On the one hand, it is true that there was a map of California labeled with where you could film and pretend to be in locations all over the world—I myself was born two miles from where they used to film Tarzan movies, back in the Johnny Weissmuller days. On the other hand, that’ll only take you so far. You’ve got to remember that film in theory covers all of time and space, including times and spaces that do not yet exist. For decades, the solution to that was the matte painting, and many of the best and most complicated were on glass.
The art dates to at least 1907—and, as is less surprising for 1907, it was in service of a documentary. Specifically The Missions of California. The surroundings of the missions are not always what you’d want for your movie, which is of course in the public domain and fully available on YouTube. So compositing and matte paintings were used to improve the shots. For nearly a century, that was the technology that existed. Exquisite, often incredibly detailed paintings on glass, sometimes with bits left out so that the action could appear to come out of it.
Some of the most iconic moments in film were painted on glass. They didn’t build the Statue of Liberty sticking out of the sand; they painted one. The maze of cubicles in TRON was painted—really, more of that movie was matte paintings than you might think. Many iconic interiors. Xanadu, stately home of Charles Foster Kane. The warehouse that scared my older sister so badly at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. (Side note, apparently the NSA basically has a warehouse not unlike it.) The Londons of Mary Poppins and Eglantine Price. The list goes on, because of course it does.
It’s probably easier to do the whole thing on a computer than to paint it meticulously on glass. It’s got to be easier to correct mistakes, certainly, and certain Pixar errors notwithstanding, you’re unlikely to lose major computer files—less likely than you are to, you know, break a large sheet of glass. And honestly, if you computer generate your vast audiences awaiting, say, the appearance of Lord Vader, they can move. The ones painted on glass did not. But of course they wouldn’t, standing at attention as they would have been. Yes, it’s true that this is less true of San Francisco, but if you’re having your little Volkswagen drive itself through a foggy nighttime city, the slight unreality of the paintings may even be better.
These days, whole productions are done that basically don’t need to build sets, because the whole thing can be done in a computer. And it is indeed astonishingly realistic. I know from my personal experience that the grand art of “film it in California and just pretend you’re somewhere else” continues; anyone who’s spent much time in the state will to this day recognize various places, and after all the Pasadena City Hall is such a distinctive building. Apparently the city outside P.T. Barnum’s window at one point of The Greatest Showman is the first genuine matte painting since Titanic, however.
Most of the great matte paintings were the work of single individuals. I feel as though someone I’ve covered for one of the weekend columns was the child of a matte painting painter, though I can’t now remember who it was. It was an extraordinary artform, and honestly I feel as though it’s an art that we could stand to get back to. Yes, there’s an unreality to matte paintings, many times, as I said. But not always. And even when there is, sometimes, that benefits the art of the movie more than photorealism through CGI would.
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