
Even in the simplest of walks, perhaps a cycle, we can present an interesting action if we accept
and use little basic “things” that really happen in a walk, “things” like the normal move of the body
forward and backward giving it the needed balance, the logical involvement of the shoulders and
hips as the arms swing forward and back and the legs lift and kick out into the next step and the
reaction of the head to the over-all body movement. But we should remember that all the
movement in the world will not pay off for us if we lose its rhythm and flow through bad timing and
poorly planned patterns of action and attitudes that are rigid and uninteresting.
PDF produced by www.animationmeat.com “Entertainment VI: Movement, Rhythm, and Timing for Animation” by Eric Larson 2
RHYTHM:
Of rhythm and its meaning, Walt said: (Memo to Don Graham).
“I think a good study of music would be indispensable to the animator - a study of rhythm — the
various rhythms that enter into our lives every day — how rhythmical the body really is and how
well balanced the body really is. There are things in life that we do to rhythm that come natural
to us. Notice how rhythmic an action like pounding with a hammer is. There’s a reason for that.
You must have rhythm or you can’t carry out the action completely. Also sawing a board see
how necessary it is to have a good rhythm for that. Also walking — if you walked without
rhythm. where would you get? You’d have to be thinking all the time what to do next. You’d
have to set your mind to walking rhythmically instead of doing it naturally.”
TIMING:
When Walt speaks of rhythm in simple actions like the hammering of a nail and the sawing of a
board, he’s talking about the timing and phrasing, the change of pace, so necessary in every
action we do, to make that action crisp, alive and exciting.
Timing is, in theory, a very simple little trick that, skillfully done, creates rhythm, pacing and
vitality in our animation. We crowd drawings close together to create and define mood and
attitude and we space them apart to give emphasis. How we space and use all those drawings,
determines the life and tempo in our scenes.
We must understand the value of a “second of time” (24 frames of film) upon that movie screen.
We must know just how much “time” (seconds or parts of) it might take for us to make our story
message known to our audience. We must capably break our action down into “seconds” and
“frames” — one second being 24 frames — one-half second being 12 frames — one third
second being 8 frames, etc, We must mentally calculate all this. We have to feel and know the
value and relationship of frames and seconds and drawings in order to express ourselves fully.
It’s interesting to note that when a beat rhythm is broken by a mis-move or an illogical
interruption, it may take a number of beats to get back into it. In the course of doing so, even the
simplest action could go awry.
As is always desired in our action, the path and design of the hammering and sawing actions
were positive. In each, the anticipation would be in a slight, upward arc; the hammering an over
arc — the sawing an under arc. The action down into the hit or sawing would be in the same
arc, moving in the opposite direction. The force or power in the overall move is gotten through
the reversal of movement on the same line of action. If we get Out of that “line of action” going
either way, the strength and rhythm of the action will be off balance.
The reversal of direction on a given line has power.

We were illustrating this years ago when we used to say: “Go one way before you go another” when
discussing anticipation. With this in mind let's consider a brutal example. If we're going to punch
someone in the nose, we best draw our fist straight back on a direct line to his face in anticipation and
then come forward at the poor guy with all our might, moving fast on that same straight line and into
the hit. That's a very visual force.
The “flow” of the action line is all important.

We must always have a reason for it. The straight line often suggests strength. The undulating line,
often more interesting, gives a poetic feeling and movement to the action. Even in a simple run we
may add interest if we gradually lean our character into a forward attitude, then pull back into a more
erect position for his “second wind” and then faster into a more determined lean forward, never
breaking stride, but suggesting an increased emotional feeling within our character. With the changing
body attitudes and our timing in and out of them, we get an interesting pacing but we do not vary or
change the beat or tempo of the run. In our pattern of action we strive to avoid rigidity. “Stiff as a
board” has nothing in common with animation, unless used to point up a given gag or story point.
The rhythm and timing of animation is like a good musical score — it builds to crescendos and
drops into quiet — it surges and it slows — it lifts and it falls. An audience needs that change. It must
have periods of excitement and periods of rest. Our action must have variety and vitality in timing lest
it becomes monotonous and irritating. Action, like emotion, needs change to get and keep the viewer's
interest. it has to be alive. We might say it has to be moody, impulsive, sprinkled with surprises. It has
to have zest, humor, drama and meaning. How? Through expressive drawings, movement patterns
and our timing and acting skills!
Think back, if you will, on the scenes of Medusa in her boutique shop, on the phone with the bungling
Snoops on the other end of the line. What an exercise in character analysis, thought processes, action
patterns and timing. All so crisp, sensitive, entertaining and alive, running the gamut of emotions.
Consider the “Nutcracker Suite” in FANTASIA — A beautiful, exciting experience in entertainment with
the pictorial thrust being design, color and movement. The Snow Fairies and the Mushroom dances
are outstanding examples of delightful movement patterns and timing.
“Timing” is visual and emotional. The Raindrop sequence in BAMBI is a charming illustration of a
storm in the forest from its beginning to its end, made alive by the reactions of the forest creatures.
and nature's own moods, sounds and beauty.
And there's the extravagant comedy, so beautifully timed, in the doings of the Bear and King Louie in
JUNGLE BOOK; The appeal of Lady and the Tramp having dinner at Tony's; The fun—filled meeting
of Jose, Donald and Panchito in THREE CABALLEROS. All are timing masterpieces - well worth our
study.
As Disney does it, the animated film is an art form that entertains and inspires people, young and old
everywhere - generation after generation. And we are all a part of it.
ANTICIPATION:
Anticipation is a vital part of timing. It tells an audience that something is about to happen. It adds
definition and life to an action. It sets up the rhythm.
Let's think on this for a moment. Do we, or do we not, anticipate the many actions we might go
through in our daily routines? Do we get directly up out of a chair? Do we move directly into a walk
from a still position? Do we pick an object up off the table without an anticipation of some kind?
Having a ball in our hand, will we start bouncing it without first anticipating the action?
Because an anticipation to an action is so normal, we're often apt to overlook our doing it. Of course,
we may each anticipate a given action just a little differently. Let's say we're sitting in a chair and
something startles us. We might excitedly grab the arms of the chair — lift our feet — plant them on
the floor — push our body forward directly over our feet for balance and move forward and upward
into a standing position, That suggests a lot of anticipation before we actually get to our feet, doesn't
it? But the situation might justify it. Normally, just to get up from a chair, we'wouldn't go through such
a “wind-up” anticipation. We would probably just lean forward, getting our body bent over our legs
and then, with hands on the chair arms, push ourselves forward and up into a standing position,
ready to walk away.
Sometime try kicking an object like a soccer ball or a tin can without anticipating the action. It will feel
and look clumsy and awkward and the total distance the ball or can might travel will be less because
the body and the kicking foot would not have had the “wind-up” or built-in rhythm an anticipation
would supply.
Starting from a still position, try moving directly into the first step of a walk. The move will not feel
right because we have not prepared for the lift and reach of the leg which is to start the action. We
need that anticipation; that something that automatically says: “Let's go.”
A walk anticipation may be no more than a body lift and that ,just naturally helps get the starting foot
off the ground. It's all done as habit. Too, the anticipation may be just a body twist within a short
backward move. Or it might be a big, show-off thing in the form of a body bowing, pushing the fanny
back for balance and then moving forward, “pushing” the body into an up position with the stepping
foot lifting and reaching out into the first step - and the walk is on its way. If the walk is to be one of
great spirit, the “bowing” anticipation might be embellished (and made more of) by several little quick
steps backward as the “bowing” is taking place. Really, there is as much variety in anticipation as our
imaginations will allow.
The nature and ways of anticipation go on and on, and regardless of how or why, it's a part of
everything we do, and must be a part of all we animate.
The character on our drawing board cannot get by without anticipation anymore than we, ourselves,
can. His will be caricatured and more visual and more fun — but anticipation must be a part of him
just as it is a part — a natural part — of us.
Eric Larson
Entertainment VII
“Staging, Anticipation, and Silhouette for Animation” by Eric Larson

“Staging, Anticipation and Silhouette for Animation” Notes 08.20.82
Thought: “After all our studies, we acquire only that which we put into practice.”
Goethe
How often have we been deeply moved by a certain picture hanging in a gallery and have taken time
to sit and study it hour after hour? If we so desired, we could go back again and again, sit before it
and “listen” to its message. It might have been alive with movement, color and design — full of
interesting detail — dramatic in the grouping of human or animal figures — restful in its echoing of
nature's moods. Whatever the appeal, the picture communicated with us — a message visually and
emotionally presented through the artists creative abilities, not least of which was his talent for
“staging” and making known his deep convictions. And we responded.
How different the gallery presentation to the viewer and that of the animated picture. In our films we
have but seconds, or portions thereof, to present our story to our audience. If our message has not
gotten over in the alloted time, that's Just too bad We can t say we're sorry and obligingly run the film
back so our audience can take a second or a third look in order to enjoy that which we have
laboriously created.
And therein lies our challenge. In the short time we have for our presentation on the screen, we must
be sure our message is well staged — clearly and quickly stated. This means that the business and
character(s) in every scene must be carefully considered and presented. In an article in "Psychology
Today” for June ‘82, the point was made that “Youngsters remember what they see twice as well as
what they hear.” Perhaps this might go for youngsters of all ages, five to ninety-five. The famed writer-
humorist, Alexander Woollcott, made it clear to us in 1939 when he warned that “animation, being
basically a pantomime art, should be expressive and visual.”
How can we best respond to Mr. Woollcott's admonition? There certainly is no one, two, three and
that's it approach. But let's start with our drawing — our visual statement up there on the screen.
Standing apart from other considerations, is it quickly readable and delivering our message? Is the
"silhouette” good or somewhat vague with arms or legs crammed in in front of the face or body,
destroying definition? Is the body attitude complimenting the character's expression or gesture? In
short, as we have to always ask ourselves, is our drawing alive and does it say what we want it to
say? Perhaps this is rule one in staging.
More often than not, our staging problem is challenged by the movement of our character(s) and our
job is to make sure the attention of the audience is focused right where we want it to be. For example:
In ONCE UPON A WINTERTIME, one scene depicted twelve or fourteen characters, in couples,
skating on a pond. The spirit was a happy one. Being a “crowd shot” the fielding was kept at a
maximum and constant. The entrances and exits of couples, the use of perspective (characters going
away from and returning into camera), the skating paths which clearly displayed the grace and
rhythmic patterns of the skaters and the effort to keep couples in the clear, never allowing one to
cover up or overlap another, except in passing, kept the scene pictorially interesting.
Scenes of this kind are not common in our pictures, but when we do use them and if we plan them
well, the audience will react very favorably to them. They offer a pleasant “change” in our story
continuity. Remember the “mushroom” dance in FANTASIA - a most charming interweaving of
characters into a very entertaining routine. In working out such scenes, a perspective and path pattern
of all action might well be planned on one sheet of paper, and within the fielding (camera) bounds,
before any animation is done. This approach is proper planning — our only assurance of staging and
figure size control.
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We should have a reason for what we do. We have something to say, maybe in action, maybe in a
still pose. Beyond our drawing, what can we do?
First, let's consider a camera position, or the field size, we might need. Is the full figure important in
the problem before us? Will a waist shot serve us better — or do we need a good close-up on our
character? Do we need to pinpoint something he's holding in his hand? Whatever the need, camera
fielding is part of the answer.
“Fielding” helps us to be visual — to be specific. The camera opens wide to help us with locale —
whether the beauty of the countryside - the warmth of a village street — the menace of a gathering
storm — the thriving industrial complex, shrouded in a haze, kept alive by giant stacks belching out
their heavy smoke. The camera can be dramatic with its high and low angles and its versatility. It
zooms or cuts in or — pulls or cuts back to punctuate emotions. But before the camera is useful to
us, we must know how to use it to help us in what we have to say.
It is well to have a good idea of the fielding we might need before we animate, but regardless of the
camera bounds, we will do well to draw beyond the borders of our anticipated camera field so we
may have a leeway with our camera position just in case we might want to make a slight adjustment
after seeing our first test.
We may find it desirable to be with our character(s) throughout a given action, as in Peter Pan's flight
with the children over London. In those scenes we were not only following the action with the camera
but, to add vitality to the perspective effort put into the animation, we were also moving in and out on
the characters with the camera for added scope and dramatic effect. Again, let's keep in mind the fact
that the camera should work for us, that we are in control of its placement and movements and that
it's a valuable asset in getting our best pictorial results. Whatever is happening on the screen must be
clearly understood. Remember, a picture is for communication and the camera will help us make it
so.
Summing up: A scene, even if a moving composition, must be understood, or there's no sense
in animating it. The story it tells is new to the audience, so let's put ourselves in the viewer's place
and check whether or not we have communicated.
We think of ourselves as pantomimists — and maybe, in a way, we are magicians, too. The mystical
babble and gesturing the magician uses to invoke his magic is the anticipation and staging for his act.
It gets the attention of his audience. It commands viewers to watch and his performance goes on with
enigmatic, but fascinating showmanship, caricatured to high heaven and the audience is bug-eyed,
lest it loses out on some little mystical happening.
Well, we, too, have a little thing we do to get attention and we call it “anticipation.” (See 7/1/82 notes
pages 8, 9 and 10.) Sometimes it can be rather simple — sometimes involved — but whichever or
however, its purpose is to prepare the audience for the action we are about to present and for best
results it, the anticipation, must be easily seen, graceful, eye-catching and positive. It's got to be
staged for show.
In our animation “arcs,” as we know and use them, we stage the grace and clarity of movement.
Nature, at times, gives illustration of this when gusty winds rock a big, heavily leafed tree, bending it
mercilessly to the ground and whipping it back in anticipation of another onslaught. The big “arcs” the
tree's action follows are full and expressive of force and the “whip” (the overlap) of the leafed
branches as they surge into the reverse move adds a strength and excitement to the action.
To repeat: The “arcs” we use to define our actions become a very valid part of our scene's staging. It's
through them (the “arcs”) that we graphically display what our character is doing and how he's doing
it. A gesture cannot be really alive and meaningful without the rhythmical strength an “arc” can give it.
All “arcs” are not equal in scope or design, so we might consider any action “off the straight line” as
being “arc” in nature. The “arc” gives finesse to an action. It's showmanship, it's positive and graceful.
Perhaps we might add, even poetic.
It's interesting to note that while acting in live action films has become less involved with expressive
gestures, stage presentations still feel the need for pantomime. Pantomime, of course, is even more
obvious in musical comedy shows. Some comics play strongly with gestures, using big “arcs” for the
flourish that helps their act, while others have nothing to gesture or emote about.
The old melodrama said it all. The actors were “hams” and pantomimists at heart and their caricatured
acting, in pure fun, was very, very visual. Animation is that kind of entertainment — positive,
expressive and visual. It's worthy of the best staging we can give it.
Simplicity is so necessary in staging, and a good silhouette in drawing is one helpful way of achieving
that simplicity. The old cliche “black it all in and see if it reads” is very applicable here. We may
blacken in the drawing only in our imagination, but whether imaginary or really blacked in, we should
get a prompt “yes” or “no” verdict as to how clearly the drawing reads and we ask ourselves: Are we
making our best statement of the body stance and attitude? Have we lost strength and meaning in the
pose by ignoring definition of arms or legs? Have we let expressive hands get lost within the silhouette
of the body shape? Are we striving for good silhouette in our action? (See “On Being Definite” Page 4
& 5 of 3/20/81 notes.) In the action referred to in those notes, Mickey's action and phrasing are
planned to be direct — easy to read. Within the action patterns noted, we would create additional
interest by introducing distinguishing traits and mannerisms our character might have — the how's
and the why's he would do things.
It's like building a building — we start with a good foundation and build upward — not start with the
roof and build down. It's easy and tempting to think of little subtleties that might go into an action even
before we have fully planned the design of that action. 1'rue, we must not discard or overlook those
subtleties but should jot them all down to be considered and used later, in proper place and time, to
punctuate our character's movements and personality. All in all, whatever we animate will be much
more entertaining if we give it the silhouette look.
Eric Larson
Entertainment VIII
“Dialogue for Animation” by Eric Larson

“Dialogue for Animation” Notes 09.28.82
Thought:
“I tell you that if you really put your mind to it, dialogue is unnecessary and most of it is a burden.”
Alexander Woollcott
Maybe Mr. Woollcott's remarks to us on that evening of March 28th, 1939 say more than he meant.
His whole thrust was: “Don't rely on dialogue — don't burden yourself with it — don't put on a talk
show — use dialogue when and where there is reason.”
In our discussion notes of 2/11/81 we mentioned that, in dialogue phrasing, “If the body isn't saying
it, it just isn't said.” We continued this thought in the notes of 7/2/81. If we were to be reminded
every day of the need for the body to “say it” — it would not be too often. It's a need we all should
constantly keep in mind. Again, let's remember that animation is visual and its greatest
entertainment is not in “picturing” a radio script. Such is an approach too easily and too often taken
and in its wake the charm and warmth of the visual fades away.
But dialogue is important: It is an acknowledged asset in our entertainment. It's an embellishment

we carefully evaluate. It should be considered and written with care and meaning, used in taste and
with purpose. It shouldn't be used as an audible explanation of what's going on in our story.
Dialogue grows out of needs and situations — it isn't manufactured to describe or explain them.
Dialogue is, or should be, a great inspiration in the development of our character's personality,
suggesting how and why he acts and thinks as he does. The tone, structure and delivery of the
dialogue phrases excites our imagination and our character. A linear drawing, becomes imbued with
attitudes, actions, reactions, expressions and gestures.
Think about this: How many ways, and with what meanings, can we say, “sit down.” Will not the
mood and circumstance we happen to be in dictate the inflection we give to those two words? Let's
try saying “sit down” in a few different ways, mentally noting our body attitudes and gestures so
automatically a part of us as we deliver the line. Is it a stern command we give? Are we pleading? Is
it as an invitation or are we in a state of exasperation? In each mood what will be our body attitude
and action? It will be according to the emotion we experience as we deliver the dialogue line, will it
not? We're certainly not going to command someone to “sit down.” as we assume a body attitude of
entreaty, are we?
The exercise we have just gone through suggests the approach we, as animators, should have to
our work. Animation calls for the total involvement of ourselves in our art. If, in every mood and
movement, we can feel ourselves experiencing it before and as we put it on paper, our animation
will have a good chance of really communicating. It all is summed up in a simple question, isn't it —
how can we express any emotion in a drawing if we do not feel within ourselves, the fullness of that
emotion?
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There is no “one way” of delivering a dialogue line that has need of a given emotional feeling.
There is no formula. People are all different, one from another, and the reaction of each to the
same emotional confrontation will be differently expressed. Our drawings on the screen should
echo people — fun and live people — because we want them to be convincing and remembered.
Some of us look for a “stock” way to get our dialogue sync. To say that we must “hit” those
accents in the words or phrases two frames ahead doesn't hold true, though quite often it might
work out that way. But, the delivery and texture of dialogue by individuals differs and therefore is
often misleading and to get the sync we want we have to experiment. Some delivery will be in
good sync if we expose our action “right on the nose..” Other times the one or two frame exposure
of action ahead of the dialogue accent is desirable. One thing we need to always keep in mind is
that we see before we hear. We see the body move and gesture just ahead of hearing the sound
the action relates to. The “time” difference may be only one twenty-fourth of a second — but we
will be aware of it. In the interest of good sync it is often desirable to have an arm gesture “hit” one
or two frames ahead of the body sync, which might in turn be one or two frames ahead of the
facial sync. Again, it's putting the see ahead of the hear. That's what sync is all about.
A line of dialogue takes on added entertainment when we find use for our character's mannerisms
and frustrations, in his anticipation before his line is delivered or as an after reaction.
As animators, we must look for such opportunities.
In the story development and in the director's considerations, these might well have been given
much thought, so in the hands of the animator, knowing his character well and building upon the
inspiration received from the story men and the director, an enjoyable “come to life” feeling can be
visually present in a dialogue line.
A good example of a character's personality value and how it can support and help build a
dialogue line is very obvious with “Bashful” in SNOW WHITE. His mannerisms were very well
defined and used in his dialogue lines, and in the anticipation to them and in the action following
them. Consider his line, “Oh Gosh!” after he was recognized by Snow White. In the anticipation
and follow up action “added upon” support was given his dialogue line — they made it
entertaining.
Too, the use of the fidgety uncertainty in Doc's character helped the fumbling delivery of his lines.
It really paid off beautifully. A study of the first meeting of Snow White and the Dwarfs is a must.
Therein is an education in character and dialogue relationship.
Imagine the possibilities presented by a frustrated character, anxious to be positive in his angered
response to a criticism, but not being able to get the words out He can hardly contain himself as he
vibrates and stammers into an extreme anticipation out of which he blasts into his lines like a
sudden burst of air from a blown up balloon. The footage used in such a “build-up” could be so
very important.
If, in working out our scene, we have a new constructive idea pop up — something growing out of
our character's personality and situation — something we feel might preface and enliven the
dialogue line — we should, as we should with any new idea that arises as we work on our scenes,
discuss it with the director and get his “in-put” and O.K. on the additional footage. We might need
to develop the idea we're thinking of. But, we should be quite certain that that which we suggest is
not just extra action, but really a plus to the scene.
At times there may be the problem of relating those dialogue readings on the exposure sheet to
the sound we hear on the cassette or film. Does that line sound like it looks — or look like it
sounds? Well, gradually it will all come together and we can get on with the business of acting it
out knowing, as we must, what the thought is — how it is said — what it means and finally how to
interpret it for the actions of the character on the board. The dialogue and its phrasing have
become a part of us and we are mentally in tune with the mood and situation our character is to
have. We double check the readings of the dialogue as it's written on the exposure sheet,
checking accents and the modulation into and out of them and become fully aware of the time and
footage we have to put over the business at hand.
Dialogue isn't sacred. Like all things creative, it can often stand a little improvement, sometimes by
simply opening up space between words at a given point to give a needed emphasis to a word or
maybe to allow time for a personality pause on a character which, in turn, will give an additional
punch to the line. Sometimes we might want to pull words more together to help a mood and we
find ourselves cutting out a frame or two between words or phrases.
Lines of dialogue will fall naturally into phrases and the tone and mood in each should tell the body
what to do and how to do it. Like a well constructed sentence, making good and proper use of
punctuation, we phrase our dialogue action with care and reason so that pictorially and audibly,
thoughts and statements are clearly understood.
Dialogue phrasing has to have a rhythm; an overall movement not unlike a graceful gesture,
having its beginning and its end, saying what it has to say in a simply planned but positive body
sweep. Within it we put the accents and gestures needed to give the dramatics and personality we
want. We can spoil the flow of the phrase in animation if we try to catch every word with accents. A
key word or two may well be the “meat and muscle” of the phrase, allowing us to “pass through”
other words that are part of the thought, but supportive in their use. The overall phrase has a
message — has something to say. It's up to us to make it entertaining.
Eric Larson
Entertainment IX
“Music and the Animated Picture” by Eric Larson

“Music and the Animated Picture” Notes 10.20.82
Quote:
“An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China crost the bay!”
There may be no way of drawing a comparison, emotionally or in magnitude, between a spectacle

of nature as painted in Mr. Kipling’s lines and Mickey Mouse’s performance in glorious black and
white, as he bounced through STEAMBOAT WILLIE, the first animated cartoon with sound. But,
one thing is certain — Mickey and his music have had the greater impact world wide.
The sunrise, inspiring as it is, is for now — Mickey and his music is for days and days into time.
STEAMBOAT WILLIE, the third Mickey short to be made, was the first to be exhibited. The
opening was on November 18, 1928, at the “Colony” theater in New York city.
The day Mickey started bouncing to the sound of music, the entertainment curtain opened wider
and wider and the animated picture took on a new and exciting dimension. The shorts pictures to
follow were musically constructed to the “beat” — all carefully planned out in entirety by the
director and his musician, cozily housed in their “music room,” before animation was even begun.
Characters walked to a “beat” - ran to a “beat” — reacted on the “beat” — punched one another to
the “beat” — it was beat, beat, beat and as people in the theater watched and listened, they
unconsciously tapped their feet in sync. In the cartoon, sight and sound had joined forces and new
horizons beckoned.
FANTASIA, far ahead of its time and, to this day, still way out front, could well be considered the
great achievement in the marriage of the animated picture and music. In it, the creative
relationship of one to the other is unsurpassed, offering the audience a memorable experience in
the fanciful and the dramatic.
Gradually we began to look to music to further enhance our pictures rather than to “control” them.
We pulled away from the “beat” domination. With SNOW WHITE the animated picture became an
exciting competitor to the live action film. Linear drawn characters, moving in the imaginative world
of Walt Disney animation, pushed to the front, right, as Stromboli would say: “In de pooblic’s eye”,
and with those drawings came a new and expressive use of music in our films, giving support and
punctuation to moods, locales and action. Music became a vital part of our story, adding new
emotional pleasures and meaning to our pictures.
And then came those wonderful moments when musical instruments interpreted the personalities
of our characters and the characters “did speak through music.”
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In PETER AND THE WOLF the BASSOON, you remember, was the personality and voice of the
“Grandfather” The OBOE, melancholy in its sound, was Sascha’s friend, the “Duck.” The FLUTE,
with its pitch and note capabilities, was the nervous, explosive little “Sascha.” Each of the other
characters, too, found his identity in an instrument and melody.
In PETER AND THE WOLF, so closely were the instruments and music related to the characters’
personalities and actions that all musical notes in the score, where relevant to the scene, were
copied onto the exposure sheet in proper place, often in a diagonal way that would suggest the “up-
scale” or “down’scale” movement of the musical phrase, giving a positive “dialogue” inflection and
interpretation.
This demanded that the animator “read” the musical phrases noted on his exposure sheet as he
would “read” dialogue phrases, looking and listening for accents and moods which would inspire the
attitudes and timing in his character’s actions. We seldom give thought to music “talking” — but it
does and it can be as expressive in any given mood or action as dialogue can be. Music, like
dialogue, has flow and accents which must be “caught” in our animated action. Let’s think back on
DANCE OF THE HOURS, on the RITE OF SPRING, on the SORCERER’S APPRENTICE and the
rest of FANTASIA and remind ourselves of just how important and how delightful musical sync can
be.
Of course, songs and dance music written for a picture, must be pre-scored. But the mood music,
always a very important part of our entertainment, is written after the picture has been well
developed, and in most cases, after “rough animation” is done and okayed. For the musician, it
becomes a challenging work. He often has to catch, musically, emotional outbursts and actions our
characters might display. The musician frequently has to make a frame by frame study of an action
in order to give it the desired musical support. For instance: A character in a running action, trips
and has difficulty getting back into stride. This presents the musician with the problem of working
out a musical pattern that will give accent to the “trip” and musically “illustrate” the effort the runner
makes, through frantic off balance steps, to get back into stride. It might be called “a little stumbling
music,” and in writing it, the musician would be checking and studying the animated action frame by
frame.
A wonderful exercise in writing to the animated action was experienced by the musician in the
business of Thumper getting Bambi onto the ice and the confusion and manouvering that followed,
ending up with the two of them in the snowbank.
In discussing the musician’s role, Buddy Baker answered the question this way: “A note every
frame? Well, we don’t go that far but we do get into two frame notes, and that’s pretty fast. That’s
about as fast as an orchestra can play. We have to make an analysis of the story and animation,
break it down in every way possible, select the mood of the music that is necessary , get the rough
animation and start laying out our music to match.”
One thing Buddy didn't mention in his discussion was the need to work and re-work music to get the
desired result — just as we work and re-work story and animation. It always takes the team effort to
get a final result on the screen. Our pictures demand music with mood and vitality.
Once written, we rely on good arranging and full orchestration to achieve a maximum effect. But,
music is emotion, isn’t it? It reflects spirit and mind; so there are those times and situations when the
strength and joy of our music finds its outlet in a simple form, which by comparison to that of
dramatic scope and splendor, would be like a one finger exercise on the piano.
Music can interpret any visual happening. The sweep and grandeur of the countryside transcends
reality when sounds of music are part of the picture. And the fury of a thunderstorm over the canyon,
or that which was Maleficent’s, reaches a visual crescendo when supported by interpretive music.
The humor and charm so often seen in the personality and movements of a bird, an animal or a
human is two fold when supported by complimentary music. As noted, in PETER AND THE WOLF
the choice of the instrument, as well as the musical theme, was important to the development of a
given character on the screen. It was a strong identification of that character’s personality. It was as
much a part of him as were his physical makeup and actions.
It was so with the Araucuan bird, a South American native that we used in several pictures. He had a
very simple and exciting musical theme — very repetitious: It was ‘go-go-go:” and that was the
Araucuan — loose, free and unpredictable: In contrast, the tortoise in TORTOISE AND THE HARE
had a theme that instantly said: “Slow — persistent — determined.” In each of these themes, like
many others, the animators found a “spirit” to use in their animation.
This is true in all we do, we try to be on target.
The crisp action and charm of a bird, a small animal or a child, as suggested a moment ago, could
hardly find interpretation in the sounds of a tuba. This, then, is the musician’s problem — to write
music befitting the character, his moods and his actions and then to find the most descriptive
instrument on which to play it.
As animators, we should be ever aware of music and its value to us. We remember sitting in a group
studying the pantomimist’s acting routine. It was very simple — opening and closing a door — happily
walking across the room — sitting down in a chair — being pricked by a pin — bounding to his feet —
picking up the pin, looking at it and tossing it away and then sitting down again, relieved. Without
music, the routine was entertaining, clear in thought and action — nothing wanting, but — The action
was repeated to music, the music being a very simple tune played on a piano. The pantomimed
action got a boost as interpretive musical phrases gave emphasis to actions such as the opening and
closing of the door — the happy move across the room — the reaction to the pin prick — the viewing
of the pin and tossing it away — then happily sitting down. Music just made a good act better.
Music, has always given an added quality to our “sound effects” by “rounding” them out, taking off the
sharp edges and “sweetening” them to give added dimension and resonance. Often, the music
carries the whole “sound effect” beautifully. It was always a treat to hear Ollie Wallace, one of our
musicians of a few years back, tell of his early days at the old movie theater organ, blasting out,
spontaneously, mood music for the silent film flickering up on the screen above him. If the picture
needed chase music — Ollie provided it. If it needed a love theme — Ollie gave it the old hearts and
flowers. If it needed the fury of a cowboy and indian fight with gunfire — Ollie let ‘em have it, bang!
bang! and when the villain was sneaking up behind the heroine — Ollie sneaked in the sneak music,
and the audience yelled “look behind you!" Through the whole silent movie no frame or act got by
without Ollie’s musical support.
Perhaps today, Ollie’s show would be considered crude, but it surely is a graphic illustration of the
value and need of music in. our entertainment.
Think about it: Sight and Sound — so complimentary, one to the other
Eric Larson
Entertainment X
“Pose to Pose & Straight Ahead Animation” by Eric Larson

“Pose to Pose & Straight Ahead Animation” Notes 02.22.83
The “pose” has always been a telling visual statement. Its purpose is to say something positively
and for a reason.
In the art class the model assumes a pose — and we draw it.
The Director in the theater demands an attitude and the actor responds.
In the ballet it's the “pose” that the ballerina gracefully pirouettes into.
The policeman's command is “Freeze!”
And in animation it's pose after pose after pose — for the sake of making linear drawings act.
We recall Ham Luske's thoughts on poses:
“Your animation is only as good as your poses. You can have good timing, good
overlapping action, good follow through — but, if your poses are not strong and
to the point (telling the story) you do not have good animation.”
In the days of the old melodrama where movement of plot and action prevailed over personality
development, the physical attitudes were dominant and found their strength in poses — poses that
were crisp and telegraphic. Subtleties were purposely avoided in order to present the dramatics in
the simplest form and mood. It was great fun, but it did not awaken a sympathy in the audience nor
did it arouse it to a deep hatred. After all, the melodrama was not designed to touch an emotional
chord; it was designed as a caricature of life, using only surface entertainment and having no time
for the personality and character development an audience could take to its heart.
In our animated pictures we have tried to develop characters and personalities with a sincerity that
will appeal to the audience and make them acceptable as being alive and real. Even inanimate
subjects come to life in our pictures and perform with excellence and the audience feels a warmth
and understanding toward and with them, whether it's an old chair, a little toaster or a boyish tug
boat.
As animators we work to create, in the Disney tradition, characters and personalities our audience
can relate to and will remember — and we begin to do this by making drawings in poses that are
expressive and tell the story. In every scene we do there will be need for many such drawings and
poses — and then a careful attention to the action's mood and movement — the timing, the overlap
and the follow through.
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Early in Disney animation the value of the “pose” was realized. To create the action needed,
drawings were made inbetween to carry the movement from pose to pose. This procedure worked
but it also restricted the action since it, the action, was contained within two “extreme poses.” It was
like stretching a strand of barbed wire tightly between two posts — it didn't "give.” It exhibited a
certain tight, mechanical feeling, with everything being moved the same distance at the same time,
with no concern for looseness, overlap or follow through.
But the need for such embellishments was quickly realized and the value of “straight ahead”
animation was rediscovered — it being the first approach to action in the infancy of the animated art.
The “straight ahead” style was somewhat like the Mad Hatter's philosophy: “Start out to where you
want to go and when you get there — stop” It allowed for fluid action but it lacked a degree of control
and positivity and, in its way, was as limiting in its results as was the “pose to pose” approach.
“Pose to pose” suggests a move from number one pose to number two pose to number three pose
etc., paying due attention to the timing and overlapping action inbetween. “Straight ahead” suggests
that in the action, thought is given to all the incidental or detailed actions and attitudes which might or
could add life and believability to the performance. For instance: How else might we work through
the action of juggling the hat in a "take” by someone like W.C. Fields, or get the needed fluidity in an
action like the Stag and Bambi racing through the burning forest or the pack of dogs threatening
Faline?
Certainly we should not be as zealots, insisting that this approach or that approach is the way.
Disney animation is not tied down to a way — it's tied to spirit and performance in our characters,
good drawing, creative imagination and the application of proven basics in good animation; weight,
balance, squash and stretch, change of shapes, etc. So, the combination of so called approaches,
letting one compliment another makes good sense. This allows the animator to get the dramatic
strength and control desired in working out his action in poses and then to make good use of the
fluidity of the “straight ahead” method in the unfolding of the action.
Poses, as we’ve so often discussed, express attitudes, moods, etc. But they serve other purposes
too. They keep us aware of the correct relative size and perspective changes in our character as we
take him through the action patterns in our scenes.
EXAMPLE:
If our character is walking away from camera or walking toward it, we would do well to plan the action with a
series of drawings on a single sheet of paper, noting the depth of the perspective with ruled lines showing
the desired path of action in that perspective and indicating the relative increase in the height and volume of
the character from distance to foreground or vice versa. The bottom line would control the foot placements
in the walk and the top line would indicate his normal height increase as he comes toward camera. Quick
sketches, showing the desired body attitude and the progress of the character in each step are necessary.
This planning will keep the length of each step in comfortable relationship to the body size. We would make
as many sketches between the distant and foreground poses as we would need to plan the length of each
step and the size increase of the body — all this on one sheet of paper, assuring complete control of the
action and the figure size in our scene. In such a graph the relationship of the up (stretch) and the down
(squash) positions in the walk would be indicated by graph lines, in proper perspective, above and below
the line indicating the normal height of our character.
If the idea of “planning” on a single sheet of paper seems mechanical, rest assured that it is, but
consider it as a good way to get perspective control of the action through our scenes. In animation,
few things are more embarrassing than a character not properly changing size as he comes into or
goes away from the camera or taking steps that are too long or too short for his body height.
It is well that we remember that action is “telegraphed” through the character's body. The whole body
doesn't go into action all at once. Some part of the body leads out. It may be a turn of the head, a roll
of the shoulders, a lift of an arm or a body twist. In any case, some part of the body will initiate the
action. To become a “believer” one might well intensify his observation and even study himself in
action before a mirror. It will soon become clear that out of a “pose” position some part of the body will
trigger the action to follow.
To repeat, there is no given way to begin an action. The mood and situation our character is in will
suggest a way. But, one thing is certain, that way must feel sincere and natural. An awkward start
immediately gives the feeling of off balance — of unnatural relationships within the body — of being
inconsistent with the normal movement. The animator is the actor. The “show” is his. Hopefully he will
have fully envisioned, in detail, the action he is to put on the screen, beginning with the first move and
on through the completed phrasing.
In search of strong, simple examples of “pose to pose” and the “straight ahead” approaches to
animation, we might look at THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE. In this instance the “straight ahead”
we will refer to is a secondary action, but it illustrates very visually the “straight ahead” idea,
regardless of when, where and how it's used.
The Hare, himself, was all pose and speed. Being a big showoff, everything he did, up to the final
action, (his desperate effort at the finish line), displayed confidence, arrogance and self esteem, It
would have been impossible for Ham Luske to have arrived at the strong, expressive poses he put the
Hare in if he had animated “straight ahead.” Without that “pose to pose” strength the picture would
have been ordinary.
This picture was considered a great breakthrough for pose, caricature and timing, and though too
strong for most of our feature subtleties, the Hare drawings were an inspiration toward getting more
life and strength in the poses for all of our animation. To give added emphasis to the Hare poses, the
action going from one pose to another was crisp and direct, complete in overlap and follow-through.
As a result the character and his personality screamed: “Look at me! I'm the greatest!"
The animation of the trees and fence in reaction to the Hare's initial burst of speed, was a “straight
ahead” approach. There were no extreme poses made except the two showing the trees and fence as
they were before the Hare raced by. In the animated action there were no inbetweens as such. The
animator made every drawing “straight ahead”, after carefully planning the action. The effect of the
“suction” on the trees and the fence was progressive.
On the trees, some leaves low on the trunks began to move first. They were at the center of the force.
Suddenly the trees were reacting and whipping violently in the direction the Hare had gone, as if in a
strong wind. The fence began to lose pickets at the end first to feel the “pull” of the Hare's speed.
Quickly all the pickets were ripped loose and the destruction was apparent.
The force and erratic character in these actions could never have been captured in a “pose to pose”
approach.
Within our action we must search for meaningful mannerisms and movements that can add
entertainment. Consider a walk. Though we have planned it out in poses to get the basic attitudes
and definition of steps, the real personality in the walk and what it has to say begins to surface as
we work and rework “straight ahead” to get the “life” we must put into it; things like the roll of
shoulders — the hip rolls — head perspectives and expressions — the arm movement and
gestures. Our character may wipe his brow — adjust his hat — shake his fist or whatever the
mood and situation may demand. Too, there's the overlap of his coat-tails — the use of a prop he
might be carrying (a cane, an umbrella, a box or whatever). Is there a hop or a quick step or an
obstacle to hurdle as he walks? All such as this cannot be successfully planned “pose to pose”.
The extremes in such “straight ahead” actions will often fall within the timed action between two
key body poses.
Mannerisms, attitudes, gestures — all add life and personality to our character on the screen, but
first we should work out a very basic plan for our action — know what our movement and dialogue
patterns are — and then add the subtleties. In short, we plan thoroughly and simply — and then
add to. We shouldn't put the roof on the house before we pour the foundation.
How often have we found, as we worked straight ahead within a planned action, that the pose we
made as an extreme was no longer strong enough and it became usable as a “slow in” drawing
into a new, more expressive pose we had to make beyond the original? If we've worked our
scenes properly, this will have happened quite often because as incidental personality touches, be
they facial expressions, a tilt of the head, a twist in the body, the position of an arm, the angle of
the shoulders or the reach or tension in the legs, are meshed into an action that which we, in the
beginning, thought was a final pose in the action or dialogue phrase is going to demand
improvement.
“Pose to pose” and “straight ahead” work together and the combining of the two in our animation is
vital to our success.
Eric Larson

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Entertainment I

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TRAINING COURSE LECTURE

Meeting held: WEDNESDAY AUGUST 19, 1936.

Topic: ANIMATION THEORY AND PRACTICE

What do you mean by “doing too little instead of too much?

Is it important to have the anticipation to the wind-up?

What determines your choice of poses in planning an action?

Isn't off-balance a pose counterbalanced by the momentum of the action? (further

How about speed lines?

"The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" in an animated film By Eric Larson

Animation "The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

Acting is a recreation of emotions, and animation is acting!

Why this discussion?

To focus on our: Responsibilities

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3 Animation "The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

Does it have appeal?

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5 Animation "The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

1 Fear-Action and decisions. Erratic, undisciplined

Action will be prompted by the character’s emotions and hisphysical capabilities.

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7 Animation "The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

8 Animation "The Phrasing of Action and Dialogue" PDF provided by www.animationmeat.com

For us, there are

1 Primary action--motivated by a thought process on the part of the character

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That’s a big step in the right direction.

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"Acting for Animation" By Eric Larson

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Entertainment Series III - By Eric Larson

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We "see" Taran , frightened but resolute, as he meets the Horned King.

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“Drawing for Animation” by Eric Larson

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Just what might be the limits of an accomplished actor’s performance of “Stromboli” in

“The Character & Texture of Action in Animation” by Eric Larson

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ACTION: ITS CHARACTER AND TEXTURE

OBSERVATION: (See notes 7/22/82 P. 1 & 2)

ANALYSIS: (See P. 3 of 3/20/81 notes)

IMAGINATION: (See 7/22/81 notes — P. 2 & 3)

WEIGHT AND BALANCE:

SQUASH AND STRETCH: (The change of shapes)

“Movement, Rhythm, and Timing for Animation” by Eric Larson

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Our inward feelings are often expressed in minimal moves

The reversal of direction on a given line has power.

The “flow” of the action line is all important.

“Staging, Anticipation, and Silhouette for Animation” by Eric Larson

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“Dialogue for Animation” by Eric Larson

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But dialogue is important: It is an acknowledged asset in our entertainment. It's an embellishment

Animation, Entertainment I & II

Animation, Entertainment I & II

Animation, Entertainment I & II