The question asked of the fat man is this: Does Andy Serkis deserve a best actor oscar for gollum?
Ebert's 458 word response goes a lil something like this:
Paragraph 1: 86 words restating the question.
Paragraph 2: 100 words restating the question.
Paragraph 3: 69 words introducing the concept of the uncanny valley.
Paragraph 4: 91 words describing the uncanny valley, taking it as fact.
The uncanny valley is this Japanese dude's theory about anthropomorphism. No, you don't need to know what that word means to understand the theory. Imagine we have a long line of robots. On the far left end, we've got really abstract, inhuman looking robots, like the things used to make cars in auto plants. As we look from the left to the right, these robots start to look more and more human. At the far right end is a robot that looks like a human being. You cannot tell the difference in fact. Mr. Japanese guy's theory is this: Human beings are generally going to react more positively to more human looking robots. There's a catch, though. As we move from left to right, from less to more human, we'll reach a point where people start reacting very negatively to the robots. This happens as we get pretty close to human-looking. After that dip, called the uncanny valley, people's responses will shoot back up for the virtually indistinguishable lot. The theory is that when things look almost human, they get really creepy-looking and we have to go hide under the bed. The theory's used to keep robotics cute and to explain zombies.
I suspect it's bullshit. What little I can find online regarding the uncanny valley doesn't make me confident in the concept's validity. It seems to be more accepted wisdom than established fact. I'm withholding judgment for the time being.
Paragraph 5: 112 words:
It is possible that the rejection of the sci-fi movie "Final Fantasy," which used computer animation to create "real characters," was caused because it fell into the Uncanny Valley. The genius of Gollum is that it seems like a convincingly real creature -- but not one we have ever seen before, so that its realism does not seem creepy except in the ordinary way. If Serkis brought Gollum to life, other artists fine-tuned the balance with the Uncanny Valley. So this is something other than a conventional performance, and should not compete against characters of a different nature. Perhaps a new category is called for? Beyond the Oscar of the Uncanniest Valley?
This is the money graph. Or is it? Remember, the question posed to Mr. Sweaty Sweater is whether Serkis has a shot at a best actor oscar. After restating the question in two paragraphs containing fully 41% of his verbiage, the widowed Mrs. Siskel spends two paragraphs, 160 words, 40% of the column describing the uncanny valley.
Ebert then offers dopey speculation about Final Fantasy's lack of success and the uncanny valley before finally approaching the question. The answer to this question has, of course, nothing to do with the uncanny valley. Ebert just says that Serkis doesn't deserve a best actor oscar because Gollum's performance is a collaboration between Serkis and cg artists. Words spent answering the question: 34, 8% of the column.
In his worthless attempt to make the uncanny valley relevant to the column, Ebert says that the cg artists "fine-tuned the balance with the uncanny valley." What? The uncanny valley is not a fucking tool, it's a description of a purported human reaction. It can't "balance" anything. And what exactly is being balanced? Nothing! This sentence could accurately be translated thus: The cg artists then hooped the froodle with the speznutz. Ebert is pathetically lost in the absurd comedy of the human condition, dazzled by words he doesn't understand and abstractions of no significance. And he's a fat motherfucker.
Tubbalicious closes with a reference to his own screenplay, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Because, of course, his fucking screenplay so permeates the culture as to make the joke terribly funny. Speaking of terrible, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is a horrible, horrible, horrible movie. It's nasty and offensive and stupid in a manner that completely lacks charm. As a reference, compare this very weblog's use of "dothead" in a recent entry - nasty, offensive, stupid...and sublime.
We must therefore conclude that I deserve Ebert's Pulitzer.
Posted by mattb at January 14, 2004 12:25 AM