By Emily Brown
Go see Robin Hood while it’s still out in theaters – grab a popcorn, savor the Milk Duds, watch Russell Crowe woo you with his courageous stunts and let Cate Blanchett swoon you with her cool aplomb…and then stay for the credits. The nine minutes of credits are a gift tucked at the end of two hours and twenty minutes of ragged warriors, flaming arrows and fair maidens. Let me explain.
The credits transitioned on and off the screen in a painting backdrop. Think bold colors with lots of verve. The animated paint job recapped the movie, encapsulating the movie in swirls of color that imbued energy and movement and also offering glimpses of Robin Hood’s biography through a series of colorful flashbacks. The painted credits mapped a journey through animated canvasses of color.
There was something so intriguing about the intersection between the illusions of painting intertwined with the medium of film. The credits embedded in the “painting” invite you to think about how movies, like painting, are a way to capture an angle of a story. It took me back to childhood moments of awe when reading a story — when you want to turn the next page because of the vivid pictures.
A self professed traditionalist, sometimes digital spins on art, despite their best intention, just don’t capture the real thing for me. Take for example this movie. The Tower of London, which was recreated digitally, just doesn’t quite feel like the place where I stood in line to see the Crown Jewels.
The painted credits, however, work, fascinating me to think about how art can be a series of compilations, pulling from memory, form, experience, but most importantly stories.
