(easygoing music)
- Yo, whaddup, Wisecrack?
Kris here to talk about the brains
behind some of the most beautiful images
in modern cinematic history.
That's right, director Hayao Miyazaki
and his animation house, Studio Ghibli.
Now, any film nerd worth their artisanal salt can tell you
that these films are masterful,
offering feast after feast for the senses,
but always with a generous,
occasionally too generous,
dose of heart that leaves this grown man
ever-so-occasionally in tears.
But recently, the studio debuted its first 3D animated film,
"Earwig and the Witch,"
directed by Miyakazi's son, Goro Miyazaki, to
(crickets chirping)
a cacophony of crickets.
And while we've long been plagued by the stupendous failings
of overly-realistic three-dimensional animation,
we feel like something different is going on here.
Specifically, we think that "Earwig's" shortcomings
reveal something important about
what makes Miyazaki's other films so great.
And it has everything to do with flatness.
We'll explain in this Wisecrack Edition on
"Studio Ghibli: Why 3D Animation Is Overrated."
And, as always, spoilers ahead.
And before we get into it,
we have a big announcement,
so Michael, the floor is yours.
- (laughing) Yeah, yeah, sure, Kris.
You're crazy, man.
But the real reason I'm here is to let everyone know
that Wisecrack's "Ricky and Morty" podcast, "The Squanch,"
is coming back.
Season 5 of "Rick and Morty" starts on June 20th,
and we're gonna be stayin' up late
to break down new episodes right after they air.
It's hosted by "Show Me the Meaning's" Ryan Hailey
along with myself and a new guest each week.
It's the perfect way to unpack the show
and explore all the deep and weird themes in each episode.
And to get everyone ready for Season 5,
we'll be doing a special season preview episode
with our friend, Tommy Cook.
Wait, what was that, Kris?
Thank you.
I, too, think that this season of "The Squanch"
might be the best "Rick and Morty" podcast ever produced.
So be sure to subscribe to "The Squanch"
on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher,
or wherever you get your podcasts,
and subscribe to our "Wisecasts" YouTube channel,
where you'll be able to watch video versions of the podcast
and catch a livestream of "The Squanch"
following the season premiere on June 20th.
And now, back to the...
Oh, sorry.
- No problem, Michael.
- [Both] And now, back to the show.
- Now, not to break your poor, precarious little hearts,
but let's start by watching this poignant moment
from Studio Ghibli classic, "Ponyo."
Obviously, there's the heartbreak
of watching a fish-girl turned human-girl
revert back into fish-girl form.
But there's something else
that makes this scene so damn compelling.
Strangely enough, it's the scene's flatness.
Like, watch again as the boy runs
with his favorite fish-girl.
See how there's literally no sense of depth?
This flatness isn't just some accidental visual choice.
It's part of what makes Miyazaki films so,
well,
Miyazaki.
To understand why,
we need to examine Miyazaki's animation
within the broader context of Japanese visual art.
The most obvious comparison
that comes to mind is the ukiyo-e,
a genre of Japanese woodblock paintings
which peaked in popularity during the Edo era,
between the 17th and 19th centuries.
It's known for its depictions
of middle-class urban life in Japan,
like these fun folks
apparently having a violent dance party
or these folks coveting their neighbor's garden.
See, at the time, the middle class was flourishing,
but strict class measures prevented members
from using their newfound moolah to gain political power.
Instead, they,
much like the college freshman with a brand new credit card,
spent their cultural capital going to the theater
or hanging out in the bathhouse.
These ukiyo-e images reflected this new reality
by combining depictions of decadent urban life
with traditional Japanese art stylings.
As a result,
the images tended to explore tensions
between the sublime innocence of nature
and the moral disarray of modern life.
It's kinda like the menacing nature of this tunnel
as compared with the tranquil simplicity
of the clouds lurking beyond it.
This dichotomy between modern city life
and tradition is everywhere in Ghibli films,
like when they explore the tensions
between a forest lover like Princess Mononoke
and a militant deforestation advocate like Lady Eboshi.
And the visual language that they use to do this
is flatness.
See, European art since the Renaissance
has generally shown a major preoccupation
with creating the illusion of depth,
with obvious exceptions in movements
like Impressionism and Pop Art.
But Japanese art has long reveled
in the possibilities presented by just two dimensions,
and not just in Miyazaki animation films.
Now, what's interesting about flatness
and Miyazaki's use of it is how it stands
against the prevailing ideology of modern animation.
According to scholar Thomas LaMarre,
animation has, since the early days of Disney,
struggled with cinematism -
that is, the successful display of motion via depth.
It's cinematism that allows you
to feel yourself actually traveling into the screen.
That's what LaMarre calls the ballistic angle,
because of the forceful way it brings you into the image.
And cinematism was the great struggle of early animators,
none more so than our favorite OG mouseketeer.
To this end, Disney invented the multiplane camera.
This allowed him to adjust the dimensions
of every individual layer of animation
in order to give the illusion of motion
via the depth of the image.
The logical conclusion of this work
has been the hyper-three-dimensionality
of Pixar's animated films.
And this, to many, sums up the wonders of modern animation.
But Miyazaki has always been different.
He doesn't use a multiplane camera
or employ a style that emphasizes the ballistic angle
of moving into the screen.
Rather, he favors what LaMarre describes as
"lateral movement in ways
that undercut the sensations of depth,"
like this lateral-moving car ride.
That's in part because Miyazaki worries
that the ballistic angle can even
be potentially dangerous for kids
by destroying "their imaginations and relations to nature"
through its overly prescriptive visual cues.
He avoids this by creating a superplanar image,
which, as LaMarre explains,
"tends to produce motion on the surface
as the different layers of the image vie for attention,
transforming the image into an informatic space."
You can see that in this moment of "Spirited Away"
where the library books,
rather than existing in a different plane,
seem to be directly colliding with witch-lady's head.
Here, rather than simply sweeping us into an image
that reflects proportions of the real world,
which can be readily understood,
Miyazaki does something very different.
Specifically, he compresses the various layers
of the image all together,
creating a visually consuming sense
of "complex superflatness."
This makes it difficult to decide where to feast your eyes,
particularly when there's a literal feast involved.
By creating a flat image,
Miyazaki doesn't privilege any one part of the frame.
Frequently, his backgrounds undulate,
creating "strobing effects that produce patterns,"
further overwhelming the eye,
as in this delightful moment of "Ponyo."
The effect can be dizzying, impressionistic,
and more overwhelming to the eye,
and thus more emotional.
Remember that moment when we see Sosuke running
against the blurred background of the tunnel?
We also see this during the typhoon sequence in "Ponyo,"
which is reminiscent of traditional Japanese paintings
like these.
The focus in this sequence is far less on the realism
of how waves or branches crash and move,
but rather the emotions
that the dizzying movement can evoke.
Which brings us to "Earwig,"
Ghibli's first foray into the world of 3D animation,
an art form that's been lighting up screens
since these immortal words.
- To infinity
and beyond!
- Obviously,
moving into 3D necessarily represented a pretty big leap.
After all,
this is a studio whose currency
has long been beautifully-rendered, hand-drawn animation
that leans into the flatness of Japanese visual culture.
But that's not necessarily why it didn't work,
at least in our opinion.
Rather, in converting Ghibli's style into three dimensions,
the aesthetic ironically lost its sense of complexity.
Perhaps it's no wonder
that the most visually interesting part of the film
happens to be the seemingly hand-illustrated title card.
The comparative realism required of 3D animation
necessitates losing so much
of what makes Miyazaki's films so good in the first place.
Here, the expressionistic sense of danger
when unrealistic waves crash across the screen
is replaced by a strangely boring sense
of true gravitational force.
Nowhere is this more clear
than in the visual representations of food.
There's a reason Studio Ghibli's onscreen dishes
have inspired their fair share of YouTube cooking videos.
Their meals are iconically rendered.
Here, Ghibli follows in a long tradition
of using flatness to accentuate the magic
of morsels hitting our taste buds.
Take artist Paul Cezanne's
or Vincent Van Gogh's paintings,
both called "Apples"
and both of which show your teacher's favorite snack
depicted on flattened planes.
These paintings are similar to Ghibli's food scenes
in that the food appears more appealing
than it might in real life.
They're more like symbols of apples
than a real representation of the fruit.
That's kinda like how the simmering bowl
of ramen in "Ponyo" feels,
more like a symbolic representation
of that most wholesome, stomach-warming dish.
Now compare that
to "Earwig's" depressingly realistic depiction
of lemon-garnished fish and chips
that makes me pretty sure I never wanna eat again.
Ultimately,
Miyazaki's hand-drawn films use the flattening of space
to evoke subjective emotions rather than peddling
in any sense of objective reality.
Judging from the results of "Earwig,"
when you lose that,
you lose what makes the studio's 2D films so special.
What do you guys think?
Was "Earwig" the first major misstep for Studio Ghibli?
Did losing its roots
in the Japanese visual culture of flatness
ruin what made it so great?
Let us know in the comments.
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And as always, thanks for watching.
Peace.
(upbeat music)
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
This makes- - Cool.
- Got it.
I was just moving back
and listening to your voice in my head
backwards while finding it.
I found it. I'm ready to rock.