The construction of sound performs a series of important functions in an animated production. As an illustration, it is useful to think of a recent movie theater visit, where the audience has just entered the theater and taken their seats. It is vital that the animation transports the viewers to a world where their belief is suspended, and the most immediate way of doing that is through sound. Audiences commonly and mistakenly refer to sound in animation as a soundtrack. In fact, animated productions consist of elements of sound, namely dialogue and narration, music, and special effects, which are known as “stems” (see page 112).
Sound creates ambience and sets a level of expectation among the audience. By establishing a pace and rhythm it can introduce, set up, and showcase characters and situations, signify rises and falls in the tempo of the production, and similarly defi ne and support transitions and conclusions, thereby bringing the audience back to the real world. Put simply, sound is designed to envelop the production, binding the narrative structure together into a coherent and believable commodity.
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Used intelligently, sound can create an unexpected dimension to animated fi lm, allowing the bizarre to seem unerringly real, as illustrated by Max Hattler’s animated short, Spin (2010), which pairs 1940’s band music with the “escapist vision” of Busby Berkeley.
Audience perception of sound
The audience has become very adept at understanding sound in relation to animated production. Within a century, we have moved from silent animated feature fi lms to myriad aural possibilities. Disney’s Steamboat Willie (1928) succeeded in helping the audience feel the emotional content in the fi lm.
Such astonishing developments have been accomplished through a mixture of directorial ambitions, production developments, technical advances, and, perhaps most signifi cantly but least appreciated of all, the highly knowledgeable understanding of the relationship between image and sound exhibited by the audience.
Some of this knowledge is part of our human makeup, as we are able to process, absorb, appreciate, and understand sound more effi ciently than we can visuals, thus fast-tracking our understanding of particular scenes.
For example, our fi eld of vision is physically limited to 180 degrees, whereas our experience of sound is an all-encompassing 360 degrees. Therefore, utilizing animation to appeal to both sight and hearing in unison allows potentially very complex ideas to be communicated. In animated propaganda fi lms, the properties of vision and sound are accentuated to provide a sense of drama, but also to provoke the audience to remember what they have seen. Good examples include Jan Svankmajer’s The Death of Stalinism in Bohemia (1990) and Piotr Dumala’s Franz Kafka (1992).
This balance is worth investigating when watching animation. It is entirely possible to have a relatively simple visual scene illustrated for the audience, but then to manufacture a complex sound design to accompany it. The resulting scene envelops the audience in a rich and varied moving visual and aural landscape, which creates an assault on the senses, but which is largely led by the design of the sound. A good example of this occurs in Christopher Nolan’s Inception (2010), where the street scene appears to explode, animated through a stunning mixture of visual effects, but characterized by the score and complemented by recorded and foley effects (see page 121) which combine to create an arresting and bewildering sequence for the audience. Turn the sound down while watching this sequence to understand how much of the drama comes through the sound design.
Sonic interpretations of space and time
Sound aids the audience’s spatial understanding of the production using depth, height, and width by means of signal processing, mixing, and
panning. For example, manipulating the frequency, volume, or pitch of sound can achieve sonic depth, while using reverberation has the effect of creating a scene that is spatially consistent. Panning allows exaggerations of sonic width by placing sounds compositionally in a space, so they can be heard in different parts of the auditorium. For example, the rumble of tanks might be heard toward the rear of an auditorium, while the sounds of light gunfi re and a soldier’s breathing might be heard at the front. This will make the viewer more conscious of the immediate action, but also aware of the context of the
One of the world’s foremost animators, Jan Svankmajer is famous for his surreal fi lms that often have propagandist themes, illustrated here by The Death of Stalinism in Bohemia (1990).
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battlefi eld. The development of sound design is particularly important in this regard, as animated productions move away from traditional screens, to portable transmission devices, enlarged IMAX cinemas capable of showing animated productions, and holographic projection systems capable of bringing augmented-reality environments to life.
Sound is also a signifi cant component that directors use to play with the perception of time in an animated production. For example, while a dramatic cut to a visual close-up allows the audience to examine a depiction in greater detail, such edits can sometimes appear static. The corresponding
soundtrack must, therefore, compensate for the seeming loss in movement taking place outside of the picture frame by providing a continuum and an enhanced sense of tension or suspense. The use of sound can also introduce, accompany, and emphasize accelerations and decelerations in time-based narratives. This principle is creatively applied to all kinds of animated productions, using the concepts of fast-forwarding, replays, slow motion, and fl ashbacks as devices that help the audience comprehend narrative sequential content. A very good example of the compression of time happens in the Disney•Pixar animated feature Up (2009), where the scenes detailing the love affair and relationship between Carl and Ellie Fredricksen are aurally developed entirely through the musical score, without the need for written dialogue. Michael Giacchino’s score skillfully depicts the highs and lows of the Fredricksens’ life while packaging the premise of the story emotively for viewers.
The grammar of sound
Exploiting the opportunities of sound gives further permission to the director to allow reality to exist plausibly through invention and articulation.
For example, sound themes can be attributed to characters to reinforce a particular point of view. Such themes are known as motifs. Many examples exist in animated features, but perhaps the most iconic are the sound interludes that govern the continual antics of such characters as Tom and Jerry, where comedic moments are musically interpreted with high-pitched, playful interventions using wind instruments, while moments of grave danger or impending doom are illustrated by forceful interjections of vigorous piano playing.
As animation relies extensively on the artifi cial creation of forms, so too must the sound design have the fl exibility to enable non-literal sounds to exist and fl ourish. For example, a scene that depicts a trapdoor slowly opening might reasonably be expected to be accompanied by a creaking, groaning sound, suggesting a nasty surprise. However, if the sound instead is a fl ock of birds singing a morning chorus, the sound encourages the audience to expect a more positive, uplifting discovery. Creating such aural metaphorical situations is clearly important in fostering a belief system around the
characterization of objects and forms. Removing literal sounds from one plane of existence and transposing them into another imagined situation
The opening sequence of Disney•Pixar’s Up (2009), where Carl and Ellie’s marital relationship is introduced and developed, offers a master class in presenting and establishing character and environment using a condensed time frame.
© 2009 Diseny/Pixar
with smooth sonic transitions can help exaggerate visual effects in a believable but uncompromising manner.
Perhaps the most signifi cant requirement of the sound design in the production is the possible scope for enabling tension and release to mirror narrative intent. In tonal music, harmonies written with dissonant chords create tension whereas consonant chords provide a welcome release.
Both instrumentation and dialogue perform these variations, where the cutting edge of a screeching electric guitar creates greater tension than the melodic dalliance of a clarinet, or where an actor’s punchy delivery spikes at the heart of a subject but a lilting soft accent skims the very edge of the piece. Further support can be provided by accompanying sound effects, so the scream of a bullet immediately awakens the audience, while waves breaking against the shore provide an altogether more refi ned air.