Production - Stop Motion: Passion, Process and Performance - page 275

and the Wolf lies on Grandfather's chest, purring away, its chest rising and falling perfectly, with
the fur fanning out and contracting. This must be achieved through some internal mechanism,
enabling the fur not to be touched.
Staging
Doors
As animators enjoy imbuing inanimate characters with personalities, I try to give the props and
set all manner of resonances. Doors are a useful dramatic device both on stage and on i lm,
giving a sudden entrance. (My favourite theatre, the Royal Exchange, is slightly handicapped,
being in the round. Actors have to run a good twelve feet before they are actually on stage,
and then more to be visible by everyone. The split-second timing of entrances demanded by
genres such as farce is trickier to achieve here.) Editing can create a sudden entrance, necessary
not only for tension and excitement, but also for moving the plot along. Doors have so many
signii cances, and a thesis could be written about the importance of doors as a dramatic
element. They are useful to introduce or say farewell to characters; to suggest something
unseen; to suggest a journey, whether real or emotional; to suggest beginnings and endings;
or to suggest things kept secret - many possibilities, and a terrifying image is simply a door
handle being turned or a character tentatively reaching for a doorknob. Questioning what
is on the other side, the potential for suspense is enormous. Films like The Others exploit this
wonderfully. Doors can represent a moment of decision, a i nality or a beginning. Any of us
unfortunate to have attended a cremation will know how emotional the sight of a door closing
can be. As with the door handle, much can be read into a static shot of a door.
Doors are a great catalyst for expression, as how a character leaves or enters says so much
about them, and coming through a door always draws focus. It is instant and immediate. In
animation we often deal with alternative worlds and perspectives, where doors provide a link.
In Suzie Templeton's Peter and the Wolf , Peter starts the i lm in a cage, needing to break out of
a door to experience the adventure with the wolf. By the end, it is Peter who is free but has put
the wolf behind a door. Sensing this, he frees the wolf.
I use doors a lot in my work, but animating a character through one is usually incredibly i ddly
as there's inevitably a moment when you cannot reach all of the puppet. Usually, the doors of
a character's house in a children's TV series rel ect the scale and style of the character. This is
i ne until another character has to walk through. In the whacky world of animation one size
seldom i ts all. Animating the door itself is hugely satisfying, as even the beginner can make a
door slowly creak open or slam shut with the added vibration to show the energy. In real life we
would not actually see the door vibrating, but it's a cheap and ef ective trick.
In my i lm and stage work I use doors hidden within more illustrative parts of the set. The
palace doors behind which the Duke has imprisoned Rigoletto's daughter look like
a deceptively pastoral painting. Screen Play is all about sliding doors, playing on
characters' entrances and exits, and changing perspectives. Hamilton Mattress has
numerous doors hidden in the jungle panorama of the nightclub. With Hamilton
thrown out into the alleyway, the closing of the door, and its fading light, is a
moment of desolation. Every stage piece I've designed has hidden doors as a way
of making a character instantly appear on stage, often from the least expected of