Photography in Cel Animation

by Niky
University of Chicago CMST 14400: Film and the Moving Image
Autumn 2019

Though used rarely today, celluloid animation has brought us many cartoons and animated movie classics, such as the Looney Tunes series by Warner Bros, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by Walt Disney Productions, or the first 13 seasons of The Simpsons by 20th Century Fox. The production method of celluloid animation consists of drawings that are made on plastic sheets called cels, which are photographed in sequence in order to provide the illusion of movement. On rare occasions, errors do occur in the photographing of cels; this occurs namely in accidentally taking a photograph of the cel with the camera operator’s fingers in it, reflecting the camera apparatus in the cel so that it is seen in the frame, or improperly placing the cels on top of each other, resulting in colour changes in the frame. Dust and dirt particles can also accumulate on the film, as can the fingerprints of the cameraman. Hannah Frank’s Traces of the World challenges a theory of cinema where it is believed that “the animation camera is only incidental to the cartoon’s production”, rather than being a key part in it (Frank 23). Be it with mistakes or without, celluloid animation is arguably a phenomenon that, per Andrew Wilson’s claim, “reveal[s] traces of the humans and technology that produced them” (Frank 23).

The idea proposed by many critics where, by having “no authorial or legal claim to the images he produced”, the “proletarian of creation” (the camera operator) and his creative force on the camera are negligible in cartoons (Frank 24). It is widely believed that “the camera plays a relatively small role in animation”, which results in a paradox where there is a “complete disavowal of cel animation as photographic cinema” (Frank 24). Stanley Cavell adds to this with his blunt claim that “cartoons are not movies”, yet they still provide us with a view of their own world (Frank 24). Hannah Frank, on the other hand, argues that cartoons can indeed be a view of the world, rather than simply projecting a world of their own; she claims that the mistakes that show up in cartoons and thus that which resides in their individual photographic frames is indicative of the human labour behind it. Although dust and dirt particles, sudden colour changes on film, or fingerprints left behind by the camera operator tend to go unnoticed by viewers, they can often be seen when stopping and focussing on single frames. This way, the actual creation of a cartoon in terms of the photographic and artistic labour that went into it comes to light. By doing an analysis of “one motionless image after another”, one can begin to understand the production process of the cartoon and thus see the connection of the artist to the cartoon in itself (Frank 25).

Chuck Jones’ Hair-Raising Hare is a silly and fun cartoon about Bugs Bunny that has a minor flaw in the use of the cel. 3:26 minutes in, Bugs Bunny’s head disappears while he is shoving a door closed. This was perhaps due to the fact that the cel with his head drawn on it was forgotten in the frame and we are thus left with only his body, but it returns immediately after that single frame:

Similarly, in Frank Tashlin’s Porky Pig’s Feat, there is a moment when the cel portraying Daffy Duck flips and “is placed before the camera with its verso side up”, before being flipped to the recto side (Frank 31). What the audience sees, when paying very close attention, is Daffy quickly being flipped over and facing the wrong direction. This is at minute 3:08:

One other example of what could go wrong in the creation of a cartoon is the maintenance of the same colours on each cel. Because cels are often overlapped, they often result in a darker shade of the given colours, which is especially evident in Broom-Stick Bunny by Chuck Jones, where the witch’s dress slightly varies in colour. The colours on the dress move of their own accord throughout the cartoon, but there are evident changes in it, such as at minute 0:52:

Moreover, there are certain cartoons, such as Chuck Jones’ Duck Amuck, where the labour of the artist is conveyed through the plot itself. Daffy Duck is manipulated by the artist, who continuously changes the scenery as well as Daffy’s physical appearance by mimicking the artist’s actual act of drawing and erasing on the cel. This creates a connection between the cartoon and the artist himself, and it forces the viewer to question this. There are also other cartoons that involve celluloid animation as part of the cartoon’s plot, such as the “Lady Bouvier’s Lover” episode of The Simpsons, in which Bart buys an expensive animation cel of Itchy and Scratchy, thus also forcing the audience to look past the triviality of the cartoon and into its production process:

Screen Capture of Bart and Lisa with Cel (Lady Bouvier's Lover - 1F21)

Although it can indeed be argued that there are no traces of the human labour left behind in celluloid animation apart from incidents involving photographing the cameraman’s fingers, how is that different from other animated and non-animated movies? Human labour is rarely seen in any other films, apart from the actual labour of actors on-screen in live-action films. The presence of producers, directors, or other people behind the making of films is also usually not shown in those films themselves. (There are of course exceptions in the rarest of films where the creators find a way to include themselves in the films, such as the Marvel Cinematic Universe, where Stan Lee’s cameos are all included in the films, yet this is by no means common.)

Why, then, is it so crucial for the creative force of the labourer to be seen in an animated film, if in a live-action film much of the credit is being attributed to the actors, rather than the off-screen labourers? Furthermore, taking into consideration the opinions of various critics mentioned in Frank’s article, the camera allegedly does not play a significant role in the making of cel animated films. Although many may agree with that, how does that differ from the work of a camera in a live-action movie? Both celluloid animation and live-action films put before the camera what they want to be filmed. Though the camera can add extra effects in a live-action movie, such as zooming in and out of scenes and focussing specifically on one image, this is enabled by what is put forth in terms of scenery and actors, just as things are being drawn on each cel for specific creative purposes. Arguably, cameras in live-action films only have a larger amount of power over a film than those in cel animated films because of what is laid out before them on set. Therefore, couldn’t the role of the camera in live-action movies essentially be equated to that of a celluloid animated film? And should cartoons be considered films, even though the production process is significantly different from live-action films?

Works Cited:

Frank, Hannah. “Traces of the World: Cel Animation and Photography.” Animation, vol. 11, no. 1, 2016, pp.23-39, DOI: 10.1177/1746847715623689. Accessed 19 November, 2019.

Jones, Chuck, director. Broom-Stick Bunny. Warner Bros. Pictures, 25 February, 1956.

Jones, Chuck, director. Duck Amuck. Warner Bros. Pictures, 28 February, 1953.

Jones, Chuck, director. Hair-Raising Hare. Warner Bros. Pictures, 25 May, 1946.

Tashlin, Frank, director. Porky Pig’s Feat. Warner Bros. Pictures, 17 July, 1943.

“The Simpsons – Animation Cels.” The Simpsons Forever. Accessed November 20, 2019. http://www.simpsonsforever.com/cels/.

Published: “Teaching (Like) Hannah Frank (1984–2017): A Tribute”

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The Moving Image vol. 18 no. 1 is designated the “Spring 2018” issue, but I didn’t receive my hard copy until this week. And, looking online, lo and behold, it’s up on JSTOR and Project Muse. So I guess it officially exists now, and it’s high time to announce it.

There was a flurry of activity I was involved with when Hannah Frank passed away in August 2017. Much of that culminated in the SCMS special event that I co-organized. But most of the contributors to that event also contributed to a special tribute in The Moving Image. Due to the general sluggishness of academic publishing, that’s just coming out now. The tribute contains short appreciations written by Mihaela Mihailova, Jen Bircher, Robert Bird, Mariana Johnson, Ryan Pierson, Alla Gadassik, Tim Palmer, and myself.

Unlimited Animation: A Tribute to Hannah Frank – video recording now available

A quick heads-up: Awhile back, I announced the SCMS 2018 special event I co-coordinated devoted to the life and work of Hannah Frank. That event is now watchable for those who weren’t able to make it to the conference in March, thanks to the generous videographic assistance of Sean Batton. Please feel free to embed and distribute widely.

(I’d recommend playing this video on the actual YouTube page, rather than its embedded version here: if you look below the fold on the textual description over there, you’ll see that I’ve added bookmarks so that you can easily navigate to each speaker’s presentation, as well as links to a bunch of materials referred to in the presentations.)

Wednesday, March 14: Unlimited Animation: A Tribute to Hannah Frank

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Well, now that the “Heaven Is a Place” screening is over and done with (and what a screening it was! my hat goes off to all fellow filmmakers & artists), it’s on to the next announcement.

It’s that time of year again: the annual conference of the Society for Cinema and Media Studies. This year, I forwent presenting a paper myself, and instead opted to act as an organizer for a special event. The event in question is “Unlimited Animation: A Tribute to Hannah Frank,” a celebration of the life and scholarship of one of film studies’ most promising young scholars. It’s scheduled for 7:00 PM on the evening of the first night of the conference, Wednesday, March 14. If you find yourself in Toronto then, I invite you to come.

Full schedule and details below the fold.

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On Ones (and Zeroes): A Tribute to Hannah Frank

Today, the friends, family, and colleagues of Hannah Frank held a special Chicago memorial for her, hosted at the University of Chicago. I already wrote quite a bit about Hannah in the past two weeks, so for my presentation at this memorial I decided to do something different: a short found-footage celebration of Hannah’s audiovisual interests.

As you might imagine, this compilation video includes things that Hannah wrote about. But it also includes things Hannah shared on social media that she liked. And things Hannah shared on social media that she made. It includes things Hannah and I shared a mutual love of. It includes things Hannah encouraged me to teach and/or write about. And it includes things I encouraged Hannah to teach and/or write about. I’ve arranged these clips to the tune of “Deeper into Movies,” by Hannah’s fellow Hobokeners Yo La Tengo.

Special thanks to Will Carroll, Chris Carloy, Sierra Wilson, Jordan Schonig, and James Rosenow.

If you’d like to explore Hannah’s own output as a video artist and animator, check out her Vimeo page here.

If you’re curious about the sources for all of the visual bits, a full list is below the fold.

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Mourning a Lost Feed

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Since the unexpected and shocking death of my friend Hannah Frank last week, I have been thinking a lot about the Black Mirror episode “Be Right Back” (Series 2, Episode 1, dir. Owen Harris, 2013). Since the time I first saw it, I’ve thought it was a very good slice of speculative fiction, but it was not until the past week that its insights into 21st century psychology truly hit me.

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Videogame Cat of the Week: The Fabulous Screech / Remembering Hannah Frank

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I began this series as a lark, inspired by my friend Hannah Frank’s Tumblr omgcatrevolution. I linked to her Tumblr here, she reciprocated by posting some of this material over there. We chuckled about trading some of the meager traffic our endeavors attract; it gave us a chance to chat. A chance to chat with Hannah was always welcome.

Today, omgcatrevolution posted its final post. This morning, at 1 AM, Hannah Frank passed away from a sudden illness. Her death has come as an utter shock to her friends.

Last week, I promised another “sad cat tale” in this Monday’s spot. I had planned to reserve this spot for Jonas and Verena Kyratzes’ The Fabulous Screech (2012), a point-and-click tearjerker about a cat’s adventures through heaven and hell, and eventual decline into old age.

I cannot, at the moment, bring myself to write about The Fabulous Screech. But I think I will leave the screenshots in, and leave the title of the post as it was (with a new acknowledgement). I can think of plenty of people who wouldn’t want to be eulogized in a blog post about a cartoon cat. Hannah Frank was not one of those people. And so that is where I have decided to take this post.

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Prolegomena to a History of Cats in Videogames

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As opposed to cats among videogames. That is an altogether separate matter. Apologies for the confusing header image.

Ian here—

By now, every right-thinking person on the internet knows that omgcatrevolution is the most essential Tumblr in existence. (Perhaps even the greatest site, bar none, on the internet.) But although it is an ever-more-exhaustive archive of cats in mainstream cinema, cats in experimental cinema, cats in animation, cats on television, cats in music videos, and cats in porn, there one crucial bit of moving-image culture that remains its blind spot: cats in videogames. I am swooping in to rectify this.

In all seriousness, the summer has hit, classes are over, and I have some big things brewing on my horizon. I’m determined to still post regularly, though, so I’m trying to design some sort of mechanism that forces me to update on a set schedule. It is for this reason that I now announce a new feature on this blog: videogame cat of the week.

Yes, really.

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Discussion: Robert Breer’s Recreation and Jodie Mack’s The Saddest Song in the World

Ian here—

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m hesitating to call write-ups of classes in the section of “Avant-Garde Film and Video Art” I’m teaching this semester “lesson plans.” The course discussion I’m reporting back on often proceeds more from my students’ on-point engagement with the films than it does from any carefully-planned questions on my part. I still want to post some details on this blog, though, because I’m certainly learning a lot about how to tackle these subjects in the future, and would love to share.

Up today: two animated films, one of which unexpectedly became one of the most contentious things I’ve shown so far in any class.

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Lesson Plan: The Politics of Punching in American Comedy

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Promotional image for mobile game Punch the Trump (Brutal Studio, 2016)

Ian here—

Hoo, boy.

Since November 9th, I’ve been coasting on lesson plan blog posts that I already had previously finished and scheduled. Now, here we are, with my first real “live” post since the 2016 election.

In the coming months, many peoples’ lives will be disrupted more than mine, and it is on me to make sure I contribute as much as possible to make those people feel welcome in this country, and to oppose the policies, appointment, and general behavior of our new president elect. I acknowledge that the disruption I will be facing is much lesser than the disruption many others will be facing. Nevertheless, my own life has been disrupted in its own small ways—as I’m sure many peoples’ has in this nation, even those who are not undocumented, or Latinx, or Muslim, or women, or disabled, or LGBTQIA, or, well, children (who, after all, will bare the brunt of Trump’s bullish climate denial). For me, the most immediate effects (as small as they may be, in the long run), were grappling with the syllabus I had created for my course “Comedy and the Moving Image” at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

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