In Praise of the Voice Actor
In an age in which voice acting is endangered by AI, it's worth taking a look at what makes this time of performance so uniquely human.
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When I was growing up, one of my favorite things to do was see if I could identify the person responsible for voicing several different animated characters. I’d tune in to one of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons–I grew up in the ‘80s when those were still a thing–or I’d go to the theater to see the latest Disney release, and I’d feel a particular thrill when a little part of my brain would recognize a unique vocal talent. “Ah ha!,” I’d think. “I know that voice!” Even now, whenever I’m watching something animated, I find my ears perking up at the familiar vocal inflections of my favorite vocal artists, whether it’s Don Messick (Scooby-Doo and numerous others) or Paul Winchell (whose distinctive rasp made for such iconic characters as Tigger, Gargamel, and Dick Dastardly).
There was also something uniquely magical about those behind-the-scenes vignettes that you would get every once in a while–usually in the lead-up to the release of a Disney feature–in which you would get to see the people behind the beloved voices while they were recording. Oh sure, sometimes this was a bit of demystification, drawing your attention to the fact that your favorite animated beings were voiced by flesh-and-blood people, but for me seeing them at work was a reminder of how much what they did was a labor of love and, just as importantly, a craft, something that required labor and training and a certain level of artistry. Though laypeople might think that voice acting is easier than other types, that’s certainly not true. Animation history is filled with films in which A-list stars demonstrated that, while they might be talented in front of the camera, voice acting is something that goes beyond their talents.
Thus, while there’s obviously something remarkable about seeing A-list stars flex their muscles and move into voice acting–I’m thinking here of figures like Tom Hanks and Woody in Toy Story, or James Earl Jones and Mufasa in The Lion King or Robin Williams in Aladdin–for my money the real MVPs are those who dedicated their lives exclusively, or almost exclusively, to voiceover work. Think of Frank Welker, still going strong at 78, who’s been providing the voice of Freddie Jones in Scooby-Doo since the very beginning, or the late Mel Blanc, whose remarkable Looney Tunes repertoire speaks for itself (it says something that they’ve never found a single person who could ever do all of the voices he did, and in my opinion no one has yet done justice to his beloved characters. Or how about the late June Foray, who was one of the most talented voice actors of her generation, known for bringing us such beloved characters as Rocky the Flying Squirrel, Natasha Fatale and, for the millennials in the audience, Magica De Spell of Ducktales and Grandmother Fa in Mulan. These are people whose voices we all recognize, but I doubt that many people who aren’t animation nerds would recognize their faces, and this is truly a shame, because they deserve our praise for being a big part of the magic of our collective childhoods.
These days, the voice actor is another of those occupations which is facing an existential threat from AI. This is particularly true for those who provide the voices for various video games, but I don’t think it takes too much of a stretch of the imagination to see how this might affect those who provide voices for animated television shows, as well. Given how willing many studios have been to make use of the actual visages of stars (particularly dead ones), and given the extent to which the powers that be in Hollywood have decided that they’re in the business of producing “content” rather than anything even remotely resembling popular art, it won’t be much longer until we’re being subjected to animated series voiced entirely by machine.
For me, and for many like me, though, part of the joy of watching animation–whether it be on the big or the small screen, whether it’s a glossy Disney feature or a Saturday morning cartoon by Hanna-Barbera–is the knowledge that there is someone, a human being, behind our favorite characters. After all, what would The Little Mermaid be without the vocal talents of Pat Carroll as Ursula, and how much poorer would our appreciation of this character be if we didn’t know the woman behind it? For that matter, our appreciation of many of Hanna-Barbera’s movies and TV shows, I think, stems more from our love of the vocal delivery than it does from the rather rudimentary animation (this isn’t a dig at HB, by the way. It’s just a fact that they churned out material at such a fast pace that complex animation just wasn’t a key part of their appeal or their focus).
And then there’s the more philosophical side of things. Sure, a talented AI can replicate the voice talents of various voice artists, but it can’t endow characters with the same sense of individuality and personhood that a human being can. I think a lot about Bill Farmer, the current voice of Goofy (certainly one of the most widely-cherished of Disney legacy characters), who spoke eloquently about his own training as a voice actor at the feet of Daws Butler (himself one of the giants of the field, responsible for creating Yogi Bear, Huckleberry Hound, and many more). As Farmer remarks: “He was the one who really stressed that you’re not someone doing funny voices, you are a character that happens to have a funny voice. In other words, it’s not the cart before the voice. The acting leads the voice, not the other way round.” There’s something remarkably touching and thoughtful about this comment, which reminds us that voice acting, like so many other aspects of performance, takes a lot of attention to detail and practice. Therein, I think, lies its peculiar magic. If you’ve heard Farmer’s performance as Goofy in something as surprisingly touching as A Goofy Movie, you know that this kind of voice acting which can never be replicated by a machine, no matter how talented.
While I was visiting my family in West Virginia recently, my mom and I were watching Yogi Bear and the Magical Flight of the Spruce Goose. It’s a delightfully daffy and silly animated film, very much of its time (the 1980s). However, while it’s a bit creaky at times, there’s still the unique magic that can only come from the old days of animation, and I found myself remarkably comforted by these familiar voices from these well-known characters. So many of the great voice actors have passed away–including Daws Butler himself–but their creations remain, reminding of us the power of the human voice in animation.
My mind when right to my favorite voice actor, otherwise occupied as an audiobook narrator - RC Bray. He is a true professional and very few celebrities hold a candle to his character/voice switching ability.