Making Oswald and Pooch

Walter Lantz was a true pioneer in theatrical animation, starting as a cel washer at International Film Service in New York in 1916 and finally shutting down his own studio in 1972. Afterward, he continued to travel the world and talk about his cartoons until his death in 1994.

Lantz was handed a cartoon operation to run in 1929 by Universal’s Carl Laemmle, who considered him a good luck charm at poker games, according to Joe Adamson’s biography of him. The studio had one star—Oswald the lucky rabbit. After a well-publicised attempt to add Fanny the Mule in 1930 (Exhibitors World Herald and Motion Picture News both reported a Fanny short was released in Sept. 1930), Lantz added Pooch the pup to his starring roster in 1931.

Here’s Lantz talking about the transition to sound and how sound cartoons were made. He also has some advice for amateurs who want to make their own cartoons at home on 16 millimetre. This appeared in the July 1932 edition of American Cinematographer.

Sound Cartoons and 16 mm.
by WALTER LANTZ
Creator of Universal's "Oswald" and "Pooch" cartoons

THE advent of sound has changed the business of animated cartooning tremendously. In the old days, one needed merely to be something of a cartoonist, something of a "gag-man," a good animator — and just a little crazy, in order to make animated cartoons. Nowadays, in addition to all of these, one must be something of a musician, as well, and demented enough to produce slightly crazy music as well as slightly crazy drawings. In producing sound-cartoons commercially, we have, of course, the advantage of being able — or to put it more truthfully, compelled — to do things by factory production methods; we let one man take care of the story, another the music, others the backgrounds, animation, etc. Of course, the average amateur movie maker cannot do things on this scale, but there is really nothing to prevent him from experimenting with animated cartooning, either silent or with sound, if he wishes to — and has the patience that the work requires.

Viewed from the photographic angle, all that is necessary is a camera that can be made to expose one frame (or picture) at a time, stop with the shutter closed, and wait until it is required to expose the next frame. There are several 16 mm. cameras available with hand-cranking mechanisms; one or two of them even have the required one-picture-per-turn movements; but even without this refinement, so long as they have the hand-crank, they can be used for cartooning. Any machine-shop can build a gear arrangement that will permit the single-frame work; the normal crank gives eight pictures per turn, therefore an 8:1 reduction gear will do the trick and give you one exposure for each turn of your crank.

To photograph the cartoons, the camera is placed in a fixed mount, pointed down on a board upon which the drawings are placed, and focused so that its field exactly coincides with the area of the drawing, which, for convenience, should be 8x10 inches or larger. Over the drawing is placed a plate-glass cover in a frame hinged to swing up out of the way when the drawings are being changed, and which fits down over the drawings tightly and firmly enough to prevent any wrinkles; in our own camera-table at the studio we have, as an extra safeguard, a vacuum device which forces the glass down with a pressure of 1200 lbs. per inch. This, of course, is unnecessary in amateur installations, as is our motor-drive, which works through a clutch, and exposes one frame each time a button is pressed. A frame counter, however, is necessary, especially with sound. An ordinary Veeder counter will serve this purpose. It can be attached to the single-picture crank, and should have room for at least four figures.

As to the exact method of "sounding" cartoons, perhaps the best suggestion might be gleaned from a description of the way we make our "Oswald" and "Pooch" cartoons.

In the first place, we have to have an idea to start with. From this idea I prepare a scenario. I cooperate with the musical staff in this, fitting the action and the music together. The scenario is partly drawn and partly written; it has on it the "key drawings," which are merely rough sketches of the scene, suggesting the action. Below each drawing, I describe the action. Above it is the musical outline. This is worked out so that we know definitely that any specified action will occur at a certain bar of music — or, to put it the other way around, that at that definite bar of music, a definitely known action will be taking place. The standard projecting-speed for talking pictures — either 35mm. or 16mm. — is 24 frames per second. Therefore, we use 24 frames as our unit, and arrange our music so that we begin a new bar each second — or 24 frames. By this means, we can be sure that if we have a certain sound effect in bar No. 100, its accompanying action will be made in frame No. 2400.

Having worked out the action and music scenarios so that they synchronize perfectly on paper, and so they make the film-footage required for our release, we are ready to proceed. The music department makes its orchestral arrangement of the music, and records it. Meanwhile, the cartoon department makes its cartoon film; when both are completed, we know beyond doubt that the two will fit together perfectly. If someone is to kick Oswald, for instance, we can rest assured that the kick's accompanying "Klunk!" will be in the sound track, exactly in its place to the frame, even though the sound is recorded as much as three weeks or a month before the kick is drawn and photographed.

So much for that: now for the cartoon itself. As anyone who has an amateur camera knows, moving pictures consist of a series of tiny still photographs taken in succession on a strip of film, with each picture just a little different from the one before it. Well, in making a cartoon, we merely draw these pictures and photograph the drawings in order: the result on the screen is the same — an illusion of movement. The movement can be made as fast or as slow, as smooth or as jerky as we wish merely by the spacing of the drawings of the individual phases of motion, and by the number of frames allowed for each drawing. For the smoothest action, use closely-spaced drawings, allowing one frame per drawing. For jerky action, space the phases farther apart. To speed the movement, use one frame per drawing; to slow it down, use more frames for each drawing. The best cartoon practice, I think, is to use moderately-spaced phases of movement, and photograph them giving each drawings two frames. A great help in learning animating — as this business of making these moving drawings is called — is the studying of slow-motion films taken of natural movements, which is easy with many of the better 16mm. cameras! study both the film on the screen, and the film itself, frame by frame Study both slow-motion and normal films — and then work hard, and you'll have it.

From our scenario, we begin to get into the specialized work of mass-production. One man specializes on the backgrounds. These are made on paper, usually as combination pen-and-ink and wash drawings. We cannot go in for too fine gradations, but confine ourself to a fairly limited scale of grays, in addition, of course, to black and white.

At the top of these paper-drawn backgrounds are two punch-holes, very accurately spaced. These fit over standardized pegs on the background-artist's board, corresponding pegs on the action-artist (or animator's) board, and upon the camera-table. They are what keep the figures in their proper places on the background.

The figures are first drawn on paper, in pencil, by the animator. Then they are traced in ink onto thin celluloid. The black areas are filled in — on the back of the "cell" — with India ink, while the white areas, through which the background must not show, are similarly backed with Chinese white. The areas around the figure, of course, through which the background is to be seen, are not backed at all. When used, these cells can be cleaned with ordinary soap and water, and used again and again until they become too scratched and dirty to be usable.

Now, of course, there are a number of short-cuts in animating. For instance, if we have Oswald in a scene where he is standing still, but talking, or gesticulating, we don't need to draw his body every time: instead, we draw him a body on one cell, and his head or arms, or whatever moves, on other cells; thanks to the registering-pegs, the two will be in their proper relation, and we won't be embarrassed by seeing "Ozzie's" body standing still, and his head talking busily away somewhere else.

Similarly, if we have more than one character that is to move in a scene, each character may be drawn on a separate cell — or cells. Too many cells, of course, will spoil the picture, but we can safely use three or four at once — sometimes more, if the cells are clean, and the light good.

When a character is to repeat a movement, we can naturally use the same cycle of cells as often as may be desired; similarly, when, for instance, we want hundreds of animals to pour out of a house, we can make a cycle for them, drawing them all on the same cell, and using a series of such cells for the cycle, which can be continued indefinitely.

When a character is to walk across the screen, we can use a walking cycle, with multiple registration-punches to give him the movement; of course, in this case, the cells must be long enough so that their edges don't come into the picture at either end of the walk. When, on the other hand, our character is to walk, but remain in the same place, while the background flows past him, we can use an ordinary walking cycle, while the background is drawn on a long roll of paper, and moved by, a sixteenth of an inch or so at a time. This type of movement must, of course, be handled very carefully, so that the background moves naturally, and does not appear to skid by under the character's feet.

Photographing the drawings is simple. I have already described the camera-set-up; the lighting may be either by Cooper-Hewitt mercury-vapor tubes or by incandescent light. We use the latter; I think that for amateur use a pair of the new "Photoflood" bulbs would be excellent. The only requirement as to lighting is that the field be illuminated evenly, and that there be no reflections, either of the lights or of the camera and its supports, in the cover-glass.

When it comes to "sounding" the amateur cartoon, there are several methods. In the first place, bearing in mind the way I have described that we allow 24 frames to the bar, you can, with some experimenting, synchronize your cartoon to existing records, either the 78 r.p.m. commercial records, the new 33 1/3 r.p.m. "long-playing" records, or the 33 1/3 r.p.m. theatre sound-effect records made by several of the photograph companies. The 33 1/3 r.p.m. records are the best, as they will last long enough for a 400-ft. reel, and, too, most of the 16mm. sound-projectors are made to take them. In addition, you can record your own sound on these records by means of the new Victor, R. C. A., General Electric and Greybar home-recording phonographs, or through one of the several agencies that specialize in making sound-effects for 16mm. films. If you haven't a sound-projector, it is possible, though difficult, to synchronize your ordinary projector with an electric phonograph. The results aren't, of course, perfect, still — it can be done, with patience.

There, in a few words, is an outline of sound-cartooning. It is difficult, and requires patience — but it provides a deal of enjoyment, and a type of film that is rarely seen on amateur programs — and therefore doubly welcome to home-movie sated audiences.