This disjointed hill-climbing causes hilarious laughter and, as in the case cited above, comes in waves. The rise and fall of the laughter waves can be distinguished as the little figure runs up the hills and down the valleys.
A pause is a necessary element in any continued comic situation. It is, in fact, proper to any series intended to arouse the emotion of laughter. And in some respects a pause corresponds to the negative moment of flexion—adverting our thoughts for a moment to physical activity—while the outburst of laughter corresponds to the positivity of extension.
A bit of striking animation is that of having a continuous stream of individuals pouring out of a building, or a procession of funny animals coming out of a receptacle from which we did not expect such a parade. These episodes of movement do resemble a parade—a species of regularly recurring stimulation.
The psychological questions in regard to these effects is related certainly to the matter of the delight of the human mind in a stirring up by repetition. Undoubtedly the same liking or pleasure in these little bits of screen animation bear a resemblance to the delight experienced in watching a parade. What is there in a spectacle of this sort that tickles our senses? Is it the regularness of the step-keeping, the hypnotic music of the band, or the show of varied uniforms? Perhaps the principles of unity and variety—two essentials of any art work—enter into the matter. The variety in the uniforms of the different sections satisfies the eye, and the unity of the marching pleases the mind.
FROM “THE ‘BAB’ BALLADS.”
Keeping step is an artificial recurrence of movement. It pleases, of course, but when this motion is rendered strongly mechanistic it takes on immediately an element of the comic. In some of the little figures drolly drawn by Bab (W. S. Gilbert, of “Pinafore” and “Mikado” fame), this is well expressed. A little picture of his, for instance, shows three tiny men stepping out like mechanically operated toys.
Pictures of this sort can be presented on the screen more vividly than in this simple graphic sketch.
One of the most primitive of practical jokes is that of throwing a stone at a hat on some one’s head. And its most aggravated form as a joke is that in which the hat is of a stovepipe pattern. In a humorous stage play, merely to show an individual with a stone in his hand while a sprucely dressed one wearing a high hat is passing is motive enough to cause laughter. The graphic artist copies this situation by representing a stone in the air nearing the hat. Action lines, as they are called, indicate that the missile is flying through the air. In both of these cases—in reality and in the picture—mere anticipation is enough to awaken the risibilities. The animator, of course, can gratify both the spectator’s joy of anticipation and the mischievous delight of seeing the consummation of the action.