Why Disney Gave up Pencils for Computers

Why Disney Gave up Pencils for Computers

BURBANK, Calif. (NY Times) – On April 4, 2003, Glen Keane, one of Walt Disney's most respected animators, summoned about 50 of his colleagues to a conference room on the lot here to discuss the war brewing at the studio. Disney's animators had settled into two opposing camps: those who were skilled in computer animation and those who refused to give up their pencils. Keane, a 31-year veteran who created the beast from "Beauty and the Beast" and Ariel from "The Little Mermaid," was a Disney traditionalist. But after a series of experiments to see whether he could create a computer-animated ballerina, his opposition softened. So he invited the 50 animators to discuss the pros and cons of both art forms, calling his seminar "The Best of Both Worlds." For an hour, Keane listed the pluses and minuses of each technique while the other animators listened quietly. After a few tentative questions, the crowd burst into chatter as animators shouted over one another, some arguing that computers should not replace people and others expressing fears that they would be forced to draw by hand. In a recent interview, Keane recalled that Kevin Geiger, a computer animation supervisor, then stood up and demanded of him, "If you can do all this cool stuff that you're talking about – that you want to see in animation – but you have to give up the pencil to do it, are you in?" Keane hesitated before answering, "I'm in."

Three weeks later, the company's animators were told that Disney would concentrate on making computer-animated movies, abandoning a 70-year-old hand-drawn tradition in favor of a style popularized by newer and more successful rivals like Pixar Animation Studios and DreamWorks Animation. The results were nothing short of a cultural revolution at the studio, which is famous for the hand-drawn classics championed by its founder, Walt Disney. On Nov. 4, a little more than two and a half years after that decision, Disney will release "Chicken Little," the first of four computer-animated films being developed at the newly reorganized studio. The company is hoping that this movie, along with others like "Meet the Robinsons," "American Dog" and Keane's "Rapunzel Unbraided," will return a reinvigorated Disney to its past glory. There is a lot more than pride, however, riding on their success. Animation was once Disney's heart, a profitable lifeline that fed the company's theme park, book and home video divisions. And reviving profit is as essential to Disney these days as regaining its storied reputation. "From a psychological standpoint, 'Chicken Little' is very important for Disney," said Hal Vogel, an analyst who covers Disney. "Everything is touched by animation, and if they don't refresh it, it becomes frayed at the edges." The box office numbers show how far the sky has fallen. The studio reached the height of its most recent popularity with the 1994 release of "The Lion King," which brought in $764.8 million at the worldwide box office. By contrast, the last nine animated movies Disney either made or acquired took in only $758.3 million combined. "The Incredibles," the 2004 film created by Pixar, brought in $630 million, nearly as much as Disney's last eight animated movies. So it should come as no surprise that when Keane stood up and made his passionate plea in 2003, Disney was in the midst of an identity crisis. It had to reinvent itself – or wither. The competition in animated films is now tougher than ever. It is also fraught with enough sibling rivalry to make the wicked stepsisters in "Cinderella" blush. Against such a backdrop, "Chicken Little" is almost certain to be one of the most scrutinized movies of its kind.

Soon after becoming president of Walt Disney Feature Animation in 2003, David Stainton was contemplating what to do about the standoff between Disney's two camps of animators, the techies and the traditionalists. When he was hired, Stainton said, Eisner and Richard Cook, chairman of Walt Disney Studios, said they wanted Disney movies to be wittier, contemporary computer-animated comedies with a dramatic twist – in other words, as one Disney executive said, more like "Shrek." Stainton said he knew he would need an influential animator on his side to succeed. So in February 2003, a month after he was hired, he responded enthusiastically when Keane met with him and Eisner and presented six hand-sketched scenes for "Rapunzel Unbraided," a heartwarming romance based on the fairy tale. Stainton and Eisner told Keane that they would approve the film but that there was one caveat: it had to be computer-animated. Keane balked. Stainton said he replied, "Glen, I'm not asking you to go make a movie with humans that look like 'Final Fantasy,"' referring to the stiff figures in the 2001 computer-animated dud. "I'm asking that you – and I know it doesn't exist out there – I'm asking you to go create it. You have to create something new." Whether "Rapunzel Unbraided" was made or not, it offered a politically expedient way for Mr. Stainton to force a dialogue. So, on April 4, Mr. Keane held his "Best of Both Worlds" seminar. And at the end of that month Mr. Stainton lobbed another grenade. He told more than 525 employees gathered at a town hall meeting that the studio would stop making hand-drawn movies for the foreseeable future. Those interested in computer-generated animation could sign up for a six-month "C.G. boot camp." "What I was saying to them was, 'You've got to embrace it or there isn't going to be a place for you,' " Mr. Stainton said. The announcement did little to soothe the warring camps. Some traditionalists refused to sit with the computer set at lunch, Disney executives said. They voiced their complaints to Roy E. Disney, then the studio's animation chairman and Disney board member, who was locked in his own battle with Mr. Eisner, having vowed to oust him as chief executive.

Disney animation suffered another blow on Jan. 29, 2004, when Steve Jobs announced that Pixar would end talks with Disney to continue its 14-year partnership and would seek a competitor to distribute its films after the release of Pixar's next movie, "Cars." Six days later, Mr. Jobs criticized Disney's animators, telling Wall Street analysts that Disney's "Treasure Planet" and "Brother Bear" were bombs and calling the studio's sequels "embarrassing." "It was the best thing that could have happened to us," said Mr. Cook, the chairman of Walt Disney Studios. Weeks later, Cook met with the animators and told them that it was time to get on with making great movies. "We needed to get ourselves back on track," he said. "They knew it. Enough of the Disney bashing; enough already. The way to stop all that is to win. And that's what we set our sights on." If there is any question about whether there is life for Disney after Pixar, consider the following: Last June, Disney caused a ruckus at the industry's largest computer-animation conference in Los Angeles when it set up a large poster in front of its booth – and facing Pixar's – to advertise the pre-production of "Toy Story 3." For many of those in attendance, it was an in-your-face gesture that showed Disney was prepared to go it alone. But it was also part of a larger public relations campaign to show that Disney was viable again. Disney was interviewing new recruits and showing off new technology. But Disney's biggest challenge may be to overcome the notion that, when it comes to animation, many moviegoers may no longer have much confidence in Disney. Indeed, the company's animators today have more in common with their predecessors than their competitors at Pixar and DreamWorks. When animators created "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," the studio's first theatrical offering in 1937, it was referred to as "Disney's Folly" before its release. "How hungry were they?" Mr. Dindal said, referring to "Snow White's" animators. "It's fun to be at a place where everybody's hungry for something, as opposed to being well fed."