Fighting change is like railing against the wind.
Having read “The Real Problem With Rogue One’s CG Characters”, I’ll go back and rescreen “Rogue One” on an IMAX screen — just in case. On the modest screen in the old theater in which I first screened it, the CGI characters I saw were of acceptable quality. On an IMAX screen they might disappoint.
However, whether I accept the quality of Disney’s current CGI characters won’t matter — CGI isn’t just here to stay, it’s here to conquer.
Will that lock us in, culturally?
Aren’t we already locked in, culturally? Isn’t Joe Campbell right? Aren’t the stories we tell each other really the same one’s humans have been telling each other for thousands of years? Can it, or should it be otherwise?
To me, having seen the film in which Peter Cushing created him, Grand Moff Tarkin looks and sounds like Peter Cushing. Watching another actor in the roll would demand of me a greater suspension of disbelief. First I’d have to suspend disbelief to enter the world of Star Wars, then suspend disbelief to accept someone who isn’t Grand Moff Tarkin pretending to be him.
I’d rather watch a 99% quality rendering of Peter Cushing playing Grand Moff Tarkin than accept a new actor playing the character, in some part because I’ve already accepted Tarkin as portrayed by Cushing, but in greater part because Cushing did such a wonderful job of creating the character.
Does this mean I’m frozen in time, or my experience of “Star Wars” is frozen in time, or is “Star Wars” frozen in time by having raised its own creative bar so high that no one has since managed to clear it?
If so, would that be bad?
To me George Bailey will always be Jimmy Stewart. To appreciate a reshoot of “It’s a Wonderful Life” I’d have to resuspend my disbelief — placing the bar for a new George Bailey higher than the original. Can I think of a living actor who’d surpass Stewart as George Bailey? No, I can’t.
Is that bad, or is it a tribute to Capra’s and Stewart’s work?
Is it bad that we sometimes lock in our appreciation of original experiences, that we resist attempts to change those experiences, that we freeze them in time?
“Mona Lisa” hasn’t changed in 500 years. To those of us who’ve experienced her, the bar for any replacement is unbelievably high. Is she less because she’s unchanging, or is our experience of her bad because we’ve locked her into it? Is it terrible that everyone who ever sees her will see the same face?
The cinematic trend toward an ever increasing number of remakes can only continue, as the library of existing films increases. And even though technology is improving, most of the remakes won’t improve on the originals, because the originals set the creative bar fairly high. However, on those happy occasions when an imperfect film is refilmed with new actors who greatly improve on the old roles, the new versions of the characters may become cultural icons that we’ll forever associate with the new actors who helped create them. Is that bad?
Not only is there nothing wrong with this, it’s an essential part of how visual memory works.
The CGI revolution won’t stick us with Brandos and Monroes and Fords unless that’s what we demand. So far we haven’t. We didn’t demand a deaged Harrison Ford in the role of Jason Bourne. We accepted Matt Damon. But, Damon’s set the bar for a Bourne replacement high enough so we’re unlikely to accept one. Jason Bourne’s become a cultural icon we all associate with Matt Damon, but we’re still open to new actors playing new characters.
And they will, but they won’t always be humans. We’re a few years away from watching big screen CGI performances by completely new nonhuman actors, digital fabrications of humans, whose images will be generated by artists from guidelines given them by digital casting directors.
Not only won’t new film icons be restricted to an unchanging collection of iconic humans, they won’t even be restricted to humans — they’ll be whatever we can imagine them to be.
Is this bad? Maybe, for actors. Is it bad for film? I don’t think so. We’ll create lots of mediocre, forgettable digital characters, just as we now create lots of mediocre, forgettable scripts, but we’ll also create a few CGI created humans that will become iconic. I’ve already opined about this:
Our first imaginary film icon will open new creative opportunities. I’m guessing we’ll create imaginary pasts for them. They’ll have imaginary flaws and foibles. Tabloids will create imaginary scandals to keep a fawning public engaged in its newly discovered and loved imaginary cultural icons.
We’re already living in a world where it’s becoming harder and harder to distinguish between real and fake. In future we’ll blur not just the line between reality and unreality on the big screen, we’ll blur it on the even bigger screen in which we live, and do so willingly, because creating frees us from the confines of reality.
The Matrix may be inevitable, or may have been inevitable. Look at the world around you. If we haven’t already taken that pill, how long will it be?
