Monday, September 17, 1979 is a day that lives in infamy. At least for the folks at Disney Feature Animation.
You see, that was the day that Don Bluth, Gary Goldman and John Pomeroy suddenly resigned from the Mouse House to form their own animation studio, Aurora. And over the four days, nine other animators would also depart from Disney for Bluth’s new company. Which effectively gutted WDFA’s recent rebuilding efforts.
Whereas Monday, September 24, 1979 is a date that is not as well known to animation fans. Though it probably should be. Given that this was the very first day that 22-year-old John Lasseter — a recent recruit from Cal Arts — reported for work at the Mouse Factory.
“Here I was thrilled to be at Disney,” recalled Lasseter,” and everyone was moping around.”
You know, I had never heard that story before. But then again, there were literally dozens of stories that I’d never heard before in Michael Rubin’s excellent “Droidmaker: George Lucas and the Digital Revolution” (Triad Publishing, October 2005), this thoroughly entertaining & informative history of Lucas’s effort to revolutionize filmmaking.
Copyright 2005 Triad Publishing
Mind you, the beauty of Rubin’s book is that the strands of this story run in so many different directions. Because — in order to tell the story of George Lucas and his extremely private companion — you first have to talk about George’s mentor, Francis Ford Coppola. Not to mention his contemporary & frequent collaborator, Steve Spielberg.
But it’s not just George’s director pals who get the chance to step in the spotlight in “Droidmaker.” Rubin also allows us to get to know relatively private people like WDFA’s new president, Ed Catmull. Who …
“While still a graduate student in Utah (in 1972), Catmull met with Disney technologists to discuss applying computers to animation. They — in turn — asked Catmull if he’d be interested in helping them work on the development of their Space Mountain attraction.”
Or — better yet — the man that Catmull co-founded Pixar with, Alvy Ray Smith. Who (because of a silly argument that Alvy once had with Steve Jobs over — of all things — a whiteboard) tends to be overlooked these days when it comes to discussing the many breakthroughs that Smith personally helped bring about in the field of computer animation.
Given that it seems like everyone is making CG films these days, it’s important to remember what a virtual impossibility computer animation seemed to be just thirty years ago. As Rubin recounts in “Droidmaker” :
From time to time, Ed and Alvy (Ray Smith) would do the math on the back of a napkin over dinner … If they had to buy the computer equipment in 1977, it might cost seventy-five billion dollars to make a movie, which, needless to say, was unrealistic. If Moore’s Law continued to be a reliable metric — and at the time this was unknown — (that) $75 billion price would cut in half every eighteen months. In three years it might cost $15 billion; in nine years only $600 million. It would take about fifteen years before the price reached dollars that would be realistic for a movie — $30 million.
Pixar co-founders (L to R) Ed Catmull & Alvy Ray Smith
Copyright 2005 Triad Publishing
What’s almost stunning about Catmull & Smith’s prediction here is how absolutely on the money it was. For serious development of Pixar’s first feature length animated film, “Toy Story,” didn’t actually began until 1992. The very year that Ed & Alvy predicted that the cost of doing CG would finally reach a low enough point that Hollywood’s moguls might then begin entertaining producing a project such as this.
If you’re a fan of modern film history and have ever wondered how we arrived in today’s HD world … Then you have to read “Droidmaker.” For Rubin does a masterful job of tying all of these seemingly loose strands together. Creating this immensely readable account about how the digital revolution really came about.
On the other hand, if you’re just a Disney fan and have absolutely no interest in learning about how CG came to be … I still urge you to pick up a copy of “Droidmaker.” For there are some Disney-related gems in this 518-page hardcover about what the studios were actually like in the 1970s & early 1980s (I.E. That period between Roy Disney’s death & Michael Eisner’s arrival that is still woefully under-reported) that are just wonderful.
Take — for example — Rubin’s story about the afternoon that Lasseter, Catmull and Smith finally bonded. As Michael tells this tale …
… Ed and Alvy continued to go back to Disney each year, exchanging ideas with the technologists, meeting animators, interviewing all of them about the process and production. “We knew we could solve their problems and save them money,” said Alvy.
In the fall of 1983, on their annual pilgrimage, they decided to visit their old acquaintance, John Lasseter, in the animation building. Lasseter, still a round-faced kid with glasses, invited them to check out what was going on in the department. Last they heard he was trying to put “The Brave Little Toaster” together, but that repeatedly hit snags.
Newly hired WDFA employee John Lasseter
Copyright 1983 Walt Disney Productions
Lasseter was different from the other Disney animators. While most retreated the moment Alvy began to discuss computers, Lasseter was immediately excited by everything that Alvy said. He wanted to hear all about their progress and anything Ed and Alvy could tell him about Lucasfilm.
They all shared a love of animation, and as soon as John realized how profound this was, he led the pair deep into the studio’s Ink and Paint building, down the stairs, to an area called the Morgue. Here, in a relatively unsecured area, Disney Studios kept all the cels and artwork from all the films. John pushed open the door and flipped on the light, revealing a basement full of shelves, file cabinets and flat drawers.
He turned to the guys: “What do you want to see ?”
“You’re kidding,” said Alvy.
“What do you want to see ?,” John repeated with confidence.
“Oh, God, how about (the) Dancing Hippos from ‘Fantasia‘ by … what’s his name … Preston Blair … Preston Blair’s Dancing Hippos.”
“Okay,” said John, and he walked over to a chart, scanned it for a moment, then pulled a folder from a bookshelf, opened it … and there were Preston Blair’s original drawings of the Dancing Hippos.
Copyright Walt Disney Productions
John flipped through the drawings to make them animate. “I’m in heaven,” thought Alvy. Ed left Alvy with John, elbows deep in animation history. “What do you want to see now ?” asked Lasseter, and the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon pulling out scenes … from “Fantasia” … from “Dumbo” … reminiscing about the movies, getting to know one another.
Isn’t that a great story ? Well, Michael Rubin’s the only guy to ever report about this truly crucial moment in Disney company history. So if you’d like to learn more about all the little incidents like this that ultimately led to John Lasseter & Ed Catmull becoming the heads of both Disney & Pixar Animation Studios, I suggest that you pick up a copy of “Droidmaker : George Lucas and the Digital Revolution.”
Your thoughts?