A 2004 Disney Channel movie called Pixel Perfect involves a tech-savvy teen creating a holographic lead singer for his rock band, the Zettabytes. All goes smoothly until a concert glitch exposes their secret. At first the crowd mutters, “She’s not real.” Within seconds, however, everyone applauds, deciding it’s the coolest, most “unreal” thing they’ve ever seen.
Sounds like what happened at Coachella.
On April 15, 100,000 music fans attending the Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival in Indio, Calif., got an unexpected performance by Tupac Shakur, the 25-year-old rapper who was gunned down in 1996. Digital Domain Media Group created the holographic illusion, but the idea to resurrect Tupac this way came from celebrated hip-hop producer Dr. Dre who, along with Snoop Dogg, shared the stage with the virtual Shakur at Coachella. Looking ripped and rested, Tupac—less an actual hologram than the result of a 2D magician’s trick known as Pepper’s Ghost—performed several hits before making a swift exit. Massive buzz ensued. Now there’s talk of Dre and Snoop taking this “three-man” show on the road for a stadium tour.
Rapper Warren G got a surreal sense of déjà view when he saw the effect during rehearsals. “I was like, ‘Whoa, wow,’ because it looked like him, it talked like him, it just moved like him, it’s just like, ‘D–n.’ It was a trip.”
It talked like him? Well … yes and no. When the hologram shouted “What the f— is up, Coachella?” the vocabulary sure sounded like vintage Tupac. Still, someone was putting words into the mouth of this slain celeb. After all, the festival didn’t exist until 1999—three years after Shakur died.
Some music fans might argue that this is no different than Hank Williams Jr. exhuming his dad’s voice for the country ditty “There’s a Tear in My Beer,” or Natalie Cole recording an “Unforgettable” duet with her late father. And in this case, Tupac’s mother, Afeni Shakur, expressed support for her son’s virtual comeback. But what happens when an estate loses—or surrenders—control to a corporation more interested in making money than protecting an artist’s image and reputation? What words might be put into a star’s mouth then?
You can bet Hollywood is watching this phenomenon with great interest. Computer graphics are so sophisticated these days that a director could cast Heath Ledger opposite a young Audrey Hepburn. Indeed, it’s just a matter of time before technology, artistry and big business find themselves in a stare-down with ethics and legalities no one could have envisioned 20 years ago.
“This is just the beginning. Dre has a massive vision for this,” El Ulbrich, Digital Domain’s chief creative officer, told the Wall Street Journal.
While some people find that prospect exciting, others think it’s a little creepy, including Tony Hicks of the Contra Costa Times: “It’s kind of fun once, gets weirder the more you watch it, and ultimately starts looking like someone’s image is being exploited.”
Last week we mourned the passing of Dick Clark at the age of 82. For decades he’d been referred to as “America’s Oldest Teenager”—a pop icon admired for his timeless presence and youthful appearance. New Year’s Eve in Times Square won’t be the same without him. Nor should it be. But what if, instead of fondly remembering him in his absence, the TV network responsible for that broadcast brought him back every Dec. 31 in holographic form to count down those final seconds before the ball drops? Instead of recalling Dick Clark at his Bandstand best, we might have Max Headroom flashbacks.
So why do we feel the need to digitally resurrect celebrities, anyway? You’d think the films and songs they leave behind would be enough to satisfy fans and keep the memory alive. After all, it’s not as if we’re talking about an actual resurrection. Now that would be cool. No mirrors. No high-tech parlor tricks. Just a guy rising from the dead. I could see folks being drawn to that sort of thing.
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