MORE THAN MOTION: IS SQUASH AND STRETCH OVERLOOKKED AS A TONAL TOOL IN ANIMATION?

Squash and stretch, often cited as the first principle of animation, and is usually introduced as a visual trick to simulate weight, flexibility, and exaggerated motion. 

It’s how bouncing balls bounce and how faces emote, but has its role been oversimplified over time? Have we started to see squash and stretch only as a tool for physical movement, rather than as a narrative and tonal device?

Across genres, squash and stretch shifts in how it’s applied, and more importantly, how it’s perceived. That shift reveals more about the expectations we place on different kinds of animation than it does about the principle itself.

The Genre Divide: Why Perception Matters

In Western animation, squash and stretch has long been a hallmark of comedy. Some of the examples include, Tom and Jerry, SpongeBob SquarePants, or classic Disney. It’s bouncy, exaggerated, and often funny. That kind of visual elasticity fits comfortably in worlds that lean into playfulness or absurdity.

But that same principle shows up, sometimes in even more stylized ways, especially, in anime, fighting games, or superhero animation. In these cases, squash and stretch is rarely viewed as “silly”. It’s appreciated for how it sells intensity, momentum, and hyper-realism. Scenes slow down just to let a character’s limbs elongate mid-punch or their body compress just before launching into motion.

So why is it still so closely tied to “kids’ animation”? Is this a result of visual language bias? Genre expectations? Or the mistaken belief that exaggeration = unseriousness?

By asking these questions, we begin to see that how squash and stretch is used and how it's perceived are often two very different things.

More Than Just Physics, Squash and Stretch as Inner Life

One of the most overlooked applications of squash and stretch is its ability to express internal emotional states. It's not just about showing that a character is running fast, it's about showing how they feel while running.

• A scared character doesn't just shrink, they compress their form, tucking in as if trying to disappear.
• A confident strut might include stretch, which can be a tall and elastic arc through the spine that reads as cocky or relaxed.
• A character reacting in shock might momentarily squash into themselves before expanding outward in panic or rage.

This makes squash and stretch one of the most expressive acting tools in an animator's toolkit. Right up there with facial animation, timing, and posture. When applied thoughtfully, it can deepen the psychological tone of a scene.

This idea is especially relevant in non-verbal storytelling (pantomime animation), where body language does all the emotional heavy lifting. Good examples of this are, Gendy Tartavosky's Primal, however, this can spread through short films, stylized indie animations, or even high-end VFX creatures.

Style Evolution: Where Does Squash and Stretch Go from Here?

We’re now in an era where animation styles are blending more than ever. Hybrid 2D/3D productions, stylized CG films (Spider-Verse, Arcane), and real-time animation pipelines (like those used in games or virtual production) are all reimagining the role of traditional principles.

And yet, squash and stretch still shows up. It might be hand-animated, procedurally generated, or subtly embedded in a rigged character model. In Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, for example, multiple animation styles across different universes all use squash and stretch differently, not just to support movement, but to support identity, emotion, and tone.

So here's a forward-looking thought:

If squash and stretch is this adaptable, how else might it evolve? Could it extend into VR, interactive media, or even non-visual forms like motion capture sound design?

What would squash and stretch look like if we stopped thinking of it as just a deformation, and started seeing it as a tone lens?

What If It Disappears?

As more studios rely on mocap, AI-assisted pipelines, or realism-driven animation, there’s a risk of losing the subtle emotional exaggerations that principles like squash and stretch bring. When everything moves “accurately,” we lose a little of what makes characters feel animated, not just physically, but spiritually.

Would the absence of squash and stretch flatten character acting? Would animation become emotionally sterile?

Or would it push animators to develop new principles that serve similar purposes, or tools that we haven't named yet, but will become part of a new vocabulary for tone in animation?

🎬 Wrapping all of this up!

Squash and stretch isn’t a throwback. It’s not just for comedy, and it’s not just for 2D. It’s a living and expressive tool that can be wielded in infinite ways, ranging from humorous to heartbreaking, from subtle to extreme. The way it's used reveals not only the tone of a project, but the philosophy behind the animation itself.

So maybe the question isn’t just whether squash and stretch is underrated.

Maybe the better question is:

What happens when we start to see it, not as a trick of movement, but as a language of tone?

Have you spotted squash and stretch being used in unexpected ways, be it, in horror, drama, or photorealistic 3D?
Do you think we're due for a new evolution in how we use (or teach) this principle?

Drop your thoughts in the comments or tag examples that made you feel something not because of what moved, but how it moved