Winsor McCay Animates the Sinking of the Lusitania in the Earliest Animated Propaganda Film (1918)

You might know Win­sor McCay (1867? ‑1934) for the gor­geous­ly sur­re­al Lit­tle Nemo com­ic strip or for his ear­ly ani­mat­ed short Ger­tie the Dinosaur (1914). But did you know that he also cre­at­ed some of the ear­li­est exam­ples of ani­mat­ed pro­pa­gan­da ever?

On May 7, 1915, the RMS Lusi­ta­nia was just off the coast of Ire­land, head­ing towards its des­ti­na­tion of Liv­er­pool, when a Ger­man U‑boat attacked the ship with­out warn­ing. Eigh­teen min­utes after two tor­pe­does slammed into the ship, it was under water. 1,198 died. The furor over the inci­dent even­tu­al­ly lead to the Unit­ed States enter­ing WWI.

At the time of the sink­ing, McCay was employed by William Ran­dolph Hearst as an edi­to­r­i­al car­toon­ist. Though McCay was incensed by the attack, Hearst was an iso­la­tion­ist and demand­ed that he draw anti-war car­toons. This grat­ed on the artist more and more until final­ly he decid­ed to fol­low up on his huge­ly suc­cess­ful Ger­tie the Dinosaur by mak­ing The Sink­ing of the Lusi­ta­nia (1918), which you can see above.

The movie took two years of painstak­ing effort to make and con­sist­ed of over 25,000 draw­ings — all done by hand and most done by McCay him­self dur­ing his free time after work.

Com­pared to oth­er ani­ma­tion done around this time, the film is both stark and seri­ous, lend­ing it the air of a doc­u­men­tary. The piece, which isn’t much short­er than the actu­al time it took for the Lusi­ta­nia to sink, gives a blow-by-blow account of the attack. Though the inci­dent is depict­ed large­ly from afar, as if from a cam­era on anoth­er ship, McCay doesn’t shy away from show­ing some real­ly gut-wrench­ing moments of the tragedy up close. At one point, there is a shot of a des­per­ate moth­er try­ing to keep her baby above the waves. At anoth­er point, dozens of peo­ple are seen bob­bing in the chop­py seas like drift­wood.

And, just in case you haven’t quite grasped the thrust of the film, McCay includes some inter­ti­tles, which are, even by the stan­dards of war pro­pa­gan­da, pret­ty heavy-hand­ed.

The babe that clung to his mother’s breast cried out to the world – TO AVENGE the most vio­lent cru­el­ty that was ever per­pe­trat­ed upon an unsus­pect­ing and inno­cent peo­ple.

And

The man who fired the shot was dec­o­rat­ed for it by the Kaiser! – AND YET THEY TELL US NOT TO HATE THE HUN.

The curi­ous thing about the movie, con­sid­er­ing its sub­ject mat­ter, is how beau­ti­ful it is. Just look at the styl­ized lines of the ocean, the baroque arabesques of the smoke com­ing off the ship’s smoke­stacks, the ele­gant use of neg­a­tive space. Each and every cel of the movie is wor­thy of get­ting framed. How many war pro­pa­gan­da movies can you same that about?

You can find The Sink­ing of the Lusi­ta­nia in the Ani­ma­tion sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ger­tie the Dinosaur: The Moth­er of all Car­toon Char­ac­ters

Vis­it the World of Lit­tle Nemo Artist Win­sor McCay: Three Clas­sic Ani­ma­tions and a Google Doo­dle

Ear­ly Exper­i­ments in Col­or Film (1895–1935)

How Walt Dis­ney Car­toons are Made

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

15 Free eBooks on New Media Studies & the Digital Humanities

hacking-the-academy

Worth not­ing: dig­i­tal­cul­ture­books is an imprint of the Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan Press ded­i­cat­ed to pub­lish­ing books on new media stud­ies and dig­i­tal human­i­ties. Com­mit­ted to open­ness, the imprint typ­i­cal­ly releas­es its titles under a Cre­ative Com­mons (CC) license that lets you read the works online for free. You can also make non-com­mer­cial use of the texts with­out get­ting per­mis­sion (or pay­ing fees) so long as you give prop­er attri­bu­tion. Below, we have list­ed the texts (and the series in which they appear). Click the links below, then look for the “Read for free online” link beneath each author’s name. And you’ll be good to go. We have more free ebooks in two col­lec­tions: 600 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices and 170 Free Text­books: A Meta Col­lec­tion.

Dig­i­tal Human­i­ties

Land­mark Video Games

The New Media World

Tech­nolo­gies of the Imag­i­na­tion

via Metafil­ter

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Metafilter Highlights a Trove of Werner Herzog Films Online

“To steal a char­ac­ter or a sto­ry isn’t real theft. But to steal a land­scape, that is a very, very seri­ous crime.” There we have one of the propo­si­tions agreed upon by film­mak­ers Wern­er Her­zog and Errol Mor­ris in a con­ver­sa­tion they had for the Believ­er. Though their fil­mo­gra­phies may not look ter­ri­bly sim­i­lar — Mor­ris with his inter­view-based doc­u­men­taries on pet ceme­ter­ies, emer­gent sys­tems, and old Sec­re­taries of Defense, Her­zog with his bare­ly defin­able, dis­tinc­tion-between-fact-and-fic­tion-repu­di­at­ing stud­ies of aggres­sive dwarfs, doomed nat­u­ral­ists, death row inmates, and con­quis­ta­dors and rub­ber barons aggran­diz­ing them­selves in the jun­gle — their work has much in com­mon under the sur­face. Don’t believe me? First watch through the list we pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured of 30 Errol Mor­ris movies stream­able online, assem­bled on Metafil­ter by a mem­ber known as “Going to Maine.”  Then watch Going to Maine’s new list of 43 Wern­er Her­zog movies stream­able online, com­pare, and con­trast.

At the top of the post, you can spend nine min­utes watch­ing Her­ak­les, Her­zog’s very first cin­e­mat­ic effort, a mash-up (if it does­n’t stretch the def­i­n­i­tion too far to apply the word to some­thing made in 1962) of mus­cle men and rac­ing-car wrecks. Just above, we have 1969’s Pre­cau­tions Against Fanat­ics, anoth­er ear­ly exer­cise in Her­zo­gian form-bend­ing which repur­pos­es footage of real peo­ple, real places, and real ani­mals to absurd ends — in this case, to envi­sion a real­i­ty in which hired men work tire­less­ly to pro­tect hors­es from “horse fanat­ics.” The list also rounds up a few shorts that even true Her­zog fanat­ics may nev­er have had the chance to see, includ­ing 1976’s No One Will Play With Me (part one, part two) below, the sto­ry of a preschool social out­cast based upon expe­ri­ences relat­ed by the real chil­dren them­selves — the sort of thing we’d all have grown up watch­ing on tele­vi­sion, in oth­er words, if Wern­er Her­zog had made after-school spe­cials. If works like these don’t give you quite enough insight into the mind of this inim­itable, uncom­pro­mis­ing, and seem­ing­ly tire­less, Bavar­i­an film­mak­er, don’t for­get to check out his own favorite films as well.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Por­trait Wern­er Her­zog: The Director’s Auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal Short Film from 1986

Errol Mor­ris and Wern­er Her­zog in Con­ver­sa­tion

Wern­er Her­zog Picks His 5 Favorite Films

30 Errol Mor­ris Movies That Can Be Streamed Online

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Sigmund Freud Appears in Rare, Surviving Video & Audio Recorded During the 1930s

Sigmund Freud

What, I won­der, would Sig­mund Freud have made of Han­ni­bal Lec­tor? The fic­tion­al psy­cho­an­a­lyst, so sophis­ti­cat­ed and in con­trol, moon­light­ing as a blood­thirsty can­ni­bal… a per­fect­ly grim rejoin­der to Freud’s ideas about humankind’s per­pet­u­al dis­con­tent with the painful repres­sion of our dark­est, most anti­so­cial dri­ves. While Freud’s pri­ma­ry taboo was incest, not can­ni­bal­ism, I’m sure he would have appre­ci­at­ed the irony of an ultra-civ­i­lized psy­chi­a­trist who gives full steam to his most pri­mal urges.

Freud—who was born on this day in 1856, in the small town of Freiberg—also had a care­ful­ly con­trolled image, though his pas­sion­ate avo­ca­tion was not for the macabre, sala­cious, or pruri­ent, but for the archae­o­log­i­cal. He once remarked that he read more on that sub­ject than on his own, an exag­ger­a­tion, most like­ly, but an indi­ca­tion of just how much his inter­est in cul­tur­al arti­facts and rit­u­al con­tributed to his the­o­ret­i­cal expli­ca­tion of indi­vid­ual and social psy­chol­o­gy.

In the film above, we see Freud in con­ver­sa­tion with a friend, a pro­fes­sor of archae­ol­o­gy, whom the psy­chi­a­trist con­sult­ed on his exten­sive col­lec­tion of antiq­ui­ties. Lat­er, we see Freud with his dog, then reclin­ing out­doors with a book. Over this footage we hear the nar­ra­tion of Freud’s daugh­ter Anna, who only allowed this film to be viewed by a small cir­cle until her death in 1982.

Though Freud lived many decades into the era of record­ing tech­nol­o­gy, pre­cious lit­tle film and audio of the founder of psy­cho­analy­sis exists. While the home movies at the top may be the only mov­ing image of him, per­haps the only audio record­ing of his voice, above, was made in 1938, the year before his death. At 81 years old, Freud’s advanced jaw can­cer left him in con­sid­er­able tor­ment. Nonethe­less, he agreed to record this brief mes­sage for the BBC from his Lon­don home in Mares­field Gar­dens. Read a tran­script of the speech, and see Freud’s hand­writ­ten copy, below.

I start­ed my pro­fes­sion­al activ­i­ty as a neu­rol­o­gist try­ing to bring relief to my neu­rot­ic patients. Under the influ­ence of an old­er friend and by my own efforts, I dis­cov­ered some impor­tant new facts about the uncon­scious in psy­chic life, the role of instinc­tu­al urges, and so on. Out of these find­ings grew a new sci­ence, psy­cho­analy­sis, a part of psy­chol­o­gy, and a new method of treat­ment of the neu­roses. I had to pay heav­i­ly for this bit of good luck. Peo­ple did not believe in my facts and thought my the­o­ries unsa­vory. Resis­tance was strong and unre­lent­ing. In the end I suc­ceed­ed in acquir­ing pupils and build­ing up an Inter­na­tion­al Psy­cho­an­a­lyt­ic Asso­ci­a­tion. But the strug­gle is not yet over.  –Sig­mund Freud.

Freud-BBC-Manuscript-1

Freud-Manuscript-2

The Library of Con­gress online exhib­it Sig­mund Freud: Con­flict & Cul­ture has many more pri­ma­ry doc­u­ments includ­ing a holo­graph page from Freud’s man­u­script of Civ­i­liza­tion and its Dis­con­tents, in which he the­o­rized the bedrock impulse of ser­i­al killers, fic­tion­al and real: the so-called “Death Dri­ve,” our “human instinct of aggres­sion and self-destruc­tion.”

Many impor­tant texts by Freud can be found in our col­lec­tion, 600 Free eBooks for the iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices. And you’ll inevitably find a few cours­es cov­er­ing Freud’s thought in our col­lec­tion of Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy Cours­es, part of our list of 950 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How a Young Sig­mund Freud Researched & Got Addict­ed to Cocaine, the New “Mir­a­cle Drug,” in 1894

Jean-Paul Sartre Writes a Script for John Huston’s Film on Freud (1958)

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy & Neu­ro­science Cours­es

Down­load Sig­mund Freud’s Great Works as Free eBooks & Free Audio Books: A Dig­i­tal Cel­e­bra­tion on His 160th Birth­day

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

Global Breakfast Radio Lets You Listen to Radio Broadcasts From Wherever the Sun is Rising

global breakfast radio

“The sun is always ris­ing some­where; break­fast is always just about to hap­pen. Din­ner time in Dakar is break­fast time in Bris­bane.” Enter Glob­al Break­fast Radio, a web site that aggre­gates and streams radio sta­tions from around the world (over 250 sta­tions from more than 120 coun­tries), air­ing broad­casts from wher­ev­er it’s break­fast time right now. “As the sun ris­es on the Green­wich Mean Line, you’ll hear break­fast pro­grammes from around the UK, Ice­land and West Africa; the broad­cast then moves west­wards, fol­low­ing the sun­rise across the Atlantic islands, sweep­ing over Amer­i­ca and then into the Pacific.” That’s how Daniel Jones, one of the co-founders of Glob­al Break­fast Radio, explains the project to Wired.

Right now, in Cal­i­for­nia, it’s near­ly 11:30 pm. But, with a click of the mouse, I can lis­ten to pro­grams kick­ing off the day in Assisi, Italy.  You can start lis­ten­ing right here on your com­put­er. The streamed broad­cast should work in any mod­ern web brows­er. It should also run just fine on your iPhone, iPad and oth­er mobile devices. Enjoy.

via Mefi

Four Charles Bukowski Poems Animated

The poet­ry of Charles Bukows­ki deeply inspires many of its read­ers. Some­times it just inspires them to lead the dis­solute lifestyle they think they see glo­ri­fied in it, but oth­er times it leads them to cre­ate some­thing com­pelling of their own. The qual­i­ty and vari­ety of the Bukows­ki-inspired ani­ma­tion now avail­able on the inter­net, for instance, has cer­tain­ly sur­prised me.

At the top of the post, we have Jonathan Hodg­son’s adap­ta­tion of “The Man with the Beau­ti­ful Eyes,” which puts vivid, col­or­ful imagery to Bukowski’s late poem that draws from his child­hood mem­o­ries of a mys­te­ri­ous, untamed young man in a run-down house whose very exis­tence remind­ed him “that nobody want­ed any­body to be strong and beau­ti­ful like that, that oth­ers would nev­er allow it.” Below, you can watch Moni­ka Umba’s even more uncon­ven­tion­al ani­ma­tion of “Blue­bird”:

With­out any words spo­ken on the sound­track and only the title seen onscreen — a chal­leng­ing cre­ative restric­tion for a poet­ry-based short — Umba depicts the nar­ra­tor’s “blue­bird in my heart that wants to get out.” But the nar­ra­tor, “too tough for him,” beats back the blue­bird’s escape with whiskey, cig­a­rettes, and a pol­i­cy of only let­ting him roam “at night some­times, when every­body’s asleep.”

You’ll find Bradley Bel­l’s inter­pre­ta­tion of “The Laugh­ing Heart,” a poem that advis­es its read­ers not to let their lives “be clubbed into dank sub­mis­sion,” to “be on the watch,” for “there are ways out.” “You can’t beat death,” Bukows­ki writes, “but you can beat death in life, some­times.” In Bel­l’s short, these words come from the mouth of the also famous­ly dis­so­lu­tion-chron­i­cling singer-song­writer Tom Waits, cer­tain­ly Bukowski’s most suit­able liv­ing read­er (and one who, all told, comes sec­ond only to the man him­self). Only fit­ting that one inspir­ing cre­ator deliv­ers the work of anoth­er — in the sort of labor of enthu­si­asm that, too, will inspire its audi­ence to cre­ate.

At the bot­tom the post, you will find “Roll the Dice,” an ani­ma­tion sug­gest­ed by one of our read­ers, Mark.

You can find read­ings of Bukows­ki poems in the poet­ry sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of Free Audio Books.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Last (Faxed) Poem of Charles Bukows­ki

Lis­ten to Charles Bukows­ki Poems Being Read by Bukows­ki, Tom Waits and Bono

“Don’t Try”: Charles Bukowski’s Con­cise Phi­los­o­phy of Art and Life

Charles Bukows­ki Sets His Amus­ing Con­di­tions for Giv­ing a Poet­ry Read­ing (1971)

Charles Bukows­ki: Depres­sion and Three Days in Bed Can Restore Your Cre­ative Juices (NSFW)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

What Was It Like to Have Philip Roth as an English Prof?

Image by Thier­ry Ehrmann, via Flickr Com­mons

Writ­ing in The New York Times this week­end, author Lisa Scot­to­line remem­bers her days at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Penn­syl­va­nia, back dur­ing the 1970s, when she took sem­i­nars with then-vis­it­ing pro­fes­sor, Philip Roth. One course the famous nov­el­ist taught was called ““The Lit­er­a­ture of Desire,” which prompt­ed stu­dents to think, “Who wouldn’t want to read dirty books with Philip Roth?”  It turns out the class did­n’t get very sexy. But stu­dents did learn quite a bit. Scot­to­line writes:

Look­ing back, I’ve come to under­stand that he was the best pro­fes­sor I ever had, not only because of his genius, but also because of his dis­tance. We were a group of girls eager to please, to guess at what he want­ed us to say, and to say that for him. We all want­ed to hear about him, or have him tell us how to write, but that was some­thing he stead­fast­ly denied us. By with­hold­ing his own per­son­al­i­ty, thoughts and opin­ions, he forced us back on our own per­son­al­i­ties, thoughts and opin­ions. He made us dis­cov­er what we want­ed to write about, and to write about it the way we want­ed to.

You can read the rest of her account here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Lit­er­a­ture Cours­es from Great Uni­ver­si­ties

Watch Philip Roth, Now 80, Read from His Irrev­er­ent Clas­sic, Portnoy’s Com­plaint

Philip Roth Pre­dicts the Death of the Nov­el; Paul Auster Coun­ters

Philip Roth Reads “In Mem­o­ry of a Friend, Teacher & Men­tor” (A Free Down­load Ben­e­fit­ing a Pub­lic Library)

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James Franco Reads 6 Short Poems from His New Collection

James Fran­co, like Ethan Hawke before him, is one of those movie stars who gets bashed left and right for dar­ing to behave like any oth­er arty young man. How dare he think he can write a nov­el, or paint, or make short films? What a pre­ten­tious idiot, right?!

I would counter that these activ­i­ties out him as a pas­sion­ate read­er who cares deeply about art and movies.

His celebri­ty opens doors that are barred to your aver­age arty young men, but it also ensures that he’ll be scape­goat­ed with­out mer­cy. (An arty young man of my acquain­tance earned some nice pub­lic­i­ty for him­self per­form­ing a one-man show titled “Bring Me the Head of James Fran­co, That I May Pre­pare a Savory Goulash in the Nar­row and Mis­shapen Pot of His Skull.” )

I rarely feel sor­ry for celebs who tweet their wound­ed feel­ings, but I was rather moved by Franco’s poet­ic take on what it’s like to be on the receiv­ing end of all this vit­ri­ol. It’s the first of six poems he reads in the video above, when he shared the stage with his 74-year-old men­tor Frank Bidart, who no doubt enjoyed per­form­ing to a sold out crowd of 800. Franco’s debut poet­ry collection’s title, Direct­ing Her­bert White owes some­thing to Bidart. His poem, “Her­bert White,” is the inspi­ra­tion for a short film direct­ed by Fran­co.

Those who would con­sid­er all that just more evi­dence of Franco’s insup­port­able pre­ten­tious­ness should con­sid­er the oppos­ing view­point, cour­tesy of non-movie star poet Bidart, who told the Chica­go Tri­bune:

 “I’m almost 75. At some point you know the para­me­ters of your life. The ter­ri­fy­ing thing about get­ting old­er is the feel­ing that every­thing that hap­pens from now on will be a species of some­thing that has already hap­pened. Becom­ing friends with James changed that: I no longer feel I can antic­i­pate the future. Which is lib­er­at­ing.”

Per­haps all that fran­tic, cross-media cre­ative expres­sion can result in some­thing more than a snarky one-man show.

Because

Because I played a knight,
And I was on a screen,
Because I made a mil­lion dol­lars,
Because I was hand­some,
Because I had a nice car,
A bunch of girls seemed to like me.

But I nev­er met those girls,
I only heard about them.
The only peo­ple I saw were the ones who hat­ed me,
And there were so many of those peo­ple.
It was easy to for­get about the peo­ple who I heard
Like me, and shit, they were all fuck­ing four­teen-year-olds.

And I holed up in my place and read my life away,
I watched a mil­lion movies, twice,
And I didn’t under­stand them any bet­ter.

But because I played a knight,
Because I was hand­some,

This was the life I made for myself.

Years lat­er, I decid­ed to look at what I had made,
And I watched myself in all the old movies, and I hat­ed that guy I saw.

But he’s the one who stayed after I died.

You can see James Fran­co and Frank Bidart’s Chica­go Human­i­ties Fes­ti­val appear­ance in its entire­ty here. Find more poet­ry read­ings in the poet­ry sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of Free Audio Books.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

James Fran­co Reads a Dream­i­ly Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of Allen Ginsberg’s Epic Poem ‘Howl’

James Fran­co Reads Short Sto­ry in Bed for The Paris Review

Lis­ten to James Fran­co Read from Jack Kerouac’s Influ­en­tial Beat Nov­el, On the Road

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is a  Freaks and Geek diehard who gets all her Lohan-relat­ed intel from the poet­ry of James Fran­co and  d‑listed. Fol­low her@AyunHalliday

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