I’ve always been a sucker for Disney movies. Long after the kids grew out of them, I insisted on keeping videos of “Beauty and the Beast” and “Lion King.” Actually, the Disney version of “Alice in Wonderland” remains one of my all-time favourite movies of any kind. Love those big flower blossoms that look like lion heads! But the other night I went to see Pixar’s latest movie, “Up,” and I have to say it is one of the most amazing films I’ve ever seen.
You would expect the graphics to amaze, and they do. But this film about an aging widower who goes off on an adventure with an unsuspecting kid is much more than an example of the latest whizzy technology. The story is beautiful. The characters are complex and captivating. But the reason why I’m writing about it here is because it has made me think about the power of the wordless image. As a writer I, of course, approach all my work through words. Whether it’s prose, poetry or plays, it’s through words that I express whatever character or theme I am looking to portray. This sounds obvious, but I have found this to be a bit tricky as I write plays, and believe it or not, it wasn’t until I saw “Up” that I realized how much pathos and motivation can be expressed just by visual images when you’re working in a narrative context.
Within “Up” there is a 10-minute completely wordless montage which takes you through the marriage of the main character and his wife. By the time it was over, I was in floods of tears, completely understanding the characters, their loves, their losses and dreams. Amazing. Now, you would have thought that I might have learned this lesson before this late date. But for 
some reason, the power of the visual over the verbal really hit home as I sat there crying over these animated figures. It’s funny how these light bulb moments appear when they’re least expected. And it will be interesting to see how all this translates into any of my own work.
So, do go see it if you can.
I remember going to see Fantasia with my father when I was about eight. The cinema was bordering the Gorbals in Glasgow and Dad was worried about the gangs. We both forget about them and everything else when the film started.
I think I discovered what it was like to be tranced into another world that day.
Sue, I have also always been fascinated by those wordless scenes in films, often where more is said than in the dialogue. I love the way that a film can do that, and we can’t, we always need the words. “Up” sounds lovely, can’t wait to see it. I watched the beginning of Monsters v Aliens on the plane, I love animation, it can be so evocative, so powerful. Hope you are having a lovely time!
It is amazing what can be communicated non-verbally isn’t it!! I have to be careful what my face does when people are talking to me because it is very easy to tell exactly what I am thinking by the look on my face!!
Up sounds amazing but I’m probably going to have to wait till it comes out on DVD…I can’t see Chris coming to see it with me at the cinema!!
C x
That sounds like a definite ‘must see’.
Like Fia, I remember being taken to the cinema to see Bambi. My brother took me and I remember trying so hard not cry … and failing.
Fia: I love Fantasia, too. And trance is the perfect word for it. Thanks for dropping by!
Tania: Yea, and it feels like animation is now being used to serve the story, rather than as an end in itself, which is so cool.
Carol: I was thinking about you as I wrote that post. As a visual artist all this must come as a no-brainer and very obvious. But do try to get Chris to go. I know lots of “manly men” who have now seen it and really liked it, too 🙂
Lane: Oh no, not Bambi! The saddest movie ever. Didn’t they even remake it without the dead mother bit?