Saturday, January 3, 2009

Color in 101 Dalmatians: 4. There's no place like London

Location-wise 101 Dalmatians can be divided into two parts: London (familiar ground) vs. the countryside (unknown territory). After spending so much time with interiors I’d like to finally focus on the London exteriors in order to complete the analysis of this part of the film. I’ll visit the countryside (and Hell Hall) in upcoming posts.

There are basically two locations within London: The street in front of the protagonist’s house (two different streets actually, but treated equally) and Regent’s Park nearby. During the twilight bark we see additional random places around the city which ultimately lead to the countryside for the first time. Then there are a couple of establishing shots from high above. In fact, the establishing of London already starts during the opening credits.

We see several stereotyped images such as the red phone booth, a double-decker bus, Big Ben and the Tower Bridge. Rivers are an integral part of the story serving both as continuous connections over vast distances (London and the countryside) and as obstacles (Pongo and Perdi have to cross icy rivers, Roger and Anita fall into the pond, symbolically they have to cross bridges).

As with the interiors, London is established in rather diffuse white light that brings out the “natural” colors of everything we see. I think it is most admirable when an art direction team manages to make everything look natural while adhering to a strongly restricted color palette. As the story sets in on a “beautiful spring day”, there is a lot of fresh green foliage. Later on, the colors change most obviously depending on weather and time of day.

In almost all the urban layouts strong verticals and horizontals are emphasized to give the backgrounds an architectural impression. This prologue (like the kitchen scene described here) is also a good example of the flat theatrical staging that is a major part of this film’s production design. We also see that Regent’s Park is just across the street to the left.

Coming back to colors, just look at the sky: Unlike most recent features that almost always show a Southern Californian blue sky to suggest nice weather, here we have a cloudy gray and most importantly no airbrushing. The far away houses are far bluer in accordance with aerial perspective.

Sixth months later (already past summer), there are less leaves on the trees. Some of the trees (behind the house) have already lost all of their foliage. The pillar box that helps us recognize the Radcliffes’ house is seen for the first time and therefore it is naturally red. However, it appears to be desaturated in comparison to Cruella’s car.

After Sequence 02 we never see London in daylight anymore. So the pillar box is henceforth seen in blue light because it is part of the “cold” setting as opposed to the “warm” light emitted from the windows. As we have already seen, the Dalmatians themselves are seldom affected by hue changes.
When the puppies are stolen, the trees are leafless, the sky is muddy and judging from the reflections it seems to have rained before.

In Sequence 09 there is fog everywhere and the whole set of backgrounds is painted differently (more classically Disney) from the rest of the film. As we will see the two-tone scheme is even more restricted here. In fact, color-wise the façade looks the same here and in the final shot, only with fog instead of snow.

The Prologue

Although the setting is limited to a flat brick wall, what at first looks like random muted colors behind characters seems to be rather well thought-out. Storywise there is a progression of about four stages: The first person Pongo sees is a shuffling artist (“unusual breed”) who resembles Roger’s own personality way too much (big nose, hunchback, untidy). She’s also too much into her art, not even having eyes to see what’s going on around her. Note also that her clothes and hair are in the same color as Roger’s coat and gilet. Just imagine how an apartment with two messy artists would look like…
Next we have a pair Pongo calls “a little too short coupled” (pug), followed by a “fancy breed” (poodle). These two are farther away from what he’s looking for in respect of their type, but at least they are of roughly the same age as Roger.
The following pairs are worse, because they are also too old (lady on the bicycle) or too young (yellow girl with lollipop).

While all of these human types are mirror images of their dogs, the pair of passive Roger and active Pongo is far more interesting because they complement one another. It is only much later that they finally get their look-alike shot.

All these women and their dogs are basically painted in shades of one hue, sometimes balanced by a spot color. I think the “much too fancy breed” with the poodle is an aristocratic reflection of Cruella: She seems to be into fashion and even wears a coat that seems to be made out of poodle fur.

But suddenly Pongo sees Perdi (his gaze zooming right in on her, quickly eliminating Anita from the frame). Up to now, the sidewalk and the wall were roughly the same muted turquoise and beige in all the backgrounds (close ups and long shots). However, Anita and Perdi are set against a darker turquoise wall. This new background is painted from and overlaid with the same layout as the other one. The red pillar box that beautifully balances the green lamp posts is far more saturated in the Perdi-background, it is hardly seen though. Together with the natural grace of both characters this color change to a more uniform hue that is actually darker than both characters helps us see them in a different light than the previous ones. On an artistic level I’d say that this is the very first expressionistic use of color in this film.

While all the women wear hats and carry something under their arm, Anita’s decent gray costume is greatly enhanced by a large yellow flower on her hat. As the brightest spot this attracts our attention and serves as a nice contrast to the dark blue-gray wall behind her. Right down to the collar, blue is the color most strongly associated with Perdi. Just think of the brick wall in the kitchen where Perdi is hiding under the stove (decent women exposed as objects and connected to a kitchen by a gazing male protagonist would make for a field day for feminist film theory, don’t you think?).

Now at the latest, it becomes clear that the main interest in 101 Dalmatians can’t be romance. Unlike in Lady and the Tramp, the lovers here are of equal species and class, so this is not about crossing boundaries or the domesticating of a libertine. There’s simply no possibility for conflict except maybe Roger’s untidiness which becomes less important after they move to a larger apartment.

While Anita and Perdi leave for the park, the flat theatrical staging is opened up and we finally get a deeper composition. This change from flat to deep staging can be seen in several scenes throughout the film. The colors along the way change according to the overall effect. Pongo is back in the reality and realizes that he will lose his chance if he doesn’t get Roger to follow them. Therefore the surroundings are back to normal with houses painted in desaturated shades of red and green.


The establishing shot of the park emphasizes the bluish green trees as opposed to warm and cold neutral tones present everywhere including the sky. Accordingly, the red pillar box and dust bin are in the shadow and do not draw our attention from the characters entering the park.

In the very first post we have seen green as the color of Roger’s bachelor apartment. But it also serves as the unifying color of the whole first sequence. In terms of color, Regent’s Park is nothing more than an outdoor extension of Roger’s flat. Apart from neutral grays and browns, the neighboring colors blue and yellow are equally spread indoors and out in the park. Once the story has kicked in, there won’t hardly be any green outside because it’s always night or snowing. This way, a color that is linked to Roger’s bachelor life is easily eliminated.







Again, all things are painted in their most stereotyped colors: water is blue, daffodils are yellow. And again there are certain restrictions in the planning that make for pleasant color schemes. The yellow that has been established by Anita’s flower is again seen in the park when Pongo mistakes the woman with the pug for Anita. Only after they have crossed the brigde there are yellow daffodils all over the place, particularly next to the women.


Anita is sitting in the shadow, so it seems completely natural that the flower on her hat is darker and less saturated than before. After all, her face is the center of this shot and therefore it is the brightest area in the frame.

There are a lot of continuity errors during this scene that go unnoticed. The most peculiar one certainly is Anita’s book changing into a purse by the time she falls into the pond. This happens very naturally because the purse looks and can be opened like the book.
I think it’s noteworthy that once they are in the park (like in the apartment before), there are no red objects except for the leash. Surrounded by all the complimentary greens the leash is always perfectly visible. In the end, it is this very prop that brings Roger and Anita physically together.

By the way, this movie contains several text book examples of “planting”: Pongo’s habit of twining the leash around people’s legs is already shown when Roger stands on the bridge watching the artist. More subtly, Pongo is stepping into the pond shortly before the humans fall into it. This way, we are reminded of the “dangerous” water on the right offscreen. In this shot we also see how well the couple’s clothes’ colors match and that they are closely related to surrounding colors (green and brown).

The Twilight Bark: some subtle adjustments

Sequence 07: As we have seen earlier, male skin tones (Pongo, the Baduns, Roger) are slightly darker than their female counterparts. This is generally adhered to even against other concepts like aerial perspective which implies that objects farther away from the camera should look bluer and lighter (less contrast of value) than closer ones. On a compositional basis the main point of interest normally is in the brightest area, because our eyes tend to be drawn to the brightest spot first (coming right after movement within the frame), usually the area of most detail or contrast.

As far as character styling goes, I think that several details – whether chosen consciously or just expressing gender perception at the time – are re-inforcing the notion that Pongo is the protagonist. Although it could be argued that Pongo and Perdi are equally bland Dalmatian prototypes, I think that Pongo - apart from being male and therefore bigger and more angular - is a stronger design simply because of his black ears and red dog collar. The black ears read better against the face and thus are more expressive than white ones. Furthermore they enhance the contrast within the face. The red collar on the other hand stands in contrast to almost every background in the film.

Even at twilight when all the surroundings tend to look either grey or blue, the desaturated red provides more contrast than Perdi’s blue collar. Perdi on the other hand is always closer to the camera because she’s usually one step behind and thus would be obscured by her bigger husband. To come back to skin tones: Pongo is doubtlessly the only active character in this scene, so in the establishing shot, he is slightly brighter than Perdi. In the following shots however his usual darker “white” is restored. But this time he is seen against the lighter, more saturated sky and therefore his darker color provides a slightly stronger contrast. Interestingly, the leash is not red anymore, probably because it is not important.

Although we’re in the same Regent’s Park as before there are hardly any traces of green left, the foliage has gone and the grass is almost in complete darkness. Of course it is night and the streetlamps don’t illuminate their surroundings too much. Compared to the earlier establisher, the reaction shot of the city (we hear dogs barking in response) shows more detail, stronger contrast and higher saturation because, this time, the background and not a character is what we should look at.



Although everything looks rather blue-gray during this twilight sequence, different materials are generally painted in different hues. So The Great Dane (aka Danny) is discernible mostly because of his brown fur while the trees are blue-gray and make for a better contrast between background and character.
The small dog can be seen clearly because he is far brighter than anything else including the milk bottles that make for a nice comparison of sizes. Although his eyes are often covered by hair, we are immediately drawn to that area because (apart from wonderfully frantic animation) the bushy brows are brighter than anything else.

The transition from park to inner city is seamlessly created by having first a house with a large garden and fencing, then a long pan to a corner house with some gardening utensils lying around that is connected by a rain pipe (including two cheat cuts) to a penthouse with no green except the artists painting and the window shutters - the artist still seems to be in her green bachelor stage. Through all this, pale yellow windows are present that hardly suggest warmth inside the houses. Far from being bold concepts, such unobtrusive color choices in throwaway backgrounds are an important part of what makes classic Disney features worth studying in my opinion.

During the twilight bark there are some closely linked cameo appearances of characters from Lady and the Tramp as well as extras from earlier in the film. While we obviously should recognize the extras that are played for a smirk, the Lady characters, particularly the two protagonists, are carefully disguised because they are either there for cheap re-use or as in-jokes that shouldn’t break the spell for most audiences. In this light I don’t think that it’s by accident that Jock (the black dog in the recreated pan above) is in the darkest corner. Nevertheless, he gets a closeup right afterwards but stays in the dark.

The artist and her Afghan stand out from the blue surroundings particularly because of their brown colors established in the beginning (and not affected by outside light). Peg and the bulldog in the pet shop window however are surrounded by generic Dalmatian designs without spots painted in neutral greys and browns in an equally desaturated surrounding. Again there is no warm light inside any of the visible windows. The pet shop even looks unlighted.

Then the “much too fancy breed” with the poodle is seen driving through (almost in silhouette) in a Rolls Royce that resembles a more dignified version of Cruella’s expensive sportscar. While the poodle is staged against light blue windows, the woman in the backseat is only visible because her face and hair are painted in the same bright way as in the prologue. In keeping with the color design of the fancy lady the neon signs here are all in pastel colors (primarily pink, another allusion to Cruella and her fashion tastes).
Then another dog on another car appears in silhouette: it is Tramp followed by Lady’s silhouette in the shadowy lower frame area. After all the flat layouts, again the scene ends on a deep focus shot.

By the end of sequence 07, the windows have become gradually less important in favor of flashing advertising signs – now mostly in primary colors.
If we compare the vistas at the beginning, in sequence 07 (about halfway into the film) and at the end of the film, we can see different emphasis. Of course the first one is not at night, but the city seems to lie in the shadow of a large cloud. There’s no color detail apart from aerial perspective. The director credits and the mere establishing of London (the brigde) are important. In the second image the annoying side of the city is stronger, on the soundtrack we hear dogs bark and people shouting at them. Finally, peace is restored on Christmas Eve and there’s no sign of consumerism, the windows are warm again. Nobody shouts at the barking dogs now, people just wake up and turn on their lights. There are turquoise and salmon colored clusters of windows among the warm yellow ones. Overall, there is considerably more detail and contrast now. I have already pointed out that in the end even the bold new painting style is more or less abandoned in favor of color areas that strongly stay within the Xerox lines.

A foggy variation

As we have seen in the introduction to this post, the painting style is already changing in Seq.09, obviously because of the fog around the city. To achieve the misty effects airbrushing – a device that in Walt Peregoy’s opinion usually separated the backgrounds too much from the flat cels – was indispensable. Moreover, the colors are much more confined to the layout lines because at times the overlaid Xerox lines would be erased altogether to create foggier backgrounds. If it weren’t for the different mood, the Big Ben shot could be well out of Peter Pan.

Seen from outside, the light behind Pongo is considerably warmer. Note that the music room looks much friendlier mainly because of the muted green curtains – remember, green distinguishes the music room from the rest of the house. Is it possible that Roger has already made some money? Although watching the film I would never think of that at this moment, this has to be the case. After all, it is only one or two days away from Christmas if we take the rescuing into account and there’s no time to redecorate the whole house within such a short time.

As far as mood goes, these foggy shots are among my favorites. In a visual progression, the whole city has become bleak and monochrome. For once, even the dogs are affected by this (very unusual in this movie). This would be less effective without the earlier scene where the The Great Dane is introduced as a brown dog. Also the park looks even colder this time seen from a lower angle than in the previous establishing shot. Thanks to the fog and low camera angles, we can destinguish the silhouettes against an otherwise dark night.

The only visible light sources are the hazy street lamps. Inverting the picture we discover that light and darkness are painted in negative (complimentary) hues. Sparse red ship lights prevent the scene from appearing too unnaturally monochrome. The pillar box however looks almost gray. Saturation and contrast is much lower than in previous night scenes.

To leave London the dogs have to symbolically cross the Thames and finally pass through a tunnel into a new morning. Although this may be geographically wrong, the screen direction is still forward, i.e. from left to right. Again the scene ends on a deeper composition and a fade-out.

Like the interiors, the London locations are seen in such different light each time that a first time viewer might not even consciously recognize certain spots. Most of the changes are dictated by weather and time of day however. Or let me put it this way, weather and time of day have been chosen to support the emotions of our protagonists. Nevertheless these are hardly farfetched choices. Even without listening to the narrator the backgrounds and colors would tell us that the story spans about nine months with the bulk taking place in late December. It’s only in our age where most animated features are set in aseptic surroundings that one notices a refreshing lack of standard blue skies with white clouds in this film.

the park's colors change from colorful to monochrome in three stages

Again color schemes are constant throughout whole sequences, even if they integrate interior and exterior sets. All in all there is a progression from full color daylight to almost monochrome at night. Character colors remain strongly constant – apart from obvious value differences – until the darkest night time hour, when there’s nothing of interest left in London.

Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Lists

I’ve never done this before, but if I had to pick ten movies I saw in 2008 (some of them came out earlier, I know) that made a lasting impression on me, I would pick the following:


The rest of the list is in alphabetical order:

Of all the classic movies I saw for the first time this year, I must include David Lean’s Great Expectations (1946) here. I wonder how I’ve managed to miss this masterpiece until now.

Among the films that almost made it into the list were In the Valley of Elah, Into the Wild, Wall-E, Heimatklänge, Sweeney Todd and Paranoid Park.
It is the second year in a row that some of the most violent movies I have seen are also among my personal favorites. I’m not so sure how this makes me feel… Let’s hope this is merely a coincidence...

As far as short subjects go, I’ve chosen Skhizein by Jérémy Clapin (I wrote about it here and here).

The five films with the most interesting color schemes I saw in 2008 were all classics (most of them revisited):
  • Alice in Wonderland (Geromini/Jackson/Luske, 1951): most playful of all the Mary Blair films (along with segments of the package features).
  • All that heaven allows (Douglas Sirk, 1955): Sirk at his most stylized, Fassbinder’s inspiration.
  • Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958): Subtle primary and secondary colors; traffic lights.
  • 101 Dalmatians (Geronimi/Luske/Reitherman/Peet, 1961): Well, who’d have guessed?
  • Don’t look now (Nicholas Roeg, 1973): A red raincoat in overexposed Venice.

Happy New Year to everyone!

Friday, December 19, 2008

Schwizgebel revisited: L'année du daim

Originally, I was about to post some thoughts about the artistic premises of 3D in standard narrative films. But in the middle of putting the piece together I came to the conclusion that a lot of ground has already been covered lately by people like Roger Ebert (here and here). So for the time being, I decided to direct your attention to something entirely different (maybe I’ll come back to 3D later):

I have often stated that I’m most drawn to animation because of its potential to marry music and image in a way no other medium can. One of my heroes in this respect is Georges Schwizgebel, one of the few Swiss animators with a reputation outside his native country. For a short biography look here.

In anticipation of his latest film Retouches that I hope to see on January 22 at the Solothurn Film Festival I’d like to focus on some of my favorites within his oeuvre.

Let me start with a film that is rather untypical of Schwizgebel’s personal trademark style: L’année du daim (The Year of the Deer, in the following abbreviated as “Daim”), made in 1995.

What sets it apart from most of his other works is the fact that Daim is more narrative than associative. While L’homme sans ombre (The Man Without a Shadow, 2004) is based on a Chamisso novella, it is not important to understand anything about the Faustian pact (one of Schwizgebel’s favorite subjects) in order to appreciate the film. Here on the other hand, the underlying Chinese fable is paramount and easily comprehensible.

In fact, the deer may be the only Schwizgebel character with actual facial expressions. He originally wanted to take the concept even further from a natural deer in the beginning to a finally domesticated Bambi-clone, but discarded the idea in preproduction.

As always, music – and in this case for the first time professional sound effects – is crucial to the filmic structure. Inspired by Schubert’s unfinished string quartet in c-minor (Op. posth.), he had someone compose a dense score that fit his storyboards based on Schubert’s motifs and style. The first and last notes are roughly the same as in the original piece, only a little faster.

Schwizgebel as interviewed by Olivier Cotte (English by Sarah Mallinson):
GS: I constructed the film like this: There are four parts and in these four parts are bits of animation, steady shots, dissolves and cuts that appear when the animal is hit to make him change his behaviour. […] As the film progresses [it] is hit less and less violently, but always on the same piece of music, so it’s like a refrain. […] I wrote four pages that represented the four seasons with the intersection points at the same moments for the four parts, after which Philippe Koller, the musician, composed the music following this structure.
OC: Was the fact that the film is divided into four parts and that each one has a similar structure a personal constraint?
GS: Yes, and it was also done to make sure the narrative was clear, because I was afraid the audience wouldn’t follow the story and that would have been a real shame. Putting those fixed shots always at the same moment helps the audience to understand the evolution, because we see the same element and the changes at the same time. Winter follows autumn and the dog is beaten less. I repeat: I like constraints and aesthetically, it pleased me to have the same thing four times.*
These four seasonal parts are already introduced in the “Leader”, the 11 second countdown that is one of Schwizgebel’s trademarks.

The first “shot” then looks exactly like we have learned to expect it in a Schwizgebel short: the title morphs into fog while an imaginary camera flies over a painted landscape (animated mostly on 4s). But unlike most of his other films, Daim isn’t primarily based on metamorphoses and constantly moving cameras. There are unusually many cuts that rather emphasize the musical structure than contribute to a more conventional continuity.

in fact, these are the only two morphing shot connections

Virtuoso camera movements that require constant repainting of foreground AND background are confined to scenes of the deer running around. Most of the violent shots consist of only a few stills with hardly any animation at all. “Illusion of Life” animation has never been Schwizgebel’s ambition or intention. His mathematical background may be felt in the rhythmic editing and the detailed visual structure, but apart from the hunter’s garden there are no geometrical objects present like in many of his other films.

A two-color scheme

To really enjoy and understand the quality of the animation and the musical structure, motion** is indispensable. One thing that can be discussed looking at stills, though, is the film’s highly restricted color palette. Apart from black and white (that looks more like blue) there are only the complimentary colors green and red (towards ochre). Only water and sometimes the sky are rendered in light blue. The dog’s eyes and collar are always yellow-green while the deer remains red.

All four seasons are limited to the same basic colors (red and green). Especially the different shades of green (mixed either with black, white or red) are important for setting the particular mood. There is always only one light source and almost always hard light, so that we get strong cast shadows (usually black). Consequently, all the objects and characters have light areas and shadow areas. I specifically like that the shadow area of white objects like snow and the dog is olive green.

Apart from the metamorphosis there is another transformation present: In the domesticated deer’s point-of-view shots we see the painted dog dissolve into a blander looking pastel dog with less menacing eyes. This visual cue pays off later when the domesticated deer doesn’t recognize the danger of wild dogs/wolves anymore, even if they are as impressionistically colored as those three.
There is much more to this animated gem, so if you haven’t already seen it, I hope you’ll be able to find it somewhere**. I don’t think it’s on youtube, though.

* all the quotes come from a book called "Georges Schwizgebel – Animated Paintings". Although parts of this trilingual publication are linguistically inadequate (at least in German and English, I’m not sure about the French text) with minor factual flaws, I’d recommend it because of its high quality pictures and because it brings up all the aspects of these films. Besides, to my knowledge it was the only book available on the cinema of Georges Schwizgebel, unfortunately out of print now.

** Schwizgebel’s films up to 2004 are available on DVD (Les peintures animées de Georges Schwizgebel) www.filmsduparadoxe.com

All the images are the property of the owner.

Monday, December 8, 2008

101 Dalmatians: Switching Perspectives

"She's watching us, dad"


This post is not going to be on color but on more general aspects of film narration that I have been thinking about ever since I noticed a pair of binoculars among Roger’s stuff.

Let me start with a detour: In films like Sporn’s The Emperor’s New Clothes or Welles’ Citizen Kane a multitude of characters tell their version of a story to an investigating character. All of them (including the investigating character) act as embedded narrators within the narrative that we as spectators see. Each narrator’s story adds some information that wouldn’t be available to the others, so finally we know more than any one character knew before. Yet, unlike with the conflicting versions in Rashomon for example, we have no reason to question these narrators’ credibility. So although each scene is restricted to the knowledge of its narrator, we see an objective version of what’s going on. In principle we are witnessing a detective story where everybody tells the truth.


My point is that this same concept is at work in many “normal” films (including 101 Dalmatians) – only less obvious and without a visible investigating character. Hitchcock, for exampl
e, frequently used his camera as an active investigative character that could focus on details not visible or known to any of the characters in the scene but is still highly restrictive (see Psycho). Upon closer examination it looks like narration here is usually restricted to one character’s knowlegde throughout a whole scene (comprising several consecutive shots). I say usually, because there are occasional cut-away shots that are stretching the concept a bit. Without an investigating character, the invisible superior storyteller (which for convenience’s sake I’ll call camera* in the following) has to subtly switch between these narrating agents.

As Mark Mayerson has already pointed out, the movie starts with Pongo’s voice over. Although he is by no means the narrator of the whole movie, this clearly establishes him as the protagonist. In fact we share his point of view until the end of Sq. 04 when all the adults go for an evening stroll. Of course, none of the other character narrators “tell” their story in voice over, because we have to believe that from the moment the puppies are stolen, the events are unfolding right now before our (and the characters’) eyes. But we are limited to their momentary knowledge over the course of a scene.

Even though I can’t say that the suspense opportunities are played to maximum effect, I still think it’s safe to state that Bill Peet did an incredible job in the story department that not even a conservative director like Woolie could ruin. Many scenes are built around characters observing each other secretely before they react to a situation. This theme is also visible in the backgrounds: think of all the peep-holes and windows.

Right from the beginning there are countless allusions to characters watching each other (there are unusually many point-of-view-shots throughout the movie). In fact, their behavior of observing and reacting tells us a lot about their personalities. Let’s look at our protagonist Pongo for a moment: The first h
alf of sequence 01 is constructed entirely of alternating shots of Pongo looking at something and shots of what he sees.

As a reaction to his seeing Perdi and Anita go to the park he takes the story in his hands and Roger for a walk. Then there’s the small interplay of Pongo and Perdi secretely peeking at each other. So we not only learn that Pongo is an active character, we also learn what he reacts to. It’s interesting (and sad) to see that there’s never a possibility for Perdi to take the lead because she always shares scenes with Pongo whom the camera is following consistently (even when Perdi leads the puppies through the snow, Pongo is the one to change directions). What a perfect example of cinema as a genuine expression of the male gaze! Never fear, I won’t digress into feminist film theory.

Roger (introduced as Pongo’s pet) on the other hand is the most passive character. He at best watches things happen and only reacts when forced into it. Even then he stands around hopelessly stiff. He is very detached from what goes on around him. Apart from pipes, books and musical instruments, there is always a pair of binoculars in his room. Whatever he may be watching seems to be far removed from his own life. We also learn that he looks at fashion models in magazines but does not notice Anita in the park.

I’d also like to focus on two more characters whose personalities are distinguished by how and when they react to what they see: Sgt. Tibbs and the Colonel. Tibbs is introduced as an alert and active character right away when he wakes the Colonel during the twilight bark. After seeing smoke coming out of Hell Hall, they both go to the main gate. While the Colonel waits out here, Tibbs is not only peeping through a window but enters immediately and peeks through a hole in the living room wall. After making sure he remains undiscovered, he starts investigating (constantly advancing from left to right). His first encounter with Jasper ends in an assault on his life.


Later, when Cruella is revealing her intention to kill the puppies, Tibbs is observing the scene through the same hole again. In fact he is the exclusive narrator in both of these scenes although what we see are objective shots from different positions within the room. Only after Cruella’s departure is he coming out of hiding and trying to get the puppies out before the Baduns’ TV show is over. In addition to that countdown suspense situation there is the formerly planted problem that the 15 are also more attracted by what’s on TV than what’s happening around them. After Tibbs and the pups have left the room, the camera stays with the Baduns and we share their point of view looking for the puppies until the Colonel finally dares to come closer and looks through the closed window in the hall.

His position as narrator/observer is clarified by his moving
to the next window so that we can see what’s going on in the living room. This change of perspective to outside enables the camera to switch to Pongo and Perdi more smoothly (we witness the Colonel hearing them). Even after the room has turned red and Tibbs is trying to protect the puppies, the Colonel stays at the closed window that eventually breaks when Jasper throws a chair in his direction. Only at the last moment he even sticks his head through a hole in the door but immediately follows Tibbs and the puppies back to the barn. Yet the camera remains close to Hell Hall until the Baduns leave it for good.


We experience the following family reunion as Tibbs and the Colonel witness it and after the dogs have left the barn, the Colonel is finally acting himself. As Mark Mayerson put it: “It’s an important moment because it shows that Tibbs and the Captain respect the Colonel for valid reasons and they’re not simply indulging him.” I like the narrative progression of the Colonel’s behaviour: He gradually makes his way closer to the danger (still observing and reporting) but is only reacting to it after the danger has come to his home. Tibbs on the other hand doesn’t hesitate for a moment.

After that, the camera follows the Baduns until they catch up
with the Dalmatians on the bridge. Like in a relay race Pongo takes over from that point in time until the scene fades to black. This “relay” technique helps to smooth the necessary transitions from one story thread to the other that normally is achieved by cross-cutting in such chase pictures. There are exceptions to this: the first seven shots of Sq. 13, for example, or the camera traveling to distant locales all by itself following the barking sound.











As we have seen, we can also share a minor characters’ (the cows’ in the Dairy Barn) or the villains’ perspective: In the first picture we know more than the
unsuspecting Radcliffes, in the second one the dogs try to escape their observer and know that they will be exposed any minute now. Both of them lead to different degrees of suspense: In the first one we ask ourselves: why are they being watched? In the second one the question is more specific: can the dogs escape in time?

As a matter of fact, the whole Dinsford scene consists of characters observing each other. Ironically in the end, the dogs are forced into watching their fate being decided by humans who have been portrayed as generally incompetent by now (the police wasn’t able to find the puppies, the Baduns couldn’t even do their job right). Coherently, it’s this incompetence that finally puts the villains out of action.

All screenshots are from Platinum Edition DVD, RC: 2, 2008 unless otherwise stated. All the pictures are the property of Disney, used here for educational purposes.

Sequences labelled according to the final draft (posted by Hans Perk) and Mark Mayerson’s mosaics.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Dalmatians and The Nightingale

One of the newly available LIFE photographs

Walt Disney’s Birthday
(December 5th, 1901) seemed a good day to me to relaunch my series on 101 Dalmatians. Even though The Old Man himself wasn’t too pleased with this film, the people working on it greatly benefitted from his absence.

However, I finally received my copy of The Films of Michael Sporn today and thus couldn’t resist watching The Nightingale tonight. So instead of a new analysis, I’ll just recapitulate what I’ve already analysed so far:

The introduction was mainly concerned with general thoughts about color styling and art direction focusing on the concept of Disney’s familiar “pool of light” lighting scheme.
In the first post I compared the different rooms of the Radcliffes’ (and Roger’s bachelor) apartment. Although each room’s predominant color reflects the inhabitant’s character and general mood, at this time everything seems to be lit naturally. Green is the unifying color here. Although Anita is a little underdeveloped story-wise, she usually wears colors that are complimentary to the backgrounds (more than those of any other character so far). This becomes clear in the theatrically staged birth sequence.
Post 2 was about different lighting setups of the kitchen and the living room as well as about shadows and silhouettes. We saw that life and color fades after the puppies have been stolen. The warmth returns in the end with even richer saturation. In all these scenes (up to Sq. 6), established color schemes are consistent throughout whole sequences. Inside lighting doesn’t seem to affect skintones too much (hue-wise).
Only in the third post Cruella has her big entrance shoving everybody else out of the spotlight. For once a Disney villain is not associated with darkness – her henchmen certainly are, however. So much so, that they even stand in the shadow at home. Cruella introduces the elements of pink and flashes of red.

The next post will be about the
theme of observing.