FocusIntervisteIntervista a Chris Sanders, il regista di "Lilo & Stitch"

Intervista a Chris Sanders, il regista di “Lilo & Stitch”

lilo stitch chris sanders intervista

Chris Sanders is one of the artists who made a mark in American animation. Hired at Disney in the 1980s, he contributed to the studio’s Renaissance with key roles in productions such as Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King and Mulan, before making his directorial debut, alongside Dean DeBlois, with Lilo & Stitch. After leaving Disney – following creative differences over what would become Bolt – he and DeBlois also gave birth to the successful How to Train Your Dragon franchise. He then directed The Croods and the live feature Call of the Wild starring Harrison Ford. The characters in his films, peculiar and direct expressions of his drawing style, have remained in the collective imagery. Twenty years after his debut with Lilo & Stitch, we interview him to tell us the reasons for the success of a film that has been called “the closest thing to a Hayao Miyazaki film that Disney has ever made”.

Lilo & Stitch was the first movie that made me think: this came out of somebody. It had a style that no other movies I was seeing had.

Having worked in the business for quite a while now, I’ve come to realize that a lot of the success of the movie comes down to luck. Luck as far as who is in the position at the right time at the right place. Lilo & Stitch was that film where everything lined up to create the situation that I think had never happened before and probably will never happen again. One of the most important people in this entire thing is somebody that doesn’t get a lot of credit: Thomas Schumacher, the then-president of Walt Disney Feature Animation. In the very last part of the production on Mulan, which was the first film that was made entirely in Florida (and for several reasons, Florida was the perfect place to make that film and Lilo & Stitch, too), Thomas Schumacher came out to Florida and we had dinner. I had done a lot on Mulan, as a Head of Story, and I actually got a writing credit (something that was extremely unusual) because I worked so hard to guide the narrative and actually write things for the movie. So Tom asked me at that dinner, “Is there anything you would like to develop?”, and there was a children’s book that I had tried to write, and I had not been able to make it work. But I remembered the idea and I said, “Yes, there’s something”, and he said, “Great! Next time I’m out, we can talk about it”, so we got together again and I pitched this idea, and the idea was about a little creature, a monster, that was an orphan; it lived in the forest but it had no idea of what its origin was, and Tom gave me the first, biggest, most important note that ever came on Lilo & Stitch. He said: “I really like this idea. The animal world is already alien to us. So, if you wanna get the best contrast between this monster and the place where it lives, I would recommend you set it in a human world”. And so that became Lilo & Stitch.

I went away, and I created a pitch book so that when the Development Department read the idea, they would see the same things I was seeing. When you say “alien,” a lot of things could come up in somebody’s head. My thought was “Okay, if they say no to this, at least they said no to the right movie!” So I created this book; it was 29 pages long and it outlined the entire story. I drove to Palm Springs, got a hotel room at this really nice hotel, and didn’t leave the room for three days. All I did was draw the sketches for that book. Then I created the book and distributed it to the Development Department, and Tom Schumacher came back and he said, “The decision is that, yes, we want to make this movie, but on one condition: it has to look like you drew it”.

chris sanders
Chris Sanders | via Pat Loika

Lilo & Stitch has these two big differences that set it apart from the other Disney movie: it’s drawn in the style of the director and it’s a very small film, production-wise. Was it supposed to be a small production from the start? 

I partnered with Dean DeBlois, who was my main go-to guy on Mulan (by the end of Mulan he was actually the Head of Story), and we began writing the story. This time, we were equal partners. It stayed small but – and this is the part that’s really fascinating – after Dean and I got the first outline boards up, Tom looked again and he said, “I really, really like this movie, but the story is so fragile, it’s going to be a long time before this movie is sturdy enough that it will be able to withstand the kind of notes that our studio is going to give it. And the wonder and the magic and all the stuff that makes this movie strong is actually really fragile stuff. We’re gonna hide it. We’re not gonna let the studio see it”. And that’s exactly what he did. For the next few years as we worked on Lilo & Stitch, apparently whenever this movie came up in conversation, at a meeting, at the larger studio, and somebody like Michael Eisner would say, “So, what’s the deal with this Lilo & Stitch that keeps popping up on this list of films?” Tom would say, “Oh, you know, it’s something we’re working on, not ready yet, we’ll let you know when it’s ready,” and he would just avoid the question. So for years he simply avoided talking about this movie and thus kept it hidden. The first time Michael Eisner ever saw the movie was at one of our final test screenings for an audience, which was in Las Vegas. At this point, the movie is fully in color, it is almost finished, so he never saw this until it was almost completely done. And when he came out of the theatre he was really excited and I’ll never forget that whole bit because he was like, “This is really good, I really like it… I can’t really explain it, but it’s really good, but it’s really strange… But good! I just can’t figure it out as far as what category it would be, but it’s really good”, and he kept saying that. Basically, he was saying I can’t explain it, it’s very odd, it defies descriptions, it doesn’t fit into categories, but I really like it. That’s why the movie was like it was, because Thomas Schumacher wanted it to look like I made it, and he hid it from the studio so that it would remain that quirky little film that it was supposed to be.

The interesting fact is that the Story Department was very small. That also kept it more personal, I guess, because fewer people were contributing to it.

Absolutely. We started with about 4-5 Story people and because we were making the movie in Florida, it was expensive and difficult to keep that many people. Over the course of the production, those people one by one went back to California, and in the end there was just Dean and I and we were boarding literally everything! So, by the time the film was done, it had been mostly boarded by just Dean and me. We wore ourselves down because we were spending the day directing and leading the different departments and then at night we would write and storyboard. I remember vividly chatting with Dean after work and he said, “You know, I should probably go now because I need to get started on my boards so that I can be crying at 3 AM”, and I was like, “What? You do that too?” I’d literally be sitting and trying to board and I would look at the clock and it would be 3 AM and I’d think, “I can’t get this done”, and I would start crying because I was so frustrated. And the worst part was, I had to force myself to stop crying because I had to have my work done and I was drawing with tears in my eyes. And then by 6 AM the board would be ready to go because Production had to have those boards at a certain time, you couldn’t walk in the next day and go, “Oh yeah, I didn’t get it done”.

It is an unheard-of case, I believe that there is only one precedent, The 101 Dalmatians, which had been storyboarded, written, and designed by Bill Peet. Weren’t you afraid of wearing so many hats?

You know, the funny thing is… I wish we would do it again. At the end of Lilo & Stitch, Tom moved on; he became the Head of Theatrical and that speaks to the first thing that I said: without him there, we didn’t have anybody in the position that would do what he did in protecting the film. The next movie I was working on, American Dog, did not have that sort of thing. Michael Eisner saw the script early on and he was extremely upset, he didn’t like the script; had he seen Lilo & Stitch early on, it never would have been made. So Lilo & Stitch was the perfect example of what I was saying. Lilo & Stitch’s script was understood by Tom Schumacher and he protected it. When American Dog’s script got out there, he wasn’t there to protect it and so it did go through that process of “This doesn’t make sense, I don’t understand it”, and so it fell apart. You just gotta get lucky and have the right people out there.

I suppose American Dog (which then, after you left Disney, became Bolt) was a very different experience from the Lilo & Stitch production.

The only way that one would have gotten done and been what it was supposed to be would have been to do the same thing we did with Lilo & Stitch. It was very much that same kind of vibe. It was a completely different, but original story that had the same quirky tone as Lilo, that needed a little bit of love and a little bit of time in order to make it work. But a whole life writing stories, making movies, I’m used to, when telling people what I’m up to, most of the times the reaction is: “Well, that’s dumb, that’s not gonna work”. And I’m like, “Well, give me a minute to work on it,” and when I work on it and get it all done then people look again and say, “Oh, I see what you were talking about,” and it works.

From the materials that leaked online, the project had a very “Snoopy meets Hunter S. Thompson” look.

You know, it’s still something I think about making because it could still be made. The movie that came out was so not the original concept, that you could simply make that first movie and it would never be recognized. I mean, the idea being that there was a dog, he was bought at a kennel and he grew up on movie sets so his whole world is what he thinks he’s doing in these movies, and when he’s not on set he’s just in a dark cage and his life goes on hold. When they open up the cage and he’s back on set, his life picks up again where it left off. So he has a really distorted view of who he is and what the world is. The times on set have a continuity of narrative that, though odd and extreme, make sense to him. He eventually gets let loose into the real world but aside from no one yelling “cut,” or “action,” things seem pretty much the same. Maybe a bit more dull. But he continues the storyline, the narrative that he was doing on set. The fun thing about it was that, because he never failed in his scripted adventures, he assumes success in the real world. He’s got a bravery borne of ignorance, and so out here, he’s a relentless force of nature. He’s so driven to do things but has no idea he cannot do them. So he will happily jump behind the wheel of a car, but he can’t drive. He can do it on a movie set. He knows enough to push a pedal or turn a wheel but he can’t drive, so he’s gonna cause a horrible situation and you have to accept that premise and go for it. Trying to make too much sense of that premise will eventually cause it to fall apart. Interestingly, I would actually cite Cars as being one of the strangest concepts behind a movie that I have ever seen, but it works because, you know what? That’s their story and they stuck with it. Cars are the beings that inhabit this planet, we don’t know who built them but we’re not gonna ask questions. We’re gonna keep moving forward. The funny thing is that Pixar made one of the most audaciously bizarre worlds I have ever seen on film, but they committed to it, and it worked. American Dog was, I think, not nearly that extreme in its concept; nonetheless, there were things about it that they just didn’t buy.

What did they find hard to grasp?

It had a lot to do with rationalizing what this dog was. “Can he drive a car or can he not?” The answer was yes and no.  He can make the car go but, no, he can’t drive. And that would become a big sticking point. In my mind, that idea wasn’t that weird, it was pretty simple; in other people’s minds at the studio, it wasn’t making any sense. Ultimately I was asked, “Does he know he’s a dog or not?” The answer I gave was, “He knows he’s a dog, but has a warped idea what a dog is and does.”  That answer didn’t sit well. They wanted a “yes” or “no.” Later on I equated it to Buzz Lightyear, who did NOT know he was a toy.  So the “yes,” or “no,” on that would have been a simple, resounding, “no.” Very clear. My dog was more subtle, like Stitch. And that wasn’t going to get through their system. So after a long, hard session with the exec, I was without a simple answer, and I was like, “Okay, I don’t know what to tell you.”

On Lilo & Stitch, did the fact that the movie was going to be drawn like your drawings, a very unusual thing for the studio, put more pressure on you, in some ways?

The real issue in my head was that I didn’t perceive myself as having a style. So when they said, “We’re gonna do it like you drew it”, I didn’t even know how to respond to that. I saw myself drawing like nobody, really. And so the interesting thing was that there was an artist named Sue Nichols and she was tasked with figuring out how to explain how I drew. She created, very quickly, a book (that I still have) called Surfing the Sanders Style, and no one was more interested to read it than I was. Because I was like, “I have a style?”, and when I read it I was like, “Oh my gosh, I never thought about that”. She identified things I did that I never realized I was doing. A really good example is the body of the characters. When I draw them they have heavier bottoms, they are very planted and fat; I never thought about that. Or, when I draw claws, I draw fingers and claws as one shape. And I never draw angles.

You were talking about the fact that the Florida studio was the perfect place for the movie, how come?

In general, the Florida studio was extremely young; they were pretty new to what they were doing. But because they were so young they were really energetic and, frankly, a lot of them didn’t have a family so they had a lot of time on their hands. Ric Sluiter, the art director, suggested that the rounded style of these drawings would be complemented by the watercolor backgrounds that the studio was doing back in the ‘40s, so he suggested we do that. As soon as he walked out of the room, he realized the full weight of what he suggested crashed on him, and he was greatly concerned with what he had proposed. So he came back and said, “Watercolors may be too difficult to pull off, what if we did a gouache treatment that just looks like watercolors?” He did a watercolor and a gouache that simulated the watercolor but, as talented as he was, they didn’t look the same; he couldn’t make the gouache look as good as the watercolors. So he was stuck! He went back to Florida and sat down with his background artists and said, “we need to figure this out, we need to figure out how to do watercolors on a scale that has not been done at the studio for 60 years”. None of the pigments, the papers, or the brushes existed anymore, so they had to find the equivalent of those tools, and they had to rediscover this art form. Right before he died, they visited Maurice Noble, one of the great background painters at the studio and he said, “You’re doing everything exactly right”.

Were the other productions curious about your efforts?

I’ll tell you this story: when I was in California we would meet with Tom and the other executives and show them what we were doing, and during one of those visits I was approached by one member of the California Background Department, and he said, “I heard that you guys are gonna try to do watercolor backgrounds. Well, I’m just letting you know that when you guys figure out that you won’t be able to pull it off, I’m not so sure California will be able to save your ass”. It was so condescending and shocking that he said that… Later on, as we neared the end of the production, not only could they do watercolors but they were going faster than they could do in traditional gouache backgrounds. Watercolor is way harder; you have to be a painting ninja to pull off watercolor backgrounds because they are hard to fix. But they would do three backgrounds at the same time because you had to wait for every layer to dry. On one of my last visits to California, the same person approached me and said, “Sooo, how did you guys do those backgrounds anyway?”

The first Stitch you drew back in the 80s was very different from the final one. How did the design of the character evolve during the years?

In the beginning, I was just trying to make him look like he was made of other creatures. I was actually thinking about building him and I got a crab and cleaned the meat out of its body and I was putting him together as a hollow creature, half mammal/half crustacean kind of thing. In between absolutely nothing happened; I just had 17 years of drawings on other things. When I went back to the character, I realized I needed to really change up his proportions. I thought it should be less about a combination creature and more about just a creature with a face that’s fresh and different. In most other creatures, the noses are higher than the eyes, sometimes. The nose is this super prominent thing, so that’s where I restarted Stitch. I dropped his eyes, raised his nose and if he’s properly drawn the bottom parts of his eyes are actually lower than the bottom of his nose. He has a really wide, different look. And the other thing that became important to me was that he did not have pupils. It’s a huge part of his look, these big glassy black orbs for eyes. Mostly that was accepted right away; there were just a few people that asked whether or not he shouldn’t have pupils. I think creatures that have dots for eyes and have no pupils – I would say Calvin and Hobbes have dots for eyes, Snoopy has dots for eyes, and early Mickey Mouse has solid black pupils for eyes – it actually enhances sometimes the way they feel. So that’s another big thing, the pupils-less eyes. His lead animator, Alex Kupershmidt, commented that once Stitch was motionless and just staring, he said, “There’s a worrisome nature to the character”.

The movie was made during a tumultuous time. 9/11 made you change the ending, a chase sequence through the city.

That was a big save on Dean’s part. On that day, by the afternoon of course they had evacuated the studio and closed the park. I was thinking about a lot of different things and all of sudden I remembered that what was the funniest scene, the biggest laugh that we had during the test screenings, now was not an image we wanted in the film. I called everybody and the very next day we sat down and Dean said, “Well, we never saw how Jumba and Pleakley got on the planet; maybe they got a spaceship hidden in the bushes somewhere,” and that was the answer. The plane was one of our very few digital assets and one of the strengths of digital is that, once it’s built, you can change things very quickly, but it takes a lot of time to build the models. We had to change the shape of the 747 as quickly as possible. So that’s why the spaceship that Gantu flies has 747 engines. We just decided we could paint the engines but we couldn’t change them in time, so we changed most of the vehicles but we kept the engines.

And you were also working during the big shift between hand-drawn animation and CGI…

One of the things that Tom asked at the very beginning of the project was “Do you wanna do it traditionally or digitally?” I had no issue with CGI, the problem was I knew this style of character could look bad in CGI. Lilo’s head in CGI is one of those weird things… If you see Snoopy as a built thing, it never works because the charm of Snoopy is that his eyes are on the same side of his head, but all of a sudden you can’t do it and you have to separate the eyes. Lilo has a giant mouth and that in a drawing was fine, but in a CGI actual thing… less fine. So we were already at the point in which the studio was choosing one way or the other. Lilo & Stitch ended up being one of the last things they ever did traditionally.

What was the most difficult part of the job?

The fact that Dean and I were responsible for a lot of things. I got to the point where if I saw I had 15 minutes of free time on my schedule I could sleep for 13 of those 15 minutes. I trained myself to fall asleep instantly. We also made a big change… In the original pitch Stitch was not the only alien, he was the leader of a group of aliens and at the end of the third act, all the other aliens arrived and Stitch battled his whole gang. By removing that gang, Stitch became a better character. So that was a big one. Another big change was the idea of putting the film in Hawaii. That was something I invented because I didn’t want to have crowds of people, I wanted to set it in a place where it was relatively remote. Having just worked on Mulan, which was a movie with armies of characters, it was a reaction to that. And the weird thing is that ended up a decision that made the movie work. When we had our first screening, we realized Stitch changed for no reason, just because we wanted him to change. We realized that the thing that changed him was a family that he didn’t have before. And Hawaii has this incredible definition of family: a family can be whatever you want, a group of friends. Inadvertently I placed this movie in the perfect location to heal a character that was missing a family.

After all these years, has your relationship with the movie changed?

If you had done this crazy jump on a bike when you were fifteen years old and you took a video of it and now that you’re thirty you look at the same video and think, “Oh my God, I can’t believe I did that” – I think that’s more like it. When I think about the movie, I think about the many ways in which this could have gone wrong, and it’s an absolute miracle that this thing got made. Whenever I watch the Academy Awards, when anybody gets up to accept an award, it’s interesting how often they say “Oh my God, somebody really believed in this movie”. And I used to think, “Really? Was it that risky?”, and now looking back, it all makes sense. Any movie that eventually gets made beats the odds at some point. The fact that it’s even up on screen means it beat the odds, especially the idiosyncratic ones.

One of my friends, who was a storyboard artist in the early days of the project, said that the movie is the closest thing to a Miyazaki film that the studio ever made. It’s so quirky, weird, and personal. I didn’t realize it at the time. I knew it was different, but I didn’t appreciate how different it was. Stitch has become more popular than ever – he was well-received when the film came out, but now I can’t turn around without seeing a Stitch thing out there. 

chris sanders big bear
A page from “The Big Bear Aircraft Company

Lilo & Stitch puts into practice the theory you set out in your “suggestion” book, The Big Bear Aircraft Company.

That thing was a reaction to the ever-growing complexity and budgets of the films we were working on and, as somebody who was on the Story crew, we all were feeling it because of the need for these things to earn a lot of money in order to excuse the expense and the complexity of making them. We felt it in the Story Department quite a lot because you felt you were trying to do things that felt free and you’re actually feeling quite constrained because the things had to work. With Lilo & Stitch, we paved for our story freedom by having a considerably smaller budget. They never would disclose the budget, but we understood it was around 80 million dollars. They would occasionally talk to Dean and I and say, “You know the one sequence you’re working on? We’re over budget by 6 characters. Can you take 6 characters out of the scene or can you take a minute out of the scene?” The original version of the opening sequence had a much more complex bit where Lilo was running around people and doing this and that. Instead, we see a wide shot of the beach, and in that shot I believe there are only two people moving, otherwise everybody is still, then we cut really close into Lilo and she’s running through and past a bunch of people’s legs and those legs are not moving. We arguably made the scene better, snappier. And the really neat thing was that, since we had been so fiscally careful, we were finishing the film and I got a call from Tom Schumacher and he said, “Chris, if you had one minute more, what would you add? Because you have saved so much money that you have 5 million dollars left over”. We were able to put in the final montage in which we see the characters’ life after the ending. We basically made the movie for whatever the original cost of Beauty and the Beast was.

Which is remarkable, after a decade of ever-growing budgets.

At the wrap party for Hercules – it was a massive wrap party – I remember I ended up talking to Michael Eisner. We stood at this little table and at a certain point he said, “I should probably go mingle,” and he walked away. A couple of minutes later he came back and said, “I don’t know anybody here,” and I remember he said, “I think these things have gotten too big”. Now he was probably talking about the wrap party, but there was a larger implication that, like, Hercules had been another production that got a little bit bigger than the previous one. That’s natural with success; you’re like, “Oh man, next one we’re gonna throw even more energy at this whole thing”… But you do get in these weird situations when you’re reviewing something and people begin to talk about toenails and leaves and you’re thinking, “What are we doing?”

I remember Brad Bird talking about that same problem during the production of The Incredibles: there would be a day of just “reviewing cups” that maybe appeared just in the background.

I think a lot of people could not possibly imagine the level of detail that can occur in these things, where everything has to be built. But you have to choose the things that matter because those are the things you’re gonna put your resources into.

Did Lilo & Stitch change you as an artist?

It did. I had never thought of myself as somebody who could possibly direct or even write and when the opportunity was laid in front of me, I said yes and took it on and realized you can do these things, you just have to be bold enough to accept that challenge and then figure it out. Every movie that I worked on changed me, but the film that changed me the most was Mulan. It was the most difficult film I had ever worked on and in some ways it still is. It took six years – so people who had children in the beginning brought them to the premiere as six-year-olds – and a lot of Lilo & Stitch was a reaction to Mulan. One of the things we really badly wanted to achieve with Lilo & Stitch was we didn’t want people to be as tired, we didn’t want to wear people out. Sometimes in filmmaking, there can be a culture of suffering, and DreamWorks very much was that. We had a preview for How to Train Your Dragon and we came out of that preview with a very high rating. Had we gotten that rating at Disney, we would all go out to have drinks and celebrate. At DreamWorks, we went to a hotel room and we spent the next 3-4 hours going through every single shot of the movie. And the question was, “Can we make this better?” But if you go back and start changing things, you risk losing the good parts. It happened on Lion King: as we were finishing the film we would test so much but with every change we did, the audience response would drop and go back up; that film was a wild ride in the last few months of trying to fine-tune different story points that would wildly affect the audience approval of the film.

lilo stitch disney

What are your expectations regarding the Lilo & Stitch remake that Disney is developing?

It’s hard not to think about that, a lot. If they were to make it a shot-for-shot then that’s a fairly expensive film, because there are a lot of aliens on the screen that you cannot really do in any other way except CGI. I think they have to change it unless their appetite is a pretty big budget, then they’ll have to make some changes, just to keep it fiscally doable. But one of my biggest curiosities is how they’ll handle Stitch. When we drew him, there’s a certain suspension of disbelief that you can afford the film. But if you were to do a real version of that character in this world, his ears would be one foot long. So I don’t know how they would handle that. One of the reasons you would make the film it’s because you want to continue seeing Stitch, and one of the reasons that Stitch is Stitch is the way that he looks, so they are trapped into having to make it exactly like the animated version. The first question is scale: can he be the correct scale? And the second thing would be can he be 100% the same? His mouth is huge, his eyes are huge. They are the size of grapefruits or bigger – if he was really in this room with me, his eyes would be bigger than grapefruits. That is a full-on mutated creature!

Also the skin, in the movie you can see he has fur but overall he’s a pretty sleek figure, so they’ll have to decide on a specific texture.

Yeah, that’s another design issue they’ll have to address. You know, it would be equally as weird if you were gonna say, “Okay, we’re going to make Snoopy as a live-action character”. If you change it, it’s not Snoopy, but if you put Snoopy in a movie, you can’t have people believably react to him. With Lion King, you can pass the CGI wand on the entire world; you can’t do it with Lilo & Stitch, because the human/alien contrast is the heart of the story. During the production, we learned about the making of the walkaround characters in the Disney theme parks: they asked if we build Stitch, how tall do you want him to be? Because if he’s the correct height, you have to hire little people, but they are very prone to be injured wearing this costume, so you should make the costume bigger… but if you make it bigger, with the right proportions, his head would be giant. And they have size limitations: the costume has to be flyable, it has to be able to walk through doors because he’s gonna be visiting hospitals and stuff like that. As big as that head is on the walkaround costume, it is too small. The real Stitch head would be wider. So, his proportions are bizarre.

As a matter of fact, in the last Peanuts movie, Snoopy was approached as a 2D character, even if it was in 3D. There are characters that work only in 2D.

For so many years people talked about making a Calvin & Hobbes film…

I was just thinking about that! I’m a big Calvin & Hobbes fan and I always thought that a 3D version of Calvin would be rather bizarre, I don’t think it could work.

I don’t think it would. It certainly would be changed so much that it would change the way you felt about the character. I’ve read an article about Bill Watterson where he said that he was uncomfortable with the idea of casting a voice for Calvin (and for Hobbes) because you hear your voice in your head and that voice is never gonna be like the one you cast. But you bring up a really good point, because I think the only way you could possibly do that cartoon as a film would be to do it as a 2D film. There are certain characters that resist that translation.

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