Stories that are meant to be told | Leslie Iwerks | TEDxTorinoSalon

If you could be a fly on the wall, where art and technology meet together, where creatives bring incredible characters to life, what would you hear and see? You’ll learn what’s behind the scene of those great creators. And what if you use the same fresh look, finding the same grace and creativity even in the most difficult life situations, in the most unusual environment? You’ll discover incredible stories around you, essential stories for your life of tomorrow.

Leslie Iwerks is a successful director active on global and humanitarian issues. Her first documentary "The Hand Behind the Mouse: The Ub Iwerks Story (1999)" is dedicated to her grandfather, Ub Iwerks, co-creator of Mickey Mouse. In 2006 she directed "Recycled Life," nominated for an Academy Award, in 2007 "The Pixar Story," nominated at the Emmy, and in 2010 directed "Magic: Creating the Impossible."

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

When an old man dies, a library burns.

I learned this African proverb
from a friend of mine

who told me that for the majority
of my career I've been like a firefighter,

putting out the fires of stories
that were meant to be told.

Have you ever wished

you could've interviewed
somebody before they died,

like a grandparent or a parent?

Or think about interviewing somebody now,

but you just haven't quite
gotten around to it?

We all have a story,

and whether we know it or not,

we're shaped by the stories around us.

For the last 15 years,

I've had the greatest
opportunities to tell stories.

I've travelled all seven continents,

I've been given access into worlds
I would never have expected

and interviewed people
I would have never thought possible.

My films have been portrayals
of visionaries and everyday heroes;

they've been stories
of creativity and technology;

they've been investigations

into humanitarian
and environmental themes.

But when I look back,
now on my career of filmmaking,

I realize that my filmmaking career
was largely inspired by my childhood.

My dad and grandfather,
both Academy Award winners,

worked at the Walt Disney Studios,

and they designed and developed
the cameras and projection systems

for the Disney films and theme parks.

Every now and then,

my dad had to go down
at Disneyland to work,

and if I was lucky enough,
he'd take me with him.

But we didn't go in the main entrance
like everybody else;

we went in the back entrance.

And I can tell you,

going through that gate
was like entering wonderland.

Pulling back that curtain
and seeing that magic backstage

was more exciting to me
than what was on stage.

The people that designed the park
were called Imagineers

and I grew up learning
of their legendary stories

of how Disneyland was built.

Such as how to get ghosts to sing
and dance in the Haunted Mansion ride,

or how to get fireflies to glow
in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride,

or how to get Abraham Lincoln's
body and hands to move

in the Great Moments
with Mr. Lincoln attraction.

In fact, this is Lincoln's hand,

and I grew up with this hand
always lying around our house as a kid

because my dad's hands
were the actual molds for Lincoln's hands.

Now, my mom, on the other hand,

did not appreciate finding
this in the freezer,

(Laughter)

but I still blame my sister for that.

So, needless to say,

I had a great time growing up
behind the scenes.

So by the time I graduated
from USC Film School,

I got a job as a director's assistant

in Hollywood on some
big-budget studio films.

And it was exciting

because I got a behind the scenes look
at the sausage-making of moviemaking.

But as the film ended
and production was over,

I remember my job started to get mundane.

And I remember driving
across L.A. morning traffic everyday

just to do a laundry list
of gofer jobs for the director,

you know, like walk the dog -
I hate to admit it -

meet the housekeeper, get the coffee.

And I remember thinking,

Is this what I'm really supposed
to be doing with my film school degree?

So one day on this long boring commute,
an image popped into my mind,

a photo that my grandfather took,

back in 1924,

when he was driving
across country to Hollywood.

This was always hanging
in my grandparents' house

when I was a kid, this photograph.

See, my grandfather had met Walt Disney

four years earlier
in Kansas City, Missouri.

They were teenagers and artists
working in an advertising agency.

They were both passionate about animation.

And they decided to form
their own business called Iwerks-Disney,

but it only lasted a month.

Then Walt decided to go on his own

and form his own company
called Laugh-O-Grams,

doing a little cartoons
for the local theatres.

My grandfather soon joined them

and they started innovating
little cartoons,

jerry-rigging animation cameras,

and they came up with some
great innovative cartoons

including one that starred
a live-action girl

in an animated backdrop,

and this had never been done before.

But soon Walt's money run out,
and he had to declare bankruptcy,

so he took off for Hollywood
to go find work,

and my grandfather
returned to the advertising agency

for steady employment.

It was two years later

when my grandfather received
a letter from Walt

asking him to come out to Hollywood

to join him as Chief Animator
on a new cartoon series.

And my grandfather
had a choice at this moment:

he could put this letter in the drawer

and play it safe,

or he could, you know,
uproot his entire life,

move across country,

and go work on some esoteric cartoon
that could totally go bankrupt again.

But what does he do?

He trusts his gut,
listens to his instincts,

and moves across country,

goes down a long dirt road
into an unknown future.

This, in storytelling terms,
is called the inciting incident

or the call to action.

Everything prior to this moment
is the backstory.

Everything ahead of this moment

is the story.

It's the moment that sets
the protagonist in motion.

And as this story goes,

two years after my grandfather
arrived in Hollywood,

Walt Disney did go belly-up again,

on a new cartoon series called
"Oswald the Lucky Rabbit".

When his animation staff jumped ship,

the one person, the one animator
who stood by his side

was Ub Iwerks.

He would go on to design and animate

the new cartoon character
who would change the world:

Mickey Mouse.

Or Topolino, as you all
know him here in Italy.

So, I was one when my grandfather died,

and needless to say,

I was very bummed
that I never got to know him.

So by the time I got to Junior High,

I was tasked with doing a book report
on somebody famous

and I decided to do it on Ub.

So I start looking through these books

on animation history
and biographies on Walt Disney.

What I started finding
was that the stories I was reading

were different than what I was hearing
in my own family system,

you know, Ub's contribution
to animation and visual effects

and his contributions
to Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

What I realized is there's a story
of collaboration that was missing,

and as a result, a piece
of animation history was missing.

And this discrepancy
had always bothered me.

So here I was,

driving across town in morning traffic
en route to walk the director's dog.

And it dawned on me:

I could save this library.

What if I go and I interview

the people that knew my grandfather
before they were gone?

And maybe I could write a book
or make a film, a documentary

and share his story with the world.

I didn't know it at the time,
but this was my call to action.

So, shortly thereafter,

I met with Roy E. Disney,
the nephew of Walt,

and I pitched him my idea
of a documentary.

And he told me that he had
great respect for Ub

and he felt that Ub's story
was not only meant to be told,

it needed to be told.

And so he convinced the studio
to fund the documentary,

and before I knew it, I was on my way
to telling my grandfather's story.

So I spent the next eight months
retracing their footsteps

back in Kansas City and Hollywood.

I visited their old sites

like the Laugh-O-Gram's building
where they got their start.

And I interviewed the people
that knew him.

And I learned that Ub and Walt
were like the yin and yang

of creativity and technology.

Walt, pictured left here,

whenever he had a story idea
that needed to be told,

Ub would figure out a technical
or artistic solution for it.

Whenever Ub came up
with some technical invention,

Walt would find a way to put it to use.

They were always pushing the envelope.

So this was my first documentary
and I was having a blast,

but I knew I needed to prove myself.

So when the time came for me to show
my first cut to the studio executives,

I remember feeling this sense of anxiety.

I was about to show them

a potentially controversial retelling
of the Mickey Mouse origin story.

I mean, this is from Ub's point of view.

What if they disagreed with it?
What if they wanted me to change it?

How would I negotiate this?

After all, Walt's most famous
quote, arguably, was,

"It all started with a mouse."

So fortunately,

because this was a balanced
and fair and honest retelling,

the studio not only embraced it,

they premiered it in Hollywood
and distributed around the world.

Now people everywhere
could experience the same magic

that inspired his life and mine.

And I got to get to know
the grandfather I never knew.

Not long after this,

I ran into John Lasseter,
the co-founder of Pixar Animation Studios.

And he invited me

to come screen my film up
at the studio for the employees.

And I remember, at a Q&A
after the film, somebody asked me,

if I could have done anything differently
in the making of my documentary

what would it had been?

And I remember thinking,

"You know, if I could've gone back in time

and been a fly on the wall
in the creation of Mickey Mouse,

recorded those early films
and the behind-the-scenes activity,

I would have loved that opportunity."

So, that answer seemed to spark something,
I think, in John's mind,

because afterwards they shared with me
their long risky journey

into the creation of computer animation.

And then, they invited me
to actually be that fly on the wall,

and go behind the scenes
and actually capture the goings-on

in the creative process
of Pixar Animation Studios.

It was very exciting.

And I remember my interview
with Steve Jobs.

He told me that Pixar had combined
the creative culture of Hollywood

with the hi-tech culture
of Silicone Valley.

Two cultures that previously
did not understand each other.

A place where as John Lasseter says,

"Art challenges technology,
and technology inspires art."

But with all the advancements
in computer animation,

what didn't change was the need
to create believable worlds

with living-breathing characters.

As the classic animators have taught us,
you have to make your characters feel.

I remember thinking,

"If I had been a fly on the wall
during the creation of Mickey Mouse,

would it have looked something like this?"

This is a scene that I filmed
during the making of Finding Nemo.

An exchange between director Andrew
Stanton and animator Doug Sweetland.

[Last day of Finding Nemo dailies]

(Video) Woman: Doug is next.

Father: Hey, guess what.

Nemo: What?

Father: Sea turtles?

I met one!

And it was 150 years old.

AS: Nemo should be looking
at his dad at the beginning of the shot.

DS: All the time?
AS: Yeah, he looks like he's dead.

He looks like he's given up.

(Laughter)

He looked at his dad
and he looked at his fin,

and he should be looking at him
for acknowledgment the whole time.

They can touch the fin;
they stay looking at each other.

(Laughter)

(Music)

[Doug Sweetland, animator]

DS: I was focusing permanently on father
and really not on Nemo.

So I just kind of had Nemo defaulted
to this eyes-forward pose,

not even thinking about how it would read,

except that hopefully
you're looking at father.

But Andrew read it,

and he was totally right
that he looks completely indifferent.

(Laughter)

So now I have to give the same treatment
that I gave father to Nemo.

But you know, it's not like
starting over or anything,

but I have to imbue
that character with something.

So now what I can do is just
go back into the thumbnails,

and what I can do is use
these same drawings.

It will be good.
The shot will be a lot better.

I've done all this stuff too,
where the fin is the symbol of the movie.

His accepting of his son

is also the letting go of the past,
of the loss, the trauma

and what is it to take someone's hand.

Not only as in an opportunity

to physically touch
and connect with his son,

it also marks the new relationship.

(Music)

Father: I'm so sorry, Nemo.

(Music ends)

(On stage) LI: So,
this behind-the-scenes access

really gave me a deeper understanding

for the human journey
through the creative process,

or that courage to create.

I learned through my own filmmaking

that risk-taking is all
about trusting your gut

and having that confidence
to go down an unpaved road.

Much like my grandfather did
and much like the founders of Pixar did.

So when I started receiving
letters from students,

telling me that this film,
the Pixar story,

inspired them to pursue
a career in animation,

that gave me more motivation
to go and find more stories

that were meant to be told,

more stories of risk and survival
and risk and adversity.

But how do you find these stories?

I can tell you

that you will often find them

in the most surprising
and unexpected places.

I would never have guessed

that my next film
would have landed me in the trash,

literally.

The Guatemala City garbage dump,
the largest landfill in Central America,

where thousands of families who had fled
Guatemala's 36-year civil war

had found refuge
recycling the city's trash.

Outsiders saw these people as degenerates,

and I saw them as hard-working survivors.

Vultures and stray dogs
and people were all vying

for the same half-eaten banana
just dumped from a trash truck.

Yet, children were joyful here.

They played with broken toys
and hula-hoops.

And even Mickey Mouse dolls.

We asked one woman,

"What was the best thing
you ever found in the garbage dump?"

She said, "My husband."

This was a story of risk,
courage, survival and dignity.

I grew up in the world of Disneyland,
and this was their playground.

So I was finding commonality in a place
far from home and how I grew up.

When people learned
I was doing a documentary

about people living in a garbage dump,

they thought I was crazy
for doing this film.

But when it was nominated
for an Academy Award,

and benefits screenings
raised three million dollars

to help build schools in the surrounding
areas of the garbage dump,

our film "Recycled Life" is proof

that films that are meant to be told
can make a difference.

I find that as we get older, we start
to look back at the stories of our lives.

We start to want to fill in the blanks

and answer the questions
that we never thought to ask,

because we were so busy living and doing.

But when we start being,
our own history starts to matter more.

If we could just have one more day
with our loved one,

or we could have been that fly on the wall
to learn about their processes,

their perspectives
and their lessons in life.

Stories are all around us.

And we have the tools and the technology
today like never before,

to go out and capture them
and share them with others.

I challenge you, I dare you: go out.

Find those magical stories
in others, and then yourself.

Because when we listen
to our own instincts,

and we answer our own calls to action,

our stories become a gift to everyone.

They become the tribal
knowledge to pass down.

Remember that old African proverb:

when an old man dies,
or a woman, a library burns.

Go save some burning
libraries, I dare you.

Thank you.

(Applause)