I love all forms of animation, especially the various forms of stop-motion. So I am familiar with the work of Will Vinton and his trademark Claymation process. I hold him in high regard for the quality of his work, even if there is consistently something I find a bit off-putting about it. Something I can’t define keeps me at arm’s length.
And, yet, I didn’t know much about him before watching the 2021 documentary Claydream. I learned a great deal in course of watching this, including how most people apparently found it difficult to really know him, as if something undefinable always kept them some distance. So that feeling didn’t just apply to his work. “He was a mystery to himself.” “I never quite knew him. I could never figure him out. He couldn’t express himself without clay.”
The structure of this film is interesting, jumping back-and-forth from a chronological presentation of key moments in Vinton’s life to a more recent incident that will determine the future of the company he founded.
Vinton started working with the material that would be his life’s work when he thought architecture would be his career. He was obsessed with Antonio Gaudi, and tried to emulate that artist’s organic forms through clay. He was also knew how to make show films, courtesy of his father’s motion picture equipment which he messed around with when he was a child.
It only took a spark to bring these elements together, and that was courtesy of Bob Gardner. Gardner seems to have been far more the Hippie than Vinton ever was. I thought it was interesting they were making their art not in San Francisco, but in Oregon, since anybody who has seen Portlandia knows how strong the counterculture vibe there is even today.
The two find early success when Closed Mondays, their first short, wins an Academy Award. Ironically, that short had initially been rejected by the Portland Film Festival.
Unfortunately, the success drives a wedge between the two artists until they part acrimoniously. Gardner would harbor a grudge against Vinton for the rest of his life, to the extent the latter was sometimes in fear for his life.
Although Vinton was not as much of a Hippie as Gardner, he still founds his studio on the principles of the counterculture. He puts the focus not on making money but instead on “making the projects as cool as they could be”.
The success of Vinton’s studio slowly builds, but still on his terms. He manages to continue operating in Oregon, and so does not have to relocate to LA. By keeping budgets low, he maintains greater control.
But he will soon sow the seeds that will eventually cost him control of the studio he founded. This was when he accepts investment money from Nike founder Phil Knight.
Initially, there is remarkable success in the 1980’s and 1990’s. There was the California Raisins pop culture phenomenon, as well as the very success Domino’s campaign featuring The Noid. Then there was the successful television show Dinosaurs.
Even amongst these successes, there were signs Vinton was losing the plot. He was obsessed with creating a character that would be his own Mickey Mouse, yet his Wilshire Pig was shockingly repellant. That he thought he could develop this and other characters into something he could base a theme park around is downright delusional.
But such ideas could be humored as long as the core enterprise was flourishing. Alas, work begins to dry up, including the cancellation of the television show The PJ’s.
This is where Phil Knight reenters the picture. Initially, his son Travis starts as an apprentice animator at the studio. Apparently, Travis is genuinely gifted and he did not trade on his name while working among the rank and file. Still, he will eventually assume leadership of the studio after Vinton is ousted.
It would be easy to vilify Travis Knight, but the story is more complicated than that. While it is reprehensible somebody could be removed from the company they founded, Vinton did seem to extend his reach farther than was possible given the manner in which he wanted to run his business. Knight, after he assumes leadership, changes the company name to Laika, and produces such innovative hits as Coraline.
Business, like life, is complicated, and Claydream does justice to the life and work of a fascinating man. It didn’t improve my personal feelings towards Vinton’s oeuvre, and this disc includes the entirety of his short films from the 20th century. And yet, it did make me appreciate better the creator of those films. Highly recommended.
Dir: Marq Evans
Documentary
Watched on Oscilloscope blu-ray