Proof Of God: Disney Closes Zemeckis Digital Mannequin Studio

Out of the eighties class of film directors, the decline of Robert Zemeckis has been one of the saddest stories in Hollywood. One of the few directors unafraid to imprint his own whiz-bang style on radical advances in cinematic technology, Zemeckis oversaw one of the best directorial runs (outside of Spielberg territory) in recent memory. Films like the Back to the Future trilogy, Forrest Gump, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Romancing The Stone, and Death Becomes Her were clockwork-tight entertainment behemoths, filled with great humor and seamless character moments, wrapped in a bright shiny bow of technological virtuosity. Even noble failures like Contact, What Lies Beneath, or Cast Away showed flashes of directorial brilliance and insightful composition. From 1984 to 2000, Zemeckis compiled a filmography unequalled among his filmmaking contemporaries. It seemed that his relative youth promised decades of additional blockbusters that would continue the Zemeckis stranglehold on pop culture. Indeed, Zemeckis seemed like a more talented version of John Hughes in that respect, his finger always pressed firmly to the pulse of popular taste. But something happened to Zemeckis following the wrap of Cast Away in 2000. He seemed just as lost creatively as Tom Hanks was on his island, adrift without a Wilson to inspire him. It was then that Zemeckis discovered performance capture technology, the same emerging gadgets that would, a year later, transform Andy Serkis into the popular Gollum. Transfixed, Zemeckis set up his own studio, ImageMovers Digital (IMD), to pursue films made in the computer instead of traditionally. And his very sad decline began. The films directed by Zemeckis through IMD - The Polar Express, Beowulf, and A Christmas Carol - are typical Zemeckis entertainments divorced from reality, characterization, or interest. Like George Lucas, Zemeckis quickly tires of the tedium of traditional photographic cinema. Through IMD, Zemeckis imagined a time when the irritating elements of directing - actors, lighting, sets, camera set-ups, downtime - would be replaced by an efficient computer system that would give him exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. So lost was Zemeckis in his digital sandbox that he lost sight of the qualities that made his films so special. The once-electric buzz of his fluid camera became a dizzying phantasmagoria of impossible angles and showy shots. The snappy characters that propelled his early films to success were replaced by dead-eyed mannequins lip-synching to the voices of famous actors. Nothing felt real or substantial anymore. A Zemeckis film became a reason to skip the theater, rather than a reason to run to it. Which is why I'm thrilled to hear that Disney has decided to close the door on IMD and the Zemeckis Experiment. As the article states, Zemeckis has no plans to abandon his latest CGI abortion The Yellow Submarine. That's a shame. Out of all Hollywood directors, Zemeckis needs to get behind a real camera and make it sing as he did over a decade ago. Somewhere behind those CGI-bedazzled eyes is the mind of a true cinematic genius, someone who could, if motivated, return to glory and reinvigorate cinema. Hopefully this bold move by Disney provides that motivation.