The Wally Burr Interview -- Part II of III
Rik Bakke
Copyright 2005 Rikard Bakke
PART II OF III
TCC: Could you tell me a bit about the voice auditions themselves? What
was the process, from beginning to end, of finding the right kind of actor
for a specific role?
BURR: For an audition script, I would find a sequence in a script where the
character in question had enough dialogue -- 10 to 15 seconds -- to allow the
actor some exploration of the role. Sometimes that meant my writing a little
added dialogue. Then I'd call various agents about the kind of character we
wanted -- sometimes I'd fax the agent a script and a model sketch of the
character. The agent would call me back with suggested actors -- some of
whom I already knew, some of whom were sometimes new to me.
I would spend some time deciding on a list of who seemed most appropriate
from the suggested actors, then have an assistant make up a studio schedule
allowing each actor about 15 minutes for a reading. The assistant would then
call the agents to arrange for the selected actors' appearances at the studio.
That 15-minute appearance would allow me to have each actor try at least 3
different approaches to the role. After the recording, certain takes and / or
actors might be dropped, then the finished tape would be transferred to
cassette and delivered to Marvel here.
TCC: When it comes to recording the episodes, you've made very clear how
much preparation was necessary on your part before each session could take
place. What was a typical working day (or week, for that matter) for you, and
how often did you get together to record a show?
BURR: Ah, the magic time!! Again, my main preparation was approximately
a 6-hour period when I could place the completed storyboard and the final script
side-by-side and, by myself, very carefully go through the board to determine
what it showed me with regard to how the lines should be read. What did the
board show about the emotional state of the characters? Angry? Scoffing?
Mocking? Cool? Sarcastic? Laughing? Secretive? What was the physical
state? Wielding a sword? Recovering from running? Muscles at the ready?
Shouting across a valley? Whispering to a colleague? Exhausted and nearly
unconscious? Initially 30 feet across a room from another character, then, as
he speaks, crossing to end speaking very intimately to that same character?
(Tricky.) Shouting while swinging from a rope?
As I've noted at other times, the actors seldom saw a storyboard. (Storyboards
require too much detailed study to be useful in a recording session.) But I would
make lots of little marginal notes on my master script about these things the
actors needed to understand and remember. And I'd have the actors' scripts
duplicated from my marked-up script. Examples of my short hand: "O.P."
meant "Off Physical" -- that is, speaking with a "breathiness" right after having
done something physically demanding. "Sotto" -- for "sotto voce" -- secretive,
half-voiced. A horizontal crescendo symbol meant the dialogue was to increase
in intensity or loudness. Radiating lines noted where an explosion occurred. My
simple cartoon drawing of a fist next to it was a reminder that the actor had to
make a sound indicating his character had been struck. The initials "B.E."
("Body English") before a line might be a reminder that the actor was hauling
on a rope or lifting a rock, and that we needed to hear the strain in his voice.
Often, I would run into a place where I felt the storyboard and the script
contradicted each other or didn't work properly together. In those situations, I'd
devise a possible solution -- either a dialogue change or a board change -- to
try to fix the problem. I'd then call the episode's producer and suggest my fix,
or sometimes ask that he solve the problem.
Aside from studying scripts and boards, there was quite a bit of logistical
planning -- seeing that actors were not asked to be at the studio until they
were actually needed, or occasionally arranging to record an actor at an odd
time because of schedule conflicts.
We usually recorded one episode of a series per week, and again, were asked
to take no more than 4 hours to record a half-hour show. There were a few times
when I had to do one episode of three different series all in one week. Pretty
intense work!
Personnel present? Besides the actors, there were the show's animation producer,
the episode's writer, the show's coordinator, my sound engineer, and myself.
TCC: Quite a lot of the episodes were multi-parters, sometimes up to as many
as five parts. Did you handle those instances any differently than the recording
of a single episode? Were multi-part episodes more challenging in terms of
preparation?
BURR: Not an awful lot of difference. There may have been a little extra attention
paid in a multi-parter to being sure the actors were consistent in their voice
characterizations from one show to the next, but we usually just kept knocking
off one half-hour script after another. Sometimes we weren't even aware we were
into a multi-parter until we suddenly began to notice that there was a connected
and continuing storyline operating between a series of half-hours. I remember that
it was sort of fun to have that continuity because we all (the actors and I) enjoyed
"connecting the dots" in a longer format. I'm sure that the writers -- and I know
that the actors and I -- enjoyed working on something where the plot and the
characterizations had a little more complexity and a little more detail. It was a
bit more like putting together a movie.
TCC: There are, of course, many instances where there is overlapping dialogue,
where characters speak at the same time. For example, in the episode QUEST
FOR SURVIVAL, Ratchet removes an alien robotic plant sample from Bumblebee's
back. Bumblebee giggles and exclaims, "Hey, that tickles!" over Ratchet's
admonishment to "Stand still." What was the recording procedure there? Would
you have had Dan Gilvean and Don Messick do their lines simultaneously or
would the overlap have been taken care of in editing later?
BURR: It might have depended on my mood at the moment. As a general rule,
overlapping dialogue that would eventually have to be overlapped in the final
sound mix was usually not overlapped at the recording. Why? Simply because,
if either of the lines later had to be changed, overlapping at the session could
have required both actors to be present for any "repair job," and if both were not
actually scheduled for the next recording (which is when "pick-ups" -- repairs --
were usually recorded), it could become a scheduling headache.
On the other hand, I sometimes felt someone might later screw up an overlap --
the quality of which I usually felt I was in a better position to judge than anyone
else -- so I'd willfully do the overlap at the recording so no one could later fuck it
up. In the Ratchet / Bumblebee example you cite, I probably recorded the overlap
at the session because I'd have wanted to be sure the comic timing wouldn't be
left to some over-worked sound editor or animator.
Overall, there was no big rule about those things. I was pretty much allowed to
conduct a session as I saw fit.
"They sure gave HIM the road!"
Bumblebee -- TRANS-EUROPE EXPRESS
TCC: Jack Angel once said to me, probably in jest, that you secretly wanted to
do all the voices. And, indeed, you have been described as always having a very
precise idea of what the characters should sound like. There was a lot of emotion
in the acting on the shows you did that I sense didn't come from the actors alone.
How big of an influence would you say that you had on the actors? How much of
a specific vocal characterization would have come from, say, Corey Burton, and
how much of it would have come from Wally Burr?
BURR: Secretly wanted to do all the voices myself?! Well, this is another
reference to ground I've covered here before. Since our system doesn't allow for
the experimenting, the trial and error that's part of mounting a stage show or a
live-action TV show (and which I'd love to see incorporated into how we produce
dialogue for animated TV!) doesn't happen. To get a show with 15 to 20 roles in
it done in 4 hours, there has to be a lot of "this-is-how-it's-going-to-be-done"
from the voice director. I spend between 4 and 6 hours just studying and marking
up a half-hour script before we go into a recording session. The actors are new
to each script when they arrive to record! I know all the various characters in a
given script. The actors do not! I have a very firm idea as to how the characters
must play in order to make the script tell its story. The actors have not!
Jack Angel is a versatile voice actor and a quick study. I'd probably very rapidly
get from Jack whatever I needed to make a character work. An actor who was
new to TRANSFORMERS, or possibly still a bit green as a voice artist, could
require much more time to not only get a firm handle on his role's style, but
also to "get with the show's style." Corey Burton is a superb voice actor, but
unlike Angel, he was not a real quick study. He would fuss with and change
his approach to a character, and then just when I was beginning to wonder if
he really had any perspective on the part at all, he'd suddenly find the character
with a voice I'd never heard from him before! From then on, he'd absolutely own
the role!
TCC: One much talked-about aspect of the whole process was the fact that the
Screen Actors Guild allowed the actors to perform a set amount of characters
per episode for the same pay. The limit, I'm told, was 3, but sometimes an actor
would play more than that amount of voices in an episode. Frank Welker is an
especially good example of that, what with even his regular characters -- Megatron,
Mirage, Skywarp, Soundwave, Trailbreaker, and so on -- numbering upward of
20. Given that, was the SAG rule a difficult one to supervise?
BURR: No. We simply kept "score" on a cast breakdown form as to how many
roles an actor was playing. If having Welker play a fourth part was going to cost
the company a second talent fee for him, I'd take a moment to decide whether
the extra role really required Frank's unique talents, or whether maybe it did not.
Maybe some other member of the cast who was only doing one or maybe two
parts could just as well take on that role within his quota of three. The actors
understand why and how these decisions have to be made, and I don't recall it
ever becoming a problem.
TCC: Understood. What I meant, however, was that Frank had regular characters
assigned to him that frequently numbered higher than 3 in the episodes. For example,
Megatron, Rumble, Soundwave, Skywarp, and the cassette animals were almost
always present within an episode and had dialogue or animalistic sounds. These
were not simply incidental characters, either, but characters that "belonged to"
Frank and no other actor could simply come in and perform. So I wondered if there
was some kind of special arrangement with SAG in Frank's case.
BURR: My recollection is that in none of the half-hour shows did anyone get any
special deals. (Movies that are identified going in as movies were negotiated and
compensated in an entirely different way. And, to avoid those usually higher "movie"
fees, I think producers sometimes tried to disguise a movie as three half-hour
episodes.) But, back to Frank's multiple roles: If he -- or any of the actors -- was
asked to play more than 3 roles in an episode, that actor got a second paycheck
for which he could be asked to play as many as 3 added roles. In other words, for
every 3 roles any actor played, he got another check equal to the basic check he
received for his first 3 roles. But there was no "special arrangement," as you put it.
It was all handled in a standard and normal procedure.
I once did a series where one of the writers was also a voice actor -- a very talented
one. He negotiated a deal with the producer whereby he was guaranteed an acting
fee (above and beyond his writing compensation) equivalent to 3 times the basic fee
for 3 voices. In other words, I could use him to play as many as 9 roles! And although
I knew that was too many roles for any actor to play without the viewer beginning
to become aware of that actor's doubling, I was pressured by the producer to have
the actor actually play 9 characters in each half-hour. Result? Ego-soothing for the
actor, but often thin performances for the shows.
TCC: Speaking of doubling, I have spent quite some time trying to determine
which actors voiced which characters, right down to the incidentals, and I find
myself curious about your system of selection. Your previous response gives
the first clue, but I've found that, while the vast majority of the cast did at one
time or another get to play second-stringers, some of them, like Jack Angel,
Chris Latta, Don Messick, Neil Ross, and Frank Welker, did so somewhat
more frequently than others. What were your criteria for the selection of
supporting characters?
BURR: All the actors you mentioned were accustomed to doubling and could
just about always be counted on to quickly come up with a new (and different)
voice, so my natural inclination was to first turn to them -- actors whose
capabilities I knew and with whom I could most quickly communicate. Although
some actors are capable of effectively playing a role opposite another one of
their characters, I usually tried to avoid casting anyone in such a situation --
where they'd be "talking to themselves," so to speak.
A little sidebar: I don't know whether you're aware of the Hanna-Barbera show
called SCOOBY-DOO. It's one of the most successful and longest-running of
all animated shows. I voice directed many of them. The late Don Messick played
the title role of Scooby-Doo -- a big goofy dog. Frank Welker played one of two
starring teenage boys in SCOOBY. The other boy was played by Casey Kasem,
an actor who also happens to be one of the best known disc jockeys in American
radio.
Frank Welker is probably the single most successful cartoon actor in the business.
He also played a very deep-voiced evil character known as Dr. Claw in a comedy
series I voice directed for DIC entitled INSPECTOR GADGET -- inspiration for the
live-action feature film by that same name. Frank can play a light-voiced 15-year-
old boy, and in the next breath, do a good imitation of Orson Welles. Need the
sounds of authentic chimpanzees, the trumpeting of an elephant, the screech of
a crow, a hawk, or a parrot? Frank Welker's the man -- the perfect "gentle-man,"
with never a suggestion of ego, temper, or attitude.
There wasn't much of a grand strategy or artistic technique in selecting actors
to double. It was simply who, in my judgment of their acting ability and voice
and character range, made the best choice for those roles. It was not artistically
difficult, but it was certainly time-consuming. There were many just practical,
logistical considerations. Long ago, I developed a form -- a "cast plot" form --
that helps me immensely in managing the assignment of roles.
In a show with only 7 or 8 actors, it's relatively simple to remember and list the
assignments. But in a show with as many as 30 roles, having a flexible, graphic
reminder system became essential. Remember, for example, that if I inadvertently
assigned a given actor 4 rather than 3 roles, he got a full extra paycheck, and the
"bean counters" would be on my ass for not using the cast in the most efficient
manner.
"Sorry, we can't afford that."
Rodimus Prime -- ONLY HUMAN
CHAOS Cast Plot Form -- CLICK TO VIEW:
http://cybertronchronicle.net/60-astrominutes/CHAOS-Cast-Plot-Form.jpg
As you can see, the form lists all the roles by character name and number down
the left side of the page, and ruled lines for each of those roles extend horizontally
across the page.
Then, at the top left of the page, there are about 20 slanted spaces extending from
left to right -- enough of them to let me write in all of the actor's names, how many
roles each actor is assigned, and finally, the total number of lines the actor is to
speak.
The remainder of the form deals with the pages. A dialogue script for a half-hour
show usually had no more than 30 pages. The page numbers are listed across
the top -- from 1 through about 33. (For a feature length script, of course, I use a
form that will accommodate many more pages.) Then, below the page numbers
there are vertical columns that, as the form is filled out, are cross-referenced to
the roles at the left of the form and to the actors at the top. The pages on which
there is dialogue for each actor automatically become apparent.
If you can make them out in the form, you'll see that every time there's an
individual speech by a given character, there's either a tiny tick mark (or
sometimes a number) in the appropriate page box.
Unless you were faced with organizing an actual show, you'd probably wonder
how helpful this form is, but you realize that as I filled the form out, I quickly learned
how many regular lead actors I would have, how many lines each lead would have
(which often determined whether or not I'd use the actor to double), and where
within the script each actor's lines were.
The form also insured that I assigned all the incidental parts. It helped me avoid
accidentally assigning incidental doubles to an actor in a way that would result in
him having to play against himself -- something a Dan Gilvezan could handle, but
which other actors might not do too well. Also, a quick glance at the completed
form told me when in a session an actor would be needed; no point in having Peter
Cullen arrive at the studio right at the beginning of the session if Optimus Prime
wasn't going to rumble until half-way through the script!
Sometimes, I'd finish filling out the cast plot and suddenly realize that one of the
regular characters would have only one line in a show. I would then look at the
script to see if that character's dialogue could just as well be spoken by another
character. If it could, I'd suggest that change to the producer for his okay.
Also, casting changes -- because of actor's other schedules, last minute story
changes, etc., etc. -- happened often. By simply moving either a single name
and / or a couple of Xs on the form, I could quickly adjust the assignments.
And finally, each actor's script had a copy of the completed cast plot attached,
so that as soon as he / she arrived at the studio, he / she could quickly identify
and mark his / her lines in his / her script. (In reality, because of the macho
nature of the show, we had very few "he / shes" in the scripts.)
TCC: All of the Transformer voices were of course processed in one way or another,
but there are instances where their voices were not only "roboticized," but also were
changed in terms of pitch. For instance, in the second-season episode DAY OF
THE MACHINES, the Autobots are forced to stop an Earth-made computer --
T.O.R.Q. III -- that has been reprogrammed for Decepticon purposes. It's voiced by
Gregg Berger at what sounds like an increased pitch. How would you have arrived
at either a) the decision to use Gregg for the role, or b) the decision to change the
pitch of the performance? Would you have "heard" it that way during your preparation
time?
BURR: I don't happen to have a recollection of the incident you cite, but here are
the possibilities -- probably decided upon quickly during the session:
1. Most likely possibility: In the heat of the moment, I needed a voice for T.O.R.Q.,
and Gregg happened to have less than 3 assignments that day, so I assigned
T.O.R.Q. to him. Then, perhaps, in his first T.O.R.Q. choice, I began to hear
some of the quality of his other regular character, and arbirtrarily decided to ask
him to move the T.O.R.Q. voice as far from his other voice (or voices) as possible.
Result? A high voice.
2. Another possibility: The high voice -- maybe somewhat androgynous? -- seemed
to me to be appropriate to a computer.
3. Final possibility: I was tired, Gregg was tired, and the episode producer was tired,
so we quickly accepted whatever came out of Gregg's mouth. I doubt that whatever
voice we heard at the recording session was changed during processing (or in the
final mix) other than to give it the standard robotic quality. Why? Too time-consuming
to experiment at that point.
Bottom line: Whatever the issue, the pressure to "just get it done" often minimized
the amount of time and effort anyone could spend resolving any creative choice. Just
"Do It!"
TCC: On quite a few occasions, you also lent your voice to the proceedings, for
instance filling in for Scatman Crothers' Jazz character in the second season's
KREMZEEK! episode. With such a large an able cast at your disposal, what
might have occasioned you to move to the other side of the glass?
BURR: In this particular case, I felt a strong affection for the late Scatman -- as
well as a closeness to him and an understanding of how he spoke (I'd done 26
HONG KONG PHOOEYs with him at Hanna-Barbera). That made me feel I was
the appropriate guy to do his lines. Let's say it was partly an emotional solution.
But there were other cases you could mark up to pure greed. I would feel I could
do the line as effectively as anyone else (and could use the dough as much as
anyone else), so I'd assign the role to guess who -- "yours truly!" Hardly noble,
just a "practical" solution that I was in a position to control. Auto-nepotism...?!
TCC: You probably won't recall now, but you also had a rare lead role in the
episode titled ATLANTIS, ARISE! -- the aquatic King Nergill, ruler of
Subatlantica. It was a very forceful and memorable character, and I think your
performance, though of course processed, was effective and layered. Was it
more satisfying to have a fully realized character that was "yours" to imbue
with life rather than simply coming in to fill in for another actor's character?
BURR: More satisfying? Than directing? No. But everyone once in a while,
while doing my "homework" on a show (which involved reading each character
to myself -- often aloud) I'd think, "I really know who that cat is -- how he should
perform, what voice he should have." And being pretty tight with the voice director,
I'd have a brief meeting with him, decide whether there was anyone else who was
available to fill the bill, and if not (and if the role was only going to appear in one
episode), pencil myself into the cast plot form. So as not to be running back and
forth between the stage and the booth, I'd record my part after I'd finished with
everyone else.
Once in a while, I'd get a little static on that. Occasionally, someone didn't care
for the way I interpreted a role. Or was it that they felt I was taking advantage of
my position, and used criticizing my characterization as a cover for simply not
liking my padding my director's salary with an acting check? Who knows?
"Me Grimlock was jealous of you."
Grimlock -- WAR OF THE DINOBOTS
No, I don't happen to remember Nergill. But, oddly enough, I know where the
name came from: One of the most prominent announcer / radio DJs in the
business is a guy named Gary Owen. Did you ever see a Hanna-Barbera show
called DYNOMUTT, DOG WONDER -- a take-off on Batman and Robin, with
a pompous and stuffy caped hero named Blue Falcon, played by deep-voiced
Gary Owen, with a Robin-like side-kick who was a not-too-bright klutzy hound
dog named Dynomutt, played by Frank Welker?
I voice-directed it, and it was one of the funniest shows I was ever involved
with. Anyhow, Gary Owen -- especially when he was a radio DJ -- used to
invent all sorts of words that were sheer nonsense, and he'd randomly throw
them into his DJ patter as though they were real words that everyone should
understand. Nergill was one of them. Fnork! -- pronounced fuh-nork! -- was
another. So, many of those words became industry-wide jokes, and, writers
being writers, would need a name for a character and, writers being writers,
they would steal material from anywhere. Hence King Nergill. Writers enjoy
sneaking stuff into scripts and those "tuned in" enough to spot them enjoy
noticing them.
One of the most popular comedy TV shows ever here in the States was
called LAUGH-IN. It was a very fast-moving sketch comedy series that
week after week had everyone in the U.S.A. glued to their TVs. Gary was
the show's pompous announcer who -- old time radio style -- would stand
at a mike with one hand holding his script and the other cupped to his ear,
the better to hear his sonorous tones.
TCC: I've had the great pleasure of speaking to several of the talented actors
who worked with you, and when I asked them about you, a consensus became
clear: They see you as an extremely dedicated perfectionist, as tough and
demanding as they come, but they also acknowledge that the show turned
out so well for that very reason and express appreciation for the loyalty you
gave them in those days. I realize it's probably difficult to sum up your feelings
about these talented people in any small amount of space, but do you have
any enduring memories of working with the cast?
BURR: Difficult to sum up my feelings...? Hey, impossible! There are actors
who one loves working with. Why? Who knows? There are actors who are so
self-centered and isolated they offer little warmth as humans. Nevertheless,
they may be excellent actors.
Who knows why, regardless of their talent, there are people one simply
enjoys and others who bore you stiff. There are a number of the actors in
the series who did their jobs extremely well, but whom I wouldn't care to
know well. I've mentioned that Corey Burton wasn't as initially facile at
creating a character as some of the others, but I always knew he could
do just about anything. He's also a very nice person. Acting is a
mysterious craft. Everyone works in different ways.
Yes, as a director, I was always pretty demanding. I know that I have a good
ear. I could never understand why, if I heard what I felt was a line reading -- or
even an entire scene reading -- that didn't quite carry the meaning I felt it ought
to, I should not ask the actors to try another reading, or two, or even three!
That's what I was there to do! As long as I got the show recorded within the 4
hours that SAG permitted, the extra time involved to do added line readings
was inconsequential. And, after all, I was the only one who had studied the
entire storyboard and script before we recorded it.
TCC: As essential as the script is to the actor, there are some episodes that
don't really seem to make much sense. Am I right in thinking that there must
have been times when you or the actors (or both) would find a script confusing
and not quite know what to make of it?
BURR: Absolutely!! I remember one episode during which I became so frustrated
with non-sequiturs and muddy writing that in the middle of the session, I told the
engineer to stop tape, and I got on the talk-back and said to the entire cast,
"Does anyone have any idea at all as to what's going on in this episode?!"
Everyone sort of shrugged and looked a little foolish. And we went on with the
nonsense. Nonsense comes from two things: (1) the intense time pressures
under which TV is usually produced, and (2) too many cooks and no head
chef in the kitchen.
As I said earlier, I was generally trusted to rewrite dialogue when I found what
I felt were badly written lines. I did this a number of times in every script. But
story structure was the writer's and producer's bailiwick.
TCC: Once the recording part was over and the post-production began, were
you involved with any part of it, or were you basically left to wonder how it
would all come together on the screen? Also, how different did a show generally
turn out compared to what you envisioned as you worked on the vocals and
sound effects?
BURR: No, I had very little to do with any episode after the recording. Although
my studio did do the voice processing to create the robot voices, my engineers
pretty much handled that on "automatic." As far as remaining interested in how
a show worked out as a completed animation project, I seldom even had moment
to wonder.
Again, the economics of TV. Faster, faster, faster! When there was an
opportunity to see a finished project, I was often disappointed with the
animation. It wasn't that the animators and animation directors weren't
talented. They were very talented! But the production system -- the
schedules! -- seldom allowed for the fixing and polishing to make a show
really smooth. I was under the same time pressures, but I was not working
with 30 or 40 other production people spread from Los Angeles to Korea. I
was able to control and complete my relatively small task pretty much as I
wanted to handle it. Dialogue recording for an episode isn't fraught with the
complexities of animating that episode.
Incidentally, you mention the sound effects. My studio had the capability
of handling that area, as did Marvel. So aside from the voice processing,
Marvel pretty much created the SFX in-house in the old film cutting style.
TCC: Naturally, the biggest single piece of TRANSFORMERS animation
is the movie. What were the determining factors in setting up the big-name
cast, and what are your recollections about the recording sessions for the
film?
BURR: The selection of the celebrity cast members was managed by
Sunbow. I'm sure there were many "name" actors on Sunbow's "wish
list" who wanted too much money or did not wish to work on animation,
or simply weren't available. As usual, the celebrity casting was a
laboriously reached compromise.
A word about "names" in animation: They're usually used so that the
promotional staff for a show can brag that they have so-and-so starring.
Presumably, it's to help sell the project. Marquee value is the expression.
Frankly, I question the whole idea of kids being attracted by names. As
for the ability of celebrities to bring something special to a project, the truth
is that some are naturally great and others need a lot of coaching. A couple
of years ago, I worked with a famous -- and talented -- actress. She would
not accept direction, her energy level was nonexistent; her performance was
awful.
Orson Welles -- although a fine actor -- would not pick up the tempo of his
lines. I asked him to do so, but he replied that he could not possibly read
his dialogue any faster. This was B.S., but rather than get into a hassle with
this very famous -- and immensely egotistical -- performer, we allowed him to
continue at the slow pace he wished to work at. Later we speeded his material
close to 10% and then pitched it back down to Welles' normal bass richness.
It worked out very well.
Another aspect of working with celebrities is that too often there is no
opportunity to build any rapport with the actor. The actors arrive at the
studio with the knowledge that they are well known, and that they are
proven talents. Naturally, they are wary of a director they've never met
before and have no reason to believe is going to be helpful. So, under
those circumstances, a voice director must somehow try to immediately
convince the performer that he, the director, does know what he's doing
-- not necessarily an easy task.
I've decided that I will not again work with a "name" unless I've at least had
a chance to sit down with the actor (possibly over a lunch) and chat about
the project and get a feel for how the actor likes to work -- how he sees the
project and, in the process, hopefully learn that I, the director, respect the
actor and that I do know what I'm doing, and that I will be helpful.
About the role of the voice director in animation: On a live action show or on
stage, in making choices about movement and the interpretation of their lines,
the actors can be given quite a bit of freedom by the director because of their
relatively complete understanding of the entire script. Directing animation
dialogue is a somewhat more dictatorial position. Again, the actors usually
do not see a script until they arrive at the recording studio. So when the
actors do arrive, there's barely time for them to mark their parts, much less
read the script for its overall arc. So, the voice director -- who has gone over
the script and storyboard in great detail -- must have the last word on how
the lines are read.
"Very well. We will obey you for now."
Onslaught -- STARSCREAM'S BRIGADE
NEXT: PART III
--
Rik Bakke
silverbolt [at] c2i [dot] net
THE CYBERTRON CHRONICLE
http://cybertronchronicle.net/