Ervin’s

I’m not an animator. Well, I’ve dabbled in it during my university days, building 3D models of ice cream tubs and animating them to fly through mountains and canyons made of ice cream…that was as close as I’ve come to being an animator.

But I love animation. I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember. In my formative years it was the classic Hanna-Barbera toons and the Disney holiday specials, then came the obsession with 80s toons and anime before the gifts of Studio Ghibli were discovered, followed by the magic of Pixar. The Internet also provided a chance to reach into the vault of classic shorts from America’s Golden Age of Animation: gems from studios like Disney, Warner Bros, MGM and the legendary Fleischer Studios.

But in terms of the transformative power of animated storytelling, the classic films of Disney started it all for me. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Dumbo, Pinocchio, Bambi, The Jungle Book, Sword in the Stone, Cinderella…the list goes on.

On 14 April 2008, Ollie Johnston – the last of Disney’s ‘Nine Old Men’ who were the animators responsible for the classic Disney features made from the 1930s to the 1970s – passed away at age 95, and with him goes a part of animation’s soul.

Johnston breathed life into films from Sleeping Beauty onwards. He made Pinocchio’s nose grow when he lied to the Blue Fairy, drew the adventures and terrors of the young Bambi (including the heartbreaking death of Bambi’s mother at the hands of a hunter), and created the exuberant dance of Baloo and Mowgli as they sang The Bare Necessities.

To date, the most treasured book I have on my shelf remains The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation, co-authored by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston – lifelong friends, neighbours and colleagues who were perhaps the two most accomplished of the nine ‘Old Men’ and the last to follow the first seven (Thomas passed away in 2004. He was 92).

The book is widely considered to be the definitive bible of modern animation. In it, Frank and Ollie (as they have been affectionately called for so long) documented the history, techniques, and more importantly the spirit and heart of Disney’s Golden Age animators.

I love the book so much it never left my shelf, even as I moved most of my reference and art books to the studio for the guys to use. But on learning of Ollie’s passing, it struck me: what good is a book that captures his life’s work as well as that of other Disney greats if it sits on my boring shelf instead of being in the hands of real animators? So from tomorrow onwards The Illusion of Life will be in the office, and I only hope that it can inspire the talented artists at Scrawl Studios as much as it has inspired a generation of today’s most prolific animators and storytellers.

Frank and Ollie

I’m not an animator, neither are millions of people who have grown up with Disney’s timeless films; who followed a wooden boy into the belly of the whale in search of a conscience and a father; and who cried silently in the theatre as Bambi takes one last, longing look towards the meadow where his mother used to be.

But it doesn’t take an animator to see and feel the emotional truths that Ollie Johnston, and indeed the great Disney animators, bring to their characters. It is a priceless reminder to all of us involved in animation that what we create on screen can and should be as personal and truthful as life itself – even one that is an illusion.

Rest in peace, Ollie. The Nine Old Men are back together again and heaven has just become a happier place.

Watch a moving Tribute To A Disney Legend and read a good remembrance here.

“Ollie was the only one of the Studio animators who was sensitive to character relationships and how they affected story. Back then cartoon characters seldom touched unless they hit each other. But one day Ollie said, ‘You know, the act of two people holding hands communicates in a powerful way.’ And he was right. His warmth made a difference in so many of our characters.”

- Frank Thomas ( 1912-2004 )

“Don’t animate drawings, animate feelings.”

- Ollie Johnston ( 1912-2008 )

Ok, so it isn’t a new kitchen, but there were some big screws involved…

Yes, yes, I know. I’m into heavy carpentry AND I watch manly sports like football.

Cannes has become a rather strange destination for me. Over my 7 visits in 3 years, I’ve developed a somewhat muted contempt for the place and even more so the 16 hours needed to get there. Yet it is undeniably a pretty little town in the South of France with great food and most of the time, great weather.

Not this time though. The weather was grim, cold and wet for pretty much the whole MIPTV market. Add to that a packed 3 days of high intensity meetings and it was less fun than usual – which was not unexpected, given that it’s my first time there as a producer.

Gone are the airport limousine transfers, swanky studio apartments, leisurely breakfasts, parties and meetings of an ‘introductory’ or ‘touch base’ nature customary with my previous employment. Now it’s bus rides to and fro the airport, apartments that feel like high class cells, cereal and milk breakfasts, tense operational and sales meetings, high-stress pitches and obligatory networking sessions where downing more than a couple of glasses of wine really wouldn’t do a lightweight like me any good if work is to be done.

That said, there is definitely a palpable sense of purpose to each day and meeting, a rush when the distributor tells you another sale has closed, an excitement when a pitch goes well and a keener anticipation as business opportunities present themselves.

It’s not all good news of course. There are pitches that went flat, thorny issues brought up by partners that need to be resolved, and perhaps a genuine appreciation of how competitive and tough this business is.

For the first time in 3 years after coming back from Cannes, I’m getting the feeling that a whole lot of work needs to begin on Monday morning.

The landlord’s primary weapon against intruders.

I’m blogging from Changi Airport’s spanking new Terminal 3. That’s a first. It’s been a airport-friendly few months for me, which I don’t mind although I’m not mad about flying – mainly because I’m not a sleeper.

It’s April and I’ve done New York, Toronto, Tokyo, off to Cannes in an hour and looks like it’s Seoul next month. I need my Krisflyer Gold, dammit.

Here’s a new addition to my Album of Wrong from the recent Tokyo trip. Makes you kinda glad it’s only a holiday.

I’ve got the tissue, but he’s got the issue.

For those who possess a natural curiosity for the tamed lives of civil servants in the media industry, particularly those involved in our fledgling local animation scene, they might have heard that I’ve recently gone to the dark side…or the light side, depending on how you look at it. I’m not quite sure myself.

And anyone living in Singapore will know – if you find a great food court, everything else around it is secondary.

Ghibli Museum, Mitaka, Tokyo

24 March 2008

I left Ghibli Musuem in a somewhat sombre mood. I had little to say to my friend whom I went with, and was quiet for most of the long walk back to Mitaka station. It confused me why I was feeling that way – almost depressed. I struggled to find an answer.

My thoughts searched back to the afternoon’s visit. For 2 hours or so I walked the halls and corridors of the museum, passing by Ghibli’s famed creations, concept art, original storyboards and handwriting from Miyazaki himself, seeing the research, dexterity, talent, love and heart that went into making these timeless animated films.

I saw the uninhibited joy of children surrounded by their favourite Ghibli characters, without a worry in the world except how to get themselves on the catbus and go flying with Totoro.

I could see the wonder in the eyes of adults seemingly lost in a world that calls out to their memories, beckoning them to let their childhood return for a few moments, for they have never quite gone away – only forgotten.

As I board the train back to the city, my thoughts return to the present and it struck me: I wanted to visit Ghibli Museum because I love the films and thought I’ll have a good time and be inspired. Truth is, inspiration was never the problem. The effect on me was much more profound. I felt the presence and more significantly, the pressure of true greatness. And It was terrifying.

But as I passed stations after stations, the fear subsided, replaced by a clarity and sense of pride – almost beaming pride – that I’m in the same profession as the magicians and storytellers at Studio Ghibli. The important thing is not that I even contemplate achieving what they have done, but that I felt their spirit and understood their purpose.

It fortified my resolve to produce the animated feature film that I was so voraciously writing and visualizing in my head not so long ago. Recently however, that project has at best ghosted in and out of my thoughts and dreams. Such is the toll of a new job and its worries.

Making an animated film would be nothing short of a herculean task on so many levels. In my heart though, I know that if my film touches just one person in the theatre the way Ghibli’s works touch a generation, it would have been worth every drop of sweat and tear to make it happen.