The Model-Plasticine Sequence

        Aside from creating armatures, during the 3D workshops we were set the task of depicting the transformation of a plasticine shape into another shape, in ten stages. I chose to show a sphere melt into a plasticine puddle, as often happens in morph sketches.

        Despite the apparent simplicity of my chosen shapes, there were hidden complexities, predominantly that the 'puddle' needed to spread in the right direction for each stage. Once I had achieved this with each separate model, it was important that they were lined up correctly to be photographed, for the sake of consistency and continuity. To help in this respect, I drew an outline around each plasticine shape as I photographed it, so that the next could be placed in the closest possible position.

        As one of my first forays into claymation, it is not exactly creative, but I am pleased with the result, and enjoyed working in this medium.

The entire plasticine sequence.

 

Sir Gawain & the Green Knight

        While browsing through a book on drawing for animation, I came across a couple of stills from Tim Fernee's adaptation of the Arthurian legend of Gawain & The Green Knight. What was striking about these images was that they were drawn in the style of stained glass, with bright colours and strong lines. 

        

        Consequently, with just a glance one can deduce the Olde English period. Ideally, I would have liked to develop just such a distinctive style; with a far more extended production schedule I would have considered adding embroidery, to suggest a tapestry, or maybe used textured fabrics (as in A Series of Unfortunate Events) to similar effect.

Juno

        Gareth Smith's (Shadowplay Studio) title sequence for Jason Reitman's comedy Juno is unusual in that it occurs after an opening scene, but shows Juno's journey from home to the pharmacy, before the live action story picks up once again. The sequence begins and ends with seamless edits between the film and painstakingly hand drawn, collaged and traced animation.

        The effect of following Juno on her journey is that she is rooted firmly in the centre of the story, as she is pretty much the only human figure seen in the sequence, and her photographic appearance stands out from the flat colours and lines of her surroundings (to me the environments are reminiscent of the work of Patrick Caulfield). The interesting amalgamation of animation techniques reflects Juno's own quirky outlook, setting the tone for an oddball comedy. There was an immense amount of work involved to achieve an almost scrap book aesthetic, in which Juno almost seems to float rather than walk. Many, many photos were taken of Ellen Page walking, which were than coloured, photocopied repeatedly (to fade and degrade the image) before being cut out and assembled as deliberately stilted stop motion sequences. However, the picture book line drawings act as a reminder that behind her quick wit and ostensible bravado, Juno is at heart still a child forced to go through a difficult period  

Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events

        Another animated title sequence which has hints of Lotte Reiniger's cut out style is Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events (Jamie Caliri, Benjamin Goldman and Todd Hemker). Unlike Enchanted the effect here is rather more sinister, with the villain of the piece, Count Olaf, represented as an imposing, omnipresent, shadow puppet style figure that the Baudelaire orphans are powerless to escape. 

        Olaf's only feature not disguised beneath the demonic, Victorian-esque silhouette is the eye; a recurring symbol within the novels on which this film is based, as well as in the title sequence, a metaphor to show that the children are constantly being watched. The eye acts as a transition and link between the numerous vignettes that comprise this unusually lengthy end credits sequences (it runs for more than 5 minutes), for example a close up of an eye sees the iris transform into a Ferris wheel on which the children ride

        The sequence seems to comprise various different animation techniques, at some points using a more graphic style and at others appearing like a puppet theater, with waves and hills moving in distinct and separate layers. This is echoed by the figures of the orphans, whose jilting movements almost suggest stop motion. These different techniques are blended seamlessly thanks to the unchanging designs of the children, and to the plethora of rich patterns and fabric textures which were scanned in and used throughout, adding welcome depth to the otherwise flat imagery, which the aforementioned multi plane scenery also helps to combat. The desaturated and monochromatic colour palette that runs throughout also helps to tie the various elements together, as well as matching the colours used in the film, which give a strong impression of the grim and cheerless mood of the piece.

        There is a pleasingly hand crafted feel to the whole sequence that fits in nicely with the indeterminate period and vintage/steampunk aesthetic.

Enchanted

        Although Disney's Enchanted subverts the studio's usual fairytale conventions, with the Princess' endless optimism and singing grating on the nerves of a cynical New York lawyer, the end credits title sequence by Yu+Co reverts to a more familiar style.

        The closing book that begins the sequence mirrors Disney animations such as Snow White and Sleeping Beauty which begin with an opening book, before the illustrations segue into the animation, a convention pastiched at the beginning of Shrek. In the case of Sleeping Beauty the book serves a greater purpose than to reference the story's fairy tale beginnings; the illustrations clearly suggest a medieval, almost tapestry style, immediately establishing the period for the audience.

     

        With Enchanted the hand drawn and watercolour illustrations are more reminiscent of Lotte Reiniger's cut out animations than the Disney house style, but the familiar scenes make reference to past Disney films as well as events within Enchanted, with little mermaids, horse-drawn carriages, waltzes, apples and dragons all making an appearance. This affectionate homage goes someway to remedying the subversion of the archetypal fairy tale, in which the Prince is slow witted and redundant and the Princess' charm ineffective in the contemporary world. Despite these unusual plot twists, the characters mange to find their own unique 'happily ever afters' and the traditional end credits animation reflects that despite the ostensible differences, the message is universal.

X-Men First Class

        In contrast to the majority of superhero films, many of which opt for high tech, CG heavy title sequences, to reflect its period setting, 40 years prior to the events of the original X-Men series, Matthew Vaugn's X-Men First Class resorts to a more retro animation style. Paying tribute to Maurice Binder's work on title's such as Dr No, Prologue's titles use similarly bold graphic shapes. However, rather than abstract patterns, the shapes are arranged to look like dividing cells, double helices and chromosomes, mirroring the franchise's central theme of genetic mutation.

        That Simon Clowes' designs for First Class so strongly echo Binder's work is apt considering that it is set in 1962, the same year Dr No was released, and that the plot is strongly linked to the Cold War, a theme shared with early Bond films. 

        In contrast to Clowes' slick and stylish approach, Kook Ewo's concept (realised by French visual effects studio Chez Eddy) for Splice chose to present similar themes from a more realistic perspective. Both films revolve around genetic mutation, although the latter concerns deliberate genetic modification in the world of science. The use of CG allowed Ewo to design a sequence that follows the contours of what one assumes to be an unborn foetus, although the claustrophobic closeup never allows us a full view of the abhorrent creature. Instead, the audience is allowed to closely see various different skin textures, some appear human, others reptilian or even like the surface of a leaf, all thin enough for a network of veins to be visible beneath. At any rate, this is probably closer than most people would care to see, but sets the mood for the challenging and uncomfortable film to follow. 

        The difference in the two title sequences can be attributed to the discrepancy between the films' tones. With X-Men, the focus is not on the science, but rather the fictional super abilities the characters possess, and their struggle to coexist with the rest of humanity. Splice, on the other hand, approaches a cautionary tale about the dangers of genetic modification through the use of horror and suspense. Everything from the foreboding soundtrack, grim green colour palette, organic shapes and somewhat nauseating imagery set Splice's titles apart from the energetic and colourful X-Men sequence, which in spite of its scientific references, sticks to graphic diagrams and avoids the squeamish. 

Casino Royale

        Daniel Kleinman's title sequence for Casino Royale manages both to conform to and subvert what has come to be expected from a James Bond film. Inevitably, one expects female nudity and objectification to match 007's somewhat misogynistic tendencies; women dripping in oil for The World is Not Enough, encircled by fire in Goldeneye, and buried beneath a desert in Quantum of Solace. The women are still present, although as the most recent 3 films seek to relieve James Bond of some of his more unfavorable attitudes towards women, it is in a less prominent capacity. 

        Instead, Kleinman uses animation to imbue the the titles with a sense of the film's nature. Alongside the expected iconography of guns, with Casino Royale there is a heavy emphasis on gambling and cards to support the central narrative (which sees Bond take  down his nemesis via a high stakes poker game). The way in which the silhouetted figures, their surroundings and even their weapons are revealed to be comprised of diamonds, spades, clubs and hearts is mesmeric and highly creative, as is the use of pouring hearts to show a wound. 

        In terms of an animated sequence this is quite complex, certainly more so that those of Studio Deubal, but again it's suited to the more frenetic pace of a spy film, and the fact that threats approach Bond from all sides. Upon closer analysis it could be seen to reflect Bond's character flaws; gun cross hairs becoming roulette wheels and bodies bursting into hearts and diamonds suggest that Bond's only passions/talents are killing and gambling, or that perhaps the two are interconnected in his mind? 

        This sequence builds upon Kleinman's previous live action piece for Die Another Day, which began to reveal 007's vulnerabilities, and leads into his most recent for Skyfall, which is perhaps the most personal and revealing of Bond's psyche; it follows him to his past and childhood home, both of which are previously unexplored areas, revealing hidden wounds and weaknesses as he takes a metaphorical trip through the underworld to emerge a more world weary and less indestructible character than the audience is used to.

        While Skyfall uses experimental and advanced technological methods, creating mesmerizing fluid animation and combining live action with animated and graphic imagery almost seamlessly, Casino Royale stands out for its use of a more traditional 2D silhouette animation. Not only does this more timeless style suit the fact that the film takes Bond back to the beginning of his career, out of sync with previous films in the franchise, but also pays respect to Maurice Binder's early Bond titles, such as Dr No (the first in the franchise), which used strong graphic shapes in abstract patterns. 

I read a study that showed that people who were familiar with a story before being told it enjoyed it more and perhaps, in a subtle way, the titles perform that function.

- Daniel Kleiman

Priceless

        As I have previously mentioned, sometimes a minimalist approach to an animated title sequences can be highly effective. For Pierre Salvadori's Priceless, studio Deubal's white on black animations capture the essence of the chic french riviera setting. The elegant yet also slightly haphazard lines and bouncy musical soundtrack suggest the upbeat, mischievous tone of the film, while the considered use of pattern on suit sleeves and umbrellas adds to the air of opulence already established by champagne flutes and diamond rings.

        The well chosen style and imagery is so well suited to it's purpose that there is really no need to overwhelm it with excessive amounts of animation. There is just enough movement as there needs to be; the diamond ring dropped into a glass to show our heroine's (?) gold digging ambitions, and a beach parasol is plucked from the sand and transformed into a cocktail umbrella to adorn her hair, echoing a pivotal moment of the film. This well judged simplicity is something I could learn from, as I have a tendency to over complicate, and underestimate the power of subtle movements.

        Studio Deubal have form with whimsical and lighthearted titles, applying their understated approach to sequences such as Apres Vous and Crustaces et Coquillages. The former features clumsy penguins (representing a waiter character) going about their duties, although the screen is dominated by bright colours and the credits, rather than the animation. The latter showcases shimmering ribbons (as though they were made of water) entwining to spell the title, while an assortment of similarly shimmering sea creatures frolic within the letters. These pleasantly languorous images are matched by a dreamy soundtrack, on which the lead actress sings softly in french of seafood and the beach; all in all combining to depict an idyllic and tranquil  impression of the Cote d'Azur setting, and the film's frivolous nature.

        By carefully considering the animation, and not allowing it to become over complicated and draw all of the audience's attention, the credits in Deubal's title's re not overwhelmed, and the cast and crew are given their moment in the spotlight. Yet the balance is just right, as the mood and tone of the films are still effectively set.

Coraline

        The opening of Laika's Coraline works well as an introduction on the first viewing of the film, but arguably makes more sense on repeat viewings. The initial impression the viewer takes from watching the spider-like fingers made of needles unstitch and then reassemble a doll is one of unease, which prepares the audience for a sinister tale. The mutilation of the doll (symbolic of childhood and innocence) sets out the films intentions; being a child does not protect you from danger, while also attaching dangerous significance to the usually innocuous item, buttons.

        Having watched the entire film, the importance of smaller details becomes apparent. The form the doll takes before it is transformed is recognisable as the previous victim of the 'other mother' whose needle hands are initially disguised behind an ominously sweet façade, and that the doll is altered to resemble Coraline shows her to be the next. Consequently, rather than just being an introduction to the story, or a way of 'conditioning the audience' (Saul Bass), Coraline's title sequence is more a part of the story, albeit a part we wouldn't normally see, as the rest of the film is shown from Coraline's perspective.

        This is not the first time that a Laika production has used a title sequence that is an inseparable part of the film. The opening of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride depicts central character Victor's study of a butterfly, before the creature is released and the story begins. This serves as a valuable introduction into the sensitive and bookish nature of a character in a film where time is precious (the running time is a mere 77 minutes), while the rest of the characters and tone are established in the exposition.

        Laika's other well known animated feature Paranorman opens in a not too dissimilar fashion; Norman's affinity and interest in the supernatural being effectively shown as he watches an affectionate reconstruction/pastiche of a zombie flick. However Paranorman does have a more traditional title sequence in the end credits, utilising a style reminiscent of old B movie poster art work, interspersing still frames (when the credits are on screen) with minimal character animation to facilitate transitions between cretits.

        Overall, what this suggests to me is that in the context of films with short running times, title sequences need to be appropriately succinct.

Saul Bass

        It wouldn't be right, when researching animated title sequences, to neglect to mention Saul Bass. Not only was he responsible for famous titles for films such as Hitchcock's Vertigo and Preminger's Anatomy of a Murder to name but a couple, but his far reaching influence on the world of design has shaped more recent title sequences for films as diverse as Spielberg's Catch Me If You Can (Nexus Productions) and Pixar's The Incredibles.

        Bass' distinctively graphic paper cut out animations, with strong shapes and bold colours, are highly evocative of their late 1950s/1960s period, which may explain why their influence can be seen so prominently in films which seek to suggest a retro feel, or replicate this time setting. This is certainly true of The Incredibles, which attempts to recapture a bygone era, at the height of comic book and spy film popularity; an atmosphere to which the graphic title sequence contributes. Catch Me If You Can similarly uses Bass-esque visuals to evoke the spirit of a former time, the film being set in the 1960s. Yet despite stylistic similarities, more recent titles do not often share the unsettling tone of Bass' work, often being more upbeat, almost pastiches of retro design.

        Bass' view on the function of a title sequence is clearly outlined in this quote: 'my initial thoughts about what a title can do was to set mood and the prime underlying core of the film's story, to express the story in some metaphorical way. I saw a title as a way of conditioning the audience, so that when the film actually began, viewers would already have an emotional resonance with it.' This is undoubtedly true; Bass' sequences serve to unnerve the audience, setting the tone for the dark and troubling tales to follow. However, with more and more films withholding title sequences until the end credits, their use in this capacity diminishes, as titles cannot set the mood or create anticipation after the event; perhaps in such eventualities their purpose is more to recapture the mood, or even create anticipation for any potential sequels.   

        Although these more typical Bass titles showcase complex sequencing, disorienting editing and hypnotic spyrographic imagery, some of his more subtle works are just as effective. Throughout the entirety of the Carmen Jones title sequence (Bass' first) the shot never moves from an illustrated rose framed by the flickering of live action flames. The duration of the sequence allows the potential meanings of these two combined images to be absorbed by the audience, implying a story of lust, love, danger and anger through apparently simple means.

Marvel

        The sheer volume of films based on Marvel comics means that the studio has had opportunity to explore a broad range of animated title sequences, although what the majority have in common is a strong sense of their respective superhero's identity. For example, Prologue's (a studio that has been involved with many of Marvel's titles) Iron Man sequence is centred around technical drawings and blue prints, reflecting Tony Stark's engineering skills, while The Avengers (method design) film uses iconic objects which represent the characters' skills and strengths; Thor's hammer, Captain America's shield, Dr Banner's glasses etc. The sweeping camera shots which encircle these objects are somewhat reminiscent of opening of Tim Burton's 1989 Batman, where similar camera movements travel around the contours of a three dimensional Bat logo, as though it were a inescapable maze, although in this film the effect is darker, suggesting the DC character's more troubled state of mind.    

        As both of these sequences appear at the end rather than the beginning of the film (a trend which is becoming more prevalent) they cannot really be said to act as introductions or insights into the characters unlike earlier Marvel films in which the sequences did appear at the start. An example that stands out is Sam Raimi's Spider Man and its sequel Spider Man 2. Both sequences are created by Kyle Cooper (for Imaginary Forces and Prologue, respectively), yet have noticeable differences. The first film combines imagery of spider webs with ethereal smoke resembling DNA strands, alongside snippets of the hero's and villain's costumes and aerial shots of New York skyscrapers. These fleeting glimpses offer clues about the upcoming film and create anticipation amongst the audience. On the other hand, while the second film retains the integral spider web imagery and even uses some of the exact same shots as the first, the overall style is more graphic, using illustrations reminiscent of the story's comic book roots. Also, rather than create anticipation for the upcoming film, the focus is more upon recounting key scenes from the previous film, which not only demonstrate Spider Man's origin, but also suggest Peter Parker's state of mind, and the toll his alter ego is taking on him.

        Although all of these sequences are animated titles, much of the movement comes from objects rotating, moving apart, or web strands eclipsing static illustrations, rather than complex action which may prove too distracting from the credits. The two elements sit comfortably alongside one another.

The Model- Character Design

        Before starting work on our armatures, we had to draw out a design in order that we were able to create the right shape wire frame as a base. While some of my classmates chose to use character designs from the current Applied Animation module, my title sequence doesn't require any characters, and so consequently I didn't have and designs. Instead, I based my armature on a character from my foundation degree final project; an Edwardian/1920s beauty named Yasmin Howcomely, from Roald Dahl's My Uncle Oswald.

        However, since I didn't incorporate clothing and hair into the plasticine modelling, there is the possibility that my armature could be transformed into the lead female character from the novel I am basing the Applied Animation module on: Anne Neville, a medieval noblewoman. 

        In retrospect, after struggling to sculpt realistically proportioned features in my plasticine model, I realise that I should have taken initiative from the models created by Mackinnon & Saunders and Aardman, which use exaggerated shapes. While I used exaggeration for the body shape, it would have made my job much easier if my design had bigger eyes/lips, which were incredibly tricky to model on a small scale.

        Morph epitomises this simplified approach. The character is made up of a single colour, in a basic shape, with large eyes and minimal features. Wallace & Gromit, perhaps Aardman's most famous creations are more complex, with texture, clothing, fingers and more facial features. However their proportions are still cartoonish (similarly to the large eyed, spindly limbed characters Mackinnon & Saunders create for Tim Burton), which not only helps with characterisation and making each character more recognisable, but also assists the sculptors and model makers, as they are not striving for photo realism.