Do something, Gromit!’ The beauty of sculpting a project frame-by-frame

How can we preserve traditional techniques of creative storytelling in today’s world of artificial intelligence and emerging tech?  

While the rise of AI is transforming the creative landscape by making cinematic experiences more accessible and streamlining artistic processes, it’s important to remember that the best creations don’t always arise out of ease and convenience. 

We shouldn’t lose sight of the value of traditional techniques of storytelling.

So, while we should absolutely embrace new creative technologies, we shouldn’t lose sight of the value of traditional techniques of storytelling, of building something piece-by-piece, frame-by-frame. While the output for these types of projects isn’t as immediate, there is a lot of joy and satisfaction to be gained from discovering clever, creative solutions through slower, more hands-on processes. 

Above: Aardman Animation's new Wallace and Gromit film, Vengeance Most Fowl, is a brilliantly hand-crafted animations, and will be broadcast on Christmas Day on BBC One, and on Netflix from January 3rd.

Hand-crafted cinema

There is clearly still a market for traditional, story-led projects, as is evidenced by the excitement surrounding the release of the new Wallace and Gromit film, Vengeance Most Fowl. This December, as we sit down in front of our TV screens to enjoy BBC One’s classic Christmas television, we’ll be treated to new idents teasing the premiere of the latest film in the franchise. 

There is clearly still a market for traditional, story-led projects, as is evidenced by the excitement surrounding the release of the new Wallace and Gromit film.

As a huge fan of hand-crafted animation, I’ve always been impressed by Wallace and Gromit films, appreciating how everything is done by hand, even the special effects. Jay Grace, the director of the new Wallace and Gromit idents, recently discussed the meticulous process behind each 40-second vignette, describing sculpting each project frame-by-frame. 

I’m excited to tune in, but also grateful to see slow, intentional craft celebrated on a national stage once more. As a big believer in doing as much as possible in-camera, whether it's animation or live-action, Jay’s account of “carefully shaping white felt around objects to create a convincing snowy landscape" really resonated with me. 

Above: The  music video for Peter Beatty's Tell Me Where To Go, directed by Beatty and Joseph Boyle, took two years to create.

As a senior editor, I build narratives daily through editing, piecing together key moments, enhancing emotion with song choices and pacing. But one of my most rewarding projects was a music video I recently co-directed with my friend and musician, Peter Beatty for his new single, Tell Me Where To Go. This project, which took two years to craft, and recently earned a nomination for best music video at The British Animation Awards, was created using multi-plane animation, an old technique used by Disney.

Multi-plane animation is not a quick process. It’s a real labour of love, with each shot being built up layer-by-layer, across multiple panes of layered glass (seven panes, for this process), while the camera captures the scene from above. The music video features a Kandinsky-esque time portal, through which the protagonist travels across the universe, leaving his physical form behind. 

After hundreds of shots and a night of intense concentration, there was nothing quite like hitting play and watching the world we’d created come to life. 

Each scene features layers of scattered stars (made of toilet roll dust pinged with light), painted clouds, trees and flowing rivers, cities with smoke (made of cotton wool) as our protagonist travels through the universe following a celestial light. 

The portal scene is something we discovered through the process. Pete and I always knew we wanted the perspective to change for that scene. Everything before that moves laterally, but once the portal takes over, the perspective becomes the point of view of the character. We discovered that if we added more panes of glass and moved the shapes up, pane-by-pane, towards the camera, it gave the impression of travelling through these shapes.

Each second of action consists of 24 still shots, each with infinitesimal adjustments. It’s a process in which you need to embrace all the imperfections that come with doing things by hand. But, after hundreds of shots and a night of intense concentration, there was nothing quite like hitting play and watching the world we’d created come to life.