Ivan Askwith

But does the yearlong “Matrix” release schedule represent a significant advance in the art of storytelling or merely a new height of promotional franchising and profit-raising spinoff products? Even the most excited fans can’t help noticing that the “Matrix” has returned bearing all the trappings of a standard big-budget Hollywood sequel, from an official video game to a reissued “Collector’s Edition” DVD. (In a particularly poor move, Warner Bros. seems to have authorized a single promotional tie-in, which has yielded an awkward and slightly creepy “Matrix”-themed campaign for PowerAde.) Even if the new movies, game, and animated shorts live up to the high standards set by the first film, there’s still an uneasy feeling that Warner Bros. is taking advantage of “The Matrix’s” cult following to cash in while it can.

The hype from producer and “Matrix” mouthpiece Joel Silver is also a little over the top. In one recent interview Silver suggested that the triple-release of “Reloaded,” “Enter the Matrix” and “The Animatrix” represents “the first time anyone’s told a story in multiple mediums.” That statement is highly debatable, but within it lies a nugget worth paying attention to: The entire “Matrix” franchise is under the close supervision of its writer-director-producer duo, the brother-brother team of Larry and Andy Wachowski, who have either directed or approved every product on the list of “Matrix” offerings. As a result, if all goes well, the various products will demonstrate a level of consistency and integration that no previous pop-culture franchise has achieved.

Not every critic agrees. A May 5 article in the San Jose Mercury News described the Wachowskis’ approach to cross-marketing as mere “expandability.” The author, Mike Antonucci, conceded that the strategy would allow consumers to choose their own level of “Matrix” engagement — both emotional and financial — but concluded that the Year of the Matrix would have more to do with the evolution of “smart marketing” than the arrival of “smart storytelling.” Antonucci suggested that, “although the Wachowskis have upped the ante by the scope of their involvement, nothing about their strategy is unprecedented.” Pointing to the expansive franchise surrounding “Star Wars,” Antonucci notes that “over time, ‘Star Wars’ has developed its ‘universe’ by extending its history across different media. A character who originated in a video game, for instance, later was included in ‘Star Wars’ comic books.” The Wachowski brothers can be saluted for their “digital-era vision,” says Antonucci, but their greatest asset is their ability to “blur the difference between storytelling and merchandising.”

Whatever the critical appraisal, the brothers — both Warner and Wachowski — stand to profit from their venture into multimedia storytelling. But it would be a mistake to write off the triple threat of “Reloaded,” “Enter the Matrix” and “The Animatrix” as no more than supercharged slick cross-promotion. Little is known about the media-shy siblings, who, after the first movie, demanded that a “no press” clause be inserted into their contract before they would sign on for the remaining films, but what details we do have suggest a level of fanaticism and devotion to storytelling that is more usually associated with science fiction fans than Hollywood producers. The Wachowskis are passionate comic book readers, obsessive fans of Japanese anime, and avid video game addicts. In these limited details, we find everything we need to understand the origins — and to evaluate the significance — of the Year of the Matrix.

Start with Antonucci’s claim that there is nothing unprecedented in the Wachowskis’ attempt to deliver a single narrative through an assortment of media platforms. On this point, the “Star Wars” example is perhaps more instructive than it first seems, for while the various product lines in the “Star Wars” franchise have often featured common characters and settings, that has been a gradual development, a slow accretion of content. To equate this franchise to that of the “Matrix” is to obscure the new model of storytelling beginning to emerge: one in which, as Silver notes, a single story is told through multiple media.

Consider the exact nature of the Wachowskis’ involvement in the various aspects of the “Matrix” franchise. In the past, film directors have had little interest, and even less participation, in the decisions that expand a particular film into other media. By contrast, the Wachowski brothers themselves conceived of both “The Animatrix” and “Enter the Matrix” as integral components of the “Matrix” narrative, rather than spin-off products to be outsourced to third parties. As a result, the Wachowski brothers wrote four of the nine animated shorts themselves, using them to provide context and explanation for the content of their live-action features. The first and second installments, collectively titled “The Second Renaissance,” debuted as free Internet downloads and provided a historical overview explaining the origin of the war between man and machine. A third script, titled “The Kid’s Story,” introduces a character who will be featured in the remaining feature films, and shows how he came to join the fight against the Matrix.

But the most attention, by far, has been given to “Final Flight of the Osiris,” the brothers’ fourth script, which was produced by the digital animation team at “FinalFantasy” game studio SquareSoft. It debuted in theaters during March screenings of Lawrence Kasdan’s “Dreamcatcher.” Also referred to as “The Matrix 1.5,” Osiris is intended to provide a bridge between the action of the first and second films.

The same attention to detail is at play in the game “Enter the Matrix.” From the beginning, the Wachowskis insisted that the game serve not as an adaptation of the film, but as a distinct and self-supporting narrative. As a result, the game revolves around a concurrent, independent story line that intersects with and informs the action of “Reloaded” at regular intervals. “Enter the Matrix” puts players in control of two supporting characters from the film as they pursue their own missions and objectives and, in the process, sheds light on details of the film plot that are never addressed in the films themselves. Bruno Bonnell, president of game co-developer Infogrames, boasted to the Hollywood Reporter that “‘Enter the Matrix’ was not an afterthought or a licensing deal; the Wachowskis wanted this game as part of the ‘Matrix’ universe from day one. When this game ships, people will see what interactive entertainment should be, rather than a subproduct of licensing.”

During their first meeting with the game-development team at Shiny Entertainment, the Wachowskis were prepared with an original 244-page script for the game alone, and they announced their intention to shoot more than an hour of exclusive footage (which they have dubbed “cineractives”) to develop the narrative of the game. According to Shiny’s president, Dave Perry, their participation was far more explicit than suggestive. Says Perry: “They basically had an arc for the story and they knew exactly how it would all fit together — the beginning, the middle and the end — and they had gotten right down to the point where they said to me, ‘Okay, you’re in this situation and you get this and head to the front door but the front door has been all sealed and the place starts closing in on you.’” By contrast, most film-based video games — such as Electronic Arts’ rendition of “The Two Towers” — feature plots that are more adaptation than supplement. Even when these games are well implemented, they are ends unto themselves. To those fans that choose to pursue it, “Enter the Matrix” provides access to an obsessive level of authoritative detail and offers a potential enhancement of the film-viewing experience.

Of course, it helps to remember that the Wachowski brothers are, themselves, passionate fans of both anime and video games. (Perry has noted that the brothers have an Xbox and PlayStation 2, and play “tons of games.”) This gives them an edge that most directors will never have: They understand the logic of these media on a basic, instinctive level. The Wachowskis view these forms, which are so often seen as the extraneous trappings of a film’s product line, as meaningful projects of their own.

For “The Animatrix,” the brothers insisted on handpicking the directors and production teams, and the final roster reflects their long-standing admiration for anime: Those involved in the production of the five non-Wachowski sequences include members from the production team that developed “Akira,” an anime staple, and the director of the much acclaimed “Cowboy Bebop” series, which recently reached American theaters in the form of a feature-length film. Film stars Keanu Reeves and Carrie Anne-Moss have both lent their voices to individual chapters of “The Animatrix,” an endorsement that would, by itself, put the series in a class far above previous attempts at animated tie-ins.

Quality standards for the video game were even higher. Reports place the production budget for “Enter the Matrix” at figures in excess of $20 million, more than four times the usual budget for a PlayStation 2 game. And while big budgets don’t always correlate with better products, the Wachowskis’ involvement in the game’s development and production bode well for those fans hoping for something more than an exploitative video game tie-in. Footage for the game was captured at the same time as footage for the feature films, using the same sets, costumes and props that appear onscreen in theaters, and the game production crew was given unrestricted access to all of the film’s resources.

The Wachowski brothers themselves wrote and directed more than an hour of exclusive footage for the game, which features active participation from all of the film’s significant characters. (As a point of comparison, the video game tie-ins to the James Bond franchise have received praise from fans and critics for the mere use of Pierce Brosnan’s visual likeness.) According to the cast, the Wachowskis were no less demanding of the game’s stars than those featured in the films. In an online interview, Jada Pinkett-Smith, who appears as Niobe, one of the two central characters featured in the game, reported that the experience of shooting for the game was identical to the production for any feature film: “It’s serious business, down to how you walk, the tone of your voice, how you pronounce the words, the whole attitude — just everything. [The Wachowskis] were just as involved in the process of the videogame as they were the movie. It’s all one [and] the same — there was no separation. It was just one, big, massive project.” According to most actors, in fact, the cast was unaware of which scenes were being shot for the game and which were being shot for the movie. In most cases the Wachowski brothers refused to clarify.

In an online production journal, lead game programmer Michael “Saxs” Persson explained: “Traditionally, the development studio is left without access to assets from the movie, such as the primary talent, and the effects and sound departments. That all changed on ‘Enter the Matrix.’ We have had unprecedented access to any and all assets generated from the movie, right from the get-go.”

Taking all of this into account, the critique that argues that there is nothing new unfolding in the multimedia experiments of the “Matrix” team appears unfounded. Yes, the Year of the Matrix will advance the science of franchise marketing, just as the first “Matrix” film advanced the art of computer-generated visual effects. And yes, all this multimedia synergy represents a huge opportunity to cash in. To get the “entire” “Matrix” experience, fans will have to shell out at least four times this year: twice at the box office, for “Reloaded” and “Revolutions,” and twice at the cash register, for “Enter the Matrix” and “The Animatrix.” It’s true: Warner Bros. could not be in a better position. But the same might also be true of audiences who have waited four years for the second coming of “The Matrix.” The Wachowski brothers have made an enormous commitment to developing the “Matrix” universe, and if the phenomenal following of the first film is any indication, fans will thank them for it.

As it did in 1999, the revived “Matrix” franchise is guaranteed to raise the bar for special effects. If we’re lucky, however, the Year of the Matrix will also raise the bar for how stories are conceived and executed. Presenting a single unified narrative in the form of two movies, nine animated shorts, and a cinematic video game, the Wachowskis have offered a new model for storytelling in the detail-obsessed, information-saturated digital age. We can only hope that other directors will follow their lead.

Well, here’s one reason: We don’t know how audiences will react to a performance that owes more to computer code than to human talent. Perhaps, as “Simone” suggests, it shouldn’t matter whether an actor is real or not, but with the announcement of the nominees for the 75th Academy Awards last Tuesday, it has become clear that — at least for now — it still does. The most interesting question of this year’s Oscar race was not who would be named, but whether Hollywood was prepared to adjust traditional definitions of talent and achievement to honor the first wave of computer-generated performers.

The question arose in response to public statements made in December that New Line Cinema would seek a best supporting actor nomination for Andy Serkis, the human actor whose talents were tapped to guide the computer-generated performance of the pitiful wretch, Gollum, in “The Two Towers,” the second installment of the epic “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. And while Gollum’s performance is nothing short of breathtaking, earning praise from critics as the most impressive aspect of the altogether overwhelming “Towers,” it was not clear whether audiences or Academy members were prepared to see Oscar honors go to an actor whose face they have never seen. Is Hollywood ready to acknowledge and honor digital performances, or even human-digital hybrids? This year, the answer seems to be a resounding no. When the nominees for best supporting actor were named on Tuesday, Serkis was not among them.

Even to those who believe that Serkis gave an Oscar-worthy performance, the decision doesn’t come as much of a surprise. New Line, and the “Rings” production team, recognized the difficulty they faced in gaining a nomination for Serkis’ Gollum, whom audiences might be tempted to mistake for an improved descendant of “Star Wars’” much-reviled Jar-Jar Binks. “Rings” executive producer Mark Ordesky has explained in interviews that, unlike the other synthespians audiences have encountered, “Gollum is groundbreaking, because he’s not only CGI, but is actually a performance-based character. He’s not comic relief, he’s not an antic. He really is a major dramatic character.”

According to “Rings” director Peter Jackson, the most significant difference between Serkis’ Gollum and the computer-generated actors that precede him is Serkis himself. Prior to “The Two Towers,” all digital characters were developed mainly in postproduction: designed, refined and then inserted into completed sequences alongside actors who had delivered their lines to on-set substitutes constructed from broomsticks, tennis balls and the like.

For Gollum’s performance, which offers much of the emotional and dramatic resonance in “The Two Towers,” Jackson found such techniques insufficient. Instead, he brought in Serkis to perform Gollum’s part on the set in real time alongside the other members of the “Rings” ensemble, in an attempt to capture the flow and pace of genuine interaction. Serkis then spent months in postproduction with the visual effects team re-creating his performance, one scene at a time, in an elaborate motion-capture animation studio that recorded his most minute movements, gestures and expressions. The final animation of Gollum was generated from this recorded model, and painted into the film in place of Serkis.

“What was important,” Jackson explains, “is that there was one person, an experienced, skilled actor, making all of the decisions on behalf of Gollum. [Andy] would decide how Gollum would move, how he would act, what emotion he would have, what pauses he would put where, what weight he’d put into a particular scene — just as any actor, like Elijah and Sean, would be doing for their characters.”

Although such explanations make a fascinating and compelling case for honoring Serkis’ contribution to the film, the idea of awarding an Oscar nomination to an actor who never appeared on-screen is still difficult to swallow. But Jackson and Serkis have pointed out a significant parallel between their own situation and that of David Lynch’s 1980 release “The Elephant Man,” which received eight Oscar nominations. Most significant among these was a best actor nomination for John Hurt, who performed the haunting title role beneath elaborate prosthetics that left only his eyes visible. As Serkis has explained in interviews, “[Hurt] gave a voice and a physicality, but was completely disguised by the prosthetics, and this in many ways is similar.” In Gollum’s case, New Line argues, the prosthetic is computer-generated instead of physical, but the question is the same: Does the performance belong to the actor who brings a character to life, or to the production team that gives the character its form?

While Jackson and Serkis have pointed to “The Elephant Man” for precedent, perhaps they do not realize just how instructive their example is. Although nominated for best actor, John Hurt did not win in 1980, a loss he has partly attributed in recent interviews to the fact that the audience could not recognize him at all. It seems almost certain that Serkis, had he been nominated, would face the same problem. The more interesting and less noted parallel, however, is that which exists in the Academy’s treatment of the technical contributions made by each film. While it seems certain “The Two Towers” will claim this year’s honors for best visual effects, “The Elephant Man’s” groundbreaking contributions in the field of cinematic makeup and prosthetics, surprisingly, went unrecognized by the Academy. Why? Because in 1980, the Academy had not yet instituted an award for best achievement in makeup, a category that was announced in 1981 as a direct result. The technical accomplishments of “The Elephant Man” were never honored, an oversight that forced the Academy to revise its own structure to accommodate and honor an emerging field.

Perhaps it is too soon to suggest that the Academy take similar measures to create an award honoring computer-enhanced human performances, though the upcoming releases of Ang Lee’s “The Hulk” and the all-computer-generated feature “The Polar Express” might prove otherwise. (It is interesting to note, however, that the Broadcast Film Critics Awards now include an annual award for best digital performance.) In either case, the incidents of “The Elephant Man” and Gollum both seem to suggest a greater problem: that the Academy has never been well prepared to evaluate or honor groundbreaking innovations and accomplishments in cinematic production. In most cases, the films that first utilize innovative techniques or approaches to moviemaking rest in unmarked graves, anonymous soldiers who paved the way to recognition for their often-inferior successors.

The truth is that it’s never been altogether clear who “owns” a film performance, and the issue has become even less clear as cinematic production techniques become more and more advanced. Onstage, lighting, makeup and costuming affect performances, but the actor ultimately retains control over how he or she is presented to the audience. In film, this has never been the case: Long after the actor has left the set, directors and producers make decisions that determine what audiences will and will not see, and how they will see it. The question becomes one of where to draw the line: Does the application of a “virtual prosthetic” represent a more significant alteration of an actor’s performance than a director accomplishes through editing?

As digital effects become increasingly prevalent in cinema, this question of performance ownership will become impossible to ignore, and audiences will be forced to decide whether it is the performer or the performance that is worth evaluating.

The initial question, of course, remains unanswered. Should Serkis have received a best supporting actor nomination for his contribution to the performance of Gollum? In the end, the answer is no, not because his talents are less significant than those of the supporting actor nominees, but because the work that he has done here is not equivalent. It would be a disservice to the other nominees to compete against the computer-enhanced Serkis, just as it would be a disservice to Gollum to be written off as an accomplishment of acting. The fact is that Gollum represents a new breed of synthespian performers, far more interesting than “Simone’s”: computer-generated performance not as a replacement for human performance, but as an extension of it.