This year has givÂen us occaÂsion to revisÂit the 1928 DisÂney carÂtoon SteamÂboat Willie, what with its entry — and thus, that of an earÂly verÂsion of a cerÂtain MickÂey Mouse — into the pubÂlic domain. Though it may look comÂparÂaÂtiveÂly primÂiÂtive today, that eight-minute black-and-white film actuÂalÂly repÂreÂsents a great many advanceÂments in the art and techÂnolÂoÂgy of aniÂmaÂtion since its incepÂtion. You can get a sense of that entire process, just about, from the video above, “The EvoÂluÂtion of AniÂmaÂtion 1833–2017,” which ends up at The LEGO BatÂman Movie but begins with the humÂble phenakistisÂcope.
First introÂduced to the pubÂlic in 1833, the phenakistisÂcope is an illusÂtratÂed disc that, when spun, creÂates the illuÂsion of motion. EssenÂtialÂly a novÂelÂty designed to creÂate an optiÂcal illuÂsion (the Greek roots of its name being phenakizein, or “deceivÂing,” and Ăłps, or “eye”), it seems to have attained great popÂuÂlarÂiÂty as a chilÂdren’s toy in the nineÂteenth cenÂtuÂry, and it latÂer became capaÂble of proÂjecÂtion and gained utilÂiÂty in sciÂenÂtifÂic research. PioÂneerÂing motion phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer EadÂweard MuyÂbridge’s ZoopraxÂisÂcope, now immorÂtalÂized in cinÂeÂma hisÂtoÂry as a preÂdeÂcesÂsor of the movie proÂjecÂtor, was based on the phenakistisÂcope.
The first moments of “The EvoÂluÂtion of AniÂmaÂtion” include a couÂple of phenakistisÂcopes, but soon the comÂpiÂlaÂtion moves on to clips starÂring someÂwhat betÂter-known figÂures from the earÂly twenÂtiÂeth cenÂtuÂry like LitÂtle Nemo and GerÂtie the Dinosaur. But it’s only after SteamÂboat Willie that aniÂmaÂtion underÂgoes its real creÂative exploÂsion, bringÂing to whimÂsiÂcal and hyperÂkiÂnetÂic life not just human charÂacÂters but a host of aniÂmals, trees, and non-livÂing objects besides. After releasÂing the monÂuÂmenÂtal Snow White in 1937, DisÂney domÂiÂnatÂed the form both techÂnoÂlogÂiÂcalÂly and artisÂtiÂcalÂly for at least three decades. Though this video does conÂtain plenÂty of DisÂney, it also includes the work of othÂer stuÂdios that have explored quite difÂferÂent areas of the vast field of posÂsiÂbilÂiÂty in aniÂmaÂtion.
Take, for examÂple, the psyÂcheÂdelÂic BeaÂtÂles movie YelÂlow SubÂmaÂrine, the French-Czech surÂreÂalÂist sciÂence-ficÂtion fable FanÂtasÂtic PlanÂet, the stop-motion between-holÂiÂdays specÂtaÂcle of The NightÂmare Before ChristÂmas, and of course, the depth and refineÂment of Hayao MiyazaÂki’s StuÂdio GhiÂbÂli, beginÂning with NauÂsiÂcaä of the ValÂley of the Wind (which came before the forÂmaÂtion of the stuÂdio itself). From the mid-nineties — with cerÂtain notable excepÂtions, like WalÂlace & Gromit: The Movie and CharÂlie KaufÂman’s AnomÂaLÂisa — comÂputÂer-genÂerÂatÂed 3D aniÂmaÂtion more or less takes over from the traÂdiÂtionÂal variÂeties. This has proÂduced a numÂber of feaÂtures wideÂly conÂsidÂered masÂterÂpieces, most of them from the now-DisÂney-owned Pixar. But after expeÂriÂencÂing the hisÂtoÂry of the form in miniaÂture, it’s temptÂing to hope that the next stage of the aniÂmaÂtion’s evoÂluÂtion will involve the redisÂcovÂery of its past.
RelatÂed conÂtent:
Behold the World’s OldÂest AniÂmaÂtion Made on a Vase in Iran 5,200 Years Ago
GerÂtie the Dinosaur: The MothÂer of all CarÂtoon CharÂacÂters (1914)
EarÂly JapanÂese AniÂmaÂtions: The OriÂgins of AniÂme (1917–1931)
Based in Seoul, ColÂin Marshall writes and broadÂcasts on cities, lanÂguage, and culÂture. His projects include the SubÂstack newsletÂter Books on Cities, the book The StateÂless City: a Walk through 21st-CenÂtuÂry Los AngeÂles and the video series The City in CinÂeÂma. FolÂlow him on TwitÂter at @colinmarshall or on FaceÂbook.