In the 2002 science fiction tale S1m0ne, disillusioned director Viktor Taransky (Al Pacino) uses a computer program to create an apparently perfect female actor who goes on to win an Oscar. It's a last ditch attempt to salvage the film-maker's new movie after his flesh-and-blood star walks out on him. But S1m0ne is so strikingly realistic the public comes to believe she is an actual human being, causing Taransky difficulties when the press want to interview her.
The idea of entirely removing the actor from the film-making process is not one that has really taken root in Hollywood, though it represents an attractive prospect for currently cash-strapped studios. Were it possible to shoot photo-real footage using just a voiceover artiste to provide dialogue, film-makers could potentially save millions.
Taking things even further, techniques such as vocal font splicing, still in their infancy, one day promise to allow realistic delivery on an audio level also. In theory, one could purchase a "Sean Connery" kit, possibly created with the help of the actor himself over hundreds of hours of recordings, with software algorithms filling in the gaps.
Such technology may never be available, and even if it is, it's likely that it won't live up to the claims made by its developers. These are the same kind of people who believe the public cannot tell the difference between CGI and filmed footage. Even in 2009, 18 years on from the spectacular advances made in James Cameron's Terminator 2, and 16 years after Jurassic Park, the vast majority of computer-based special effects work still looks utterly phony.
The likes of Pixar are fully capable of delivering excellent characterisation without using motion capture, yet movies like Up and Toy Story are based on a different type of animation, one which does not attempt to look, and does not need to look true to life. The search for "photoreal" footage continues, and fortunately film-makers at the top of their game have long since realised that visual effects artists and computer programming, even in synthesis, are no match for an individual acting performance. This is why Peter Jackson brought in Andy Serkis to provide the basis for the character Gollum in the Lord of the Rings films, and it's why Cameron spent 12 years waiting for the technology to catch up far enough for him to be able to make Avatar.
Even so, until recently, much of the hype surrounding motion capture has been largely that: hype. Speak privately to animators at special effects houses in Soho, and they'll likely tell you the whole concept is overegged: for a large part, it's designers sat at their desks who end up providing the nuances of emotion that bring a character to life, not the actors. Such a process has, until recently, been faster, and special effects experts often believe they can do just as good a job.
With the arrival of Avatar we've seen a huge amount of publicity surrounding the revolutionary capture system developed by Cameron's team, based on tiny cameras which pick up subtle facial movements. The film-maker is promising that more than 95% of his actors' performances are ending up there on screen. The difference is that this time around, we may just have to start believing. There is a feral intensity, in particular, to Zoe Saldana's alien heroine Neytiri which could not have come from anyone else but the actor. The creature she plays is all grace and fire: it may just be the first motion captured performance that will stand the test of time.
If Hollywood once aspired to the actorless movie, Avatar may just be the breakthrough which spells the end of that particular dream (or nightmare). Technology tends to move along the path of least resistance, and right now that's a route which is eschewing software programs in favour of performances based on real human beings. All of which means it's back in the box for S1m0ne and her ilk.
