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Ryan - A Film by Chris Landreth
Computer Animation As It Should Be
Category: Regulars, Subcategory: Terry Lowe
Contributed by Terry Lowe on February 14, 2005
Most mainstream computer animation sucks. Generally what we see are three themes: starships, medieval warriors, and big boobs. These reflect the obsessions of those who developed the technology: Star Trek, Dungeons and Dragons, and 'Playmates' of the month. To me, that represents an absolute failure of the imagination: this is what you get when the technology remains in the hands of dorks instead of being placed in the hands of artists.
Animation is supposed to illustrate and illuminate imaginary worlds. Through most of its short history, the emphasis in computer animation has instead been on exactly the opposite: reflecting the existing world with greater and greater realism. That is useful for engineers, but leaves movie audiences believing that the technology cannot be used for anything creative or imaginative. True to form, Hollywood has found that those three prevailing themes are quite profitable, so that's all they produce. If we want to see artists at work, we must look elsewhere.
I looked in my newspaper and saw that the Pacific Cinémathèque was screening Ryan, leapt to the computer and bought a ticket from their website. And then hustled off downtown to have my mind blown.
Ryan is a 14-minute masterpiece of modern animation, as befits its subject matter. It shows some interviews/meetings with Ryan Larkin, who in his day was also a groundbreaking animator, working for the National Film Board in Montreal. In 1968, he produced the film Walking - an animated tour de force which won him an Oscar nomination, and more or less single-handedly modernized the art of animation. In response, the Film Board gave him a budget and told him to do whatever he wanted. He produced another equally innovative film (Street Musique), which unfortunately proved to be his last.
The story of Ryan Larkin's demise is a well-known one: cocaine and alcohol abuse leads to an inability to work, and eventually the guy ends up on the street. And that is where he still is, panhandling for beer money and lucky to have $10 in his pocket at any given time.
Ryan shows us the modern world of Ryan Larkin. It takes the form of a documentary, 'shot' in some hideous cafeteria where society's rejects wait to die, rendered in a smoky liquid style that looks like Salvador Dali in Hell's Third Class Waiting Room (the film was made entirely using Maya software). Ryan sits at a long table, smoking and consenting to be interviewed, interrupted now and then by a pair of little hands that pop out of his Thermos, waving and chirping for his attention (time for another drink).
The documentary form allows some pieces of Ryan's original work to be interspersed, and includes comments from people who used to know him and love him. And since good animation is a form of magic, this is very moving as we see the enormity of the talent that was lost there, and the effect that that loss has had on him. The soundtrack of the film uses actual recordings, made on location. We hear Ryan's voice react with amazed and gentle surprise when he is shown some of the original drawings he did for 'Walking' back in his other life. We see the ravaged wretch that he's become still able to express longing for his old beloved.
And we see his deep rage when the interviewer naively suggests that Ryan should 'clean up his act', get back to work, etc. Ryan sits and quivers a bit, and then explodes in drunken fury, pounding the table (cigarettes flying everywhere, but careful not to tip the Thermos). The final scenes show him out on the street doing his panhandler routine, his jiving a degraded echo of the balletic grace he formerly achieved in his work.
This is not a pretty film, but it is a stunning one. It grabs you by the throat at the beginning, then relents to show some genuine beauty, and keeps you just scared enough throughout that you can't look away. It's compelling. It's 14 minutes you won't soon forget, and it's well worth the price of admission.
Pacific Cinémathèque will be showing Ryan again on Jan 19 (with The Triplets of Belleville), and prior to each evening feature from Jan 21 through to Jan 24. You have to be a member to see films there, but memberships only cost $3 per year. You can buy tickets online ($1.40 service charge), but you have to buy the membership at the door.
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