RIP: Ray Harryhausen

Today, Hollywood lost one of its great magicians.  Ray Harryhausen — the stop-motion and special effects pioneer — died today at the age of 92. 

To me, Harryhausen remains an icon as large as a Tom Cruise or Arnold Schwarzenegger.  You never saw him on camera.  His movie stars were mere one-feet tall puppets, who, thanks to Harryhausen’s genius, became wondrous and occasionally terrifying feats of fantasy and imagination. 

In lieu of his death, we will hear a collage of respect and tributes from all corners of the Hollywood industry.  Every special effects artist remains in his debt.  Even the wizards behind the most recent spectacle, Iron Man 3, will be tipping their hats. 

Admittedly, I haven’t seen but half of his films.  However, my all-time favorite special-effects sequence remains the climatic duel with the skeletons from Jason and the Argonauts, which took Harryhausen months to complete.  I’ve seen the actual film only a handful of times, but I’ve rewatched the three-minute sequence dozens more.  It remains flawless.  The skeletons exude a menace and life to them; they balance and shift their bodies with utmost believability.  They clash swords with their human foes with pitch-perfect timing.  The sheer amount of life and imagination remains astonishing, even in a digital 21st century world. 

Harryhausen’s illustrious career began with 1950’s Mighty Joe Young where he apprenticed with Willis O’Brien, the man who gave life to the original King Kong.  Following that success  Harryhausen established his own legacy, creating the most spectacular monsters and fantastic creatures for decades — ending with his piece de resistance, 1981’s Clash of the Titans, where he produced some of his memorable creatures such as Pegasus, Madussa and The Cracken. 

Harryhausen lived a peaceful, quiet retirement while many wizards attempted to fill in the gap.  Just recently, I re-read his last book “A History of Stop-Motion” that covered the history and grueling process of Harryhausen’s stop-motion background.  The book also pays homage to many of his disciples, including Phil Tippet (The Star Wars Trilogy, Jurassic Park) and Henry Selick (Nightmare Before Christmas, Coraline).  It is a fascinating read that makes you appreciate the marvel at the process.  Artists would spend days marionetting puppets one frame at at time just to capture a minute of usable footage. 

Despite the ease of CGI, Harryhausen’s stop-motion techniques permeate in today’s market.  Millions of amateur film-makers try their stop-motion hand using their respective cameras and Final Cut Pro, but no one has replicated Ray’s amazing ability to instill life into puppets.  His work continues to enchant us — to make us wonder. 

As I’ve gotten older and technology has blossomed, I’ve only grown to appreciate Harry even more.  For my thirtieth birthday, I spent the evening at my local theatre, which was playing two of his best films: Jason and the Argonauts and The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.  Seeing both in 35mm on a big screen only exemplified Ray’s keen attention to detail and character.  His sure-fire hands made his characters unique and glorious in many ways that newer technological feats have failed. 

Harryhausen’s work defies the rule that special effects should appear real.  Despite the technological advancements, I defy you to name another special effects sequence that was so memorable as his skeleton army.  His creatures were never photo-real — but they represented the bridge, the fog, that divided the realms between reality and dreams. 

Even when Harryhausen’s movies faltered in story and acting, his creatures remained dazzling and, in most cases, stole the entire show!   Ray’s spellbinding feats remain an impregnable body of work with unabated affection and imagination.  He personifies an era in which ingenuity (and brilliance) was the greatest tool to providing a window pane into our dreams.  Wherever you are, Ray, thank you for making your dreams into a reality. 

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