I aim to write my literature review on key structural elements of POV horror content, and have been experimenting with angles to approach this from. The initial research question was:
In what ways does the use of found footage and other “pre-recorded” formats enhance the realism and emotional connection of contemporary horror content?
And developed into:
The Viewer as Participant: How Do Found Footage and Pre-recorded Formats Create Emotional Investment in Contemporary Horror?
I shifted from examining how found footage creates realism to focusing on viewer participation because I realized my original scope was too narrow. Through developing Burlap Friends and studying interactive experiences like ARGs, I’ve seen that these formats don’t just make content feel real – they fundamentally change how audiences engage with horror.
Here I discuss the relevance to some literature I’ve been observing in relation to this topic, I plan on expanding this list and finding the multitude of connections I can observe and build upon within my essay.
Today’s lecture involved Paul Wells views on animation narrative. What really hit home for me was the understanding that the animation writer must go beyond conventional storytelling restraints while remaining grounded in fundamental narrative principles. What mostly intrigues me in Well’s claim is how it dares us as creators. To him, while animation does carry some of the DNA of live-action filmmaking, its true strength lies in its unique vocabulary. This really resonates with my work currently on the Burlap Friends project, where I have been working to tell complex emotional stories with inanimate objects.
Wells’ insistence that animation writers must be “writers all the time” always observing and changing life around him into material, had me reflecting on my own writing process. For instance, with the recent character developments, I have been treating my plush toy characters as conventional horror antagonists instead of taking advantage of the animation medium to push for a more unique angle. What’s particularly enlightening about Wells’ perspective is the emphasis he places on animation making the absurd plausible; it is not a feast of visuals merely, but to find new ways of reaching your audience with impossible situations made plausible.
In my own work, this has prompted me to reconsider how I approach scene transitions and character movements, looking for opportunities to bend reality in ways that serve the story rather than just adhering to physical laws. But what this lecture has really been able to force me to consider is how I utilise animation’s unique properties to enhance narrative rather than just serve it. Moving forward, I aim to be more bold with form and movement in my storytelling, while keeping Wells’ emphasis on maintaining narrative coherence firmly in mind.
I found today’s lecture on the mise-en-scène elements of animation and film really interesting. It is great how such physical components actually come together and are able to tell a story or even make one feel something. Large animation studios using such methods, especially how Studio Ghibli mastered the use of mise-en-scène in Spirited Away, have been what really drew my interest. Such highly conscious juxtaposition of warm, natural lighting in the human world to the otherworldly atmosphere of the spirit realm perfectly shows how technical choices can reinforce deeper themes. This parallels examples from the lecture, though offering a unique cultural perspective on these universal techniques.
What really caught my attention was the camera angles. Just as the lecture showed using The Incredibles, high-angle shots made the character appear weaker; similarly, in Persepolis, low shots would be used stragegically to convey the opposite. These are not only stylised moments but have full implications for the development of the character’s psyche and the plot itself.
Another pivotal factor became shot types. Drawing from examples in the lecture, it could be noticed that Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse uses extreme close-ups during Miles’ transformation sequences to capture minute changes in emotions. It’s intimate framings like this that really make for powerful character moments that palpably affect viewers.
The lighting section opened up new perspectives on animation possibilities. While examining different lighting techniques in animation, I found it interesting how films like Over the Moon use dramatic lighting shifts to signal transitions between reality and fantasy. This demonstrates the ongoing evolution of foundational lighting principles in modern animation.
In the future, I will be critically gauging these elements in animated works. Indeed, knowledge of the technical aspects of mise-en-scène made me more appreciative of animation as a medium resourceful in storytelling. It was a perfect lecture-it got across how everything interacts in a meaningfully conveyed visual narration of why thoughtful visual composition in animation is important.
This helps me to raise an analysis of how modern animators expand the core techniques while developing new ways to approach visual storytelling. Every visual choice in animation creates some kind of narrative experience.
Looking at political messages in media, I’m seeing some interesting patterns in how they’re delivered. Take Silent Hill 2 – underneath all that psychological horror, there’s this whole layer dealing with mental health and illness. It’s not trying to be too overt about it, but those themes are woven right into how the game works. Although games aren’t exactly “animation” per se, animated setpieces and character, are a key component to how videogames communicate with the player.
I’ve been analysing how these messages spread across different media types:
Games do something really unique here. Papers, Please is a perfect example – the whole gameplay loop makes you live through these moral choices instead of just watching them happen. You’re actually dealing with the politics by playing, which effects you differently than just watching a film about it.
Here’s what I noticed about how they’re building these messages in:
Setting up stories through environment design
Using character looks to show social structures
Building meaning into how games actually play
Making viewers/players get involved with the ideas
Social media changed everything about how political media works. You’ve got TikTok turning political messages into these bite-sized entertaining clips, while streaming shows can take their time developing more complex ideas. It’s fascinating how the platform shapes the message. Creators can produce small animated clips that subvert expectations since we are used to consuming polical media through more traditional means, and can reach out to the emotions of thousands through videos 15 seconds long.
Working with newer platforms means totally rethinking how we deliver these ideas. What used to need a whole movie for can now spread through a bunch of connected posts or a small indie game. The way people consume media now has opened up all these new possibilities while making the old ways less effective.
The rise of independent creators in media has really changed the landscape. Since they don’t need big studio approval, smaller teams can tackle political topics more directly. I’m seeing much more diverse viewpoints coming through entertainment now.
Animation is a complex dance between large-scale production pipelines and an inherently personal artistic vision which challenges many more traditional applications of film theory to animated works. The Cahiers du Cinéma critics caught my interest, especially their push to recognize artistry beyond just the elite directors.
When we started examining Sarris’s three-circle model, I began thinking about how well traditional auteur frameworks hold up against animation’s production realities. Paul Wells brought up this compelling point about animation potentially being the most auteur-driven form of filmmaking, despite (or maybe because of) how collaborative it needs to be.
I’ve worked with animation pipelines before, so this really resonated with my experience – you need that strong creative vision to hold everything together, but it’s meaningless without the team bringing it to life. The Disney discussion really drove this home. Wells calls Disney both “the most important animator” and “barely an animator at all” – which perfectly captures this weird tension in animation auteurship. Looking at how Pixar handles this now, with their balance of studio identity and individual director recognition, shows how these ideas keep evolving.
I think about how contemporary animation studios put this differently: some focus on the singular directors, while others rely on a strong studio identity. It’s almost as if they’re rewriting auteur theory to fit in the unique nature of animation. Fascinatingly, it shifts the industry from the earlier focus on individual animators toward a more collaborative approach. The evolution underlines that of animation as an ever-changing art form.
Looking into experimental animation techniques this week brought up some interesting discussions about materiality in animation. We started examining how Norman McLaren’s “Neighbours” (1952) uses pixilation – this technique where he animated actual people frame by frame. It’s fascinating how he took live actors and made them move in this jerky, unnatural way that somehow feels more expressive than smooth motion.
The contrast between hiding and celebrating materials in animation really stood out. Watched Mary Ellen Bute’s “Abstronic” (1952) which uses oscilloscope patterns to create abstract animations synced with music. She basically turned electronic signals into visual art decades before computer animation existed. That’s the kind of experimental thinking that pushes animation forward.
Been diving into contemporary experimental work too. David O’Reilly’s “Please Say Something” (2009) deliberately uses low-poly 3D animation in a way that emphasizes its digital nature rather than trying to hide it. The rough, unfinished aesthetic actually adds to the emotional impact.
What’s really caught my attention is how these experimental techniques keep evolving with technology. Looking at how Tomek Ducki combines traditional hand-drawn animation with digital effects in “Life Line” (2007) – there’s this beautiful tension between organic and digital elements that creates something entirely new.
These techniques really make me think about how I could incorporate some experimental elements into my own work, especially playing with the idea of revealing rather than concealing the animation process. Maybe exploring some frame-by-frame manipulation of 3D renders to create something that sits between digital and analog approaches.
Working through foundational research methodologies this week brought key insights into academic writing approaches for our critical report development. The session deconstructed effective research strategies, emphasizing how initial research questions fundamentally shape topic exploration. The lecture engaged deeply with source evaluation methodology.
A practical exploration of animation history revealed interesting applications of meta-narrative techniques. Early animation frequently incorporated the artist’s presence, creating a dialogue between creator and creation that continues to influence contemporary work. This analysis ties into my current research examining the theoretical frameworks in Wells’ “Understanding Animation,” particularly regarding how abstract and orthodox animation approaches differ in their handling of narrative construction.
The practical part had us hunting for examples where animators showed up in their own work. I watched this fascinating piece called Fantasmagorie from 1908 where the animator’s hand actually appears, drawing the first character right there on screen.
Looking at animation techniques between orthodox and abstract approaches, I aim to examine how they differ both technically and narratively. I plan to examine multiple examples, and taking them apart to understand their fundamental differences. This analysis will build a stronger foundation for my critical report.
