What I find most interesting about this clip is how little it actually shows us. This clip from the 1971 Lupin the 3rd is only seven seconds long, and has seven cuts. Easy math tells us that each cut only lasts on screen for a second, so it’s quite fast. But when you actually watch the clip, you realize that a lot of these smaller ‘subjects’ (as we will call them) are even faster than a second, given that the bulk of the scene is a slow motion slash taking up half the run time.
That being said, the speed is only one factor. What I mean by “how little” is how the camera hones in on those subjects. A springing foot. Lupin and Jigen, diving through the air. Goemon slashing with his katana. A single, hairy hand landing. Finally, Jigen rolling to safety as Goemon slashes through an airborne tatami mat. The way I’m writing it might make these subjects sound inconsequential, after all, on their own they would be. But in this context, it actually paints a very comprehensive picture of the situation.
In sequential art, this is referred to as an subject-to-subject transition. And what is anime if not sequential art? In order for this type of transition to make sense, we have to consider what happened before, and what happens after. It promotes the understanding that these actions are happening in response to, or because of what is occurring out of frame. As such, it encourages audience participation as each subject must be added together like different ingredients that make a whole.
Given this, the scene reads as Lupin and Jigen preemptively moving to escape Goemon, being quick on their feet and diving out of the way. But Goemon is so deadly that the two just barely make it in time. That danger is suspended by the increased spacing between each drawing, creating a slow-mo effect of the tatami mat being cleaved clean in two.
So what makes this scene impressive if this is all par for the course in cinema? It is actually here that we return to the speed in which it all occurs.
One of the strengths of animation is how little it needs to be on screen to convey its message. Even though both live action and animation are displayed at the same frame rate of 24 frames per second, actions that take only a few seconds to complete take a massive amount of frames, where animation can display a similar (if not the same) action with only a few frames.
Our animator Osamu Kobayashi (小林治, for clarification) leverages this advantage to make this scene feel more intense. He even sneaks in expressions of glee on Lupin and Jigen’s faces as they jump (something that would be next to impossible to capture in live action).
But nothing about this scene feels rushed. We are allowed to breathe as we reach the pinnacle of the action. It’s a combination of framerate modulation (which we’ve mentioned before in a previous Sakuga Espresso!) and elegant storyboarding by Tameo Kohanawa.
Displaying action is one thing, it’s another to make it exciting! ☕
So what makes this scene impressive if this is all par for the course in cinema? It is actually here that we return to the speed in which it all occurs.
One of the strengths of animation is how little it needs to be on screen to convey its message. Even though both live action and animation are displayed at the same frame rate of 24 frames per second, actions that take only a few seconds to complete take a massive amount of frames, where animation can display a similar (if not the same) action with only a few frames.
Our animator Osamu Kobayashi (小林治, for clarification) leverages this advantage to make this scene feel more intense. He even sneaks in expressions of glee on Lupin and Jigen’s faces as they jump (something that would be next to impossible to capture in live action).
But nothing about this scene feels rushed. We are allowed to breathe as we reach the pinnacle of the action. It’s a combination of framerate modulation (which we’ve mentioned before in a previous Sakuga Espresso!) and elegant storyboarding by Tameo Kohanawa.
Displaying action is one thing, it’s another to make it exciting! ☕
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