I want to retire my old laptop, and therefore have been slowly wading through my files, organizing and making sure that everything’s backed up. The process is often frustrating as there is a lot of mess to clean up from hasty back-ups with confusing names and repetition, but has also led to nice rediscoveries, like of the following essay I wrote for an animation seminar. I remember feeling initially excited by the topic but then dissatisfied submitting the paper. I meant to also write about The Lion King and the use of animated film for national and global morality-making. Didn’t get to that. It doesn’t even really have a proper concluding statement but that’s mostly school formatting stuff anyway…it does have a bit of that school essay feel to the writing, but after revisiting I’ve decided it’s not too embarrasing. I was the sort of foolish student that, if unhappy with my work, I’d submit a final and never return to see what feedback or grade I’d been given. As long as I passed the class I didn’t want to know. As far as I know only my professor and/or her TA have read it. I’d like to share it now and would enjoy reading any responses you may have.
Graciela
Animated Theology - The Secret of Kells
Scholarly discussions on film frequently leave out the subject of animation. This is puzzling given that animated films are widely popular, and that animation as a medium is arguably older than live-action film. However, it is perhaps appropriate that animation is not often discussed side to side with live-action since, while one could argue that all film is a form of animation, the creation of the animated image differs substantially from the live-action one. In this distinction â the wholly created nature and fantastic and symbolic potential of animation â new meanings can arise. Of course, there is not one way of making an animated film. Various distinct processes of animation exist which have all changed dramatically with the introduction of new technologies such as 3-D computer modeling programs and editing software. The created quality of animation remains intact, however, and this intrinsic theme of creation makes animation, I will argue, particularly well-suited to tackle religious subjects.
The vagueness of the term âreligionâ requires that a definition be established before delving into a discussion on it, especially one where it will be directly compared to another, seemingly unrelated term such as film and animation. Some view religion from the perspective of intimate faith and sense of the infinite, while others distinguish it as a social establishment. There is a tendency in the west to view âreligionâ and âmythologyâ as distinct (Lynden, 2), but I believe this stems from a history of de-legitimization of non-western religious traditions. Admittedly, this paper is biased to a western, Christian perspective, but I will refer to religion using Clifford Geertzâ detailed definition which states religion is âa system of symbols which acts to establish powerful, pervasive and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely realisticâ (quoted in Plate, 12).
From Geertzâ definition alone one can find similarities to the cinema. Undoubtedly films create âpowerful, pervasive and long-lastingâ impressions on moviegoers. A country as large and diverse as the United States arguably is held (culturally) together by the pervasiveness of its media. While film and television watching may have once been considered an idle pastime, the ongoing debate on (and demand for) representation of minorities in the media in contemporary American society attests to the fact that as a nation we acknowledge the influence that films have on our notions of self. As S. Brent Plate eloquently puts it in his book Religion and Film: Cinema and the Re-Creation of the World: âReligious worlds are so encompassing that devotees cannot understand their personal worlds any other way. Filmic worlds are so influential that personal relationships can only be seen through what has been observed onscreenâ (Plate, 3). As one attends a house of worship to affirm their notions of morality and ultimate reality, so one sees a film and, consciously or not, strengthens their socially constructed sense of the âgeneral order of existence.â
The parallel between church-going and cinema-going, I believe, can be made on the fact that both activities are rooted in storytelling. âOne is connected with their world only by experiencing another worldâ (Plate, 9). Religions rely on myths and parables to illustrate messages, and many rituals serve as reenactments of those stories (Plate, 7). Filmmaking allows us to recreate life and represent culture, through stories, in arguably a more immersive way than any art forms preceding it and, some argue, has contributed to the rise in secularism in contemporary society (Marsh, 6). In his fascinating book Images and the Imageless, Thomas M. Martin points out that for much of early modern thought, prominent rational thinkers such as Descartes were âunwilling to reduce the inner workings of the human to the outer structureâ (Martin, 8). As a society we are âdominated by transcendent traditionsâ (Martin, 9) but unable to fully understand the spirit realm. So, we turn to the physical world surrounding us, which we can control, to imagine the spiritual.
Religion, or the âsystem of symbolsâ that Geertz describes, therefore is the product of our pondering the meaning and history of the world around us, then taking elements of that world to symbolize that which we cannot see, through what we can see. As Martin describes it, âthere is the imaging, and the thing imaged.â The “intermediate entityâ that comes between them is the image. Based on this reasoning all art is inherently religious, as it is created to interpret the seen or heard into hint of the not seen or heard. Martin cites Norman Gulleyâs reading of Platoâs theory of forms â the idea that abstract forms, perceivable but ungraspable, are the key to ultimate reality â as indicating that âthe sensible world [is] an image of the eternal. Thus, the perceptions one achieves can be helpful in knowing the formsâ (Martin, 5). In Gulley (and Martinâs) view, viewing an image is always an influential experience.
Traditionally seen at twenty-four frames per second, moving images take the philosophical quality of image-viewing to a new level. Relying on, theoretically, persistence of vision, our eye interprets the action in between frames to perceive fluid motion and continuity (Ward, 7). This point can be stressed particularly in relation to animation, since what occurs between frames of animation is not actually what the viewer interprets. Behind the camera lens of animation creatures are not fluidly moving as live actors move before a video camera. This is the âmiracleâ of animation, as James Clarke religiously puts it, again using religious phrasing, its capacity to âbreathe lifeâ and â[give] a soul to the inanimateâ (Clarke, 19).
Norman McLaren goes further to suggest that it is not the frames of animation that define the animatorâs art, but rather the decisions the animator makes to create that motion (quoted in Ward, 7). Hence, animation can be seen as a microcosm of reality â or, some ideas of reality â complete with a god (the animator) that creates a world in their own image (infused with their acting and influences). The audience, in the act of watching an animated film, actively interprets and understands the effects of the animator godâs reign over the characters and situations on screen. The exercise of watching animation therefore is highly similar to the theological activity of attempting to conceptualize and understand that which is beyond our field of vision and plane of understanding, God.
As Martin points out, âthe painter must take a far more controlling role than, say, the photographerâ (Martin, 43). For while photographers compose their image and may use non-traditional techniques to âpaint with lightâ the painter, by the nature of their art, must control everything on their canvas. Their moving-image counterparts compare similarly. Live-action filmmaking creates new realities out of existing ones. Filmmakers shape reality within the frame of the camera. Animated film also uses a framing device, but every piece of content in that frame is created by the animator and intentional. Hence animation is the ultimate action of interpreting and recreating the world. And though a piece of animation can be abstract or extremely unrealistic, the animator nevertheless is, like the live-action filmmaker, shaping reality in a frame since all animation â as all art â is informed by the world surrounding the artist.
The Secret of Kells (Tom Moore, 2009) beautifully captures the interplay between inner life and the outside world as influences in art. The fictional film chronicles the making of the Book of Kells, Irelandâs greatest national treasure. Brendan, a young orphan boy living in the abbey of Kells ruled by his fearful and pedantic uncle Cellach, dreams of meeting the famed master illuminator Aidan of Iona. When Aidan shows up at the gates of Kells, fleeing from Viking destruction in Iona, he recognizes Brendanâs talent for illumination and, to Cellachâs dismay, whose sole concern is the building of a wall to prevent Kells from suffering the same fate as Iona, trains him to replace him in finishing the Book of Kells, an illuminated manuscript of the Bible. Brendan must conquer his fears of inadequacy and with the help of forest spirit Aisling, retrieve the eye of Crumm, a crystal held by the dark power of the forest which will aid him in observing the natural world for illumination. Kells is besieged by Vikings and Brendan escapes with Aidan to finish the Book.
As fully man-created imagery, animation has the capacity to literally represent the symbols and stories, sometimes fantastical, that religions use in their rhetoric. Because of this, it is common for animated films to portray mythological or folkloric stories. The Secret of Kells fully takes advantage of this quality of animation, as well as the control that it allows the creators, by both using a subject matter that is explicitly religious, that deals with art making and art as practice of religion, as wells as incorporating pagan aspects of pagan culture into a story about Catholic monks. The art-style of the film is reminiscent of stained-glass windows and icons, traditional objects of Christian worship and storytelling. These arts, particularly older ones and those associated with the eastern Christian church, often had a flat look to them. A common theological debate in early Christianity and religions worldwide, which Martin alludes to in the title of his book, was whether to approach image-making of the imageless in a way that was realistic, as in Roman catholic sculptural traditions, unrealistic to emphasize the created nature of them and avoid idolatry, as in Eastern Orthodox Iconic tradition, or, in order to wholly avoid misinterpreting the sacred, not at all, as in traditional Islamic theology. I find this debate to be reminiscent of the modern discussion in animated circles about what is worthy of being animated, due to realism or lack thereof, and the blurring lines between 3D computer animation and stop motion puppet animation. While I doubt The Secret of Kells directly engages any of these subjects, its use of flat artwork reinforces our awareness of it as animation. Like the Book of Kells, the film is a creation that tells the artistic and spiritual story of its nation and culture, Ireland.
The film directly addresses this created nature of art with the ways the backgrounds and framing devices used call attention to themselves as flat, drawn works. The entrance to the forest, for example, as seen from within Kells, looks like a building with an arched entrance. The trunks and limbs of the trees form the arches and the foliage appears similar to the round, ornate windows that can be seen on cathedrals such as Notre Dame. The ink that Aidan and Brendan use to color the book comes from berries, and the shapes that adorn the pages of the book are shaped like the leaves and branches Brendan finds in the forest. In many scenes the film frames a character, most often Brendan or Cellach, looking out a small window to the forest beyond Kells. Within the forest we learn lives Aisling and the magic of the old Irish religion. The framing of the characters looking to the source of that magic through these windows, then, is a nod to the act of seeking for the spiritual and supernatural from within the institutions we have created to understand them. Cellach is too rigid to look beyond his wall and find the spirit of nature, but young Brendan dares to reach out and makes a meaningful connection with Aisling.
Here the interesting theology of The Secret of Kells comes to light. In the film Catholicism and paganism, while not explicitly intermixed, coexist without any conflict between them. Brendan does not have a crisis of faith upon encountering Aisling, and Crumm Croch, while a villain, is not the only representative of the pagan elements in the film. Therefore, the message is not one of Catholicism vs. Paganism. Rather, Catholicism is presented as the current system of interpreting the natural and spiritual world, and one which is fighting similar demons as the natural, pagan one (the Vikings and Crumm Croch). This film thus demonstrates animation as a medium creating its own theologies. The Secret of Kells could be said to have a pantheistic view of the world. Within the world it creates, everything is presented as having a spirit or a soul. The current establishment, the Catholic Church, though short-sighted, honors that with the artwork it produces as worship. Through the substitution of Brendan as the illuminator of the Book of Kells, it is able to achieve the highest form of artistic merit because Brendan, like a true prophet or hero, has reached into the darkness and taken the ability to see beyond the visible (with the help of Crummâs eye) and made a connection with the spirits, or forms, of nature and ultimate reality.
Bibliography
Lyden, John. Film as religion: myths, morals, and rituals / John C. Lyden. New York: New York University Press, c2003.
Marsh, Clive. Cinema and Sentiment: Filmâs Challenge to Theology. Georgia: Paternoster Press, 2004.
Clarke, James. Animated Films. London: Virgin Books, 2004.
Plate, S. Brent. Religion and Film: Cinema and the Re-Creation of the World. London: Wallflower, 2008.
Buchan, Suzanne. Animated Worlds. John Libbey Publishing, 2006.
Wells, Paul. Animation: Genre and Authorship. London: Wallflower, 2002.
Martin, Thomas M. Images and the Imageless: a Study in Religious Consciousness in film. Lewisburg: Bucknell Press, 1991.