Staggering Irony

In 1989, Nick Park, who would later go onto direct the beloved Wallace and Gromit short films and movie as well as hits such as Chicken Run, made a short film called Creature Comforts. The film, showing various zoo animals being interviewed about their living conditions, was voiced by residents of a housing development in Britain. Later, clay animation was applied to the recorded interviews for the 10 minute short film. The film went on to win an Academy Award.

In 2003, Aardman Animations developed a television series from the short film. Airing on ITV, the series followed a similar format – unscripted interviews with the general public of Britain recorded and then clay animation of animals applied to the voiceovers. Sometimes you can see episodes of Creature Comforts on BBC America. Usually late in the evening, about 10 or 11pm.

Like many successful British shows (The Office, Coupling, Red Dwarf, Fawlty Towers) the idea was presented to develop an American version. In February of 2006, it was announced production for the American version of Creature Comforts was underway, beginning with the recording of interviews from the general American public. I have no idea how they chose people to interview, how many people they interviewed, or how they decided who to keep and who to cut.

One of the people interviewed and recorded was The Doc. This is before we knew about the cancer, before the cancer that had been silently and viciously breeding in his throat overtook his vocal cords, before we would have the first inkling that anything was wrong. It was early in the year, when 2006 still looked fresh and promising, with no hint of the struggle to come.

I don’t know how they found him or who nominated him for this or what. What I do know is that they really liked his voice. How could you not? The Doc’s voice is so utterly distinctive: high and lilting, pitch expressive and offbeat, full of teasing, yet peppered with intellect. Even more than the sound of his voice is his manner of speaking: The Doc knows how to tell a story, how to hold an audience, how to captivate a class. His pacing is deliberate, vocabulary selective, his inflection characteristic, pauses timed, fingers tapped for emphasis. This is the reason the cancer was so devastating. In addition to worrying about his general well-being (cancer is scary, period), we were mourning the inevitable loss of his ultimate teaching tool, the singular part of his being, the extraordinary nature of his voice.

Naturally, the Creature Comforts people loved him. All told, they did several 3 hour recording sessions with The Doc, with him talking about Lord only knows what. They recorded something like 9-12 hours of material from him.

A few months later, The Doc got what he thought was “laryngitis,” which was later diagnosed as a “severe sinus infection,” and then “thyroid cancer,” before hitting the true illness Salivary Gland Cancer. You know the rest of the story.

When I think of The Doc’s voice, I now think of his cyborg voice. I’ve heard it enough that I associate the electronic sounds emanating from his throat as a voice and not just as the feedback from the vibrations of his simulator. Truth be told, he’s very good with his simulator, and I know him well enough that my ears and brain fill in the gaps where his inflection and timbre should be. His cadence and timing remain the same, although at times I see him struggling for emphasis and enunciation. He’s getting better at it every day, in the fall he will be teaching again, cancer be damned. It doesn’t matter. This is his voice now, we all might as well get used to it. Moving on, whatever.

Yesterday, the Doc got a check in the mail. Residuals from Creature Comforts. An email followed shortly thereafter. The series has been green lighted for a June 4th premiere on CBS, 8pm. The Doc’s “character” is definitely featured in the premiere episode, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his “character” pops up again in the course of the 7 episode series given how much they recorded of him and how unique and captivating he is.

In November on the eve of his sojourn to New York for cancer treatment, wracked by worry, grief and sadness, I wrote, “After tomorrow, I will never hear his voice again.” This is something that I had to reconcile with — the knowledge that I wouldn’t ever again hear the voice of someone who had guided and mentored me for nearly 6 years. It was something that was seemingly impossible to wrap my head around. I can’t imagine what it was like for him, trying to understand and come to terms with never speaking normally again.

Yesterday, I learned that I would hear his voice again. Only now I have to come to terms with hearing it again, after saying goodbye. I also have to wrap my head around the fact that this voice that has been so crucial in my academic and personal development will now be coming out of a claymation chipmunk or giraffe or something.

Welcome back into my life, Irony. Sometimes you are about as subtle as a cast-iron skillet to the skull.