I really dig watching actors play twins.  As an animator I think it’s both fascinating and valuable to take note of the ways in which an actor, playing two roles, differentiates one character from the other by establishing and adhering to two specific vocabularies of movement (a term I have used on this blog a few times before, and I’ll use it again.  You can’t stop me, you’re not my boss!).

Designing a language of motion that not only speaks to who that character is, but is also unique to that character is already something that I feel is an important element of an animator’s work.  All the more so when animating characters who look alike.

To put it in 3D animation terms, these characters have identical rigs.  Their T-poses are identical, their geometry, controls, and keyable attributes are exactly the same.  So how do you, the animator– and, more to the point, the audience– distinguish one from the other?

Sometimes it can be as simple as defining a character’s posture.  In The Double (one of my favourite films) Jesse Eisenberg defines wonderfully the doppelgangers Simon James and James Simon through posture and speaking patterns.  This alone effects the way they walk, sit, and interact with their environment.  A lot of mileage for what may seem like a minor change.

But personality differences can be a lot more subtle, and physicalizing those nuances requires a less obvious approach.  The actor Josh Pence, who played the Winklevoss twins alongside Armie Hammer on set of The Social Network, said:

“Before preproduction I watched Dead Ringers.  Jeremy Irons is amazing, and one thing that he talked about in an interview that I read was, the way that he could tell the difference between the two characters was where he put the weight on his feet.  One of the brothers would have his weight back on his heels, if he was the other he’d be a little more forward, on the balls of his feet.”

Posing and weight can make all the difference.  It can be simple, but it should be artful.  Look for those opportunities to distinguish one character from another through movement, posture, centre of gravity, and attitude.  Especially if they share a face.

I generally try to limit the number of posts that fall under the “something cool I saw on the internet” category, but these words of wisdom from legendary designer Saul Bass are just wonderful.

I want to take a minute to talk a bit about a thing I saw.

Disney’s Big Hero 6 is coming out shortly, and the trailers, clips, and promotional footage are littered about the internet. But one piece in particular caught my attention.

Below is a short series of character studies, demonstrating how each of the Big Hero 6 characters would enter a room and sit down. A simple task performed simply enough by each, yet no two characters do it at all the same way.  As an animator, I love this. It’s a perfect example of showcasing clearly defined character personalities by building (and adhering to) specific vocabularies of movement.  And that is very much my jam.

A few months back I did some work on two shorts for Disney’s Pixie series, directed (and boarded) by the legendary Bruce Smith.  They were fun to work on, but even more fun to watch, so it’s a good thing they’re on youtube.  So plant your looking-balls on these video nuggets.


Animating can seem complicated sometimes (understatement of the year). But really, when animating a shot the only thing you need to do is hit the necessary beats. If a shot calls for a character to enter a room, wipe his feet, and dive face-first into a comically large bowl of chowder, those are the only three things you need to accomplish. Simple. Crank that thing out and go home, Game of Thrones ain’t gonna watch itself.

But great animation lies in the mindfulness of character.

Since the specific actions necessary to a shot are often already established in the storyboards, the task of the animator is to define the manner in which the action is carried out. And to do this the animator must know the character, and have a sense of how exactly this particular guy/gal/six-legged subhuman would dive into that aforementioned bowl of chowder.

So how does one merge character with action? Adverbs.

For those of you too busy drawing in notebooks during high school English (like me), adverbs are just adjectives for verbs. They describe the manner in which an action is performed.

Your character is running through a wheat field? How about ‘running gingerly through a wheat field’? Boxing a kangaroo? Try ‘Timidly boxing a kangaroo’. Smiling? ‘Smiling murderously‘.

I could go on, but you may end up wanting to punch me emphatically in the neck. (Adverbs!)

Find the adverb that works for that particular character, performing that particular action. It will help maintain the spark of character specificity while doing the more general work of hitting the story beats.

Side Note: If you want to go a little more broad with this, try assigning an adjective to each character– something that describes them in a general sense– and keep it in mind when animating them. This can work nicely when animating on a series, where characters are generally less nuanced and character arcs are non-existent due to the episodic nature of the medium.

Dance is a lot like Animation’s cousin, or some kind of fraternal twin with a mouth where one of it’s ears should be.  My point is that they both exist under the artistic umbrella of Designed Movement.  As such, dancers are mindful of some of the same things as animators; Like arcs and paths of action.

A little while ago someone showed me these spectacular time-lapsed photos by photographer Shinichi Maruyama of nude dancers.  By combining 10,000 photos the figure itself becomes abstracted and all we see is a visual representation of the dancer’s motion– the arcs.


I mean, look at those arcs! They’re clean, they work together to create an appealing pattern… They’re flipping beautiful, man!  If you’re not being mindful of this stuff the way that dancers are, you’re not really animating.

See more and read bit here.

– Lucas