Are you curious why animated storytelling has become so complicated today?
I remember a cartoon I sketched at the Disney studio back in the sixties. In the drawing, an executive is making a movie pitch as he strides alongside a very bored looking Walt Disney. The executive begins his pitch by saying, “It’s about this monkey…”
Those of you old enough to have been around in the sixties might recall a series of live-action Disney movies that featured monkeys. “The Barefoot Executive,” “Monkeys Go Home,” to name a few. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t enter a sound stage on the Disney lot without seeing a chimp or two preparing for scene in the latest simian spectacular. For some odd reason, people seem to love these adorable critters. From Cheeta the chimp in the old Tarzan movies, to “Bedtime for Bonzo.”
That brings me to the story of another appealing little chimpanzee, and the animation studio he’s caused a fair amount of grief. Some years ago, a major Hollywood studio acquired the rights to a book about the sweet little simian. The movie idea bounced from studio to studio, as the filmmakers tried to decide how they wanted to produce the film. Would it be live-action, CGI, or a combination of the two? Finally, they decided the only way to tell the sweet little story about a monkey and a man in a yellow hat was to produce the film using traditional animation.
I first heard about this movie idea while working at Pixar Animation Studios up in the bay area. Actually, it was rumored that one of my co-directors might even helm the project. However, in the strange world of Hollywood movie making things are always changing. Soon, another director was attached to the film, and the project actually seemed to be getting underway.
Much to my surprise, I received a phone call one afternoon from the film’s director. The director and I had worked together at the Disney studio, and wondered if I would be interested in doing story work on the film. Before I knew it, I was totally involved in this “monkey business,” and having a great time. The project looked promising even though much of the story had not been worked out. Unfortunately, many films of late have suffered from the lack of a well thought out story, but I was hopeful that this would soon change. After all, how hard could it be? A movie based on a simple children’s book could not pose that much of a challenge — or could it?
Recently, this delightful children’s tale about a monkey (actually, he’s a chimp) and a man in a yellow hat, has had its problems. Of course, any film in development has a fair share of difficulties. Bringing any story to the screen has many pitfalls, and as one who has worked on over a dozen feature films in my career, I’m well aware of that. However, something else has been added to animation’s share of woes recently, and maybe I could sum it all up by calling it, “Monkey Business.”
Back in the late eighties, I took a break from film to work as a writer in Disney’s emerging publishing business. I still kept in touch with my movie pals however, and began to be aware of a new term film makers were using to describe the executives assigned to their projects. “Phone Monkey,” was the unflattering term the filmmakers bestowed upon the legion of “suits” that made a habit of looking over their shoulders while they were trying to make a film. More often than not, these studio minions would arrive in a conference room, or on a sound stage with a cell phone “glued” to the sides of their heads. Their job was to monitor progress on a project and report to the bosses upstairs. Granted, a feature film today is a hefty investment, and one should not be faulted for making sure their investment is secure. Having said that, it appears far too many projects today are not only watched by executives — they’re driven by executives.
Flash back to the animated film I was working on last year. Another project that fits neatly into this category. I won’t mention the project’s name. Let’s just say it’s about a monkey and a man in a yellow hat. I confess I started off enjoying myself because this kind of cute subject matter is something I particularly enjoy. Yet, I had to “fire” myself off the project because no one seemed to know what the movie was about. I’ve become a bit of a loud mouth in my old age, so I thought it best to leave the show lest I cause bad feelings with my constant grousing about the story. With all due respect to my colleagues laboring on the film, I respect their talents and wish them well. Still, I couldn’t help but be reminded how much things have changed since I began my career as a story artist at Disney many years ago. How the whole film making process has turned into a convoluted mess.
Those of you familiar with the Disney story development process in Walt’s day know that the “Story Men,” as we were called in those ancient times, were the animated film’s screenwriters. This was a concept that served Disney well for decades, yet, completely befuddled the live-action types that took over the company in the early eighties. Those Hollywood hot shots seemed unable to comprehend a storyboard, and insisted on having a script before green-lighting a movie. Keep in mind, I’m not only talking about Disney, but every mainstream studio around now follows this directive. Funny thing is — if the idea of using a screenplay is so effective, why has the story telling been so poor?
Today, it’s not unusual for an animated film to have a dozen screenwriters hammering away at the script. The storyboard crew that translates these script pages into visuals has also grown in number. I can’t help but be reminded of my first job as a story artist in the laid back sixties at the Disney studio. There were probably only six of us, along with old time gag writer, Larry Clemmons, on “The Jungle Book.” We managed to craft this story with almost remarkable ease compared to today’s convoluted story development process. We worked a normal five-day week as was customary at Walt’s studio. There was no overtime, long hours, or frantic weekends. Finally, instead of pitching to a legion of executives, we pitched to only one person, and his name was Disney. Unlike today’s overpaid managers, Walt actually understood what he was looking at, and whether or not it worked. I confess that working for one of the greatest, and toughest story editors in the business spoiled us.
There are several animated films in either development or production today. I’m willing to bet each and every one of them has already been through several drafts with no end in sight. Yet, no matter how many screenwriters take a swing at animated films today, the results have been less than desirable. As a matter of fact, with the exception of Pixar Animation Studios, I’ve yet to be impressed with any of animation’s recent story telling efforts. Maybe it’s time to let the story artists be storytellers again. Perhaps screen writers need to learn that animated films work best when the story is crafted visually, and not the other way around. Finally, haven’t we had enough interference by studio executives who think they know story structure simply because they took a few classes with Truby or McKee?
Finally, I long for the day when story artists can once again tell animated stories. When creative storytellers do more than just translate poorly written script pages into visuals. When executives realize that in order to work effectively in the medium, you must first understand the medium. Then, and only then, will this “Monkey Business” be over.