Go Into The Story Interview: Mary Coleman

I have been a fan of Pixar Animation Studios since their first feature film hit theaters in 1995. In fact, I even teach a class at DePaul University called Pixar: Craft of Storytelling. In 2012, I did a Go Into The Story interview with Mary Coleman who had been with the company since Toy Story 2. At the time, Mary was Head of Creative Development at Pixar before moving on to become Chief Creative Officer at Locksmith Studio based in San Francisco.

Here is that interview in its entirety.

Scott: As I understand it, you were working in theater before you started working at Pixar.

Mary: Yes, I was a director at San Francisco’s Magic Theater in the 90s. Our mission was world premieres of new plays. I loved working closely with the playwrights to develop their work — actually more than directing the plays. Pixar recruited me because they thought my experience with new plays would fit well with their story development process.

SM: Could you unpack that a little more, why they thought someone who had experience working with playwrights might be a better fit than a traditional Hollywood development exec?

MC: Because the Magic workshopped multiple drafts before going into production. We stuck with the playwright through the process, knowing that there would be rocky drafts but if you hang in there, you can get to something you’re all proud to be part of. Pixar commits to artists the same way, knowing that there are going to be drafts and screenings that fall flat, but instead of panicking and firing people we commit to the long-term development process.

Workshop is really the right word. In the theater we workshopped a new play for months. At Pixar it’s years, literally 5 years, to get the stories right.

SM: Where does that obsession with story and getting it right originate?

MC: Mainly from John [Lasseter]. He’s a natural born storyteller, the kind of person who gets everyone riveted at a dinner party with a story of something that happened to him yesterday. Pixar’s founder Ed Catmull was working at Lucas Films when he met John. John had just been fired from Disney. Ed brought him to Lucas in the guise of developing computer animation technology, testing and pushing this new software Ed and his team were creating, but Ed really wanted the artist, the storyteller, and just needed a way to get John on the team that would eventually split off to form Pixar.

One of the things I love about this place is that even though we pioneered this technology, the technology is always a tool to serve storytelling.

SM: Does the fact that Pixar is an animation company affect the way you go about approaching the storytelling process?

MC: Much less than you’d think. A good story is a good story, regardless of the medium. I suppose the main difference is when directors here pitch ideas John is paying attention to which of them really call out for animation. If he feels as if an idea might be just as good or better in live-action, he won’t choose it.

But after that, we don’t think differently about story because of animation. Really the way we think about it goes back to Aristotle. We may have invented cool new software, but when it comes to story we rely on the deep foundations of good storytelling. We look to myths, to epics, to great literature. And when we look for writers we look first and foremost for great storytellers.

SM: In that regard, weren’t you the one responsible for bringing in screenwriter Michael Arndt to write Toy Story 3?

MC: I was. We found him before Little Miss Sunshine was released. We hired him based on the strength of his script, not based on the success of the movie or the buzz around him.

SM: In a recent New Yorker article on Andrew Stanton, Michael Arndt is quoted as saying “I thought they must have some foolproof system, some big Pixar story machine, but they actually just make it up each time as they go along. Pete Docter’s [Pixar writer-director] analogy is ‘Everyone holds hands and jumps out of the airplane with the promise that they’ll build a parachute before they hit the ground.’”

MC: [laughs] So true. It’s funny because I get calls from producers down in Hollywood asking for the secret recipe. And I always say it’s really hard work, and committing to slog through the bad times. Trusting that if we stick with it and support each other we’ll get there. There’s no short cut for getting it right. We’re willing to keep going back to the drawing board, put it up, look at it, throw it all away and start over. We’re willing to do that over and over and over again. It’s not always fun — despite the images of us all riding around on scooters.

On every project, there’s a point where we think we’ll never crack it. We really despair. We think the story sucks. And that’s when everybody does the hand-holding and commits to making it better.

It’s never been easy. I’ve been here twelve years and there’s never been an easy one.

SM: I’ve read where Andrew Stanton didn’t study screenwriting. Did John study it?

MC: No, and neither did Pete. They’ve watched a lot of movies and paid attention to why they work and, more importantly, why they didn’t. Some of our directors taught themselves by reading great screenplays. And most of all there was a lot of trial and error.

SM: If you wouldn’t mind, could you take us through the Pixar story-crafting process step-by-step?

MC: Sure. John [Lasseter] chooses someone he feels is ready to direct — in most cases an artist who has been part of the family for many years. Most have come up as animators or story artists. They are asked to come up with three original, totally different ideas — different worlds, different characters, different genres. John hears those and chooses the one he feels has the most promise for Pixar.

Once an idea is picked, we spend the first year researching that world and digging into the types of characters found there. We lay a strong foundation through research, whether that means meeting with entomologists for Bug’s Life, scuba diving for Nemo, or apprenticing in the kitchens of great restaurants for Ratatouille.

But the most important work of that first year is finding the core of the story, what it is the director wants to communicate to the world.

That starts with very rough outlines. You pitch those to the Brain Trust — a group of the other Pixar directors. One of the most unique aspects of our studio is that you get feedback from their peers. And peers who are very committed to your success, as much as you are to theirs. You get this incredible input before there’s even a first draft. You can call on individuals or the whole Trust at any point to get the feedback you need. In that first year you’re pitching twenty minute overviews of the story, getting feedback, and rethinking it. We often spend a whole year in outlining before going to a first draft. A lot of time laying that foundation.

Sometimes there’s a table read — either with pro actors or more often just tapping the Pixar community for people who like to act. Then while the writer is incorporating the Brain Trust notes into a second draft, a team of story artists begin drawing out the movie, like the comic book. Then the comic book becomes like a flip book when the drawings are scanned in and edited together to make our “reels”. It’s a visual rough draft of the whole thing, so if your movie’s an hour and a half long your reels are too. The Brain Trust watches these reels and gives very frank — sometimes painfully frank! — feedback. But with no other agenda than helping you make the best movie you can. You spend the next 2–3 years in the process of putting up reels, getting feedback, and going back to the drawing board before going into full production for the final 1–2 years of this year process.

SM: When does the screenwriter get involved in the process?

MC: Historically they’ve been brought on at many different points, but my strong preference is to bring them on as soon as the idea is chosen. Not only for all the outlining, but also to join in the in-depth research and become part of the team. Dan Fogelman got to know the Cars team on a road trip across route 66.

Mike Arndt, I’m really happy to say, was with us from the start of Toy Story 3. Having one writer through the whole process, there from the ground up, really shows in the final movie.

One of many reasons that the writer being part of the creative team is so important is that while writing that second draft they’re working side by side with the eight or so story artists who are drawing the movie. There’s a lot of back and forth. It’s really a unique experience for a screenwriter because they’re not only collaborating with the director, but also with this very talented group of visual storytellers. The drawings feed the written word just as much as the written word feeds the story boards. The writers who have lasted here love that process. And then there are the ones who ran out of here screaming “too many chefs!!”

So the second draft of the screenplay is also the first reel screening. And it’s always bad. It’s just bad. That’s okay. Andrew [Stanton] likes to say “Be wrong fast.” On the one hand, we’ll take a whole year to get to a first draft. But once we have that, we put it up on reels an average of eight times and that’s eight visual rough drafts of the movie. That translates to many more than eight drafts of the script. At a certain point the back and forth is so fluid you lose count.

SM: So there are voiceovers for each of those reels?

MC: We don’t use professional actors until the last few reels. For most of it, we use ‘scratch,’ voices from in-house. For example, Pete [Docter] does Woody. Bob Petersen is one of our most versatile. In fact, he’s hard to replace once he’s done scratch so he’s ended up being the actual Roz in Monsters Inc and Doug the dog in Up. We involve pro actors before the story is locked, but much further along in the process.

It’s funny to say “locked” because we keep improving the story well into production, which is painful in animation. Making changes is expensive and laborious. But we’ll keep at it if the story’s not right yet. And we’ve never once gone into full production with it “locked.”

SM: What is your part in this process?

MC: I wear several hats. One of them is scouting writers to pair up with our directors. Writers are brought on to help the directors realize their vision on the page. I play matchmaker. When I do my job well, the marriage lasts.

Once the writer is here, I’m their liaison, making sure the creative process is working for everybody.

Another hat I wear is brainstorming with the creative team while they’re in development. This team starts as a trio: director, writer and “head of story.” That’s the veteran story artist in charge of the story artists. While that trio meets daily hammering out the story they call me in as needed to brainstorm or to get them ready for pitches to the Brain Trust. I also have two outstanding Development colleagues who do the same. It’s a matter of chemistry which of the three of us works with a given director.

A favorite hat of mine is overseeing our Short Films program. Since our features take around 5 years, it’s incredibly satisfying to work on things that take under a year from conception to birth. And those films are so pure expressions of their creators.

SM: As an aside, I’m sure what you do can be challenging, but it sounds like an unbelievably great gig.

MC: I love my job. I feel very lucky to be here. I’ve been here twelve years and have no plans to leave. There’s very little turnover at Pixar. Most of our development department has been here a good decade. In other studios, development is often a stepping stone to production. Here people are just passionate about helping lay that groundwork for story. This is our endgame.

SM: So there is this love for story and commitment to storytelling, much of it evidently based upon traditional influences like Aristotle and Joseph Campbell. But then there is another aspect of Pixar movies that is pretty distinctive and that is some of the unconventional choices you make in terms of characters. For example in Ratatouille, we’re talking about rats and food…

MC: [laughs] We always joke if we had to pitch our movies to a Hollywood studio, who would green light a movie about rats cooking? Or about an old man and a chubby scout? It would be really hard to get in the door with those ideas. But because we’re committing to the artist first and foremost — we’re saying, “We believe in you and your vision” — they don’t have to sell their ideas on the focus-group driven market place. We’re able to get away with some pretty unconventional stories because we’re up here in this bubble in Emeryville.

SM: I know Pixar has pushed the envelope in terms of animation technology. Are the unconventional stories you choose to tell a reflection of an attitude that is present there, to do something different, or is it more about the director having a passion for telling a particular story?

MC: That’s a good question. We’re not consciously trying to push the envelope. It’s more that the directors here have a unique vision and we’re getting behind that. But the directors aren’t setting out to be experimental. In some ways our movies are very conventional, in terms of story conventions like character arcs. If you look at all of our movies there’s a protagonist who starts with a flaw, goes on a journey, and comes out the other end a better person… or rat… or fish.

SM: It seems like a lot of Pixar movies have what I call ‘strange sojourners,’ essentially buddies. Woody and Buzz in Toy Story, Sulley and Boo in Monsters, Inc., Marlin and Dory in Finding Nemo, Wall-E and Eve in Wall-E, Carl and Russell in Up. Is there an instinct or mindset toward matching two disparate types?

MC: I wouldn’t say we set out each time to make a buddy picture. The director may start out with a strong idea about the main character. But because we tell stories where the protagonist grows and changes, and, like all humans, we grow and change in relation to others, then it naturally unfolds that the protagonist needs to be in a relationship. Carl was alone for the first year of Up until Tom McCarthy introduced Russell. That really opened things up. Our stories are not only character driven, they’re relationship driven. Our next up [Brave] is a mother-daughter story, very relationship driven.

SM: I’ve seen comments made by John and others about how strongly Pixar feels about finding points of emotional connection. The strength of these buddy type of narrative arrangements can really highlight some of the key dynamics going on with the Protagonist. For example, Marlin in Finding Nemo, what’s his big problem?

MC: He’s overprotective. But we sympathize because we saw the prologue where his wife and several thousand of their eggs were devoured by a barracuda, and only Nemo survived. So you forgive Marlin for wanting to hold on so tightly to Nemo.

Originally Andrew didn’t have the prologue. He had flashbacks dole out why Marlin acts the way he does. But then the Brain Trust said, ‘We find Marlin really unappealing because he’s such a nag. It’s hard to root for him. If we knew up front why he’s this way, we’d be rooting for him more.’ Andrew tried it. It helps that the reels process makes it easy to move things around and try them in different places. And he agreed it worked better. That doesn’t mean we always have to have prologues (though the prologue went a long way in Up in helping us forgive Carl’s curmudgeonliness!). We don’t want to lock into a formula and say, ‘From now on we have prologues that explain the character’s emotional flaw.’

There have been a lot of moments where we have to find that balance: you want your main characters to start off flawed so they have an arc, yet if you go too far you make them unappealing. That’s where the Brain Trust can really serve directors. To say, ‘Ooh, you went too far on that one!’ Or, ‘You didn’t go far so now there’s no room for growth.’ That is a dance we do on every movie.

When I said that our movies are “conventional” I mean that we embrace some age-old storytelling conventions. We figure they’ve stood the test of time for a reason. For example, we hope are movies are cathartic. We’re happy to hear that TS3 made a grown man blubber just thinking about his kid going off to college. We’re not afraid to be sentimental. And while it may not be as formal as a mission statement, it’s just ingrained that we want to make uplifting movies.

SM: In terms of story conventions, I’ve done a lot of work on Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung who heavily influenced Campbell — character archetypes, narrative archetypes — and those resonate in stories because they have power, they exist in our individual and collective consciousness, there’s a reason why they have been around for thousands and thousands of years.

MC: I know some of the directors here have been inspired by the wonderful Bill Moyers Power of Myth series. Some attended McKee’s seminar and got a lot out of it. And we all learned from Mike Arndt (he says the same about us.) He approaches story in terms internal stakes, external stakes, and philosophical stakes. I wouldn’t say we start with a theme, like “I want to make a movie that teaches people blah blah blah.” The directors start from a very personal place. ‘I realized I was an overprotective father so I want to make a movie about that.’ Or for John ‘I was on the fast track and missing out on my family, and I realized the journey is the reward.’

Sometimes the seed is more whimsical. Pete was an imaginative kid who really did think there were monsters in his closet, then as an adult came up with the twist that the monsters were afraid of the kids. It starts with something personal, then as the stories unfold we’re influenced by models that have been around for a very long time.

SM: We see that point of personal connection in Up very profoundly, don’t we? We start off with Carl as a boy, meeting young Ellie, then losing her in that poignant sequence of their married life together. And having experienced the loss of Ellie, Carl is almost ‘life-less,’ left to string out the remaining days of his life. Then he goes on this big journey to South America, accompanied by Russell, who is an adventurer and full of life. And here again, strange sojourners — an old man fading from life, a young boy full of life. Yet each has their own shadow: Carl who has a void where Ellie used to be, Russell who has a void where his father used to be. Those internal dynamics push the pair as they go on their external journey, all the while overcoming obstacles and over time forming a connection. And per this idea of the philosophical stakes, for Carl isn’t it finally a story of resurrection?

MC: Absolutely. Carl has been living the past, not even living, just biding his time until he dies and joins Ellie. He stopped living when she died. So yes, it’s a rebirth story because by the end he’s able to have a new relationship in the present. And it’s sweet because while the primary relationship is with Russell, by accepting the unconditional love of the dog Doug, letting him come in, jump on him, and be his dog, you’ve got a satisfying B-plot of another present-tense relationship.

SM: Here’s another thing. Each Pixar movie explores a unique setting and subculture. With Toy Story it’s toys, A Bug’s Life it’s bugs, The Incredibles superheroes, Finding Nemo aquatic life, Cars the whole automobile culture. How much does having that new setting with unique characters, social dynamics, and possible set pieces affect the decision-making process on what stories to develop and how to develop them?

MC: As far as which stories go forward, the heart of the story trumps the world. But as I mentioned John definitely wants to see a world that will be fun to animate. Then once we’ve chosen a world, in terms of how we develop it, the reason we do so much research is to make it authentic. Visually we’re obviously not going for photo-realism. We would never limit our medium that way. The idea that toys come to life and drop to the floor when people come into the room is an imaginative fantasy. But we try to be authentic to the point of view of the toy.

So in terms of conflict, that core Pixar team asked themselves ‘What are the worst things that can happen in a toy’s life?’ Being replaced. So the birthday party kicks off the conflict in TS1. Being left behind. So Woody toys with the immortality of a being behind glass in a toy museum in TS2. Your kid going off to college. So the toys try to escape their fate in TS3. That’s what we mean by authentic — asking what would a toy’s problem be? On the one hand, we definitely anthropomorphize all of our characters. On the other, we’re trying to stay true to their point of view of the world.

SM: Basically experiences authentic to the characters within that story universe as opposed to some sort of artificial construct laid on top of them.

MC: Yes, precisely. The dilemma for these toys is not that they’re low on cash and need to stage an elaborate jewel heist to get some. But they may stage an elaborate toy heist to get Woody back because he’s Andy’s toy and belongs in Andy’s room.

SM: It strikes me this is a reflection of how Pixar thinks differently than perhaps a Hollywood-based studio would. I ask a question about a movie’s setting and subculture and in Hollywood, they would likely start talking about set pieces or movie trailer moments. Those are important, helpful to provide the filmmakers material they can use to string together a plot. But when I asked you that question, you immediately went to character. So is it fair to say that this represents Pixar’s instinct, to find story through character?

MC: Yes. So when I talk to agents and managers about prospective writers, I lead by saying I need to read character-driven scripts. I don’t find what I’m looking for in high concept. What I need from a writer is emotionally dimensional characters.

SM: I know you have these two projects in the future, one set in the world of dinosaurs, the other inside the human brain. Was that a similar process to get to those?

MC: I suppose being inside the human brain is high concept, but because it’s Pete he started with characters. The characters he wants to explore come along with that environment.

SM: Another dynamic I see in Pixar movies is there is this big story, but also there’s also a small story against it. Wall-E, for example, you’ve got the backdrop of this classic hero’s journey involving interstellar space, but then there’s intimate relationship between Wall-E and Eve. Similarly with Finding Nemo, another classic hero’s journey where the Protagonist leaves their old world and ventures into this new world of adventure to rescue his son, but then there’s this smaller story of Marlin and Dory. And if the subtext of Marlin’s overprotectiveness is that he has problems trusting the world, Dory is like the perfect character to influence him because she is such a trusting figure, always living in the moment.

MC: Dory’s memory loss is a great metaphor for living in the present. When a character is fearful, it’s a combination of bad past experiences and worries about the future. A character whose flaw is being paralyzed by fear can’t live in the moment. And so you’re right, Dory is the perfect foil for that.

In Nemo you have the external stakes of rescuing the son, but the internal stakes are worked out in the relationship with Dory. He has to learn to let go so that when he does rescue his son they can have a healthy relationship. Otherwise he would fulfill the external stakes and bring his son home, but they’d still have the same conflict. The intimate story is there to resolve the internal stakes.

SM: Now that’s interesting as it reminds me of Carl Jung. He believed our psychological task as human beings, what he calls individuation, is in large part to engage and assimilate the various aspects of our psyche, even the dark, repressed impulses, what he called the shadow. And he has this theory that if we don’t acknowledge all aspects of our psyche, the universe will create circumstances to force us to do so. And I find that idea fascinating when applied to story, as a writer standing outside the story and looking at it. For example in Finding Nemo, Marlin had to lose his son…

MC: In order to regain him in a healthy way.

SM: Exactly. So back to the big story, small story dynamic, it sounds like against the larger canvas of the external stakes, you want to make sure to have a more intimate relationship of some sort that basically is where the internal stakes get played out.

MC: That’s right.

SM: I have two other story dynamics I’d like to discuss, one of which you mentioned: Sentimentality. With Toy Story, many of the toys harken back to when I was a kid. With The Incredibles which had that 60s cool spy story feel…

MC: Again it’s personal. With Toy Story, John used the toys he played with growing up. Brad loved spy movies as a kid. But then it’s also the story of a mid-life crisis.

SM: At the heart of The Incredibles, I guess you could say ‘family values,’ it’s such a loaded phrase, but the story is about a family that goes on a journey and finds their emotional focus, the husband and wife in particular. Then I’m reminded of that wonderfully poignant moment in Wall-E where Wally is watching “Hello, Dolly,” sees the couple on the screen hold hands, then he holds his own hand. I’m guessing you talk about the balance point in this area, too much, too little in terms of emotionality. But it strikes me it’s sentimentality not with the stereotypical mushy connotation…

MC: I suppose it’s semantics, the distinction between sentiment and sentimentality. Maybe what we’re unashamed of is sentiment. Sentimentality has a negative tinge, that it’s saccharine. I hope our movies aren’t saccharine, that instead they’re poignant because they’re true to the creator’s emotions.

SM: They’re dealing in honest emotions, they don’t feel manipulative, and that’s the case because they arise from the filmmaker’s own genuine life experience?

MC: Yes. It’s the old cliché about writing. Your high school creative writing teacher says, ‘Write what you know.’ That doesn’t mean you can’t imagine a fantastic world, but in terms of character, it’s coming out of your own emotional experiences.

SM: And that leads me to the last observation I have about dynamics in Pixar movies: Surprise. There seems to be a premium on this in your stories. I go back to the ending sequence in Toy Story where Woody and Buzz scramble onto the street, trying to get back to the moving van which is following the van with Andy and his family inside. There are so many twists and turns, complications, roadblocks, reversals…

MC: You’ve asked about things being conscious or not, well this an area that is very consciously constructed. We give each other feedback, ‘No, no, hold off on that information,’ or ‘plant a red herring here.’ We’re influenced by Hitchcock. His movies are so full of surprises.

SM: I thought maybe there was an animation influence like the complicated plans with Road Runner and Coyote…

MC: No, I wouldn’t say that because if you think about Road Runner, it doesn’t really build. Dropping an anvil on his head, pushing him off a cliff, it’s all fun, but it doesn’t escalate. Our movies have increasing complications. Just when your hero thinks, “Oh, I’ve overcome this,” and it’s all going to be smooth sailing from here, something even harder comes up. You don’t let them off the hook.

SM: Okay, a few more questions. You’ve had a chance to work with some great screenwriters. Joss Whedon, Tom McCarthy, Dan Fogelman, Mike Arndt. Beyond creativity — and you’ve already said you’re looking for writers who are good with character — are there other qualities you’re looking for in a screenwriter?

MC: When you think about those writers and the other movies they’ve written you’ll see they’re all smart comedies with a lot of heart. Tom McCarthy was hired based on The Station Agent.

SM: I love that movie.

MC: Me, too. And it’s a very small canvas. So you wouldn’t automatically think of him for a big budget animated feature. But I always start by asking the directors, ‘What movies have you loved in the past few years?’ And Pete [Docter] said The Station Agent.’ So I said, ‘Okay, let’s see if Tom McCarthy’s available.’ Lucky for us, he was.

We hire comedy writers, but we’re not going for ‘jokey’ writers. We’re going for a deeper kind of humor that comes out of how flawed the characters are, that comes out of their relationships to each other, not out of a string of jokes or pop culture references.

SM: Let’s talk about Brave. Did having a female Protagonist affect your creative process?

MC: Sure. She’s not only female, she’s a teenage female. We watched a lot of movies that are driven by teenage girls. We got women together and asked them about their own teen years, their relationships with their moms, with their teen daughters. We’re not only researching ancient Scotland, we’re researching character psyche, in this case how to approach things from a teenage girl’s point of view.

It’s also the first time we’re tapping into the deep roots of fairy tales and that’s really exciting because it has a different tenor, new territory for us in a great way.

SM: Great. Let me end with this big question, put you on the spot. In your view — speaking for Pixar — what makes a good story?

MC: This is going to sound very sappy, but I said we’re unafraid of sentiment so here goes… coming from the heart. Telling your story from the heart. All the other mechanics of storytelling are useless unless without that.

In 2017, I invited Mary to be a guest at the DePaul University Visiting Artists Series. You can see that interview here.

For 100s more interviews I’ve conducted with screenwriters, filmmakers, and industry insiders, go here.