I'm sitting in a chair, you know, like this.
I can't move this way, I can't move this way.
I've got to stay totally in control,
hit this emotion and lock on this expression, you know.
For me, the digital revolution, it's the best thing that happened to film
in a hundred years. I mean, I would never go back.
I embrace the new tools.
What you can do with a digital image is fantastic.
You know, I couldn't wait to get rid of film.
When ILM start to make that transition
towards digital tools, it was really all discovery,
an invention at its purest form.
A lot of what we were doing,
we were doing for the first time, it was the Wild West.
"What if we do this?" "Okay, let's try that."
Nobody knew what digital could do.
We had to do every little step of the way to try to build these systems.
But there was a lot of groaning and moaning.
People were extremely resistant to making that change.
I mean, they called it "the dark side."
I just told them, you can do it. You know, you can do it. Come on.
It was one of the toughest times.
It was also one of most exciting times,
and I was very determined to make it work.
It's always been easy for me to make a change
if I think it's going to lead to something better.
It's happening a thousand times faster than we ever anticipated,
and we are running as fast as we can to try and keep up.
- This is cold, this is night. - This is Wales.
- This is the movies. - Especially, Willow.
You need Willow.
- Yeah. This is Willow. - Action!
Cut!
I am not a techie person. Never have been.
And so when Willow came along, it was a chance to really go to school,
to really push myself and be exposed to the culture
at ILM for a couple of years.
I found it just like talking to a great screenwriter, great composer.
These were creative conversations. They gave me the menu of possibilities.
Like matte paintings, shooting with the little Brownies on oversized sets...
They had the motion control camera going and they had the models.
It was fantastic.
The one thing that really was a little bit outside the box.
There's this transformation of Fin Raziel, who is this good sorceress.
She'd been turned into a goat, and she had to transform to an ostrich,
a turtle, a tiger, and finally back to a 75-year-old white-haired lady.
I said, yeah, Rick Baker's work on Werewolf of London.
That's how I think we should do this, right?
All prosthetics and a series of cuts.
I always thought those were kind of cheats.
They're fine for action movies.
But this is not an action sequence, really.
I thought this was more of a wondrous sequence.
I thought maybe we could try computer graphics.
He said, "Well, what if it was all one shot?"
I said, "That would be a hell of a puppet. I don't know how you build..."
He said, "No, no, no. It would be in the computer."
I said...
George explained to me that he had launched Dennis
in this direction to explore what computers
could actually mean to making movies.
And I, you know, I didn't want to sound
like too big of a moron, so I didn't press it too much.
But I was really dubious.
Back then, to be able to do something with computer graphics
was just foreign to our minds, including mine, too.
But I knew there was a lot of talent working here
and a lot of people you can call upon if you have a problem to try to help
solve it, you know, a new idea, fresh idea.
And John Knoll said, "You know, someone has done this with a still photo",
"the shape or whatever the image is sort of moves into a new shape,"
"and you can see that other shape."
I said, "That's interesting, could we... Let's try that."
So I ran it to the CG department,
Doug Smythe tried it on a still, and it was incredibly promising.
The computer was calibrating all the in-between moves between two positions.
It was entirely experimental.
Dennis Muren kept apologizing for it. Like, this may not work.
And for this effect to work,
you also got to shoot film to be able to put in there first.
Those are all puppets that had to be made by people.
The Willow transformation sequence,
that was my first experience in the Model Shop at ILM.
I'm a kid from Kansas City, Missouri, and elementary school
was when I realized that art was the great escape.
I knew that there were beautiful things and exciting things in the world,
but they weren't coming to Kansas City, that I could see.
My grandmother was a painter. She loved art.
To be in my grandmother's house in her studio
and sit with her and paint with her,
that was my refuge as a child.
You can truly just disappear.
My mother used to drop me off at the Gallery of Art on weekends,
and I would spend the day walking about.
The de Koonings and things that I couldn't comprehend...
Terrifying modern art.
But I was so drawn to it, I had a sense
that I needed to find a job that would give me that feeling.
I ended up settling on London, I gravitated to the theater.
I'd go there at night and watch the rehearsals.
I'd go in the daytime and make props and costumes.
And then I was able to work on Labyrinth with Jim Henson's company.
And I had a little area of expertise,
which was furry creatures in models and miniatures.
George Lucas came and looked around the set,
and I was requested to come over and work on the animals
that changed from one to the other when Willow's using the wand.
When I arrived, we had to create a goat and had to match the goat on the set.
But also had to be flexible and had to have a neck
that would stretch and match into the ostrich.
Its eyes opened and closed.
Then the peacock fan was built on an umbrella that would open mechanically.
It all collapsed down, and then I made a turtle.
Its feet grew out, became covered in fur
that looked like a tiger, and we had an interim stage
to make prosthetic makeup for a woman, part tiger,
and we knew that the computer graphic department
was going to take these initial stages and blend them from one to the next.
But I had no idea that this was going to be a seminal moment in computer graphics.
Willow, believe in the words.
Concentrate.
Oh, no!
It kinda really blew me away. I bought it.
I saw it happen.
Willow!
Locktwarr danalora...
I said, "I don't know how you're doing it,"
"but you know what, in the world of need to know..."
"I guess I don't."
We coined the word "morf" for doing this,
morfing from one shape into another.
Everybody else since has been spelling at M-O-R-P-H,
and they're all wrong.
Even the dictionary's wrong. It's actually M-O-R-F.
At least our version of it is.
All the money that went into slimin', Nunzio, the Statue of Liberty.
Something's gotta give. This stuff is really, really expensive.
The effects business is a tough business to stay in.
So many companies have fallen by the wayside.
And when I arrived at ILM in the mid-'80s, Roger Rabbit was in production,
Empire of the Sun,
and Willow.
Moving into the digital age happened much more quickly
at ILM than they did anywhere else in the industry.
I'm sure it always moved too slowly for George.
He just intuitively knew "We can do that this way,"
and then, "I just got to find the people"
"who will figure out how to make it happen."
There is no question that once I got welcomed
into the team here, I wanted to look around
and try my hand at everything that I could.
I got to know the computer graphic artists.
They were visionary.
And what they were doing was fascinating to me.
But really not many people in the shop were as interested.
In the Model Shop, we would build big things.
You'd have a Statue of Liberty for Ghostbusters, sets and sculpture
going on, and mold-making.
Everyone could see who was doing the important, interesting work.
And then going into a building where it was all dark
and visually, they were all equal.
I actually found that kind of wonderful.
There wasn't a lot of ego in doing that work.
It was sort of more pure in a way where the result was everything.
The render was everything.
And then came the team that really created the upheaval.
I would blast Beethoven. So much torment in this sound.
I wasn't even listening to music, I was listening to a story.
He had jeans that rolled up, engineer boots, tight T-shirt,
like a rockabilly a little bit.
And I remember thinking, "Who the hell is this guy?"
Me, I looked like I could scrub the bathtub with my head.
Mark Dippé, long-haired, high-end math guy.
They threw us into an office together.
It was soundproof, so I could do whatever the hell I wanted.
I had this speaker system set up.
Spaz comes in and he hears it and he goes, "Alice Cooper!"
"That's my favorite album. Might be the first album I ever bought."
And I go, "Are you kidding me?"
He goes, "It's the first album I ever bought," and so that was it.
We hit it off.
What was so wonderful about those guys
was that they were the antithesis to this sort of geeky computer nerd.
They were real characters.
Steve was a big sort of outgoing guy,
the hockey player from Canada, and Mark was from Alaska.
Alaska, when I was a kid, I think of it as, like, hippies with guns.
A lot of contradictions.
Everyone can kind of do everything, build your own house, drive tractors,
shoot guns, clean animals, get your own meat.
But my whole thing was I got to get out of here.
I really had this dream of getting involved
in sort of more creative pursuits.
I grew up in kind of a grid of Toronto.
In that system, they wanted you to follow the traditional path.
And so I was watching cartoons and dreaming.
We all played hockey. That's what Canadians do.
My dad was with IBM, so I was messing around with computers
but I was more fascinated with how televisions worked,
pulling them apart, for real.
Learning about high voltage.
There was a camp north of Toronto.
They had a gun range, I jumped on at age 10.
I didn't want to kill anybody, right? I was just more interested in mechanism.
Became pretty proficient at that time.
I was never in the army. I was in a special group, that's all.
Not really. No.
Something switched in my brain at about 18 or 19.
The people I was hanging out with,
they were just talking about killing people.
Whether it was hockey or talking about guns,
and I didn't want to do that. You know, I like life.
I decided I have to get out of here, and I'm not going to get out of here
by hitchhiking down to the lower 48.
I've got to go to school.
When I went to college, in those days, computer science was really pretty new.
Computers were still kind of primitive.
And so, while I was studying computer science, I also took art classes,
and I learned a lot about the art of film.
I was like a sponge, really.
My interest was to make images with computers
that didn't require the physical reality.
I was really enamored with how things moved,
drawing on paper and then flipping the paper
and making it move, which is fascinating to me.
So I went to an animation college.
My hands were so swollen
from hockey fights, I was having a hard time drawing at the beginning.
But it clicked right away.
I think a lot of life is being at the right place at the right time.
I knew a guy that worked at the company Alias,
and they made three-dimensional modeling software.
They brought me in as being one of the only classically trained animators.
Alias would send me all over the world.
They'd sent me to Ferrari or send me to Boeing,
and they'd throw an engine part and say, "Model that, kid."
So I became really fast at it.
I wanted to get a PhD and I go to Berkeley and it's just happening.
All right. The topic for today, first of all, is the rendering of polygons.
Ed Catmull was teaching a class with Jim Blinn.
These guys are luminaries, they're visiting professors
because they are now starting the Lucas film computer group.
And they had this vision, particularly Ed, of making a movie with computers.
And I learned a lot from him.
I was really there because I wanted to use technology in creative endeavors.
So when I finish a PhD at Berkeley...
I had this vision of like, "We're gonna make movies in our own world."
We're like little gods, but it was really hard to do because it cost so much money.
Then I heard that at ILM, they were trying to make a realistic water creature.
There were some pretty serious challenges to this thing,
but when I'm writing, I don't want to worry
about how we're actually going to do it. Let's just get the image.
And I had imagined this scene, which we called the pseudopod scene,
and it's this kind of water tentacle that comes into the human base
and looks around, but it's intelligently controlled water.
But the question was, how to do it.
We really wanted The Abyss.
Dennis really was excited about computer graphics.
I was doing marketing at the time and set up a breakfast meeting
between Dennis Muren and James Cameron.
What I was imagining, nobody could quite figure out how to do.
So I was thinking of things like Claymation with white clay,
and we'd project high-speed photography of water,
and we'd animate the clay to follow the ripples in the water.
It would have been very clunky, very difficult, maybe a little jittery.
I actually looked to that show, at the artwork and hearing him describe it,
and thought, "No, no, no, there's got to be another way you can do this."
I was very, very leery about CG.
It was not an area I knew anything about.
Felt like it would be so opaque that I wouldn't be, as a director,
really able to to control it or even know what to ask for.
At that point in time, there had been one fully integrated character
in a motion picture that was generated by CG.
On the movie Young Sherlock Holmes,
I had to come up with something you've never seen,
and it was actually my wife that came up with it.
A flat, stained glass figure,
but you take out all the lead that's holding the glass together.
So you have a hundred pieces all close to each other,
but they're not touching each other.
They can walk as one, and that's perfect for computer graphics.
Our little group did it. It took six months to do seven shots.
It was an achievement in its time, but there were no soft surfaces.
It was all hard surfaces that were being animated into this concept of a figure.
"But Dennis said, " We're now doing stuff with fluid surfaces,
"with some of our software that we're just developing."
"We might be able to show you something."
The night before he came by,
we spent the night doing a test of a really quick rendered model.
Not at all photo-real, but it did show the shape moving by itself.
Now we can actually play that animation back.
And you can see here the pseudopod
sort of lifting his head up and pulling itself forward a bit.
The ILM test was not a slam dunk by any stretch.
But Dennis said, "It's going to take this many months."
"We need X amount of time to develop a new tool set."
And so I thought, one, total leap of faith.
Two, it will be so cool.
We had a lot of the technology Pixar had left behind.
We didn't really know how to do it or how we would get it all done,
we're kind of figuring it out as we go.
And we didn't have a very big crew.
So we had no choice but to grow the computer graphics department.
I met with Doug Kay and George Joblove,
who at that time were running the ILM computer group.
"I thought, " Here is a chance
"to take these ideas I have and actually make something."
Mark Dippé knew how to write code,
and could just see what Jim wanted in the film.
And on the other end of the spectrum
is Steve Williams, kind of a mechanical age guy
who somehow found himself in the digital world.
We brought him in to be an animator.
Dennis was the supervisor on the team there.
Dennis came to set, but we were shooting in a kind of distant location
and he had some gigs that he was running at ILM.
So he had to send John Knoll out to babysit us
and make sure we didn't screw up too badly.
I'd been doing a lot of work with Dennis Muren,
and my enthusiasm and interest led to him asking me to move to The Abyss.
I was the guy who was on set
and in the computer graphics department every day, keeping an eye on things.
It was all brand new.
When we were shooting the background plates
the pseudopod was going to go into, wherever the camera is inside the set,
I'm gonna need to note later because we need to put
a computer camera in a virtual set so that we get the perspective right on this.
We marked where the camera is on these Xerox floor plans of these sets.
What focal length we're using, how high the camera is.
They said every time the camera moves, that could be a problem.
I said that it doesn't matter. The camera's going to move.
Some of it was hand held.
So John had to inhabit this zone between the crazy director
that wanted to move the camera around
and do what needed to be done at ILM in Marin.
There was a lot of conceptual work that had been done.
You could visualize it.
But then the real problem is how the hell do you do it?
How do you simulate water? How do you make water ripple?
How do we develop a face on the end?
We had to create all this stuff.
One of the other challenges was that water is a combination
of reflection and refraction.
For refraction, we were going to use the background plate
and distort it to be what you see through it.
But for reflection, that's everything around us,
and over the course of the couple of days of shooting,
I would have photographed every part of the set.
But then you had to seam them all together into an environment.
Boom! Photoshop.
Fortunately, John Knoll was involved
with Photoshop at that time, and he had a version
that we would work with and use as a demo or test.
So we took all the images with the computer, and we built in a little room,
and that water snake, now it's refracting and reflecting the world.
But when you render something on a computer,
it has an unnatural perfection to it.
It looked like a magic trick. The water was too clear.
That was the kind of thing Dennis is very, very sensitive to.
How would we build environments around that
so that it felt like, you know, belonged in that area?
And he, of course, just instinctively knew
all of those problems that had to be solved.
He knew all of the traditional techniques inside and out.
He really became my mentor in the system there.
I told him, "Just introduce a little"
"brightness over the blacks and suddenly..."
It's got weight. It's lifting up.
It's moving around and it doesn't look like a trick.
It looks much more realistic.
When the water tentacle comes onto the screen, and the face forms...
I remember that moment being one of the turning points in my life.
I knew when I saw that that ILM could do anything,
and that's where I wanted to be.
- No, no, no, no, no. - It's okay, it's okay.
What is it?
Is it alive?
- Lindsey, no. - Sea water.
It's only 90 seconds of running time of that character
spread over, you know, four or five-minute sequence.
But it did start the new era of digital effects in motion pictures.
After we did The Abyss, I saw that this has got a future.
I've got to figure this out, you know, I need this tool,
and I want to understand the tool. So I decided to take a year off.
I bought this book on computer graphics that's like 1,800 pages long.
Read it in the local coffee shop here.
And came away realizing that there's no magic involved.
Everything can be defined.
That was just really exciting to me that the shots are all in progress.
They're built incrementally so you can improve things
or change things all the way through the process
to make them look as good as what's in your mind.
There was no limit on your own imagination,
and it just needed to be pursued.
I can't explain it any more than that.
Dennis, he saw the future there
way before anybody else
was thinking about that here in the company.
For a long time in the Model Shop, in those early days of CG,
we were under the impression
that their work was just going to be sort of enhancing what we were doing.
That it would be an additional kind of decorative thing
and that we would still always be the center of work.
A lot of departments were sort of slightly wistful
of the work that we did because we were the ones
that got to throw paint around and build things.
This is a late night delirious camp.
Oh, my... Hey. Hi, silly.
I saw the Model Shop like being this machine
made up of people that had a really broad spectrum background
that brought all different kinds of things to it.
I was always amazed by how well choreographed we were.
I came here in '88. I just wanted to make stuff.
I always wanted to work with my hands.
He was this young kid at the time.
He was pretty quiet. I mean, he could come into a room
and you wouldn't even know he'd come in and left again,
and so hard-working.
On Ghostbusters II,
they had these scenes that were in the bowels of Grand Central Station.
I'm in some kind of a chamber. There's some tile work.
- Slime! It's a river of slime! - What?
The vaults of this thing, we had to build in the Model Shop.
They had actually made little tiles and laid them in,
but there was some bare wood visible, so they had me work on that,
and I drew them all on.
It worked super well and really fast.
And you came over and you complimented me on it
because it looked really, really good.
So I remember that was the first time I think I ever talked to you.
But you wind up working with people in the shop
and you develop a relationship with them.
You know, you're crawling all over something
and you're in each other's faces,
everybody knows their thing and they know what to do,
and it was just kind of... That was the way the relationship...
It came from that, you know, it was this working thing.
And then over time I'd become more talkative
and comfortable being a lot louder.
Sometimes you want him to stop talking.
- Now. - Sometimes, but...
We make a pretty good pair.
The joy of working
was being together, physically working with your hands
and interacting with each other all day.
We had a playground.
- We'll do a fly-by. - Okay. Beautiful.
- Oh, hi, Dennis. - Hi.
- How's it going? - Hi, Bill.
- Home movies. - Walk it up.
Don't drop the baby!
The family sense of all working together
and collectively really didn't change much
until computer graphics became an obvious competitor for the shop.
There were so many people that were skilled
in the arts of the photochemical ways.
They didn't know how to just pick up and change like,
"Oh, we're gonna do everything differently now."
So in '91, when I was promoted to general manager,
we did offer training to people
who were in traditional departments to see if we could move them over.
I immediately recognized that computer graphics were one more tool.
I saw it as just another bunch of paint and brushes.
I don't think anybody else much saw it
that way at the time, at least not in the Model Shop.
When people started leaving and going to the computer graphics department,
I was one of those people that had resentment about it
because I felt like, "Hey, they're taking apart"
"this machine we have over here."
The Model Shop was this great organism that could do anything.
But then these key pieces were being pulled out of it.
Jean was one of the few people that adapted.
She learned the digital tools and became quite proficient at them.
My training evolved into the opportunity
to work on a film as a view painter.
I would still come and go in the Model Shop,
but I was feeling less and less like I was welcome there.
It was very hard to watch your little community
kind of being torn down around you.
That's kind of what it felt like.
And they called it "the dark side." You know, and I had these feelings, too.
They felt that I was not being loyal, but I wasn't going to go hide.
I was determined to bridge those gaps.
I also really could see that the Model Shop jobs were threatened.
It was starting to have, like "My God, this is going to have"
"consequences for the Model Shop," because people give you the book,
What's the Color of your Parachute?
How to Reorganize Your Life and Reinvent Yourself.
I remember talking to Dennis about it,
and he said, "Well, I would guess, maybe you only have"
"two, two and a half more years or something like that."
It's like, jeez, that was really depressing, you know, to think of that.
The Model Shop, camera department, stage, all of those things,
that was the foundations of ILM. That was becoming less and less important.
Computer graphics was becoming bigger and bigger and bigger.
All of that's happening, and we were hiring a lot of new people that had
specialty in the digital side to kind of meet the demand.
I was born in Hong Kong under the colonial rule by the British.
I was lucky to have a mother who actually loves movies.
When you have five kids, you want some sort of release between chores.
I went to a very traditional girl's school.
As part of the education, they would take us to see classic movies.
And the first one was War and Peace, then we did Gone with the Wind.
And then, at the age of 15, I was introduced to this film called Star Wars.
Here they come.
I was blown away.
Star Wars planted a seed in me.
This world is bigger than what you are experiencing.
So that name, Industrial Light and Magic, left a very, very strong impression,
you know, in my mind.
I really wanted to travel, so I went to London.
I started thinking I might like to work in the film industry
when I was doing my post-graduate studies,
discovering how to paint digitally.
This is early '80s.
And then eventually, in addition to being able to animate and paint,
I could also do the technical part, which is write code, and I worked
at a production company in London.
They got this campaign, a census commercial,
and what they wanted to do is to make a baby talk.
Who am I? Where am I from? What am I gonna do?
There was quite a lot of dialogue.
It was a very ambitious campaign and I was doing it by myself.
No one has ever made anything talk, not even talking animals.
I packed my bags and said to my husband,
"I'm gonna live at my work for three days. Don't disturb me."
"I'm gonna have to come up with something pretty spectacular to get this done."
Hello, may I ask you a few questions?
When was I born?
Where will I go to school? What kind of house will I live in?
The census, it counts because you count.
When it came out, it was one of the most
well-received commercials during that time.
Ellen, how long did all this take?
Um, the commercial was 30 seconds.
So I had to make up 750 grids, each of a different shape.
Through the grapevine,
Industrial Light & Magic heard about me in London,
and wanted to meet with me.
That's something I've been dreaming of since I was 15,
and I couldn't possibly let that opportunity
slip through my fingers.
I was very much in love with my husband, but he wanted to stay in London.
He was very understanding and said, "Well, you do what you got to do."
That was my crossroad.
We said we'll just carry on seeing each other.
But eventually, of course, you know, we separated.
But we had to follow our dreams, right?
As time goes by, I started to actually get to know this group of people.
We started to create a bond.
My family was in Hong Kong and in England.
I was by myself in San Francisco.
So these people became my brothers, my sisters.
ILM brought these highly talented people from all over the world
into this one spot to work together.
It was a really exciting time because the company blossomed, it grew.
It's like coming to an amusement park, right?
And you're not paying to get in.
They're paying you to be in the amusement park.
And that's what it was like here.
All of us were in our twenties, trying to find ourselves.
We were not just interested in computer graphics.
We were also, like, exploring life.
From the people to the technology,
to the speculation about the future of humanity,
it was a free education on so many levels.
We're all relatively young, and we worked long hours, you know.
It's the whole thing. "Work hard, play hard."
We would hang out in Mark Dippé and Spaz's office, called "the pit."
I would like to introduce you to one of my havens
of supposed creativity, called "the pit," here at.
Industrial Light and Mashed Potatoes.
The pit was an old sound room here.
"Mix beat," they used to call it or something.
But George Lucas came in once and he goes,
"Yeah, this is where I formed EditDroid, in this room."
Spaz was a little...
The Pit had this reputation of being this bad boy hangout place.
Definitely not the ILM that I knew.
The first time I went in there, it was literally like a man cave,
and there was this energy in there that was distinctly rebel-like.
We had everything.
Dartboard, beer, you know, it was just... It was crazy.
We would just throw these nutty parties
because it was soundproof and you'd shut the door,
heavy door, nobody's going to give a crap.
The place would get destroyed.
Our office, security came in and took pictures.
I still have dreams about that place. It's really strange.
I mean, I lived there, I lived there.
It was great because we were at this ground level of discovery and as an artist
working with Spaz, working with Dennis, with the computer graphic artists
at that time, we were able to merge all these different disciplines together.
I was at the right place at the right time.
I was born in Taiwan in 1962.
And when I was about four or five,
my parents moved over to Detroit, Michigan.
My father was an engineer at Ford Motor Company.
And we were probably one of the few Asian families in that community.
I was kind of like a fish out of water, really.
And so I was picked on constantly.
I remember going through high school, just a very unpleasant experience.
That's where I started to discover art and I started to draw a lot.
I wanted to escape reality.
And what transformed me really was seeing two films in 1977.
One was Harryhausen's Golden Voyage of Sinbad,
the other one was Star Wars.
Both of those films transported me into different worlds,
and I want to know more about the process.
This is when they start to publish art books and "making of" books.
Magazines where they actually showed you filmmakers like Steve Galich,
and Lorne Peterson, Richard Edlund, Ken Ralston, and Dennis Muren.
And I saw all the artwork, the creativity, from Ralph McQuarrie and Joe Johnston,
and I was like, "Wow, these are the people doing the craft."
I thought they had trained for years to do this job.
In reality, they were all very new to it as well.
And I thought, "Okay, there's hope for me."
And I went into the basement and started to create my sets
and started learning about film making on my own.
Model building, animation.
I ended up at UCLA.
One of my first films was called Mental Block.
It was a four-minute, experimental stop motion film
that I did sort of in my dorm room.
And that won first place in the Focus Awards.
And the first prize was a car. And I was like, "Okay, fantastic."
I got a car in college. Maybe film making could be a career.
In the mid-1980s, I started working for a company called Digital Productions.
They were doing movie titles, flying logos, companies show IDs,
and I learned how to design for computer graphics.
Lasted a good several years, and then I actually got
an invitation to interview for the ILM art department.
I moved out of my apartment, packed everything up,
and I drove north because I thought this was my foot in the door.
I was gonna put it all in.
Who are these key people who were there at that time?
People I'd seen when I was 15 years old in these documentaries,
I was like, here they were in person.
I remember the first day walking through the hallway, and I just saw this figure.
I knew it was Dennis Muren because he's so iconic
and I've seen so many pictures of him.
And me being the new kid at ILM, it was just like, wow!
Okay, you do live up to your stature.
Everybody knew all the projects.
We were all in everybody else's dailies, and we could all work together.
Whether it was Roger Rabbit, or Death Becomes Her,
they were all very different, and they were all very specific.
ILM was this laboratory experience in a sense,
because you're being asked to do things no one's ever done.
I remember one day Dennis goes, "Jim Cameron just called again."
He wants us to do this thing, and this is a lot bigger than The Abyss.
You had to basically sign something that you could sit down in a room here
when somebody was sort of out there
waiting for you to finish reading the script.
I remember reading it going, "How the hell are we gonna do this?"
I said, "That's it, we have to build a human being."
In T2,
I wanted to have a worthy adversary to Arnold's Terminator
but something so unlike him that it wasn't just two robots
doing, you know, Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots.
I imagined this kind of liquid metal terminator.
But the question was,
"Can we hang the whole movie on a soft surface character with CG?"
If Dennis said we couldn't do it, I wasn't gonna do it.
We did some tests here to make sure that we could do the job,
that we could make a chrome figure move around, change shape.
It was kind of fun to be able to throw
such a huge challenge down in front of them and say,
"We're gonna underwrite you to write a lot of new software,"
"stuff that people have only been talking about,"
"and you're gonna do it on this movie."
A liquid metal man is a big leap from a water snake.
And we had to develop an entirely new approach
because even though it's not organic, it is supposed to embody
the characteristics of the T-1000,
which is actually the actor Robert Patrick.
It was such an exciting opportunity.
You probably could have made The Abyss without that pseudopod character
and figured out a way to tell the story.
The polyalloy character in T2 had to work, right?
It had to work.
We really embraced the risk, not over promising,
but knowing just enough to say, "We will get the answer months from now."
"We don't know what it is now, but we will find it together."
They only had nine months, which was the scary part
to do these really complicated shots.
They had to create the new technology,
then they had to apply it and get it done on a schedule.
The process started with Doug Chiang, who has to first envision that look.
Here's what we want, go. Go ahead and do it in 3D.
That's where design started to push the technology,
because I just want to go for the aesthetics, to come up with these things.
Knowing that there were going to be many computer graphics people
to figure out how to execute.
In this film, we broke up into five teams.
The one I was on,
we had to figure out how to build the T-1000 in data.
So I figured, I'll do the way nature does it.
Start with bones, muscles, tendons, vacuum wrap it,
and hopefully we get something that looks like a human.
So we had Robert Patrick come up here.
He had to stand in this sort of crucifix device.
We put this grid on his body,
and then we shot lots of stills to analyze his physical musculature.
I wanted to try and mimic his walk,
but this is pre-motion capture, so we shot him with two.
VistaVision division cameras synced both from the front and from the side.
Mark started being more assistant visual effects supervisor.
He was on set.
I decided to concentrate on the Robert Patrick form,
because Robert is the T-1000.
We're gonna study his body.
We're gonna watch his movements.
The way he walks, the way he runs, the way he behaves.
We're gonna capture all this stuff to build a database of his movements.
He had a little tiny bit of a weird gait.
He had a little bit of a limp that Steve caught
and we kind of replicated it and put it into
the animation of that character
when he was, you know, in full polyalloy form.
That's the moment. That's the moment in history.
We've seen the light and we went from 16 CG shots on The Abyss to 42
in T2, and we were in this transitional phase
where we're still doing stuff of practical effects.
While we were doing stuff with CG and getting them to meet in the middle.
I brought my friend Stan Winston to do some of the effects,
the practical gags.
So that was our team.
There was a lot of back and forth to find workarounds.
What are the best tools to create imageries that we want?
You are limited by technology, but then you try to find ways to overcome that.
There were things that popped open on his chest and so on.
So the popping open, they did it as a physical gag.
The rehealing was in Dennis' camp.
It's kind of hard to tell where one begins and the other ends at this point.
We had an effect called "sauce head,"
you know, where he gets his head blown open, right?
We had an incredible collaboration.
How to divide this up and how to get the lighting to agree
and how to make it look like it all lives in the same world.
Computer graphics, you know,
you draw your way or animate your way or render your way out of a problem.
Like in the case of the bars, they have this great scene
where the T-1000 that's supposed to walk
through a set of static bars, we had the actual data of the face.
But data is stupid.
If I have two objects and I smash them together,
they go right through one another because it doesn't know.
So you have to write a program that understands how to make one object
collide with the other object the same way that nature does it.
So when his face walks through, the program says, "Okay."
When you see face A, run into bars B,
make sure to deform and listen to what the contour of the bar is.
So it emulates the look of liquid moving through the bar.
Impossible.
That shot is impossible.
I still look at it and say, "That's impossible."
Then the gun doesn't go through,
to remind you that it's something special.
When Jim Cameron did the second Terminator,
I was so blown away by these shots, they just stuck with me.
The film was ludicrously ambitious,
but the ambitious part is part of the magic.
You have to be ambitious because you have to be willing to do the hard work
to show people something they've never seen before.
T2 was just so groundbreaking.
At that point, our department was filled with the best people in the business.
It was just a matter of time before we would break out to do something stunning.
After Terminator had finished, Dennis Muren brought us all out to lunch,
and he said, "Spielberg has come up with this film."
It's gonna be about dinosaurs that take over a park.
Phil Tippett's gonna do all the dinosaurs.
And we're just being thrown
into the batch for whatever, with no idea what we're gonna do.
Mark and I right away said,
"Why don't we build the whole thing in computer graphics?"
But it didn't seem like we were ready to commit
to a deadline for a show that big and much more complicated
than Terminator 2.
It became sort of like a personal challenge.
Mark and I went back to our office,
and I started drawing it on the board.
If you believe in something, you know, there's nothing worse than not trying.