Norman McLaren: Between the Frames 9781501328817, 9781501328800, 9781501328787

Table of contents :
Cover
Half-title
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
List of Figures
Acknowledgements
Foreword
Introduction
Chapter 1. Personal Life
Chapter 2. Stirling’s Sons
Chapter 3. World Traveller
Chapter 4. Influential Arts
Chapter 5. Collaborations
Chapter 6. A Complicated Man
A Guide to Further Research
Bibliography
Selected Filmography
About the Author
Index

Citation preview

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NORMAN McLAREN

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Animation: Key Films/Filmmakers Series Editor: Chris Pallant Titles in the Series: Toy Story: How Pixar Reinvented the Animated Feature edited by Susan Smith, Noel Brown and Sam Summers Princess Mononoke: Understanding Studio Ghibli’s Monster Princess edited by Rayna Denison Norman McLaren: Between the Frames by Nichola Dobson

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NORMAN McLAREN

Between the Frames

Nichola Dobson

BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Inc 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in 2018 Paperback edition first published 2019 Copyright © Nichola Dobson, 2018 For legal purposes the Acknowledgments on p. x constitute an extension of this copyright page. Cover design: Louise Dugdale Cover image © Norman McLaren working, date unknown. GAA/ 31/ PP/ 19/ 002 Permissions courtesy of University of Stirling. This work is published open access subject to a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 3.0 licence (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/). You may re-use, distribute, and reproduce this work in any medium for non-commercial purposes, provided you give attribution to the copyright holder and the publisher and provide a link to the Creative Commons licence. Bloomsbury Publishing Inc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-1-5013-2881-7 PB: 978-1-5013-5493-9 ePDF: 978-1-5013-2878-7 eBook: 978-1-5013-2879-4 Series: Animation: Key Films/ Filmmakers Typeset by Newgen KnowledgeWorks Pvt. Ltd., Chennai, India To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

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For Jonny, Alvy & Luka

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CONTENTS List of Figures Acknowledgements Foreword

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INTRODUCTION

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Chapter 1 PERSONAL LIFE

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Chapter 2 STIRLING’S SONS

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Chapter 3 WORLD TRAVELLER

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Chapter 4 INFLUENTIAL ARTS

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Chapter 5 COLLABORATIONS

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Chapter 6 A COMPLICATED MAN

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A Guide to Further Research Bibliography Selected Filmography About the Author Index

161 163 166 168 169

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FIGURES All permissions courtesy of University of Stirling, unless otherwise stated. 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 1.10 1.11 1.12 1.13 1.14 1.15 1.16 1.17 1.18 1.19 1.20 1.21 1.22 1.23 2.1 2.2 3.1

Young Norman McLaren (date unknown). GAA/31/PP/19/01 21 Albert Place, Stirling. GAA/31/PP/19/100 Family portrait, c.1917. GAA/31/PP/019 McLaren with brother and sister, c.1926. GAA/31/PP/021 McLaren with parents, aunt, Biddy Russell and Helen Biggar, c.1936. GAA/31/PP/110 McLaren with family (including nephews), c.1958 Exterior of house in Hudson, Canada, c.1980. GAA/31/PP/19/009 ‘Rooftop Lounge’, interior design project, Glasgow School of Art, c.1936 Helen Biggar, c.1935 Still from Camera Makes Whoopee, Glasgow School of Art, 1934 Glasgow School of Art Mural, c.1935 Letter to Helen Biggar – idea for Hell Unltd, c.1936. GAA/31/C/ 8/42/3 Behind the scenes filming of Hell Unltd, 1936 Letter to Helen Biggar with interesting use of language. GAA/ 31/C/3/1936/11 McLaren’s mood while traveling, note to Helen Biggar, 1936. GAA/31/C/3/1936/8 Norman McLaren sunbathing, c.1936. GAA/31/PP DMcW negs Norman McLaren, c.1934. GAA/31/P/19/184 Letter from McLaren to his mother reminding her of ‘Complan’, 21 June 1956. GAA31/C/1/1958/5 Guy Glover, c.1934. Acc 14 04 003 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover with McLaren’s parents in Stirling, c.1937. GAA/31/PP 19 127 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover digging Anderson shelter, Stirling, c.1937. GAA/31/PP 19 044 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover, c.1940. GAA/31/PP 19 071 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover, Montreal, 1974. Image courtesy of David Lloyd Glover John Grierson (date unknown) John and Mrs Grierson (date unknown) Postcard from Moscow, September 1935. McLPost001

7 10 11 14 15 16 18 20 21 22 23 24 25 27 28 31 31 35 38 40 41 42 49 53 73 82

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Figures

3.2 Postcard from Moscow, September 1935. McLPost001 3.3 Norman McLaren with Guy Glover, Vera and Jack Wilson, New York, c 1942. Acc 14 04 004 3.4 Letter to parents from China, 26 September 1949. GAA 31 66 3.5 Letter from China with drawing of Yangtze (date unconfirmed). GAA/31/PP/19/31/001 3.6 Jury at unknown film festival, c.1958. GAA/31/PP/19 008 4.1 School on the Rock, illustration from Stirling High School, c. 1928, not catalogued 4.2 Stirling High School painting, c.1928, not catalogued 4.3 Norman McLaren painting, date unknown, not catalogued 4.4 Three contrary objects, 24 June 1958. GAA/31/PP/19/31/004 4.5 Norman McLaren with violin orchestra, c. 1924. GAA/31/PP/ 19/036 4.6 Students musical, c.1934, not catalogued. 5.1 Norman McLaren with Evelyn Lambart, date unknown. GAA/ 31/PP/19/024 5.2 Letter from Canadian Embassy, Tokyo, to Norman McLaren with additional handwritten note including Evelyn Lambart, 9 February 1961 6.1 Norman McLaren at home 1974, Montreal. Image courtesy of David Lloyd Glover

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83 96 99 101 105 110 111 111 115 119 120 134

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank the following people who have made this book possible: my husband, Jonny, without whose support I would never have been able to complete this work, and my family and friends for their unending patience while I relayed Norman McLaren’s stories after each research trip. I would like to thank Karl Magee, archivist at the University of Stirling for all his wonderful help and support over the last seven years – this book would not have been possible without him (and the university’s amazing archive); and also his colleagues Sarah Bromage and Jane Cameron for their encouragement and help. At Edinburgh College of Art, thanks go to my colleagues, Glyn Davis for his continued support and help and coffees) and Jonny Murray, Alan Mason, Neil Kempsell and Jared Taylor for their advice over the last four years. I  would also like to thank David Lloyd Glover for the great information and images of his uncles. Thanks to Donald McWilliams for the extra bits of information, access to Creative Process and the encouragement. Thanks also to Iain Gardner for sharing the McLaren legacy journey. I would also like to acknowledge my friends in the Society for Animation Studies for their continued support and excellent and inspiring work. Finally thanks to my editor Chris Pallant and the team at Bloomsbury for their guidance and patience.

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FOREWORD Born on 11 April 1914, Scottish animator Norman McLaren was celebrated on his centenary in Scotland and his adopted homeland of Canada in 2014. As one of the founding members of the National Film Board (NFB) of Canada, McLaren’s prolific output over a forty-year career makes him one of the betterknown artists to have worked there. His biography is available on their website and in particular, promoted in his centenary year. That his name is well known in the context of the NFB is of some significance as is his part in the history of animation, but less so in any history of Scottish filmmaking. He is certainly less well known in Scotland, though much of the centenary has attempted to address this with some success.1 What is commonly known of his biography is his love of music and dance, his early life at the Glasgow School of Art, his move to London at the invitation of fellow Scot John Grierson (a significant figure throughout his life), a move to New York and then his post at the NFB where he would settle and remain for the rest of his career and life. This information is widely available on several websites and is covered in much detail in a number of key texts such as the Don McWilliams 1990 documentary, Creative Process and the 2006 Terence Dobson monograph, The Film Work of Norman McLaren. This book takes a very different approach to the more traditional chronological biography. It was felt that the most common or obvious information was already widely available and as such any repetition of this should be avoided. Likewise, traditional biographical formats may work for some subjects, but when the research uncovered a wealth of McLaren’s own correspondence, it made sense to let him speak in his own words. Not strictly a collection of letters then, this book uses excerpts from correspondence in some of the key moments of McLaren’s life, organized thematically to try and capture a sense of his own feelings and explore more about the people, places and experiences which undoubtedly affected the content of his forty-year filmic output. He was a pioneer in many aspects of his practice (and personal life) and this book should allow the reader to delve into much of this from McLaren’s own perspective.

Note 1 A series of events were held across Scotland, including a birthday party with a plaque unveiling in his family home; two gallery exhibitions; screenings as part of the Edinburgh International Film Festival; collaborative workshops; school workshops and academic symposia.

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I N T R O DU C T IO N

Before I left home to live in London, Mother and Father (especially Mother) made me promise to write a letter back home once a week. I think I pretty much kept my promise!1 Throughout his life, Norman McLaren created a vast amount of correspondence, with friends, family and interested well-wishers. As noted in the opening quote, McLaren wrote a letter to his parents nearly every week from the time he left home in 1936. Prior to this, he would frequently communicate by postcard and short notes to his friends, outlining new ideas for films or simply to makes social plans. A combination of archived letters from both the University of Stirling and National Library of Scotland form the basis of this book, looking at his life and practice in often candid detail for the first time. The letters towards the end of his life reveal that he was keen for his papers to be archived, at least in terms of newspaper clippings and technical notes and presumed that much of this would end up in Montreal or Ottawa. His brother Jack was responsible for organizing and ultimately archiving the personal papers in the town of his birth, aware of the interest in his brother’s great legacy to scholars and the wider public. These technical notes are also archived but these personal letters have not been used before. As well as writing to his parents every week, McLaren was also in frequent correspondence with Florence ‘Biddy’ Russell, a friend with whom he shared a love of arts and some very close personal confidences. The details of both sets of letters are markedly different; health, expenses and socializing information with his parents; more personal admissions and drawings with Russell. Together they present a unique insight into a man whose talents are undoubted but of whose personal life we know relatively little. Despite his promise to his mother, a letter sent to Biddy Russell in his late thirties suggests that it was often seen as a terrible chore, ‘P.S I hate to say it but I have such a phobia for writing letters that even the ones to my parents are horrible hurdles that haunt me long before I come to do them. Its terrible but its true. Awful isn’t it! I cant help it’ (11 May 1952).2

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Norman McLaren

Even with his protests to Russell, McLaren remained a prolific letter writer throughout his life. Later in his career he had secretarial support to respond to the numerous requests he got for information, but he would still write to his family. In this type of archival research there will undoubtedly be some gaps which could later be filled by more material being discovered, but the sheer volume of material available to me for this project has provided what I hope is a good starting point for this exploration of McLaren’s life.

Norman McLaren in Animation History Despite the long history of animation and the relatively long period of study of the subject, there has been a dearth of writing on Norman McLaren. His centenary in 2014 influenced3 a new range of work, of which this book will be a part, but in identifying this lack in literature, I intend to address omissions and elaborate on some aspects of his life, which are generally overlooked. In the late 1970s and early 1980s several articles that looked at McLaren’s work appeared, which are often referred to in other work of this period, but they are difficult to locate.4 McLaren also wrote articles about his work (as well as generously shared his technical notes with anyone who requested them, and which are located in the University of Stirling Archive and the National Film Board [NFB] of Canada) and had several articles published about him in journals such as Cahiers du Cinema in the 1960s. These articles about him tend to focus on the processes of his practice and the content of the contemporary films, with little by way of details about his life. There are smaller notes about McLaren in writings on John Grierson and these will be discussed in a chapter dedicated to the relationship between the two pioneering Scots.

Cameraless Animation McLaren is known as a pioneer of cameraless animation, that is, animation made directly on the film stock without the need to film the action separately. He utilized a number of different techniques including scratching marks onto the emulsion of the film to make the images and painting on the film stock. He created a special desk on which to work and measured out sections of film to correspond with sound or scenes. This type of filmmaking enabled McLaren to ‘get closer to his films’, and he often spoke of the relationship between the artist and his work as intimate due to the closeness of the canvas and the brush: ‘And so my militant philosophy is this: to make with a brush on canvas is a simple and direct delight – to make a movie should be the same.’5 He wished to maintain intimacy with his films and so preferred direct cameraless techniques to achieve the closeness of working rather than having to deal with multiple processes which would distance him

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Introduction

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from the end result. McLaren began using these perhaps crude technologies, essentially homemade devices out of a necessity – lack of money as a student in Glasgow and later in New York, and then out of a desire to innovate. There are two key texts which will be of use here. In 1990 McLaren’s friend and biographer Donald McWilliams released the documentary Creative Process which included interview footage and in depth discussion of his work. The film looked at his early life and influences, as well as exploring some of the themes of his films and technical processes. It provides an excellent source of biographic detail and will be referred to throughout the book.6 In 2006 Terence Dobson published The Film Work of Norman McLaren, a thorough examination of his work which refers to and builds on McWilliams’s earlier biography. The book is valuable as it contextualizes much of McLaren’s work in other artistic periods and discusses many of the technical aspects of his filmmaking practice. Though McWilliams had personal access to McLaren, Dobson has developed a lengthy study which covers much of his life and in particular his films and processes. However while his book is very useful and referred to often, there are several areas of his personal life which are beyond the scope of Dobson’s work. For example, Dobson wondered why McLaren continued with his more basic practices at the NFB when he had the luxury of budgets and time, but through my research, I was taken by his own notion of this: ‘I certainly admit that I get a distinct pleasure from making a film out of as little as possible in the way of money, equipment and time . . . limited means . . . stimulate the imagination to new directions of thinking and film making.’7 This suggests that McLaren certainly chose to use these methods to experiment with the techniques themselves as much as to create the films. In fact in later years he would return to films and rework them to see what new techniques could do with the same ideas (as seen with Spheres [1969]). He was always advancing his own methods and trying to find ways to make things better. My original intention in starting this project was to consider McLaren’s centenary. When discussing the occasion with many outside the academic field, I was met with questions of ‘who?’ These respondents had heard of John Grierson, that famous award-winning Scottish filmmaker who had a television series in the 1960s but hadn’t heard of the other award-winning Scottish filmmaker who had moved to Canada and had never come back.8 Terence Dobson even refers to McLaren as a ‘Canadian filmmaker’ on the back of his book. I became aware that those inside the academy (many of whom did not know McLaren was even Scottish) considered McLaren to be of great influence to the field but I wanted to think about his wider legacy and life, beyond the short biographies and film synopses. Hence my approach was initially about McLaren’s Scottish connections but after discovering the wealth of the McLaren (and Grierson) archives at the University of Stirling and Accession 5649 at the National Library of Scotland, I became aware that there was a greater story than simply one which McLaren left behind in his films. These archives are full of correspondence from most

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Norman McLaren

of the key periods of McLaren’s life and they make up the majority of this book. I was keen that much of his story, of his life and work should be told in his own words where possible, and shown through the detail with which he articulated his views to his family and friends via (often lengthy) excerpts from his letters. This book is divided into chapters based on different aspects of his life; his home and personal life including his long-term relationship with Guy Glover and his formative influences, before moving on to look at some of the key people and places in his life which shaped so much of his attitude and practice. Within each section I discuss some of his key films in relation to the influence of the place or people in his life at the time and how he reflected on this. By structuring the book in this way, I retain some elements of chronology but also emphasize some of the aspects of his life which require further discussion. The overall approach is to uncover a legacy through the examination of the major influences in McLaren’s life. While I critically engage with some of his films, this is not intended to be exhaustive9 and I focus primarily on the films he discussed most. In the first two chapters I outline much of the biography of McLaren’s life and consider his family, his home life (over the whole of his life), his formative experiences at Glasgow School of Art and his health. These areas are intrinsic parts of his life and affected so much of his work – from the support of his parents and relatives in his early travels, his ever-present partner, Glover, and his later litany of health problems which would trouble his late career. Chapter  2 explores his relationships with his often-discussed mentor Grierson in some depth. This meeting during his student days would prove to be of most significance in key moments in McLaren’s life. McLaren was also influenced greatly by his travels, and Chapter 3 will be broken down into chronological sections of the locations which had the biggest impact on his life: from the necessary moves for work, to the sun-seeking vacations, to the far-flung regions which he explored during his Film Festival duty. Chapter 4 on influential arts explores his love for painting, dance and music as well as considering some of the other filmmakers who inspired him. This discussion is followed up in Chapter 5 on collaborations. McLaren is generally singly credited for his films, but he was always careful to stress the collaborative nature of much of his work. This chapter also considers some of the people who worked with McLaren for a shorter time, but were considered important in his circle of friends and colleagues (usually the same people). The concluding chapter reflects on his life and the findings of the previous chapters. This book does not attempt to address every aspect of his life or work and is certainly more interested in his life than his work, though to a certain extent the two are inextricably linked. His work reflects much of his life, but there is much of his life that is unexplored which this book intends to address.

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Introduction

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Letter to brother Jack, 8 April 1986, University of Stirling Archive, uncatalogued. National Library of Scotland, Acc.5649/3. The 2014 volume of Animation Journal was dedicated to articles on McLaren. Several of these articles are held in the NFB of Canada archives in Montreal, of which I did not have access to. ‘Documentary Film News, 1948, p.52. McWilliams also contributed to a new biography for the centenary which appears on both the NFB website and their dedicated app for the Apple iPad. Documentary Film News, 1948. With the exception of numerous holidays, which will be referred to in the book. The NFB has a far greater resource to deal with the back catalogue of his work.

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Chapter 1 P E R S O NA L   L I F E

Figure 1.1 Young Norman McLaren (date unknown). GAA/31/PP/19/01. All permissions courtesy of University of Stirling, unless otherwise stated.

So complex is McLaren that people who have worked with him for decades say that frankly they don’t understand him . . . His humanitarianism, which led one writer to call him ‘a saint,’ has a touching childlike quality to it . . . He dresses like a college boy, looks twenty years younger than his age, and has kept a youthful innocence and enthusiasm common to great artists.1

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Norman McLaren is described as a quiet and gentle man, often childlike in his demeanor. He once suggested that he had ‘never grown up’ and even his appearance reveals this. He was said to have had little time for popular culture as such, preferring to pursue interests in the performing arts such as ballet, theatre and music, though with a keen interest in jazz music. He was a fairly private person, often spending the majority of his time completely immersed in his work. Most accounts deal with his work almost exclusively saying little beyond the types of descriptions above. They talk about his interests in dance and music and early experiences in filmmaking, much of which comes from his own descriptions of his life in various interviews. As such it is useful to examine his own papers in order to discover and develop a fuller account of what type of man he was, beyond the award-winning, experimental filmmaker or the private and quiet man he is described as. An element which is missing from the wide discourse surrounding McLaren is the detail of his relationship with Guy Glover. Most well-known aspects of McLaren’s life (born in Stirling in 1914, attended Glasgow School of Art before being ‘discovered’ by John Grierson and whisked away to London to the GPO and then eventually to Canada and the NFB) have been discussed at some length, but rather than repeat much of this I wanted to discuss my findings on Glover and their almost fifty-year relationship. In the course of the later part of my research, I had been fortunate to interview Glover’s nephew David and as such I was able to write a lengthy piece on his life and relationship with McLaren, with a biographical approach, supported with excerpts from McLaren’s letters. However, rather than some salacious ‘outing’ or gossipy confessional, I hope that in the course of this chapter we can think about these other aspects of McLaren’s life, which undoubtedly had an influence on his work. In later sections I discuss his political views seen in his anti-war works such as Hell UnLtd, Neighbours and A Chairy Tale; his innovative sound-synchronized experiments with the Lines films and Begone Dull Care; the whimsical and playful birds of Le Merle and Hen Hop. But while his innovation, experimentation and generosity are well known, his passion, playfulness and sense of love are left out. He revealed very little of himself in interviews, even in his good friend Donald McWilliams’s excellent 1990 documentary Creative Process,2 but by using his personal correspondence as a guide, we can begin to understand the motivations and meanings behind his work, even if he wasn’t always clear himself. One of the key problems with this type of work is the responsibility taken as biographers or researchers in what we share and indeed how we interpret what we find. Also examining historic material through a contemporary lens is in itself problematic. De Villiers also suggests that biographies can often have a ‘normalizing function regarding their subject’ that when the subject is gay can ‘privilege the objectivity and authority of the biographer’.3 I am by no means attempting to suggest that I have authority over the life of Norman McLaren; what I  want to do is present his life in his own words, albeit with

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Personal Life

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some speculative reading in some of his work (which all reading essentially is). But we do need to keep in mind the notion of the closet, or rather the silence in Michel Foucault’s terms, in the context of the majority of their lives in a preStonewall (1969) and gay liberation era. McLaren’s letters reveal his thoughtful, sensitive sensibility as also his caring and playful side which emerges in so many of his films. He was not terribly outgoing and preferred to keep a small circle of close friends, people who shared his views and would be supportive of his work and life. Despite this, he travelled extensively, was involved in festival juries and was incredibly generous in sharing his work practices and methodologies with those who would enquire of him. His influences in the arts and through other people are addressed elsewhere in the book, but the research in the archive revealed so much about the influence and impact of his day-to-day life that they deserve further consideration. This chapter begins with an overview of McLaren’s relationship with his parents and their family home (21 Albert Place, Stirling) followed by his formative experiences at Glasgow School of Art. It then discusses McLaren’s health, a key component of many of his letters home, with consideration of health trends in the post-war years and into the variety of ailments which would eventually weaken his heart too much. It then looks at his relationship with Guy Glover, which was arguably the most important, lasting from 1936 until McLaren’s death in 1987. The following chapter begins by considering McLaren’s personal life through his relationship with his family, using his reflections on his childhood and the nature of his relationships as a means to the support for his career and personal life. Most of the biographical details published so far tell of his brother and sister and his relatively comfortable upbringing during the depression, but as the focus is generally on his film work, there is little detail on other aspects of his personal life. His correspondence to his family presents an interesting insight into what appears to be a very close and loving family relationship with both his immediate family and his aunties, of whom he speaks (and writes to) often. When he left home, his letters were filled with the details of his life, from his weekly food budget and practical matters of running his flat, to the social outings and work projects, as well as outlining his own health matters. He referred to letters he had received and enquired about (and often gave instructions on) his parent’s health, particularly as they aged.

21 Albert Place, Stirling McLaren’s childhood home was fondly recalled throughout this life, imagining his parents spending time there, longing to visit or enquiring about the garden. Though he left home at age 22 and his homeland at 25, he always thought about the home he left behind.

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Norman McLaren

Figure 1.2 21 Albert Place, Stirling. GAA/31/PP/19/100.

As I was lying on the couch, my thoughts went back to all the many wonderful times I had at home in Stirling, and I wished so much that I could be back with you . . . There is so much I think about that was so happy about my life at home. Often I am so busy that I have little time to think of the past; but it is on days like these when I am resting at home . . . that it all comes back to me, and I love to lie and go over in my mind some of the endless stream of memories of ‘Home’. (11 December 1942)4

This lengthy letter, sent after McLaren had moved to Canada and the NFB outlines his feelings and affection for his parents. It demonstrates a closeness which reveals his sensitivity, and also a comfort at discussing his feelings, which may have seldom been discussed during the era. It refers to his sexuality in a fairly veiled way, though it is unknown how much of this is due to the illegality of homosexuality at that time, or how open he was with his parents, but it speaks about his artistic temperament and the opportunities he had to follow his career path. You were so good to me, and did so much for me in so many ways, that I cant ever really thank you enough for it. You gave me so many opportunities, and let me develop in my own way. And what I appreciate most was the tolerance with which you let me go my own way, even though you did not always see eye to eye with it, and even though it might have caused you worry. That in particular, I am very grateful for; for if you had not had that thoughtfulness and tolerance for me, I should have grown up thwarted and unhappy with

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Personal Life

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Figure 1.3 Family portrait, c.1917. GAA/31/PP/019.

my surroundings, and I would not have been able now to think of Home as such a happy place.5

The reference to tolerance suggests that his parents might have been aware of McLaren’s homosexuality, and indeed by this time they had met McLaren’s partner Guy Glover several times and McLaren discussed him often. This key relationship will be examined later, but it is interesting to note here within the context of how McLaren refers to his lifestyle in these conversations with his

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Norman McLaren

parents.6 Of course, it may have been in reference to his life choice as an artist which would have been considered an unusual career choice in that era. But as it is, I have none but the happiest recollections of home, and the life we lived there. I also remember so well the way you attended to my physical needs; those wonderful meals; those sandwiches you used to pack for me on Monday mornings, to take with me to Glasgow, when I was working at the Art School, and when I was living during the week in the city; the sandwiches and cakes and dumplings you used to send down in the laundry to Effra Court . . . Oh, there are, a hundred and one little things, Mother, that I now think of, that you so lovingly did for me, and which at the time I just ‘took for granted’, but now I realise how much you put yourself out for me, now I realise the trouble and energy you spent in order to make life happy and good for me. And you, Dad, too, did so much for me; not so much in the countless little ways, but in the big ways . . . .in giving me good schooling, in putting me through Art School, in giving me a ‘studio’ over at Maxwell Place, in giving me a place to live and work in Glasgow, while I was at Art School, in providing the means for me to go travelling in Europe in the summer vacations, and in countless other ways. I appreciate your thoughtfulness and consideration and the generous way you provided all these opportunities.7

McLaren would later recall his childhood in a letter to Biddy Russell in a very different light, suggesting he never grew up and was allowed to avoid this by his parents – never needing to through ‘coddling’ by his mother. But this type of rewriting history was common practice in the 1960s when self-analysis was fashionable. His care and concern and love for his family came through in his letters to them. The letters were often mundane in their day-to-day detail but demonstrated the interest they all took in each others’ lives, and in part providing his parents with reassurance that he was coping with life away from home. I often think about you all at home, even though I am terribly busy and my mind is filled with other things. Sometimes I just say to myself, ‘Well I wonder what Mum, Dad and Auntie are doing just at this very moment Are you sitting down to dinner. Or around the fire in the kitchen, or in the morning room . . . When I am at Sunday breakfast, you are probably going for a walk in the park . . . You don’t seem so very far away, when I start thinking like that.’ (15 November 1943)8

It is difficult to judge the relationship between McLaren and his older siblings, brother Jack and sister Sheena, as the letters were primarily sent to and about his parents. Their news was passed on in the letters, and sometimes, specific information was to be passed on to them. The archive contains a few letters to his brother and sister in his later life, after his parents had died but one can

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only speculate as to whether he wrote to them in the intervening years as often as he did to his parents. These later letters are as open and detailed as were the ones previously sent to his parents, so despite not knowing about their childhood relationships, the general demeanour of the letters is one of closeness. The letters to his mother continued until her death in 1966 at which point there are occasional letters to his siblings or nephews. He continued to update them on his health and well-being, just as he had done with his mother, but the tone became more reflective as he grew older, as seen in letters to his sister. They were also often copied to save time. My Dear Sheena, I hope you don’t mind sharing letters to Jack & vice versa . . . since my news to you about my health would be just the same, it seems sensible to make a Xerox copy of that part of it. (24 September 1983)

These letters though were either rare or rarely kept by this time in McLaren’s life. One of the curious aspects of this era is the changing technology. The development of communications is seen in McLaren’s correspondence, from handwritten letters to more frequent typed pages. As the war years passed and telephones became more commonplace, there was much made of the chance to hear the family’s voices, initially on the allocated times, specified by the phone company, ‘I’ve just been on the phone to you, and it was such a pleasure to hear your voices, and such a difference when the connection is good and the line is clear. (It’s so easy now-a-days to place a call & get thru immediately!)’ (17 June 1962). I suspect that the later infrequency of letters may have been in part due to an increase in the access to increasingly cheap phone calls. There would have been less need to write the lengthy letters of the past, but he did maintain his habit of sending clippings and postcards. Another key factor in McLaren’s early formative years was the relationship with his aunt, who lived with them. When she passed away in 1950, he wrote a touching letter home to thank his parents for looking after her so well. He repeats his thanks to his parents and muses on the nature of existence, Poor Auntie; I’m glad she is sleeping quietly now; death can be a comforting thing, and reminds us of what a strange, mysterious thing life is. We sleep in peace for a thousand million years, wake up for our brief span, and sleep for another million thousand years. No one knows for what or why. We only know we must, and do our best. Some have religion to answer the question; others, like me, have our own equivalents of religion – a strange unanswered question mark, which when we think of it, fills us with awe, and a sense of duty and sympathy with our fellow human beings. Thank you for being so good to Auntie; for providing her a home and security. For me, as I grew up, her presence added something to enrich my daily existence, in small but undefinable ways. Thank you, Dad and Mum, for keeping her so warmly under our roof. I am much looking forward to being home amongst you. I guess

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Figure 1.4 McLaren with brother and sister, c.1926. GAA/31/PP/021.

parents think more often of their children than their children think of them; but I think of you two a good deal, and it is with love and gratitude always in my heart that I do. You were so good to me when I grew up, and, what I appreciate most was that you let me develop in my own – which must have been a difficult thing. (13 May 1950)9

This letter reveals his personal philosophy regarding religion and the more spiritual side of his life at that time. It reinforces his pacificism seen so crucially in his move from London to the United States at the brink of war and again

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Figure 1.5 McLaren with parents, aunt, Biddy Russell and Helen Biggar, c.1936. GAA/ 31/PP/110.

more obviously when he made his most famous film, Neighbours, which will be discussed in more detail later. It also, in a perhaps more subtle way, teases at his ‘own way’ and his sexuality. Despite his occasional longing for Stirling, he was able to settle in his new homes with relative ease. His move to New York will be outlined in a later chapter but it is interesting how well he established himself in the different places. It was always when he was about to move on that he would reflect on his immediate surroundings. When offered the job which would see him move from New York to Canada, he talked about how much he felt at home in NYC and for several months talked about how ‘homesick’ he was, in a way that he never said about Stirling. Likewise, once he was fully settled in Canada and was offered a speculative position in London (which never transpired), he suggested that even though he would be closer to his family home for visits, he felt at home in Canada in a way he hadn’t before, ‘I really feel more at home here that any place I have been’ (14 March 1948).10 This suggests that he was able to assimilate himself into his surroundings rather well, and though he travelled frequently, particularly later in his career, he was at his most comfortable in wherever home was at that time. As his career developed, more travel opportunities were afforded him and at every opportunity McLaren took a trip to Stirling to visit his family. He excitedly told his parents the news of his trip home over two letters in 1957, after being invited to adjudicate at the Berlin Film Festival. ‘I may have some very interesting and very good news for you in my next note. I’ll know for certain in a matter

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Figure 1.6 McLaren with family (including nephews), c.1958.

of just a few days’ (5 May 1957).11 ‘My dear Mother and Dad, Here’s the good news! I’M COMING OVER TO EUROPE THIS SUMMER . . . I’LL BE FLYING ACROSS . . . HOWEVER AFTER THE FESTIVAL I’LL BE SPENDING SOME TIME IN EUROPE . . . LAST BUT NOT LEAST, . . . BONNIE SCOTLAND’ (May 1957). The excited tone in this last, decorated letter demonstrates an enthusiasm for travel, but also at the chance to visit his parents, the first time he was home since emigrating in 1939. He was able to visit again the following summer, It was such a pleasure to have those few days at Thatches with a chance to be one of the family, play with the children, enjoy the lovely garden & see the new house. To have been able to spend the entire remainder of my holiday at Stirling would have been the perfect ending before returning to Canada . . . It was a very happy time we had together 2 . . . the grand talks we had together. I do wish I were a bit nearer & if it were a bit easier to come more often; but here’s hoping I’ll be over next year again. (21 June 1958)12

From this time, every festival or other business-related trip east would include a trip home, if not to Stirling, then to brother Jack’s home in the south of England, where he would be able to spend time with his nieces, Alison and Rosemary. Though he did not see them often, he referred to his nephews, Douglas and Gordon, Sheena’s boys, particularly as the boys got older. Gordon visited Canada in 1959 when McLaren was living in Montreal with parents, Sheena and David following in 1961. The letters and clippings which were sent towards the end of his life outlined his retirement and later, failing health (both his and Guy’s). These letters

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reflected the changing pace of McLaren’s life, which were no longer about the fast-paced, intense working practices at the film board, but rather on the quieter aspects of aging, changing needs and habits and the opportunity to reflect on his life. Later chapters chart his career and discuss his health and travels in more depth but it is interesting to note here how the pattern of family correspondence reveals so much about his life, beyond his vast output of films.

Natural World The environmental influences which came from his family, namely his love of gardening and interiors, were present throughout his life and were discussed in several letters over the years, either to reassure his parents that he was comfortable and making a home, or to enquire about and comment on the passing seasons which would see various flowers in bloom in the Albert Place garden. This aspect of his life may seem odd to note but was a recurring theme throughout his letters, and in the subject of many of his later films and paintings. His love for the outdoors played a large part in his social life and health and is discussed throughout this book. Despite his interest in gardening, he had his own garden only in 1938 (until his retirement), in the London flat he shared with Guy Glover; he was keen to tell his parents about his progress in this in each letter home. I planted seeds, nasturtiums, canary creeper & night scented stock on Friday evening. The weekend before last I made a big new flower box . . . at present there are big bright colourful pansies blooming in one of the boxes . . . I also got some violet & orange polyanthuses, which are in bloom so the garden is looking quite nice. (20 March 1938)13

He often asked his mother how her garden was doing, and when he was living in Canada, though he had no garden, he would bring in plants and flowers which he would discuss with his mother. He would collect ‘interesting flowers’ on walks and bike rides in the country that he and Guy frequently took in the summers in Ottawa. In a letter in 1963 he described a dream he had where he was at home with his mother, ‘Last night I had a lovely dream of being at 21 Albert Place, and you were showing me round the garden, and we were enjoying the flowers & admiring the colours together. It was a lovely sunny day and the garden was looking very fine!’ (1 July 1963). He would describe this interest and reflect on its influence on his work in the interview with Donald McWilliams, which became part of the Creative Process documentary in 1990: Our house, it had a big square garden. It had a square lawn and a path around it, and flower beds; one of my mother’s sunniest flower beds she gave over

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Norman McLaren to roses. Her great interest was in gardening. Well, at adolescence, the big change came over me. I remember the day and the experience where it first hit me. It was a lovely, brilliant, sunny morning – going out into the back garden of the house. And suddenly, everything seemed magical – the drops of dew on the grass and the shapes of the flowers. But that morning it just overwhelmed me, and I think I went indoors and tried to write a poem expressing it. Like, for instance, in my bedroom. I remember the first thing I did once I became adolescently sensitive was in the morning to jump out of bed – the window where I slept was wide open – looked out the window to the east and to the west – to the Hills in the distance and to clouds forming over them. The play of light and shade on the hills continued to affect me very much.14

This notion of light and shade was something he described as important in much of his painterly process in later films such as Là-haut sur ces montagnes (1945)15 and could be seen in his paintings as well as in his animations. The light of the garden as well as of Stirling and the surrounding landscape was something which remained with him and influenced his work. This can also be seen in a letter from 1941, where he talks about the Ottawa landscape and the weather at the end of autumn, and recalls that of his childhood home, ‘Occasionally, we have days like it in Stirling, when, standing at the quarry in the Kings Park, you feel that you could almost touch the Grampians’ (19 October 1941).16 Though they had no garden in either Ottawa or Montreal, McLaren and Glover were still surrounded by plant life inside their apartment. In Montreal,

Figure 1.7 Exterior of house in Hudson, Canada, c.1980. GAA/31/PP/19/009.

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Glover’s neighbouring apartment (they shared an apartment until McLaren managed to rent the one next door so he could have a home studio, but noted that he took his meals with Guy) contained a carefully maintained orchid collection  – an interest they were both very keen on. McLaren’s apartment was equally exotic and was full of plants (but more traditional house plants) to maintain a sense of green space. When they retired to Hudson in the early 1980s, they finally had a house with gardens and McLaren described the various jobs they would do. He was in charge of the weeding and digging and Glover of the planting. He had a fine rose garden and McLaren enjoyed spending time in it. In a letter to close friend from New York, Vera Wilson, he says, ‘Guy spends almost all of his time with the garden –he had a wonderful show of roses this summer – And in the winter, he is busy studying plant & seed & botanical catalogues’ (3 December 1979).17

Glasgow School of Art McLaren was influenced by many people over the years – his parents, siblings and wider family, friends, his partner and later colleagues who would become valuable collaborators. He was often modest about his own contribution and was keen to ensure that credit was always given where it was due. This was true at an early age when he joined the Kinecraft Society at Glasgow School of Art. It was during this time that he began making films with a group of friends, experimenting with techniques and styles with whatever materials they could get hold of. This early lack of materials led him to be very cautious about wasting film and was largely the reason why he began to create his films directly onto the film.18 An article in the Glasgow Evening News newspaper in 1934 outlined the process of filmmaking the group were engaged in and even predicted future events, It is from outside the cinema industry that developments in technique will come, and I have a fairly shrewd idea that the Glasgow school will be prominently represented in these improvements. I have just met a young Glasgow art student who shows considerable promise but wants to remain unshackled and develop his talents, not in a professional studio, but in the Soviet University of Cinematography at Moscow. Norman McLaren of Stirling, has a year and a half to go before finishing his course of interior decoration at the Glasgow School of Art. He is only twenty. Yet he was the inspiration of ‘7 til 5,’ which walked away with the Scottish Amateur Film Festival . . . on Saturday . . . Mr McLaren is very modest about his part of the work, preferring to shower credit for the film on the expert camera-turning of Mr William McLean, who teaches drawing and painting in the School, and on a fellow student, Stuart McAllister, who, according to the credit caption, ‘did everything else.’ . . . I would respectfully suggest to the Art School authorities that they consider the establishment of

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Figure 1.8 ‘Rooftop Lounge’, interior design project, Glasgow School of Art, c.1936.

a Kinecraft Society as part of the School’s curriculum . . . it does seem a pity that so few outlets are available in this country for cinema enthusiasts like McLaren. John Grierson, another Scot who likes his freedom, would, I feel, welcome him to the G.P.O. Film Unit fold. Why should it be necessary to hanker after Moscow in order to work untramelled? (12 December 1934)19

During his formative education at the Art School, he forged relationships with two people who would be key to his earliest filmmaking experience: fellow student Helen Biggar and eventual mentor John Grierson. Classmate Biggar would become one of a long list of collaborators over the years, but her input and their work, would set him onto a path which led straight to Grierson, London, and eventually Canada and the NFB, where he would remain for the rest of his career. This next section will examine McLaren’s relationship with Biggar in some detail, examining the working practices of the Biggar/McLaren team, which saw them produce films outside of the art school setting, seeking distribution in a national setting.

Helen Biggar (1909–1953) Helen Biggar is seldom discussed in her own right and almost as rarely in connection with McLaren, but the evidence in both the archive material and in the

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Figure 1.9 Helen Biggar, c.1935.

output in several of his films suggests that their relationship is worthy of some careful examination. Older than McLaren by five years, Biggar was a political and artistic influence and ally, a driving force in her own political circles. She would be one of several key women in McLaren’s life to be of significance (despite what he would tell Biddy of his ‘allergy’, discussed later). Helen Biggar ‘studied textiles at Glasgow School of Art c.1925–29 and then went on to make sculpture. Biggar was politically active and during the 1930s used film and then theatre (she was closely involved with the Glasgow Workers’ Theatre Group from 1938) to express her radical views.’20 After her work with McLaren, she moved to London (this is discussed in their letters) to work in film and theatre where she died of a brain haemorrhage in 1953. There were several key collaborators in McLaren’s work, with whom he shared an artistic affinity. In the case of Helen Biggar, he also shared a social and political ideology. They met at Glasgow School of Art where they would work on their first film (McLaren’s second), Camera Makes Whoopee. This combination of live action and stop motion animation would be used again in their next film together.

Camera Makes Whoopee (1934) McLaren’s second art school film after the successful 7 ‘til 5 in 1933 saw him once again team up with his friends and tutors to make a silent live action film, however unlike 7 he included some short-stop motion sequences which would demonstrate his aptitude for animation. The film runs at 24 min 28s,

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Figure 1.10 Still from Camera Makes Whoopee, Glasgow School of Art, 1934.

and as a silent film, is interesting in terms of experimentation with overlaid shots and interesting camera angles. The film has a loose narrative of capturing events of the Christmas Ball and includes many sequences of dance, foreshadowing his much later work. There is no obvious consideration of youthful sexuality, unless you count young people dancing, but for a short sequence in which dancers are transposed over shots of enlarged screws as though coming out of the dance floor. The dancers twirl between these Freudian symbols which McLaren pleaded ignorance of when later criticized. We can see from Figure 1.10 though, just how looming the screws are in the image, and when viewed in the context of the whole film, they are incongruous to say the least. McLaren had identified with Communist ideology for some time (largely due to seeing the great poverty of the great depression) – he visited Russia at the behest of his father (in 1935), in an attempt to cure him of this notion, but having enjoyed a cultural treat at a theatre festival, McLaren was far from cured. His student days encouraged his left-leaning sensibilities and his friendship with Helen Biggar led him to create his first overtly anti-war film. From the letters McLaren sent, it is clear that they had a working relationship and regularly bounced ideas off one another, often dashing off quick notes about technical queries and requests for meetings. They had been trying to work on social issue

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Figure 1.11 Glasgow School of Art Mural, c.1935.

films, which they both felt were of great importance, when McLaren came up with an idea for what would become Hell Unltd.

Hell Unltd (1936) A mixture of animation and live action, Hell Unltd (1936) was created with a fervour during McLaren’s final year at Glasgow School of Art. In a series of communications with Helen, found in the University of Stirling archive, McLaren sent out his rough ideas on postcards. ‘Ideas for the peace film have been oozing out of the designs for the Cocktail Bar! I’m doing things in detail’ (21 April 1936). He continued in his next letter with great excitement, ‘_Its called “HELL, LTD”_ and I’ve been writing down all the torrent of ideas as fast as I can since 7 o’clock tonight’ (underlines in the original), The urgency is seen in the next few letters when McLaren discusses filming on locations, and in several examples, tries to decide what the best music to accompany the film would be. He wanted Ravel’s Bolero, but was unsure about the rights to use it (and that another film colleague had mentioned using it). Over the next year or so they talked about securing distribution rights and how much they should charge and receive for screenings. The film was a moderate success with positive reviews. It was bold and forthright with little doubt as to its anti-war, and according to Dobson,21 overtly anti-capitalist, feelings. The film challenges viewers to rise up against the tyranny of war by mass resistance. The film was released without the musical accompaniment which had been planned but is arguably more powerful for the lack of sound. The loose narrative of arms sales permeates a series of images of children in war-torn situations,

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Figure 1.12 Letter to Helen Biggar – idea for Hell Unltd, c.1936. GAA/31/C/8/42/3.

bombed out spaces, increasingly destructive munitions and the levels of profit associated with the trade. The use of stop motion features as peoples’ lives are traded for profit to war-mongering nations. The use of text within the film, on placards and screen shots to end war and to refuse to support it by means of peaceful protest in the form of withholding labour send a powerful, if rather unsubtle message. The film was intended to be a revolutionary wake-up call to warn people about the possible advances of war. The graphic nature of the film and the horrific imagery reflects the anger and passion of these young

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filmmakers, who believed in the power of film to affect change. This can be seen in some of the letters McLaren sent to Helen and Biddy when he began working at the GPO in London. This will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter but he often stressed the importance of how much good his work could do, or in the case of Hell, should be doing. McLaren did discuss with Helen whether they should include more explanatory text within the film in order to reach the widest audiences: I still think perhaps that some more titles (explanatory) may be necessary in the film. It has been described as ‘subtle’ & ‘leaving something to the imagination’ by some of my friends whom I consider above the average in intelligence & imagination, which makes me think it may ‘skid’ over a good number of people; and at all costs I should like it to be a wheelmark on even the dumbest of the audience. (1936)22

Hell Unltd would continue to benefit McLaren financially for a few years and he was immensely proud of the reviews they got and that it was going to be shown at peace festivals. In a letter to Biddy, he reported on its progress, Kino people think film is ‘very good’ – they are trying it out on a working class audience. – Arthur Elton (critic) has given his thanks & he’s told Helen

Figure 1.13 Behind the scenes filming of Hell Unltd, 1936.

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Norman McLaren just what he thinks of it. – He is going to be writing an article on it for WFN – Kino are going to take it over & show it at the Peace Conference in Brussels at the end of this month & hope to get it fixed for other countries too. – everything seems fairly good so far. (August 1936)

A review in the Evening News, Glasgow, on 22 February 1937, commended the film, which was shown as part of the fourth Scottish Amateur Film Festival: WAR FILM, Most Striking Entry In The Amateur Festival . . . Although excluded from the premier awards at the fourth Scottish Amateur Film Festival, ‘Hell Unltd,’ was easily the most striking production on view at the Lyric Theatre, Glasgow . . . Had John Maxwell or Alexander Korda been present, they would have requested an interview with Norman McLaren, the youthful Glasgow School of Art genius who made it, and offered him a directorial contract on the spot. McLaren’s work is familiar to festival-goers. It improves with every production. ‘Hell Unltd’ is the most vigorous anti-war propaganda I have ever seen screened. It literally hits you with its bluntness. The international armaments racket is ruthlessly exposed in a satirical way. Vivid shots of death and destruction while the world is still trying to recover from the last war succeed flashes of anti-war demonstrations. Toy models, sketches, newspaper cuttings and photographs are cleverly introduced to strengthen the argument against war. Indeed, the theme reached the point of white heat on Saturday evening and ignited the celluloid, so that we were deprived of its ending! . . . But we had seen enough to applaud McLaren and his associate producer, Helen Biggar, for their technical perfection and imaginative handling of a subject that is uppermost in everyone’s fears at the moment. Had ‘Hell Unltd’ been entered under the name of Larenovitch or similarly sneezy foreign name, maybe the motion picture industry would have taken notice of it.23

Despite being keen to do good work, McLaren did not however make another overtly anti-war film himself for many years. I would argue that the effects of conflict as discussed in Chapter 3 on his visit to Spain and the relentless march of war across the world may have somewhat dampened his initial enthusiasm and appetite for political activism. His friendship with Helen extended beyond their collaboration, with frequent letters being exchanged, commenting on ideas, updating on work and generally passing news. Around the time of making Hell, he wrote to Helen using a bizarre form of language, which has the hallmarks of an adolescent ‘secret’ or joke language’ or some sort of perhaps English form of Russian? This description of his recent holiday reveals a close friendship, which could be reimagined as a contemporary text message sent by mobile phone while holidaying with family. It is unknown if Helen responded in the same way but

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Figure 1.14 Letter to Helen Biggar with interesting use of language. GAA/31/C/3/1936/11.

there were other examples of this use of language around the same time, such as when describing the editing process of Hell. Their friendship lasted for many years, with McLaren continuing to write to her while he was in London working at the GPO, often enquiring about

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Figure 1.15 McLaren’s mood while traveling, note to Helen Biggar, 1936. GAA/31/C/ 3/1936/8.

their common friends, such as Biddy Russell. Occasionally these letters, like many that McLaren sent, were illustrated, giving a view of his current state of mind. As well as his doodles, he outlined his progress at the GPO and described his working practices, which were very different from those he was familiar with. While working in London he continued trying to make his own films and would seek advice from Helen on content and distribution ideas. He entrusted Helen with the distribution and payment for any screenings of Hell, which she

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would update him on. He discussed his politics openly with her and continued to pursue a line in activist films, though he didn’t always get much chance with his other workload. When McLaren was sent to Spain to film the Civil War, he was keen to highlight the usefulness of the operation. ‘I’m real glad at the valuable work I’ll be able to do – and I hope I wont be killed or damaged’ (11 November 1936).24 This urge towards ‘useful’ films continued after he returned from his assignment. By January 1937, he was keen to return to making political films, clearly affected by his experiences in Spain. His letters described what he felt were wasteful practices at the GPO, and a few weeks later spoke of being ‘fed up’. In order to alleviate some boredom in his job, McLaren began working with the Progressive Film Institute and was keen to work on what he called ‘left films’. The updates included news on the continued, though relatively modest, success of Hell – it was not shown as frequently as Defence of Madrid, which he filmed in Spain, but was still making some money. The letters to Helen reveal a sense of humour and a silly side, perhaps less than seen in the letters sent home; this, of course, reflects his age – only twentytwo when Hell was made. Though he had a passion and anger for the injustices and war-mongering politics seen in many areas of Europe at the time, he was clearly comfortable with Helen as a creative confidant and good friend, someone with whom he could share his day-to-day thoughts with. However, though he did write to Helen frequently during his stay in London at the GPO, often catching up on the news of the place, including what Grierson was up to, his letters to her do not extend beyond 1940. There is a gap between 1937 and 1940, when he sent her a lengthy letter from New York, updating her on his travels and experiences. It is unclear if the correspondence between the two stopped for some reason, or if there was a natural drifting apart of friends after college and a significant move away, or if, possibly more likely, the letters were not saved for the archive. The final letter available for examination though, reinforces the close nature of their friendship in terms of both a shared political and creative viewpoint, despite the lack of future letters to draw from. My very dear Helen, What a long time it is since I wrote you last: I never expected it to be so long, but on looking back it seems that I have been so busy about so little for so long that it makes me amazed and slightly mad at myself . . . I wonder what the Communists . . . and the Scottish Nationalists are thinking or doing, or being allowed to think or do . . . Have you been to any ballet, what’s happening at the Art School and have you seen Willie Mac and Mrs Mac[?] (23 August 1940)

He goes on to fill in the details of his first months in New York and tells her what he and Guy are up to. The inclusion of Glover in his news section implies, that Helen, like his parents, knew the nature of their relationship, or at least that

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Glover had an important place in his life. He describes a trip to the Southern states and tells her of the terrible poverty he saw: The treatment of Negroes is something shocking (America! Land of Democracy!) Lots of poor whites almost as badly exploited too, of course . . . The segregation and prejudice against Negroes is very marked. Even they are not allowed to go into a church which whites use. Christianity what-ho! Well this is not supposed to be a Christian country . . . but it does call itself a democratic union of states; and although there’s lots of democracy if you’ve lots of money, there’s not very much if you haven’t . . . Its all very sad . . . Two days ago Trotsky died. I was upset about that. (23 August 1940)

He is very open about his disdain for much of what he sees as corruption in the political system. The detail and the level of discussion demonstrates how comfortable he is having this type of conversation with Helen, that it recalls discussions of their past, their shared politics still remaining something of note. One of the key aspects of the collection of the Biggar letters is that it does show the creative relationship, in the specificity of information on the technical aspects of their work, to the political and later the personal. Though Hell was not previously widely discussed, it is a key film within the canon of his early work in terms of its forthright politics and the success of this early, but highly significant, collaboration.

Health Many of McLaren’s letters home concerned aspects of health, either his own or his parents’ (and occasionally, Guy’s). From the earliest letters when he moved to London, when he told them about persistent headaches due to illfitting glasses, McLaren’s health was a feature. In McWilliams’s Creative Process, McLaren describes hospital tests in 1955 for headaches, which resulted in xrays, after which he drew on them describing them as a ‘self portrait’ of sorts. The inclusion of this topic of discussion demonstrates how closely related McLaren’s health and work could be. Clearly, health is always linked to a person’s functioning, but the letters reveal not just a sense of reassurance to the parents he is so geographically distanced from, but also often reflects the health trends of the time. The letters always included a mention of health, whether it was a specific complaint or simply a note that he was in good health. Though, as this chapter shows, he suffered from an array of odd health problems over the years, he generally knew what ailed him and what would make him feel better. As well as generally enjoying the outdoors as discussed in the earlier section, McLaren was a keen sun worshipper and in the pre-skin-cancer-warned days, often spoke about glorious opportunities to bathe and get a tan.

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Figure 1.16 Norman McLaren sunbathing, c.1936. GAA/31/PP DMcW negs.

Figure 1.17 Norman McLaren, c.1934. GAA/31/P/19/184.

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He would spend long summer days on walks, bike rides or on country drives. He enjoyed swimming outdoors and would regularly use the pool in the local YMCA, particularly at times when his accommodation was more transitory. Something which he never explicitly stated, but I have surmised from the archive, was that he never liked the Canadian winters. He only experienced two in New York, but after he moved to Ottawa, and worse, Montreal, he would notice the first signs of winter (and more hopefully of spring). He described his car being left in the snow, the terrible freezing conditions and length of the winter. As he became more financially secure (and often when he could combine it with work duty), he would spend his winters as much as possible in South America and Mexico. There he would enjoy the peace and the sunshine and recuperate from his overly busy workload, often on doctor’s orders. These trips helped maintain something of a balance of his well-being and were continued well into the 1970s. Headaches and heart issues later in life became more of a feature as the years went on, but often his issues were connected to his level of working. His immersion into projects, which would see him obsessed by work, would lead to exhaustion. In 1943, when he was putting the animation department at the film board together, he tells his parents about the demands on his time and their effect: My department is working on about a dozen films all at once, which require all my attention; added to that I have to train new people and also cope with organizational problems. My health is standing up to it all right, but I shall need a holiday sometime this summer. Right now, it means working evenings and weekends, but in a month’s time, there ought to be a sufficient number of people trained, so that I can go away without worrying. Already I am beginning to feel the benefits of having spent so many painstaking hours training the fellows that were new several months ago. (14 June 1943)25

Once the new department was established, McLaren stepped aside to concentrate on his own films again. The work levels were more or less within his own control, but over the Christmas break of 1944, he sent his parents a more unusual clipping with his letter – a menu from his festive meal, from his time spent in hospital with an acute appendicitis. He explained that he rather enjoyed the rest and peace and quiet of the hospital after having been busy at work, and enjoyed his meal. There would be numerous hospital visits to follow, generally described in the same terms as a break from work. This suggests that he found it difficult to regulate his pace of work and required the intervention from somewhere else to slow him down. By 1946, he writes of a heart irregularity, which he had known about and was receiving treatment. Interestingly, he refers to it almost in passing, as though he had forgotten about it, ps. Meant to mention that a couple of weeks ago I went to have a complete physical check-over by the doctor. He found that my heart was not behaving

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properly, and had cardiographs made of its action, from a study of which he sent me to a heart specialist, who gave me a still further check-up, and is giving me certain drugs to correct its action. I suffer from ‘multiple extra – systillates’ (don’t know if spelling is correct). My heart beat is scarcely ever regular in rhythm, but erratic, which when I  get excited turns into heavy thumping twice slower than normal. The treatment I am under, ought gradually to put this right. He says I don’t have to worry about it. I knew I had this for about four years now. At that time I went to a heart specialist, who gave me a very cursory and rapid consultation, and just told me not ever get too excited or exercise too much, but didn’t do anything about it. Since then, it has sometimes been a nuisance; but now I am glad it is getting proper treatment and in a couple of months I  shall be pumping normally. (6 October 1946)26

This letter rather unsettled his parents (his father would later suffer several heart attacks before he died of one) and McLaren’s follow-up letter showed a compulsion for reassurance, albeit with a gap of a couple of weeks – enough time for a letter from his mother outlining her worry. I have also your letter of 13th Oct in which you are very anxious about my health, and it is very, very good of you to make these suggestions about coming home and resting. I appreciate your concern about me, and it is wonderful to know that [you] are giving me good advice and help. I’m afraid I must have made things sound much worse than they are though. I  am in good hands . . . I go swimming fairly regularly at the YMCA pool here, and for the first time in about seven or eight years I am starting to put on weight . . . I am feeling exceptionally well, and eating like a pig. Since last year I have stopped working hard, and take things very leisurely. I am thoroughly aware that my health comes first . . . so you must not have a picture of me scurrying around and over-working . . . I really am taking care of myself. (7 November 1946, underline in the original)27

The issue of overworking was a frequent occurrence however, and many letters were sent to reassure that he wasn’t. In several of the letters to Biddy Russell, McLaren is more honest about working too hard too often, but as above, frequently notices this and attempts to slow down his furious pace. In 1955 he writes to Biddy complaining of overworking and ‘over burden’ of ideas. He lists a number of ideas for future films and suggests that he has become so consumed by work that he cannot socialize beyond work. He uses the excellent phrase ‘too muchness’ to describe his mind with its numerous, competing ideas. During the 1950s he was able to take advantage of the hospital-enforced ‘holidays’ due to a number of unusual illnesses. Amoebas in his system in 1953; six weeks of bed rest in 1955 due to rheumatic fever – the hospital had pleasant grounds within which to rest; a week in October 1955 for neurological tests for

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headaches – presumably those he mentioned in Creative Process, though at the time Biddy was ordered not to tell his parents as he was fine and it was nothing to worry about. He had been ‘frantic with tension and worries.’ As he moved into his forties, he noticed a need to rest more and perhaps slow down from his usual hectic pace, and in a letter to his mother, suggests that it is becoming troublesome, But I seem to need so much rest in order to keep feeling well that it cuts me off from a great many activities, and prevents me from doing so much that I  should attend to. I  find it very annoying, & get impatient and depressed about it from time to time . . . after all at 42 years I really think I should have more energy, pep & stamina than I appear to have. (4 August 1956)28

Within a few months of this letter he seemed to have turned things around and once again had resolved to slow down his working pace, I have been feeling so well lately. I have learned to know my limitations & accept them, and its made all the difference to my health and happiness. I don’t try to attempt too much any more, and try to lead a more balanced life – with less emphasis on brain work, and more emphasis on physical exercise. Last year, when I was suffering from too many headaches and tension, my doctor recommended that I go and see a particular specialist in psychiatry & nervous disorders, whom he thought would give me some good advice. Well as a result, I  have been feeling so well in health and spirits that it is almost miraculous. My big problem in the past, was that I would get so carried away with my creative work, that I would neglect other aspects of my life; now I am able to lead a life of more varied & balanced activities, & now I know how to avoid overtaxing my resources. Its wonderful to feel so much better. (12 January 1957, underline in the original)29

In this and many other letters over the period, he was keen to extol the virtues of taking vitamin supplements. As many of the post-war letters outlined the changing availabilities of food from rationing being phased out, it seems he was keen to adopt the new fashion in healthy regimens, and often told his parents that they should do likewise (including a seemingly brief venture into vegetarianism). In 1957 he considered other aspects of his health beyond general well-being, and apparently on his mother’s advice, informed them that he had had his teeth repaired, Mother you’ll be very pleased to know that I’ve had my teeth all attended to now. I had it done before the T.V. appearance & the New York appearance. Had them all crowned with porcelain, and my bite deepened & rectified, so that my chewing powers are much enhanced too. I think I’ll have to have a

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photo of me grinning so that I can send you some visible proof of the change, which is really a great improvement. I’m so glad you insisted so strongly on it, else I’d never have thought of getting it done. (10 November 1957, underlines in the original)30

It may be that this is another post-war development, which like the vitamins, was a demonstration of healthy living. Another addition to the supplement regimen was the nutritional drink ‘Complan’ given to older people to boost their food intake. By 1958, McLaren was regularly telling his mother to take it, ‘NB Mother are you remembering the COMPLAN – a little every day is what counts. Build up a habit about it’ (21 June 1958).31 This form of nagging (sometimes more gentle than others) shows the concern McLaren has for his parents, particularly as they aged. This type of note reinforces the closeness of the relationship between McLaren and his parents. Towards the end of the decade, McLaren’s heart would trouble him again and in 1959 he attended hospital once more, this time with a rapid heartbeat. However, almost as dismissive of the complaint as before, his letter is more concerned with telling his family of a new film that he is working on with Evelyn Lambart and Maurice Blackburn, which would turn out to be Lines. The heart

Figure 1.18 Letter from McLaren to his mother reminding her of ‘Complan’, 21 June 1956. GAA31/C/1/1958/5.

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issues are given a new dimension in 1962 when his father had suffered, ‘I was especially glad to hear that your heart attacks have not been so frequent, Dad.’ (21 January 1962).32 In the same year, he was hospitalized once more, this time for an, ‘infectious carbuncle’, which was surgically removed but from which he took a long time to recover. ‘The doctors refer to the carbuncle as being very “indolent”; Well, I am having a good chance to be indolent too. And I’m sure the enforced rest is doing me the world of good’ (8 February 1962). As the year progressed, his concern was for his father’s declining condition. His father was moved into a nursing home for convalescence in April and by May had returned home. However, he died on 29 June 29 1962. Through the letters to Biddy Russell, we can surmise that McLaren went home to be with his family for a number of weeks, as in the next set of letters to his mother, he refers to his trip but never explicitly mentions his father.33 From the mid-1960s, McLaren was keen to maintain a routine of regular checkups on his heart. As outlined in some of the earlier examples of letters to his mother, McLaren suffered occasional bouts of depression and exhaustion from overwork. He spoke of this often to Biddy, who seemed to share similar moods. This was often accompanied by either breaks from work, in order to rest from the overwork, or immersion into more work in an attempt to perhaps escape from any outside issues. He wrote occasionally about a desire to give up his filmmaking career but at the same time was so filled with ideas that he seemed almost compelled to keep going. By the mid-1960s his heart was in good shape, but he suffered a blood infection in March 1967, which damaged a heart valve and required eight weeks of intense treatment in hospital to clear up. By June he was back in hospital again with a recurrence and heart fibrillation. He suffered a further case of bacterial endocarditis in June 1968, which further weakened his heart. His awareness of overwork extended into the 1970s, when during an interview for a magazine, he described his working practice as something akin to an addiction, ‘My whole life was taken up by my career. I ate, drank, and slept movies. It became an excess. An addiction, I began getting headaches and taking pills for them’ (30 March 1974).34 He went on to talk about relieving some of this by taking time off and painting instead; this is supported in a letter to Biddy during the mid-1950s but he was never able to give up on work for long, always returning to his passion. All of these illnesses and overwork saw a decline in McLaren’s output and, combined with his age, reduced the number of duties he was prepared to take on. Always a prolific letter writer and keen to support people who were interested in his work, increasingly NFB staff, and often Guy Glover, would respond on McLaren’s behalf. Despite all of this, he did not retire from the board until 1984, having completed his final film, Narcissus in 1983. In the later years, McLaren fell and broke his hip, which required surgery. During this time Glover was also very ill with cancer. McLaren died of a heart attack in January 1987 at the age of 72.

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Significant Other The language previously used regarding McLaren and Glover was usually guarded or ambiguous. Terence Dobson35 refers to this key relationship but says little beyond Glover playing a supporting role in his life. Other authors such as Thomas Waugh have discussed their sexuality in the greater context of Canadian cinema in more detail, but as previously suggested, this aspect of McLaren’s life will not simply be alluded to here. Waugh described McLaren as fitting, ‘one stereotype of the gay artist perfectly  – not the tormented self destroyer but the sensitive, fastidious, and solitary craftsman and visionary’.36 This description reveals much about his personality, which can be gleaned through his work; though not always revealing much about his sexual preferences would certainly belie a playful and humourous side, it suggested a youthful outlook, despite a political ideology marred by personal experience of conflict seen in his early travels to Spain during the civil war. In a letter to his friend Biddy Russell in 1952, in what looks very much like a rejection of her advances, McLaren explains his feelings, There is so much that I should have explained to you long ago, but I haven’t ever had time . . . and perhaps also neither the inclination, for it does not come easily to me to talk of such matters; nor for a long time did it ever occur to me that I would need to explain. But I am forced to, clearly and in essence. It could not be said more simply that that I am just plan allergic to womenfolk; I mean, in their physical form or close presence . . . there is nothing I can do about it; there is nothing I wish to do about it. It is fundamental to me. I am happy this way . . . The ‘natural’ world for me is quite ‘unnatural’ and vice versa. (28 December 1952)37

This is particularly interesting in the context of what the archive reveals in terms of both how long Glover had been of constant reference in McLaren’s life. From the exchange of letters, McLaren rarely ever mentions anyone else to Biddy, male or female, yet in a later response, Biddy is unhappy at the mention of Guy and her jealousy is clear. A few years later their letters return to a previous form – fairly open and honest in terms of feelings about health and wellbeing, but with no mention of any other people in their lives. This of course is very different to the way Glover is discussed in the letters to McLaren’s parents as the next section will elucidate.

Guy Glover (1909–1988) From the time he lived in London, there was one constant source of support in McLaren’s life. Guy Glover is often referred to euphemistically as McLaren’s ‘lifetime companion’, and in the Creative Process documentary, also his ‘creative confidante’.38 Their homosexual partnership is seldom discussed – in part due to the

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Figure 1.19 Guy Glover, c.1934. Acc 14 04 003.

legality, or lack thereof, of the times in which they lived, in part due to the private nature of both men, but also as it is often not considered to be of relevance when discussing McLaren’s work. To a certain extent the latter point is true; there are other factors of influence in McLaren’s films (abstraction, movement, music, politics) which are perhaps of more interest to animators and those interested in animation history. However, it seems fitting, and indeed necessary here, to discuss the relationship which was arguably the most important to McLaren’s life. As Foucault says, ‘The private life of an individual, his sexual preference, and his work are interrelated not because his work translates his sexual life, but because the work includes the whole life as well as the text.’39 There is very little written about Glover despite his equally long career with the NFB of Canada as a producer, occasional writer and director. He tends to be considered as a footnote or a passing reference to McLaren’s more famous name. This section will consider Glover in his own right, as far as possible, but also, crucially in reference to McLaren and their partnership. Letters to his parents reveal the constancy of their relationship as much as anything else and this chapter will include examples of these moments of domesticity, creative support and personal support. Due to the lack of biographical information on Glover, it was necessary to look beyond the more commonly associated NFB or other film history texts. According to census and ancestral archives, Guy Glover was born Herbert

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Guy Glover in Peckham, London, England, on 5 November 1909. His parents, Herbert Arthur and Edith Florence Glover emigrated with Guy to Canada in 1913, where they appeared on the 1916 census living in Alberta. They were noted as being naturalized Canadians by this time. This information clarifies his nationality and birth information; however, there is very little beyond this which talks about his life as he grew up. He had a younger sister and brother, born in Canada, but there is very little information on them. His nephew, David Lloyd Glover, a California-based artist, was able to fill in some of the gaps in Glover’s life and described his uncle as an ambitious and driven ‘selfmade man’.40 Raised in a blue-collar neighbourhood, Glover was keenly aware of the issues facing workers during the depression. He, like McLaren, used his art as a platform for airing his views and shared McLaren’s politics. This was demonstrated in his involvement with the Progressive Arts Club in Vancouver which staged Clifford Odet’s political ‘workers play’ Waiting for Lefty in 1935. According to Russwurm41 the production was criticized as ‘indecent’ and ‘offensive’, with communist undertones:  ‘Indeed, the play triggered a public debate about whether propaganda and art were mutually exclusive.’42 The play received negative attention from local law enforcement who wanted the play shut down, or at the very least, censored for ‘vulgar language’. Russwurm describes how two words in the script were changed: King did agree to change two words in order to appease the authorities:  ‘fruit’ and ‘sonovabitch.’ In the case of the former, King quoted its use in the script: Labor Spy:The time ain’t ripe. Like a fruit don’t fall off the tree until it’s ripe. Voice: Sit down, you fruit! ‘I’m told that “fruit” has a double meaning and carried an unpleasant connotation,’ King wrote, ‘so we will drop the “fruit” and substitute “lemon” or possibly some vegetable.’43 Despite these issues (and the constant monitoring for decency), the play toured the area and the group took it to the Dominion Drama Festival in Ottawa where it received a better reception, including winning ‘best English language play’.44 Sometime after this, according to passenger manifests, Guy traveled back to the UK in November 1936 from New York to Plymouth to stay in London, with his profession listed as ‘actor’. According to McLaren’s biographer, Don McWilliams, Guy was an actor and director in theatre in London when he met McLaren, presumably having moved to capitalize on his successful direction and staging of Lefty in Canada. David Glover recalled that Guy moved to work at the fledgling BBC; however, there are few records from this period, though he believed that the pair met in 1936.

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The first direct reference to Glover in McLaren’s letters to his parents was during his time in London, when he talks about a trip to the ballet together – this was in 1937. In 1938 he outlines his work and domestic progress, his garden plans and the political climate. He refers both to spending time with a friend of Guy’s, who visited them for dinner, and to their habit of listening to a radio programme from New York. This early detail already hints at a level of shared domesticity but still says nothing about Guy’s work or interests. McLaren refers to a previous phone conversation so one can presume that his parents already know much about Guy, which is not explicitly written about at this time. In a letter to his parents in August 1938, McLaren includes thanks to his parents on Guy’s behalf for their recent stay in Albert Place. Here we begin to see the constant nature of their relationship. Not only does McLaren include news of Guy to his parents (increasingly so as the years go by) but also regularly

Figure  1.20 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover with McLaren’s parents in Stirling, c.1937. GAA/31/PP 19 127.

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Figure  1.21 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover digging Anderson shelter, Stirling, c.1937. GAA/31/PP 19 044.

tells them that ‘Guy says hello’ or ‘sends his greetings’. In Figures 1.20 and 1.21 we see Glover with McLaren’s parents in an early visit to Albert Place, and then digging the garden to install an Anderson air raid shelter. The pair immigrated to New  York in October 1939 at the outset of war; again the letters detail news from both of them. On the weeklong voyage by sea, McLaren is well, whereas Guy is struck by seasickness and spends the entire trip in his cabin. After they arrived and settled in the city, the letters continue in the same style as in London, outlining living expenses and general interesting notes about New York (see Chapter 3 on Travel for more details); however his news on Guy begins to form more of a shape of both Glover’s career ambitions and their professional partnership. Glover’s theatrical ambitions, mentioned by McWilliams, are never discussed in any letter once they have arrived in New  York. He began writing scripts for the growing television market, receiving favorable responses from NBC within only a few months of their arrival. McLaren also quickly found some success, creating a short Christmas film for the same network.45 Stories about the social aspects of their life, from cinema trips to a key visit to an event hosted by Baroness Rebay and a subsequent meeting, continued to reinforce their closeness through their time together as well as the supporting role Guy played in McLaren’s career. The nature of the relationship becomes fascinating viewed through the lens of history. In New York they had a busy social life and made many new friends with whom they spent a great deal of time – often artistic contacts who could help with both of their careers. They spent weekends with these friends at beach homes and at parties. They were clearly being invited as a couple as such, but given the context of the age and

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Figure 1.22 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover, c.1940. GAA/31/PP 19 071.

the illegal (and arguably more hidden) nature of homosexuality, it is curious and one wonders if they were able to be a couple in the contemporary sense of the word. This supportive environment allowed McLaren to continue to experiment in his filmmaking and develop his artistic career. McLaren’s relationship with John Grierson will be discussed in detail in the next chapter, but here it is important to discuss how Grierson would be of equal importance and influence in Glover’s life. When McLaren arrived in New York in 1939, he wrote several letters to Grierson in Canada, to update him on his progress, and indirectly enquire about work. On 12 December 1939, he asked about work for Guy, as well as provided a more detailed biography of Glover’s career to date: As a possible recruit to the movement, I am sending to see you a young fellow, Guy Glover – a Canadian. It is as a very intelligent handler of actors and enacted material, and as a dialogue writer, that I think he may be of value. For some years I have known his work in London where he has produced several left-wing plays, notably introducing Clifford Odets to the professional stage there. Previous to that he had worked as a semi amateur in Canada where his acting and directing of ‘Waiting for Lefty’ won much appreciation. As an actor, I know that Robert Flaherty thinks a lot of him. He has a genuine interest in realism and the interpretation of fact and, though he has

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done this up until now in theatre, he has for some time past been wishing to change his medium to film. Being a Canadian, and at the same time having an understanding of the documentary movement as we know it, he may be of use to you.46

By reinforcing the political nature of Lefty and highlighting how instrumental Glover was in the production, McLaren’s glowing reference shows how highly he thought of Guy’s work, as well as revealing a certain sense of pride in today’s context. Despite the eloquence of this introduction though, by the time McLaren was planning to leave New York for the Film Board in 1941, Glover was still trying to forge a career in New York. (McLaren did not assume this would be the end of their relationship, telling his parents in August 1941 that he wanted to try and find work for Guy in Canada so that he could join McLaren there. He also hadn’t decided how long the move would be for:  ‘Guy will be staying here, as he has more possibilities and prospects here than in Canada.’ ‘I don’t know how long I shall be in Canada, perhaps six months, perhaps several years, or even more. I don’t know’ (3 August 1941).47 Despite staying behind in New York due to his Canadian citizenship, Glover had to travel to and from Canada periodically to maintain his visa. From August 1941 to the following January, Glover remained in New York, but the particular technical film processing labs in New York that McLaren needed allowed him to visit ‘Guy’s place’ (21 February 1942). On 21 February 1942, McLaren told his parents that Guy would be moving to Ottawa to become his assistant at the board and that he had found a small apartment for them to live in, which also had space to work.48 Once Guy had settled into life in Ottawa with McLaren, they resumed the busy social life of evenings with other film board colleagues and the occasional party at the Griersons’. During this period (and throughout the war years) the main output of the Film Board was in the form of public information or propaganda films. McLaren was hired to work on the ‘lighter films’ and to bring his lively humour to serious subjects. He created a series on films such as savings bonds, and one such film Dollar Dance (1943) was a key release, on which Guy, though uncredited, worked as assistant. Guy is busy working on a film under my supervision about recruiting. He does this, when he is not occupied in assisting me in any of my own particular films. He is liking the work very much and I think it is acting as a real tonic to him to have a regular job, after such a long period of temporary freelance work. (11April 1942)49

The steady work helped Glover establish his position at the board; his talents were quickly realized, and by January 1943, ‘Grierson moved Guy to a new and important job, which carries a lot more responsibility with it, that[n]

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the work he was doing with me. He is in charge of short films which come out every week in Canadian theatres; a new film a week, which means a lot more work’ (24 January 1943).50 He initially worked under Stuart Legg and Raymond Spottiswoode51 though his role would change over the years. However, as well as working in his new capacity, Glover still supported McLaren’s work, I have been extremely busy this past week again . . . Guy has been helping me . . . I need a lot of patience in dealing with all my assistants, who are as yet only partly trained . . . Yesterday, all of my paraphernalia for drawing on film . . . was moved out into a building at the Film Board . . . I haven’t done any direct drawing on film myself for many months now, as I am much too busy, trying to build up an Animation department. However, I am trying to train some of the boys to do this sort of drawing. (16 May 1943)52

This type of pressure on McLaren was not uncommon and in these early days, Glover would act as assistant when it was required, though later he would support McLaren elsewhere at the board. By the summer of 1943 though, McLaren told his parents how busy Guy was on his new series, Canada Carries On (the precursor to the long-running and occasionally controversial World in Action series).53 The NFB history suggests that a French language division of the board was set up in 1943, and though there is no specific detail on when Glover made the change in his duties, Jack Ellis lists this as Glover’s role when discussing the output of the division in 1943.54 Though McLaren’s letters continued over the next few years, there was little specific discussion of Guy, the assumption being that his work was continuing in the same vein as before and that he was well – there was still the customary greeting at the end of the letter on Guy’s behalf, of course. The level of work described in the letters home suggests that there was very little time for anything beyond work during busy periods. Though as the years in Ottawa went by, the pair continued with their work and socialized with their colleagues at the board, including, quite frequently, with the Griersons. Over the next couple of years most of McLaren’s time was spent training new animators and developing an animation department within the board, a task which he quickly relinquished once he was satisfied it was up and running and he could go back to the more enjoyable role of making films. Glover was working to the ethic which so many at the board shared, values strongly encouraged by Grierson. Ellis suggested that the board was run with distinctions between the ‘artists’ and other filmmakers, Guy Glover, on the other hand observed that a sense of vocation to public service carried a lot of weight with Grierson – perhaps more than one’s qualities as a filmmakers. Glover admitted some feelings as a Canadian and an artist against ‘the British boys’ and what he regarded as their didactism and

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lack of creativity. Of Grierson personally he conceded, as did others, that he never stood on formality – even after hours he was apt to drop in at their homes for a drink and chat.55

This quote from an interview with Glover reinforces the social relationship the pair had with the Griersons as well as demonstrating his work ethic and interest in social filmmaking as an extension of his political theater days. By the start of 1946, however, the dynamic at the board changed when Grierson left (this is discussed further in the Chapter 2) and attempted to set up a new documentary film studio in New York. He encouraged several of the NFB staff, including Glover, to move with him. McLaren was less interested in moving due to the assumption that the work would not be as interesting as his current work and it would disrupt his experiments into stereographic painting. In letters to his parents in June 1946, McLaren mentioned that Guy was still unsure of what to do but by October the move had been decided and Guy moved back to New York, but this time without McLaren. In a letter of April 1946, McLaren outlines the further changes in Guy’s job, with yet another move by Grierson (this time to Paris and UNESCO). Stuart Legg has taken over the concern in New York from Grierson, and Guy will still be continuing on . . . This weekend we have Raymond Spottiswood staying with us at 520. He, with Legg and Guy is the third in trio running this film company in New York. When there I saw the film that Guy has just completed producing. It is called ‘Wonder-Eye,’ and it is all about the wonderful things the movie camera can do for mankind.56

Once again, the use of the labs in New York as well as actual vacation time provided McLaren time to visit Glover in New York, and he often wrote about staying with him or catching up. In a short note, McLaren told his parents about both of their trips, I had a very pleasant weekend in New York, just a week ago . . . I went to see the Ballet on Saturday evening, and on the Sunday Guy and I had lunch with the Alexieffs, after which we went to another Ballet . . . This weekend Guy arrived by plane from New York Friday evening. It is like old times having him around the house again. (17 November 1946)57

The separation did not stop McLaren passing on Glover’s news to his parents and suggests that the long distance nature did not unduly affect their relationship. Indeed this would only be one of the several times the couple were living apart, and the nature of the promotional aspect of the film board would take each of them away for extended trips to festivals. However, these trips would come later and in 1947, McLaren told his parents in a postcard from a conference in Nice that Guy was in hospital in New York with appendicitis. McLaren

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often used these work trips to include personal travel and in this case visited Guy on his return from Europe. He also extended his stay to include research. I saw Grierson at a screening of films that Guy arranged; some of the latest films that Guy has been working on. Grierson left for Mexico yesterday . . . On Wednesday, Guy and I went down to Washington by train, a four hour trip, Guy had business and I was anxious to see the art galleries there . . . I also did some research in the libraries for some of my next films. (1 November 1947)58

During these few years McLaren continued with his fairly steady output of films, producing both Fiddle Dee Dee and Poulette Grise in 1947, as well as starting initial drawing for La Merle (1958), which he referred to as his ‘little blackbird’ film. In 1949 McLaren produced Begone Dull Care with Evelyn Lambart (discussed further Chapter 5 Collaborations) by which time Glover had returned from New York and was working at the film board once more. According to David Lloyd Glover, Guy was instrumental in securing the music from the Oscar Peterson Trio, which would be so integral to the rhythm of the film. However this reunion was short-lived as by October 1949 McLaren had left for his trip to China with UNESCO, separating the pair once more. When they were together, much of the socializing included Evelyn Lambart, with frequent dinners and weekends spent together, as well as ‘xmas supper and breakfast’. This settled domestic space would be threatened by UNESCO again when Guy received an offer in 1951. Guy has just had an offer of a job from UNESCO . . . to go to Djakarta (Indonesia) for a year . . . [but he probably could not because of his role at the board] . . . he was made an executive producer, which is one of the most important posts, right next to the Film Commissioner, and it would be very difficult to interrupt his work here now. (7 January 1951)

Though Glover did not travel to Indonesia at this point, McLaren followed up his UNESCO trip with another to India in 1952; Glover also travelled to India in 1965, another long separation. As well as noting his absence on a personal level, this letter also demonstrates a pride in his partner’s achievements and the level of responsibility which Glover very quickly accepted (despite a short break from the board). One might have assumed that this important role would have ensured more mention of Glover in the history of the film board; however, like many others over the seventy plus years, and despite playing a significant role in its early success, he is generally only briefly discussed. He is often considered to have been one of the best presidents of the board, but again there is so little information that his impact is severely underestimated. Much of this lack of sufficient discussion on his achievements could be in part due to his private nature and

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modesty. He was a mentor to many, and his talents extended beyond production and direction of films and later executive roles. He narrated over 400 films for the board, with his language skills extending into Spanish and Italian, as well as the required French. He was also a dancer, with a passion for ballet and the performing arts – a love which McLaren shared intensely. But this information comes from family recollections, rather from historic records from the institution, which seems to have neglected his legacy. I would argue that this suggests a demonstrable lack of engagement with a fuller history beyond the ‘stars’ and reinforces that Glover would work hard to support others (while producing his own art) but would not seek glory for it. Though the NFB’s French website contains a spotted filmography of Glover, the navigation to this point is difficult. As well as supporting McLaren in his career, Glover worked with other reputable filmmakers, including the pioneering animator Lotte Reiniger, producing her 1976 film Aucassin et Nicolette, which she made at the board. He also worked with Claude Jutra, producing Jutra’s 1956 film Chantons Maintenant as well as Les mains nettes in 1958. As well as directing his own films and producing numerous films – according to Waugh ‘approximately 290 films over almost thirty-five years beginning in 1941’,59 – he directed his own foray into experimental animation. Marching the Colours (1952) is described as An experiment in film animation, visualizing a well-known military march in abstract, geometric patterns of colour. Bold hues move, march, blend and separate in a dynamic pattern of mobile forms, giving colour and shape to the sound patterns of the music. A film made without use of a camera. Rereleased in 1952.60

This style is of course one of McLaren’s signatures, and the production of this film suggests that not only was the board still encouraging this type of production, but that Glover had also enjoyed his time assisting McLaren in the previous decade and decided to try the techniques of cameraless animation, which McLaren helped to pioneer. Many of Glover’s films focused on the performing arts which Waugh has suggested was something he had been typecast in producing. Waugh goes on to outline some of the themes which Glover dealt with most often: ‘intercultural exchanges, nonconformity, progressive causes, and especially the performing arts’.61 In Waugh’s in-depth examination of ‘transgression’ in Canadian cinema, he suggests that Glover (and to a certain extent McLaren) was able to deal with what Waugh terms ‘alternative masculinity’ while contemplating Glover’s private nature. In this lengthy quote he outlines his assessment of one of Glover’s own quotes: McLaren would later claim that his closetry was in deference to Glover, and one of Glover’s rare public utterances implicitly corroborates this. Glover’s

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Norman McLaren 1967 article ‘How to Make a Canadian Film’ was an ironic scolding of the new waves of the late sixties . . . [includes] a note about themes:  ‘Youth in revolt is a perfect subject-area. Post-teens in revolt is perfect for a post-teens director. Departures from mental and sexual norms (so-called) are especially desirable’ (1967). In that parenthical [sic] ‘so-called,’ by which Glover qualified ‘sexual norms,’ there nevertheless seems to be a hint, two years before the decriminalization of sodomy, of the relativity of those norms, one of the few glints in this public armour of mentorial disdain where the private queer elder glints indulgently through.62

In this article Glover is perhaps better able to make these veiled references to his own sexuality as McLaren would in the 1970s  – each becoming perhaps more open in the changing social climate and/or also more comfortable in their own sexuality in this later stage of their lives. As McLaren’s celebrity, and with it his work load, increased in the 1950s, Guy’s support and caring became more frequent features of the letters home. Their friendship with Evelyn Lambart and Grant Munro, among others at the board, suggests an acceptance of the couple and a general comfort in each other’s company. McLaren and Guy were frequent dinner guests with ‘Eve’ and spent vacations and holidays together. In a letter to McLaren’s parents from Evelyn, she recounts a fun trip to her vacation home, ‘[Norman] and Guy and I had a few days at Blue Sea last summer where you really get away from people and relax and I think they both enjoyed it. Norman painted all the time that we were not swimming, and I got Guy carving a fork and spoon out of drift wood’ (5 February 1953). The language suggests an everyday comfort and matter-offact recalling of their trip together. As well as McLaren’s letters often featuring news about his own health, he told his parents of Glover’s health as well, further reinforcing the close relationship and care that his parents had for Glover as McLaren’s partner. In 1957 he told his mother about a three-week hospital stay, which Guy had for migraines, and worried that they might be ‘tension headaches.’ During McLaren’s hospitalizations, Glover was a frequent visitor and support. Despite the closeness of their relationship, the pair often took vacations separately, with Glover visiting his family in Edmonton during Christmas and McLaren travelling to Mexico, on doctor-ordered rest and relaxation trips. Even during these periods apart, McLaren informed his parents of Glover’s whereabouts, such as a trip to Banff in 196363 or noted his absence in 1965, while Glover was in India: ‘It’s strange not having Guy around. I have not heard from him in India yet’ (17 January 1965).64 Glover’s return from India is detailed in a letter to his mother in February 1965, The big event this week was Guy’s return . . . I  spent Friday morning at home, hearing his news when it was all so fresh. Then last night we had

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Figure  1.23 Norman McLaren and Guy Glover, Montreal, 1974. Image courtesy of David Lloyd Glover.

several close friends in for dinner, and we all heard many more of his impressions of the lands he had visited & stories of his trip, and we projected a lot of color slides he had taken in India. It was most interesting. The country he had liked best in his travels was CEYLON  – he thought it was so beautiful and the people so kind and friendly. He has come home laden with strange & fascinating gifts; for me he brought a beautiful Chinese scroll painting mounted on silk  – the subject is bamboo . . . He himself is looking so well & rested & he has put on weight, as a result of his holiday.65

In the next year, in an attempt to create a larger working space, McLaren moved out of the shared apartment but notes that, ‘Guy’s is right next door, & I have all my meals there, & we entertain there. Grant’s [Munro] is right above me’ (11 October 1965). In the late 1960s, when McLaren was having a particularly difficult time with depression, Glover was of enormous support, being able to help discuss his feelings about his work and life in general. This close support lasted until the end of their lives together. They retired together to Hudson, a small off-island suburb of Montreal, with a house and garden, but both faced increasing bad health. Glover survived a bout of prostate cancer but by the mid-1980s had developed a tumour in his lung. He received chemotherapy treatment and did well but died in 1988, one year after McLaren.

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Notes 1 Quote from May Ebbitt Cutler “Norman McLaren Reflections on a Life” Canada Cinema Volume 99, September 1983, in Thomas Waugh, The Romance of Transgression in Canada, Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2006, p. 464. 2 The documentary was produced in 1990. McWilliams supplied me with a copy of the script to accurately capture the quotes. 3 Nicholas De Villiers, Opacity and the Closet: Queer Tactics in Foucault, Barthes, and Warhol, Minneapolis, MN: Minnesota University Press, 2012, p.11. 4 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/22. 5 Ibid. 6 A recent conversation with McLaren’s friend and biographer Donald McWilliams suggests that McLaren was fearful of his parents finding out and was rather ashamed. Unrecorded conversation, 11 April 2014. 7 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/22. 8 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/17. 9 University of Stirling Archive GAA: 31: 74. 10 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1948/5. 11 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1957/6. 12 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1958/5. 13 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1938/2. 14 Donald McWilliams, Creative Process script, 1990. 15 This 1945 film was made using pastel drawings in a series of metamorphic dissolves to create movement and rhythm. The film was part of the Chants Populaires No.6 series of Canadian folk songs. Technical notes by McLaren available from the NFB archive online http://www3.nfb.ca/archives_mclaren/ notech/NT_EN.pdf (accessed 6 June 2017). 16 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/28. 17 New acquisition at the University of Stirling archive – not yet catalogued. 18 This is also discussed by Terence Dobson in The Film Work of Norman McLaren (Eastleigh: John Libbey, 2006) in the opening chapters on McLaren’s time at Glasgow School of Art and in later examples of McLaren’s technical notes. 19 Glasgow Evening News, 12 December 12 1934, no author listed. Held at the University of Stirling Archive. 20 ‘A documentary about Biggar’s life and work produced by the Birmingham Film Workshop and based on an unpublished biography by her niece, Anna Shepherd called “Traces Left” (available through the British Film Institute, London)’. ‘Helen Biggar’, Mapping the Practice and Profession of Sculpture in Britain and Ireland 1851–1951, University of Glasgow History of Art and HATII, online database 2011 http://sculpture.gla.ac.uk/view/person.php?id=msib6_1222162579 (accessed 29 April 2014). 21 T. Dobson, The Film Work of Norman McLaren, p.50. 22 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/3/1936/9. 23 University of Stirling Archive, press clippings box GAA31, Evening News, Glasgow, from 22 February 1937. 24 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/3/1936/32.

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34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

42

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53

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55 56 57 58

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University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/6. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1946/10. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1946/10. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1956/11. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1957/1. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1957/11. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1958/5. These later letters from the University of Stirling archive are not catalogued at the time of writing. Two years later, he speaks of his father in a letter about a dedication of a new camera to a local church and McLaren approves the text which is to accompany the event, February 1965. Quote taken from an interview published in Weekend Magazine, 30 March 1942. T. Dobson, The Film Work of Norman McLaren. Waugh, The Romance of Transgression in Canada, p.463. National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/3. McWilliams, Creative Process script. Foucault 1986 in De Villiers,. Opacity and the Closet, p.13. In a Skype discussion, David Glover discussed his uncle’s early life and his life with McLaren. These stories will be referred to throughout this chapter. Lani Russwurm, ‘Waiting for Lefty’ Past Tense Vancouver Histories website http:// pasttensevancouver.wordpress.com/2010/10/29/waiting-for-lefty/, 29 October 2010 (accessed 12 February 2014). Ibid. The Past Tense Vancouver Histories website includes a full account of the production of the play and the local politics and police involvement in attempting to close it down. Ibid. Ibid. This film is listed in the NFB filmography as NBC Greeting (1940). University of Stirling, Grierson Archive, G4-23-54-1. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/23. Glover had previously helped McLaren when they were living in New York. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/8. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/3. Both men had worked with Grierson in London at the GPO and had come to Canada to help him found the NFB. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/5. Albert Ohayon writes about both of the series and the NFB’s role in wartime propaganda in his blog, ‘Propaganda Cinema at the NFB’, http://blog.nfb.ca/2009/ 09/30/propaganda-cinema-the-world-in-action/, 30 September 2009 (accessed 19 February 2014). Jack Ellis notes in his book, John Grierson: Life, Contributions, Influence (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000), p. 158, that Glover was head of the French language unit in 1943. Ibid., p.173. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1946/12. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1//1946/12. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1947/8.

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59 Waugh, The Romance of Transgression in Canada, p. 421. 60 Information from the NFB website http://onf-nfb.gc.ca/fr/notre-collection/ ?idfilm=574 (accessed 14 April 2014). 61 Waugh, The Romance of Transgression in Canada, p.421. 62 Ibid., p. 421–2. 63 Detailed in a letter home, Sunday 9 June 1963, University of Stirling Archive, not catalogued. 64 By the next letter home (26 January), McLaren has heard from Guy in India and filled his parents in on the news. 65 Letter dated, ‘Last Sunday in February 1965’.

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Chapter 2 S T I R L I N G’ S   S O N S John Grierson (1898–1972)

Figure 2.1 John Grierson (date unknown).

I often wonder what would have happened to me if I’d been born 2  years earlier, and never met John Grierson at the Scottish Amateur Film Festival in 1935. I was just very lucky – what a matter of chance!1

John Grierson is often credited for much of McLaren’s success; he ‘discovered’ young McLaren at the Glasgow Amateur Film Festival in 1936 and offered him a job at the GPO in London, and later at the NFB of Canada. These key job offers did indeed impact dramatically on McLaren’s career and is commonly referred to in literature on McLaren. The depth of their relationship could be argued to be more than a boss- employee role, but rather mentor, and eventually a friend. This chapter will examine their lasting relationship which developed over time

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to become what Forsyth Hardy referred to as ‘one of the most fascinating stories in the whole history of film’. I was sitting beside Grierson when we first saw this film at the Scottish Amateur Film Festival in Glasgow. One was made from painting directly onto the celluloid and, when Grierson saw this, he grasped my arm (I’ve still got the dent) and said, ‘Who made these?’ I told him a little about the man. That was the beginning of the contact between Grierson and McLaren. The other film was about life at the Glasgow School of Art, called Seven till Five or something of the kind. It was full of amateurish camera tricks. Norman later told me Grierson was aghast at this film because he thought it was full of sexual symbolism. Grierson took him off and gave him a proper wigging about making a film full of sexual symbolism, and that certainly put Norman off . . . The link between Grierson and McLaren is one of the most fascinating stories in the whole history of the film . . . The full inter-relationship between the two men is utterly fascinating. I think it would have happened anyway but it appeared stronger because both men came from Stirling.2

Grierson is well known in film studies as a pioneer in documentary filmmaking and is credited with much of the modern understanding of factual film production. He was also well known outside of the academy as a prolific writer and presenter of Scotland. This chapter begins with a biographical approach and consider the parallels between Grierson and McLaren’s lives at home and how they intersected abroad. It looks at Grierson’s own relationship with Scotland and suggests that by maintaining this in a more explicit way than McLaren, he was able to perhaps enjoy more recognition at home, even while he lived away. This connection to Scotland is perhaps what inspired the initial enthusiasm, beyond the talent Grierson spotted, but was something which lasted over the years as an important link between the two men. From this biographical account, the relationship will be considered once again through McLaren’s letters to his parents and friends, about Grierson, but also to Grierson, and their opinions gathered in interviews. It is interesting to see how their initial meeting was recalled by each party and the how their practices complimented one another. There have been numerous, detailed accounts of Grierson’s life over the years, perhaps most importantly the publications by Forsyth Hardy, who spent a considerable amount of time with him. He is also the subject of several notable articles and books on his work including Ellis3 and Murray4 as well as several more general accounts on documentary,5 Hardy’s books are far more in depth than this chapter needs to be but will be referred to throughout out as a vital resource. Though these other texts give full accounts of Grierson’s life, it is useful here to examine it further as both a reminder of his legacy, and to fully consider the nature of their lasting mentor and friend relationship.

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Born in Deanston Village, Perthsire, on 26 April 1898, John Grierson, like McLaren, was from a relatively comfortable family, with working-class roots in the fishing industry in the northeast of Scotland, then transformed by his father Robert Morrison Grierson, who took a job as a schoolmaster in Deanston. The Griersons had a long family tradition of light keepers, but Robert’s success at the school saw him promoted to headmaster. Grierson’s mother Jane Anthony was also a teacher and was very politically active due to strong family influences from her own father; she was a suffragette and a socialist. This had a great deal of influence on the young John, who was surrounded by political discussion from an early age. Grierson had three older sisters and a younger brother when they moved to Cambusbarron, Stirling, in 1900 (he later had three younger sisters [one died]). Notable among his siblings were fellow future directors Marion and Ruby, who would share his interest in political and social films. Grierson attended Stirling High School in 1908, as McLaren would in the 1930s; he thought some of his father’s teaching focused too much on the individual and education for its own sake. He was concerned with social issues (as his mother and grandfather had been). Grierson did very well at school and was accepted to the University of Glasgow in 1914, but the breakout of war disrupted his education. He initially went to work in munitions in Alexandria then joined the Navy volunteer reserve (NVR) and trained at Crystal Palace in London. Forsyth Hardy makes reference to Grierson’s upbringing in Scotland as fundamental – his parents were teachers who were ‘dedicated to their profession to a degree one seldom finds today, even in Scotland, with its long tradition in Education’.6 Grierson’s mother came from a suffragette background, her father a staunch socialist. Due to this exposure to a very specific educational and political life, John very quickly became aware of social inequalities in his local area and in the wider country. ‘For Grierson, therefore, education as we knew it in Scotland in the first decade of the century was a way of life.’7 This suggests that he continued to have a desire to educate in much of his work; his films and writing are educational (albeit for an adult audience), as well as trying to facilitate the creation of bodies which could provide education such as film boards providing propaganda, something which would be the driving force of much of his later career. The distinction should be made here that Grierson viewed propaganda as a tool to educate and inform the state, rather than the perhaps more sinister connotations that the phrase has in contemporary, and particularly post-war society. In order to participate in the war, which had disrupted his studies, he lied about his age to become a telegraphist in the NVR and from 1916 was aboard minesweepers where he became ‘accustomed to shipboard life’8 and the regimen of navy life. Grierson was finally able to join the University of Glasgow in 1919; however, Hardy described his classmates as ‘an angry generation’, “discourteous and arrogant and impatient with our masters’,9 and suggested that ‘the rebelliousness

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which had been generating in Grierson’s mind since his return from war service began to take deliberate and articulate form . . . Grierson was a member of the University Fabien Society . . . its star performer’.10 The upheaval of war had left its impact but likewise the issues at home were of equal concern for Grierson, who had seen injustice and poverty in his local mining village. ‘In Glasgow and Clydeside it was a time of social upheaval and it would have been strange if Grierson, with the influence of his parents concern added to his own humanist inclination, had not responded.’11 Grierson began writing and focused on the problems he saw, Hardy suggesting that, ‘he was developing and strengthening his concepts of man and society which were so important to him in his later work’.12 (He was known to be highly argumentative, a trait he was said to enjoy and used this passion in his work.) He wrote poetry for Glasgow University Magazine (1920–23) and won several prizes at the university.13 Despite his grandfather’s and mother’s socialist affiliations, Grierson was not so specific in his politics, having a ‘disinclination to make an explicit party commitment – a disinclination which was to be present throughout his lifetime’.14 This refusal to sign up to any one party was similar to McLaren, who having originally identified as a communist in his youth, was quick to disavow them when he saw Russia’s participation in the war. He later suggested that he was a pacifist, but his politics, still left leaning, were very much humanist in nature. This shared interest in social issues would be evident in the work of both men as they progressed through their film careers. Grierson’s world travels began in earnest in 1924 when he visited Chicago on a Rockefeller fellowship. There he started a friendship with painter Rudolph Weisenborn. Though Grierson was there to witness the birth of jazz, he was not enamored of the University of Chicago: ‘He had to find a more active involvement.’15 He was interested in immigration and mass media, particularly in how the press was different in Europe and the United States. The fellowship gave Grierson the opportunity to see more of the country and he followed up his initial trip with a journey across the United States in 1925 and 1926. He began working in journalism in Chicago with a column on painting for the Evening Post.16 It was here that Grierson began researching the box office and looked at ‘success and failure’; he subsequently published seven articles for Motion Picture News in which he developed his forceful nature: ‘[he] accepted that film was a popular art . . . but he argued strongly that the producers should not despise their audience’.17 Like many others at the time, Grierson was influenced by the Russian filmmaking pioneer Sergei Eisenstein, and said of him, ‘He was the first to make it plain that the film could be an adult and positive force in the world. He was the first to demonstrate what the deliberate exercise of the power of the cinema might be.’18 McLaren would also be inspired by what he saw from Eisenstein and the new exciting possibilities of moving images.

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Perhaps one of the most pivotal occurrences for Grierson, however, was when he saw what is considered to be one of the earliest examples of documentary film – Nanook of the North – and met director Robert Flaherty in New York in 1925. He became what Hardy termed his ‘critical attorney’.19 It was while reviewing Flaherty’s film Moana for the Sun (8 February 1926) that he coined the term ‘documentary’ which is so commonly used today. This key and lasting phrase was troubling to Grierson, who desired a better description but later said, ‘Documentary is a clumsy description but let it stand.’20 He would later define documentary film as ‘the creative treatment of actuality’.21 This term was repeated by other filmmakers, including McLaren, who would use it to distinguish between ‘actuality’ and animation as an alternative to our more common term ‘live action’. After his time in the United States, Grierson returned to the UK in January 1927 and was unsure whether he wanted to continue to work in journalism or seek opportunities in the cinema which had interested him so much. He began working with the Empire Marketing Board in London, arranging screenings of documentaries (such as Flaherty’s Nanook of the North) in cinemas in London and then rural films in Scotland, including an agriculture conference in Edinburgh. Keen to encourage Empire Marketing Board to embrace what he saw as the potential of film, he was frustrated at the lack of pace and enthusiasm and decided to make his own film, Drifters. The film took several months of preparation and research visits and several weeks of filming. The production team created sets to replicate real life22 with approximately 20,000 feet of film Grierson had to learn to edit as he worked. ‘Grierson had a lot to learn, and learn he did, driven by desperation to make a success of the film.’23 During the editing process, he was assisted by Margaret Taylor, whom he met through the Empire Marketing Board; she would later become his wife. Hardy described an odd turn in the progress of the documentary when, ‘Grierson became involved in a curious diversion, the direction of puppet films, which seemed an unlikely pursuit for a man seeking realism in cinema.’24 This refers to a project aiding an Italian family who had lost a 200-year-old marionette collection in a fire at Wembley stadium. Grierson had been asked for advice and suggested remaking the puppets and using them to make ‘short burlesques about Hollywood’.25 He directed some of these featuring likenesses of stars such as Buster Keaton, the Marx Brothers and Gloria Swanson, among others. This seemingly divergent approach to filmmaking became ‘ an enthusiasm of Grierson’s which he would stoutly defend against all criticism’.26 This interest in puppetry demonstrated that he was receptive to other forms of filmmaking, including animation – an attitude which would enable him to support McLaren later. The editing of Drifters finished in 1929 and was shown to the Empire Marketing Board committee. They were unsure about the relatively new use of montage and asked for sections of it to be removed (Grierson thought these were the best sections) but he did so and re-edited.

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Norman McLaren It was a moment of immense significance for Grierson. Here was the product, not only of eighteen months of hard demanding work but of all he had absorbed in the first thirty years of his life. Behind it were the family’s lighthouse tradition, his own service at sea, his study in America of the social use of film, his conviction that the drama on the doorstep could be as exciting as any studio confection. Failure was unthinkable.27

The film got a screening at the fairly prestigious Film Society in London on 10 November 1929. He asked that his film be shown before Eisenstein’s Potemkin (Eisenstein was also attending). The film received numerous highly favourable reviews (and many comparing it to Potemkin as the preferred film on the bill) – this success led to the public release of the film throughout Britain. Stephen Tallent of the Empire Marketing Board wanted to follow up this success with another film, but Grierson instead wanted to encourage other filmmakers. He began to bring young filmmakers to the Empire Marketing Board, and due to the financial success of Drifters he was able to start gathering like-minded people in various positions. ‘For him documentary was never an adventure in filmmaking at all but an adventure in public observations.’28 This notion of the observational nature of the documentary film would be one of its key, and arguably most enduring, definition. Rather than make his own films, Grierson and Tallant formed a film unit within the board and worked hard to make films with others, while Grierson worked equally hard trying to secure funding. He married Margaret Taylor in January 1930. This role with the new film unit would be the first of many similar developmental, supporting positions he would fill over his career. While developing the board, Grierson returned to writing and began with film criticism for Clarion, a socialist monthly publication, starting in June 1929. He also wrote numerous articles for New Clarion, Everyman and New Britain, increasing his film criticisms and reviews. ‘Grierson was moving constantly about the country, talking to audiences about the work of the Empire Marketing Board. Some lectures were to film societies being organized on the model of the Film Society in London, on whose council Grierson was now serving. He spoke to the Film Society of Glasgow on 14 December 1930.’29 These travels would also set a precedent of his position, which would lead him to meet McLaren six years later. The Empire Marketing Board sent him to Canada in 1931 to try to develop trade. He went to the Canadian government’s motion picture bureau where he was impressed by their equipment, but less so of their content. During this time, he continued working at Empire Marketing Board and completed the Industrial Britain series, and these films were widely shown around the country. Coupled with Grierson’s ceaseless propagandising, in Whitehall, in the public prints and in lectures all over the country, they demonstrated that documentary was something more than a theory . . . As for the theory, Grierson had

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begun to give formal expression of the ‘First principles of Documentary’ in articles he wrote for Cinema Quarterly.30

These articles formed the basis for the modern documentary theory, something Grierson would passionately promote over the years. Despite initially wanting to encourage others, Grierson continued with his own filmmaking and made Granton Trawler in 1932 followed by The Private Life of Gannets in 1934 for which he won an Oscar in 1934 (this was filmed at the Bass Rock near the coast of Edinburgh, some thirty miles from his childhood home). The Empire Marketing Board ended in 1933 due to the depression; Stephen Tallents joined the GPO and took the film unit and film library of the Empire Marketing Board with him. He essentially saved Grierson from a commercial takeover which ‘for Grierson given the relationship he had established between filmmaking and public affairs, that was unthinkable’.31 The new unit began in earnest, and in 1936, NightMail was made as a collaboration between many of the staff, seen as something of a peak of production. The GPO film unit had a difficult beginning, with criticism from the British Film Institute (BFI) and various Conservative MPs, who were threatened by the film unit and wanted to limit their activities. However, documentary filmmaking was on the increase in the 1930s and started to move into more socially aware topics. The British Commercial Gas Association sponsored several films including Enough to Eat? The GPO began to establish its credentials as a place for developing new talent and doing good work. In 1935 New Zealander Len Lye arrived and the GPO ‘adopted Lye’s Colour Box. In the same style Lye made Rainbow Dance and Trade Tattoo’.32 A year later, in January 1936, Grierson was adjudicator at the Scottish Amateur Film Festival in Glasgow where he saw a film, Colour Cocktail, by a young student at the Glasgow School of Art. Norman McLaren had been experimenting in the same area as Len Lye without being aware of Lye’s work: he did not see ‘Colour Box’ until about two years later.33

Grierson was impressed with McLaren and ‘told him that when he completed his course there would be a job waiting for him’.34 McLaren arrived in London in 1936 and during his time at the GPO made Mony a Pickle and later Love on the Wing among others, which he contributed to. In the early months of his post, he was sent to Spain as a cameraman (he had been working in the cutting room). The output was The Defense of Madrid. McLaren was sympathetic to the Republicans, and though it is not explicitly stated, it can be assumed, given his personal politics, that Grierson shared these sympathies. This trip was just one that led to an increase of international documentaries at the GPO, though according to McLaren, as will be discussed later, the GPO was not officially involved in the production of Madrid.

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The GPO developed their output, and in April 1936, they incorporated the journal Cinema Quarterly into World Film News and Television Progress as a less theatrical publication which ‘resembled a tabloid’; however, this lasted only until 1938 due to poor circulation and lack of finance.35 The next few years were particularly busy for Grierson as he began to diversify some of his work. He became a consultant on Richard De Rochemont’s The March of Time documentary series. He was involved in persuading the formation of Films of Scotland Committee in 1936 to help Scottish filmmaking ahead of the Empire Exhibition to be held in Glasgow in 1938. At New York’s World Fair, Grierson struggled to have films shown as part of the British selection as they didn’t reflect tradition and ceremony. The films were shown within the American Science and Education section instead. Grierson resigned from the GPO on 30 June 1937 (he was accused tenuously of communism, something which would affect him again in the future). He was looking for more to do, feeling that during his tenure at the GPO he had been successful in both training and developing new talent, as well as having ‘stimulated a demand for documentary’.36 His success in developing talent and increasing the rate of documentary film production was noticed in 1937 when the high commissioner for Canada came to London and was interested in film and wanted to study the British documentary movement. This was delayed by various things, including wars in Europe and the death and coronation of the monarch in the UK, but Grierson was invited to Canada in 1938 to survey their film developments. After his visit to Canada he compiled a lengthy report to the government recommending what would eventually become the National Film Board. They were slow to initiate his recommendations, but eventually did so, asking him to be commissioner (various others were deemed unsuitable or left early in the role). He also spent more time in the United States making connections and trying to think about the potential for war propaganda. During this time Grierson also visited other British Commonwealth countries, including New Zealand which was enthusiastically receptive to his ideas and adopted many of them very quickly. He was less successful in Australia, which did not develop a national film board until after the war – the country was said to be too large and spread apart with no central will. After he returned to Canada the NFB was quickly established in an old warehouse in Ottawa. He set about bringing in the best staff he could from various other projects he had worked on around the world, including Norman McLaren who was working in New York for the Guggenheim. McLaren came to Ottawa on the promise that he would not work on war propaganda films and was given the freedom to work ‘where his genius was to enrich Canadian filmmaking over a span of thirty years’.37 Grierson was renowned for his work in establishing these boards and once said,

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The greatest export of the Film Board has been the Film Act itself. It’s been translated into many languages, it’s become the model of serious intention by the cinema in the service of government, all over the world. The success of the Film Board has been in its helping [the Department of] External Affairs to present the Canadian capabilities. The Film Board has been important in saying to countries of different kinds, all over the world, that the film is an instrument of great importance in establishing the patterns of national imagination.38

Indeed the act of establishing these boards around the world could be considered as one of Grierson’s greatest contributions to film history, were it not for the litany of other achievements, including his own award-winning film productions, the continuous incubation of new talents and the promotion of different lands, most notably his home. The NFB of Canada achieved a higher output of films in its first few years than its predecessor had in its history. This included French language films and an award-winning output, and significantly for such an early stage of its existence, prestigious Academy Awards. When Grierson wanted to leave at the end of his fixed term, people campaigned to keep him. He joined the Wartime Information Board in 1943 and had great aspirations as to the educational potential. Once more his interest in education and the possibilities of film as an educational tool became a driving force behind his work. In 1946, the communist issue which had arisen at the end of his GPO post returned and Grierson was asked to testify at the Royal Commission  – it seemed that one of his past secretaries (Freda Linton) had some Russian involvement and there were suggestions of communist sympathies at the NFB led by Grierson. He testified but the very fact of his presence at the hearing sullied his reputation; it was also the start of the McCarthy trials in the United States. In a shift away from Canada, he moved to New York to start a documentary company (The World Today series) taking some of the NFB colleagues with him, including Guy Glover. Though funding decreased, some films were made and he continued seeking support, but as the money ran out and the anticommunist mood grew, it became more difficult to work in the United States. Over the next year, different opportunities arose, first, an offer of a post by the UK government as head of information at UNESCO. He viewed this as a positive development and attended a conference to help draft plans on mass communication. He was offered a position in the United States but his visa was refused, something which he remained angry about. He took up the UNESCO role based in Paris in 1946, encouraging the making of films which would fit their remit (they had no budget). This post at UNESCO was another connection to McLaren who would travel with the organization to both China and India to develop filmmaking in the early 1950s. Another McLaren connection came in 1947 when Grierson was invited to open the first international festival of documentary films in Edinburgh in

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1947.39 Of the festival he said, ‘Here you are doing a great work . . . It is good that Scotland is making herself known, and on the higher levels of human relations, that is the only true publicity for one nation in its speech to another.’40 These encouraging words demonstrated Grierson’s commitment to both film and the increasing profile of Scotland in the industry, an area he would become part of again later. The UNESCO post, like every other, did not last long as Grierson came back to London as controller of Central Office of Information film operations. He found a lack of enthusiasm for the documentary form that he had founded. There was a lack of political will and what he viewed as ‘indifference’ from the filmmakers. He became involved in developing European film bodies to collaborate on the type of films he felt should be made. He visited South Africa and he enjoyed his trip but knew it was a very different place. In 1951, the Conservatives won the UK general election and disfunded the crown film unit, destroying the documentary movement in the form which Grierson had established it. The movement had peaked during the war and began to fizzle out due to politics and economics. Meanwhile, in 1950 he was offered a position as executive producer for Group 3 – a film cooperative production financed through the National Film Finance Corporation (NFFC)  – making features for cinemas. Forsyth Hardy suggested that he was interested in the change and opportunity to work with new filmmakers. Murray41 suggests that this opportunity could reinforce Grierson’s view of a ‘Scottish Cinema’, or certainly one which was free from the ‘grip’ of London.42 Murray quotes Grierson from a broadcast transcript in which he said, I like the thought that in Scottish films one is making movies about one’s own people . . . One advantage is that it gets you away from the standards of London, and the west-end in particular . . . I think they are at one remove from the observation of real situations and real people. Making Scottish films or Irish films or Lancashire films is a necessary corrective to the pursuits of the artificial in the metropolis.43

This once more reinforces the importance of realism and observation to Grierson. It also speaks of his view of Scotland and how important it would be later in his career. You’re only Young Twice (1951) which was set in Glasgow was not without its problems: ‘the leading lady’s plumy accent was unsuitable. Molly Weir’s voice was substituted. The film had a rough reception critically in London, unsympathetic to anything with a strong Scottish flavour’.44 Their later production, The Brave Don’t Cry about the Knockshinnoch pit collapse in Ayrshire was chosen to open the 1952 Edinburgh International Film Festival but was met with resistance from film companies who, according to Hardy’s recollections, and potentially biased viewpoint, did not want Group 3 to succeed. The film opened Edinburgh with great success and reviews. Despite the positive

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reviews the films were slated as ‘support’ in cinemas rather than leading the bill. Grierson was diagnosed with TB in both lungs in 1953 and was hospitalized for two weeks. He spent the next year convalescing at home – though he still looked at scripts and papers. Box office returns were not satisfactory to NFFC as funders and resulted in the end of the Group, ‘An idea launched with high promise could not survive in the cold climate of the commercial cinema.’45 On the closure of Group 3, he returned to Scottish films. As Hardy said of Grierson, ‘he had always returned to his native country whenever he had the opportunity and from the beginning his films had been of Scotland whenever that was possible’.46 Hardy also recounted, ‘I like the style of Scottish humour. I like the complicated Scottish approach to emotions.’47 The Scottish office had no funding or control over filmmaking so he ‘reconstituted the Films of Scotland Committee, under the umbrella of the privately financed Scottish Council Development and Industry’.48 Still trying to develop public bodies to support filmmaking, Hardy recalled that ‘Later he was to say that the Films of Scotland Committee was the happiest and most selfless body he had encountered since he was in Canada.’49 The output from the committee included Seawards the Great Ship, a film about Clydeside shipbuilding, which won numerous awards, including an Academy Award in 1961 and The Heart of Scotland which featured his native Stirling. Throughout these other ventures Grierson kept in touch with Canada and the NFB and wanted to return to see it. Sydney Newman invited him to visit in 1957, and during the trip he travelled to Vancouver, Edmonton and Toronto doing talks and interviews. He went on to Montreal to the NFB, which had moved in 1956. True to form, he wrote a report on the NFB after spending just a week there, commenting on what he had observed and how it had changed from his tenure and was unhappy with what he found, ‘He was aghast . . . Instead of the management serving the creative force, the creative force was serving the management.’50 However, the film board was no longer his concern and his attentions turned elsewhere, that is, back to his homeland and a project which would bring together so many aspects of his previous roles. As well as Hardy’s assertion of the level of interest in the relationship between Grierson and McLaren, one of the areas of interest in the initial conception of this book, was in the relationship between the two men and Scotland, and the extent to which each is remembered there. It was evident early on in the research process that Grierson was the better known of the two, and in terms of his wide-ranging and wide-reaching achievements in the development and promotion of the educational property of film, it is rightly the case. However, to those unfamiliar with the roles he played in the various film boards, Grierson became best known for his presentation and promotion of Scotland in a 1960s television series. Hardy’s 1979 edited collection of Grierson’s essays opens with a telling quote, It was not through his writing but through television that Grierson became most widely known in Scotland. The programme, This Wonderful World,

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Norman McLaren which he presented for some ten years . . . Grierson almost immediately captured a large popular audience which steadily grew, north and eventually south of the Border, until the programme reached the Top Ten.51

In the opening introduction to this collection, Hardy describes the close connection between Grierson and Scotland. As we have seen, he was inspired by the land and its people which became the subject of many of his films, particularly his own family history in Drifters, throughout his career. Though he left the country he visited often and was instrumental in the development of various film bodies over the years, including the Film Development Committee, discussed earlier. He also wrote about Scotland in a regular magazine column. We can see that his ‘physical’ connection with Scotland as well as the inspired content (and, of course, the programme on television) kept a visible connection which McLaren lacked. I would argue that this is the main reason that of the two Stirling filmmakers, Grierson remains the most well known. This Wonderful World debuted on 11th of October 1957. The series was screened on Scottish Television (STV) commissioned by the Scots-Canadian, Ray Thomson. Grierson produced the series but was dissatisfied with the scripts and took over the whole venture. The series ran on television for 10  years but is still remembered some sixty years later. The first episode included an excerpt from, ‘a burst of jazz from Norman McLaren’s Boogie Doodle, with the great Albert Ammons himself on the piano’.52

The series was also transmitted in England since February 1959 with good reviews. Several other episodes included McLaren’s films suggesting that Grierson was keen to continue to promote his protégé even though it was twenty years after their first meeting. These television screenings provided audiences an opportunity to see McLaren’s work outside of a cinema setting, which would have been a first for many in the country. Grierson was awarded the OBE in June 1961. He was finally invited back to the United States in 1962, and got a visa for the first time in fifteen years. Grierson was also invited to the 25th anniversary of the NFB in Montreal; McLaren was still there. Grierson won various awards in the 1960s and travelled extensively until his death in 1972. His legacy is undoubted and he is still the subject of discussion in the areas of documentary, viewed very much as the founder of this filmic form, public film bodies and the history of the NFB. He is also now increasingly discussed in relation to Norman McLaren.53

Grierson – Mentor and Friend McLaren’s relationship with Grierson is one of the most fascinating, and in terms of his career advancement, the most significant than all of the people

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in his life. Forsyth Hardy’s often retold account of their first meeting as outlined at the start of the chapter was also remembered by McLaren in interviews, though his recollection was slightly different; in an interview from the 1970s he recalls the adjudication after Grierson saw his films, ‘he came to Camera Makes Whoopee and blasted it to hell’.54 It was later that he was invited for a drink and Grierson told him off for the sexual imagery, but told him there would be an apprenticeship waiting for him when he finished his course. Grierson was pleased by their Stirling connection but clearly saw a potential new talent which could be nurtured. The Stirling connection was also noted by the local press, who wrote of the new opportunity in London for the young McLaren: Stirling has again produced talent for the benefit of the film industry. Mr William Norman McLaren, son of Mr William McLaren, Albert Place, has been invited by Mr John Grierson, son of a former Cambusbarron schoolmaster, and internationally famous as a producer of documentary films, to serve his apprenticeship with the G.P.O Film Unit in London . . . last year he was given high praise for a short feature entitled ‘Camera Makes Whoopee.’ MR GRIERSON was quick to take notice of the young man’s work and in January of this year referred to him as ‘the sensation of the Festival’. In the making of Colour Cocktail he had shown that he knew more about trick work than 99 out of 100 professionals.55

The local press of the era frequently noted the success of those who had once called the area home. It is interesting to notice how the pattern of press coverage is very much confined to particular events and times in both men’s lives which would garner most attention. Unfortunately, the nature of the press is to cover what is contemporary and the historic is rarely mentioned, hence perhaps why few people are aware of McLaren in the country today. At the start of the apprenticeship, McLaren’s letters began in earnest, writing to update his parents on his living arrangements, including managing his finances and what his job entailed. His letter of 11 November 1936 told them the news that he was being sent to Spain as cameraman to Ivor Montague, ‘Mr Grierson has given me three weeks leave of absence my post at the GPO unit, in order that i can be one of a party of filmers who are going to Spain to film on the Borders there.’56 He reassured them that it would be safe as he was on the border and would film the refugees. He told them about the technical details of the planned filming process, that they would be using 16mm film and sending it back to London to edit. He also told them what he would be packing and that he would be using his old suitcase, the one he ‘took to Russia!’ He was aged twenty-two at this point, and as discussed in the next chapter, excitedly told the news to friends as well as his parents. Once McLaren arrived in London (and after Spain), he worked his way through various departments and tasks, learning every aspect of filmmaking.

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The work was largely collaborative and gave McLaren the chance to work on films for the world’s fair and the Glasgow exhibition in 1938. One of the most interesting things about the relationship viewed through the letters is the way in which McLaren refers to Grierson. In the early days (and to his parents) it’s a very respectful relationship – ‘Mr Grierson’ – though to Helen Biggar it is simply ‘Grierson’ when referring to his role at the GPO. ‘No; Grierson’s never down at the studio. Basil Wright, who is next in chief to Grierson is a bit about here. They both have to OK the products! Most films feel the effects of Mr Grierson! fortunately or unfortunately.’57 The letter to Helen has the tone of an informal, casual discussion of his new boss, one whose working practices and demands McLaren quickly got the measure of. The GPO is discussed in more detail in the next chapter, but as Grierson left in 1937, there were fewer reasons to discuss him in much detail. References to Grierson reappeared in 1939 once McLaren arrived in New York. In a letter dated 23 October 1939,58 he refers to Grierson, that he was travelling between Ottawa and New York and wanted to hear from him in case he has anything going in Canada; it seems that it was Grierson who had initially advised McLaren to head across Atlantic. Two weeks later he followed up on this possibility with less than positive news, ‘I got a very nice note from Grierson in Canada welcoming me. In it he said that he couldn’t offer me any job at the moment – but he said things would soon be happening’ (2 November 1939).59 Grierson not only believed in his talent and pushed him to develop it further (without getting ahead of himself), but McLaren kept in touch with him, updating him on his progress. This was in part to see if there was any kind of help that Grierson could offer, but I think he was keen to maintain the connection and show him how he was managing. In letters to his parents in the early stages of his New York move, he was keen to stress that he was not asking Grierson for a job. He mentioned that he had heard back from his report sent to Grierson: saying very little, and nothing to the effect of asking me to come to Canada and work with him. Actually I  have not encouraged him to suggest this, because I think I would be best to try to go ahead on my own here – if at all possible – As the work I would be doing in Canada would be very similar to  . . . the GPO, I  think it would be best to get a different experience for a change. (19 December 1939)60

Despite this, however, McLaren was very aware of the reach of Grierson’s influence. The month before this last quote, McLaren told his parents that he was trying to decide whether to pay the duty on his films to keep the rights for himself and be able to send them to a chap at Minnesota University who wanted to screen them: ‘Quite confidentially I heard from Mr Legg [Stuart] that it was Grierson who had interested Mr Kirsach in me. – so it would be wise to spend that £4 on the customs dues’ (28 November 1939).61

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So while he did not want to ask Grierson for a job as such, he was pleased to know that his mentor was aiding him and wanted to help where possible. In December 1939, McLaren wrote to Grierson again to update him on some news of his progress in finding work, and as seen in the previous chapter, introducing Guy Glover to him. I have also been pot-boiler hunting (and not without a stroke of bad conscience) to Paul Terry of “Terry-toons”. He was impressed by the technique, if not the surrealism, of my latest GPO film, and will probably give me something that will fill the pot.

In an earlier part of the letter he talks about the creation of a film for television network NBC, in the form of a film Christmas card: I very much regret that I seem to be getting caught up in work of such insignificance of subject and substance, when there are so many serious things crying out to be dealt with in film. The one consolation is that it may be a means of pushing a technique to new horizons (for I feel that Len Lye went so far and then no farther-and not really because of the limitations of the medium). (12 December 1939)62

The openly opinionated discussion of fellow animators here demonstrates that by this time, though still in deference to Grierson, McLaren felt more able to be critical of the type of work that he perhaps felt his mentor would similarly criticize. This emphasis on the lack of substance suggests that he was keen to impress upon Grierson his desire to return to the type of ‘useful’ work which he had previously been doing in London. This report was slow to gain a response though, and in the next letter to his parents, McLaren tells them that he still hadn’t heard anything back. Rather than impatience I would suggest that this is concerned with reassuring his parents that he is doing all he could in the hunt for paid work. The New York experiences, outlined in the next chapter, provided enough work for McLaren to continue working without involving Grierson. By January 1941, however, he reappeared on the radar; Grierson was keen to have McLaren join the NFB, contacting him a number of times and travelling to New York to meet. The timing was never quite right in terms of projects and McLaren also had to consider what work opportunities there would be for Guy. On Friday, the week before, I met John Grierson (he was here from Canada for a couple of days). He was interested in what I had been doing and wanted to see my films. So on the Saturday morning we had a special show for him. He thought highly of my latest work and wished me to send some of my films up to Canada to let the government film people see them. He thinks possibly there may be an opportunity to make one or two such films for

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By July of that year he wrote to his beloved aunt to tell her of a flush of good fortune in his job prospects: Television has started up again here since the first of this month, and Arthur was telling me that perhaps there is the possibility of my doing some work for them, in the way of making trick films. If it does come off, I shall be getting paid fairly well for it. Then this morning, someone phoned me up from the American Film Center, to say that John Grierson was wanting me to send my films up to Canada, as he is thinking of getting me to make some films for him. Altogether things, are looking bright so far as my film work is concerned. (7 July 1941)64

This phone call led to a more concrete plan for showing the work to Grierson and his Canadian colleagues. FRIDAY 11TH JULY Since writing yesterday [continuation of letter], several things have happened, which you would be interested to hear about. Grierson has sent me a wire to say that he will be in New York tomorrow, and wants to see my films. I know that he is wanting me to make some for him. Some of my own special kind of hand drawn film. So something may come of it.65

Things moved very quickly after this screening, and by 26 July McLaren wrote to his parents to tell them that the trip was successful and that he had been offered a job, ‘a permanent position as a producer in his film unit in Canada, and wanted me very much to come immediately. He wants me to make my own special kind of trick films for publicising things like War Savings and so on. Well the job seemed to be full of Artistic opportunity’ (26 July 1941).66 The artistic nature of the offer is key here, as McLaren had spent two years in New York working on both commercial and abstract films, giving him the opportunity to build on his early experiments. As seen in the next chapter, he had a difficult decision to make, as he already had a well-paid job when the offer from Grierson came in and was settled into his New York life; however, I think the opportunity to work with Grierson again was too attractive. McLaren knew what type of filmmaking Grierson favoured and would have hoped that this would be a welcome environment for him to join. Getting out of his contract was slightly complex and he explained to his parents in the next letter that he had managed to be released from his contract, I decided in the long run that it was the right thing for me to be doing the sort of work I  am best fitted for and like doing rather than make a lot of

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money here in New York. I shall also be much lonelier and out of the stream of things in Ottawa as compared with New York, which is such a lively place; but I shall just put up with that. Doing the sort of work I want to do, will compensate for a lot. If Grierson should put me on to other work, I shall be bitterly disappointed for I  shall have given up an interesting job and very good prospects and better money in New York. . .I am already dreaming of the sorts of films i shall invent up there . . . I don’t know how long I shall be in Canada, perhaps six months, perhaps several years, or even more. I don’t know. (3 August 1941)67

This trust in Grierson paid off and he was given relative creative freedom with his film briefs. I started work yesterday morning – Grierson is in England just now & wont be back for some time so the next in charge, a man by the pure Scots name of Ross McLean, looked after me. Two of the people I knew in London are also working here. I was shown round the place yesterday & introduced to some of the folks who work here. I started designing a new apparatus for drawing my films on. the first film I am to make is a 2 1/2 minute color cartoon, publicising War Savings certificates. I hope to get started as soon as possible, as I am feeling terribly home sick for New York . . . MONDAY 15 SEPT I have been exactly a week at my new job and I am beginning to like it very much. (9 September 1941)68

So though Grierson was not there to welcome him in person, the familiar colleagues from London and the exciting work helped him settle in a bit more. Once he made the move to Canada, he told his parents of his initial experiences and reflected back on New York: It is strange to think that only a year ago I was still desperately looking for work and now I have given up one good job to come to a better one. I am being given almost an absolutely free hand here. All that I have been told is, ‘Go ahead and make some short two minute films in color, that will advertise War Savings certificates.’ No specifications as to how they are to be done, or in what time. Grierson has a lot of confidence in me, and I guess he thinks he can get the best results in leaving me alone. I think he is right. We shall see. (27 September 1941)69

Over the next few weeks he threw himself into the work and seemed to be enjoying it, though he was already showing signs of what would eventually become a pattern of overwork. The requirement for close concentration was entirely his choice as he was using a complex technique, but as we see throughout his career, he strived for the most interesting methods, which also yielded interesting results.

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Norman McLaren I have been making very good progress on my film this past week. I  have been doing the drawings on the film itself. Hundreds of tiny figures dancing around, and performing antics. I find it very fascinating work . . . although it takes a great deal of concentration and energy, because I have to be so careful when drawing on such a tiny size . . . Grierson arrived back from England the other day and he came down, to see me for a moment, to ask if I was happy working here, and to tell me he was glad to see me here. (19 October 1941)70

He very quickly settled into living in Ottawa and started to make the right impression on his boss, ‘Another week past & my film progresses. Grierson saw it yesterday and like it as far as it had gone – tho’ it is not yet finished. I had a little chat with Grierson & he invited me round to his house, anytime I like’ (25 October 1941).71 This invitation would mark the start of the change in their relationship from that of simply boss and employee. I would argue that he considered Grierson to be his mentor for many years to come, but the shift would also mark the start of a friendship. The developing relationship is described in a letter from 21 February 1942, where he tells his parents about a social evening with film board friends: Grierson and I  had a wonderful evening of discussion, after most of the guests had gone . . . Grierson thinks an awful lot of me, and wants me to have absolutely perfect freedom in what I do. He thinks I am doing a great service to Canada, by making films of real artistic worth, that will stand up to the test of time, when almost all the other films they are making just now will soon be forgotten. It is wonderful, to be thought so highly by one’s chief. It fills me with renewed vigor, and makes me want to put still more effort and care into my films. (21 February 1942)72

His pleasure in knowing that Grierson valued him so much reinforces the mentor notion and he was eager to spend time with him. The social nature of their friendship extended to Grierson’s wife, Margaret, who shared McLaren’s love of painting. ‘Mrs Grierson has invited me round this evening to their house. Mrs Grierson is such a sweet person. Grierson wants me to help make a film to teach Canadian children how to draw and paint. That is an exciting subject and I am very interested in working out ideas for it’ (21 March 1942).73 In letters written over the next couple of years, it is rare to find one without mention of either Griersons’ opinion of a film or of time spent with them. In a letter about his health and work progress he noted, ‘I ran into Grierson, who was going home, and he asked me to come along with him and have a drink. I don’t drink (for it makes my hand shakey for drawing) but I didn’t want to refuse, so I went along to their house . . . I left shortly after 9 p.m’ (2 November 1941)74. Mrs Grierson had insisted he stay for dinner. This kind of casual invitation also reinforced the nature of their friendship. This is seen again in March

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1942 when he casually mentions a party that they attended at the Griersons’ house, ‘I was just going to a party at Grierson’s, last Saturday after I wrote the letter to you. It was quite a lively party with a lot of people at it. I met Walt Disney’s brother there’ (29 March 1942).75 As well as the notes updating his parents on his busy social life, there are points where they seem to attend and host a frequent number of parties for friends from the board; he also tells them about Grierson’s achievements, clearly proud of his mentor, ‘Grierson is a man of great initiative and imagination and is building up an important film industry here in Canada. He is quite a pioneer in his way’ (22 November 1942).76 This references his expansion of the board and development of the animation department and French language division. Along with pride in Grierson, McLaren was obviously rather proud of his own work at the board and frequently took the opportunity to tell his parents how well Grierson thought of him, but also wrote more about the work itself: I got very interested in what I was doing. I am doing the animation on the film about hens77, and find it very fascinating and great fun. I have been making them do jigs, waltzes and reels. I know it sounds all very crazy to you, and you must be wondering how this can be helping he war effort. Well I have slogans worked into the film, urging people to buy War Savings Certificates. But apart from that Grierson thinks that my films are particularly valuable because they are jolly and happy and light hearted, and people need to see these sorts of films, especially when so many films about the war are serious and depressing. They are a tonic, he says. (11 April 1942)78

This notion of his films being ‘a tonic’ is interesting. After the success of McLaren’s political film Neighbours, Grierson commented that McLaren was more suited to lighter subjects and shouldn’t meddle in politics, but at this early stage of his career he was happy with the compliment of the fun and relief his films are adding to the war effort. He saw this as pivotal in the propaganda campaign. Yes, Grierson at least, thinks what I  am doing is of national importance. There is a great demand for my stuff and many war departments, which have public relations, are crying out for my films to be made for them. In fact so many requests for films along my line have come in recently that my department here has expanded and we are hunting for new assistants. Mary Ellen Bute may be coming up to make a film under my supervision here. I cant cope with all the work myself. The sudden spate has just recently occurred. Grierson is doing all he can to retain us at the Board. He would like us both to become Canadian citizens, as it would make it simpler for him to avoid our being caught up in the draft. He has a high-grade priority with the Canadian Selective Service. But he may go down to Washington personally, in order to get us transferred from the US selective service system. (30 October 1942)79

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A year later he continued on: Did I mention in my last letter, that Grierson has been appointed Director of War Information for Canada . . . a very influential position, as he has control of all propaganda by radio, posters, and film, throughout Canada. He is still going to be carrying on his job as Film Commissioner; but I guess we wont be seeing very much of him around the Film Board from now on. His effect, in his new post, will, I am sure, soon be felt, as he is a very dynamic and forceful personality. (7 February 1943)80

Despite Grierson’s new post, McLaren and Guy still saw plenty of him in both work and social capacities. By January 1943, McLaren seemed to be spending even more time with the couple. He wrote: I have been skating occasionally. Twice with Grierson, who hasn’t done it for a long time and is sort of shaky still. Last Saturday The Griersons came round for dinner; Grierson came earlier in the afternoon and did a bit of skating on the pond behind the house, with me before hand. The Monday evening afterwards he came round again and went out for half an hour or so. But his ankles got tired very quickly. Mrs Grierson brought round her drawings for me to see and criticise. She is fairly coming along with her drawing and has been doing some interesting portraits of people. (24 January 1943)81

The connection to Mrs Grierson is also interesting, as the friendship with McLaren fostered through their shared love of painting must have been good for a woman who had spent so much of her time moving around in support of her husband’s exceptionally demanding career. This friendship was discussed again in a September letter (note the use of the shorter name for Mrs Grierson), Last Saturday evening we were round at a party at a film board friend’s. Grierson and his wife were there. I went home with them, to borrow some turpentine, as I wanted to paint the following day, and Mrs G lent me some as it is very difficult to get in the shops. On Friday evening I was at a staff film show, to see a French film, called ‘Carnaval in Flanders’, a very good film. (12 September 1943)82

The social side of their relationship would reach a pinnacle of occasions in 1943 when they would spend their Christmas meal together. In the early years of the film board, McLaren often talked about stragglers who were far from home, coming together for the Christmas holidays. Guy often visited his family in Western Canada, leaving McLaren in Ottawa. It became common for McLaren to describe fairly lavish feasts and thoughtful gifts given and received. The nature of the friendships was reinforced in these letters and revealed a sense of extended family which many of the film board members would become.83

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Figure 2.2 John and Mrs Grierson (date unknown).

Within only three years of being at the film board, McLaren had established and trained an animation department. In a letter, sent in 1944 (unfortunately undated clearly), he described the next stage of his work. The project included the work of a new member of staff, the recruitment of whom sounds very similar to how McLaren himself was recruited by Grierson. He had shifted roles and was now in a position to spot and nurture talent, as his mentor had done with him some eight years earlier. I am now starting to work on some films of my own, and most of my duties in training and teaching my staff are about over. I am highly elated at the prospect of doing drawing on film again. We are now in bigger and better premises at the film board, but it is still very crowded . . . I am going to be making a film to an old French Canadian folk song, about the lumber men canoeing on the rivers. I have a very fine artist now working for me called Art Price. I got Grierson to get him out of the army, he is such a good artist. . .he will be a great asset to our work at the film board . . . I now hold a life drawing class

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Norman McLaren at the house here, for my staff to draw at. They have been anxious to hold one for some time back (Sunday, 20 1944)84

The relationship between Grierson and McLaren began to change in 1945 when Grierson left the board: Grierson has resigned from the film board and is starting up a new an private film agency, probably centred in New York. Margaret Anne and a few other people from the film board will be going with him probably, so we shall miss her as a very good neighbour. I don’t know many details yet, as it was just announced recently. I  expect however that we shall still see quite a bit of Grierson as he may be doing work which requires a lot of contact with the film board . . . I don’t think this will affect me and what I am doing in any way. However we shall see.85

Before leaving for New  York, however, the Griersons maintained the social contact: ‘After dinner, the Griersons came round and a few other people. The Griersons are leaving for a visit to Britain in a few weeks time. I told them, if they were ever passing thru Stirling to be sure and drop in and say hullo to you for me’ (8 October 1945).86 After the move, McLaren still passed on news, in part due to Glover’s appointment with Grierson’s new company as seen in the previous chapter, and also to relate the news of other film board friends who moved as well: ‘Margaret Anne was in New York on business. She has now got a flat there, as she will be going to work for Grierson, and his headquarters are going to be in New York’ (23 April 1946).87 McLaren obviously still valued Grierson’s position as someone of influence, and in June 1946, told his parents excitedly about a paper he had written on a new technology which he was quite sure no one had used before – stereographic painting (this will be discussed further in Chapter 5. ‘Grierson was up here on Saturday . . . I  have been very busy writing and illustrating a paper on “Stereographic Art”. Grierson is very interested in it, and has taken it back with him, and will try to get some person or body to sponsor it’ (25 June 1946).88 In the next letter, dated only a few days later, he told them of Glover’s possible move to New York, but as discussed previously, he would not be going. However, he still hoped the Grierson would be able to help him find funding for his stereoscopic project. All these letters give a greater sense of what began as an employer–employee relationship, to mentor–protégé, at least from McLaren’s point of view as deduced from the letters, and then as mentioned to a friend. In 1947, when Grierson was accused by the American government of aiding communists, McLaren responded to his parents news clipping on the subject, Thanks for your cutting about Grierson. Knowing Grierson as well as I do, the allegation that he is a communist is preposterous. It is interesting to see

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how much the story gets distorted by the time it reaches the Stirling local papers. He was called to give evidence at the Spy trials, not because his name was mentioned in the documents, but because a girl who happened to be employed at the film board was mentioned. (15 April 1947, underlines in original)89

As seen earlier in this chapter, Forsyth Hardy suggested that Grierson involved himself perhaps more than he should by taking the stand to clear the situation, but it was not one he could talk his way out of and he was not able to return to the United States for many years. Despite the divergent paths the men took, there were numerous opportunities to keep in touch over the years. While visiting Glover in New York, he ran into his old boss, ‘I saw Grierson at a screening of films that Guy arranged; some of the latest films that Guy has been working on. Grierson left for Mexico yesterday’ (1 November 1947).90 A year later, the British film company, Gainsborough, made an offer of interest to McLaren, about him going to work for them in England. He was not entirely sure about the offer but was pleased that if he took it, he would live closer to his parents. In the meantime Grierson heard about it and once again offered McLaren a job of sorts, ‘I have not heard any word from the English film offer – though it is about a month since I wrote – But Grierson heard about it and sent me a wire, asking me to get in touch with him, before accepting this other offer, as he also wants to offer me some possibilities’ (4 April 1948).91 By the end of the month, nothing had come back from Gainsborough and McLaren was holding off on the decision to work for Grierson again until he knew more. There was no further mention of either offer in the letters which followed. It is unknown if the Gainsborough offer ever came to anything, or indeed what the role with Grierson might have involved, but it suggested that Grierson was keen not to lose McLaren to another company, certainly not to a commercial one, which might be less useful in terms of the socially important or artistically interesting work he could continue to do at the film board at the very least. From this time there were fewer mentions of Grierson, as each man continued on with his work. As discussed earlier, Grierson continued travelling to other parts of the world and returning to film production in the United Kingdom with Group  3. They crossed paths during Grierson’s time in Paris, when McLaren was heading to China to work with UNESCO. Though they rarely saw each other, their news was always passed on. As Grierson was typically modest about his achievements, the news of his OBE in the Queen’s birthday list did not come through to the board directly but was sent to McLaren via a press clipping of the news from his parents. In 1952, when Grierson attended the Edinburgh Film Festival, which featured a film from each of them, a local Stirling reporter took the chance to interview Grierson and was keen on the angle of the two local successes.

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Norman McLaren Dr Grierson, although he gave me the inside story of his own film, ‘The Brave Don’t Cry,’ waxed much more eloquently on Norman McLaren’s contributions to the Festival, which he described as being of the utmost significance both in technique and accomplishment . . . ‘Talk about a local angle,’ cried Dr Grierson, ‘what more could you ask than that – outstanding films by two old boys of Stirling High School, both on the same programme.’ (September 1952)92

In a letter to Biddy Russell, with whom he would also occasionally discuss Grierson (though far less than with his parents), he told her of his later meeting, perhaps his final meeting. Grierson had returned to Canada to lecture at McGill University and they had crossed paths, ‘Grierson is here, I have seen him a couple of times, but briefly’ (23 March 1969). He noted that Grierson had not come to visit the board and that he was more ‘interested in new generation of students’. He had moved on to seeking out new talent, and this suggests that the mentor relationship was no longer required. After Grierson’s death in 1972, McLaren informed his parents of a tribute which he had contributed to ‘the BBC . . . is showing a “tribute to John Grierson”. It may be a fascinating program. Included in it, there is a short interview with me talking about Grierson – also of my close friend Jim Beveridge doing same. They sent someone over here to interview us. It is a SCOTS originated program’ (7 February 1973).93 The emphasis placed on the Scots is interesting here and suggests that just as Hardy had suggested,94 McLaren also felt a connection with his former mentor through their shared Scottish heritage. He obviously felt it was an important detail of the production to mention. As I  began this project I  was quite fascinated by the Stirling connection between the two and found it odd that Grierson was well known, but McLaren less so. From researching the former in some detail and the latter obviously more so, it is clear that Grierson’s personality and enthusiastic persuasiveness made a lasting impression. As the creator and presenter of This Wonderful World on Scottish television (1957) he kept a link with audiences. He did show some of McLaren’s work on the show but the lack of more mainstream screenings (and McLaren’s remaining in Canada) will have played a part in maintaining McLaren’s relative obscurity. The press coverage of the time did make the connection rather proudly, particularly during the Edinburgh Film Festival, where both men received a reasonable amount of coverage, but this (as in Canada) had obviously reduced as other news took over. In a fascinating article by Magnus Magnusson in The Scotsman Newspaper in 1962, there is an interview in which McLaren discusses his work. The profile highlighted his biography and work and included an amusing comparison between Grierson and McLaren: Last week I met for the first time Norman McLaren, the legendary Scots filmmaker who has been working with the National Film Board of Canada for

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the last 20 years or so. A shadowy figure, McLaren: no trace of the extrovert outspokenness of his great mentor, Dr John Grierson, who has rammed his rambustious personality on to everything he does, gruffly impatient, inexhaustibly articulate, furiously energetic . . . McLaren, on the other hand, is acutely slim and diffident to the point of humility, whenever possible letting his work speak for him instead in a tiny controlled whisper.95

The two men were described in the same publication again in 1977, when the British publication The Radio Times included a synopsis of a programme titled, ‘The Light Fantastick’ which was produced by the NFB’s Wolf Koenig, The story of Canadian animation. Nearly 40  years ago, the distinguished Scottish Documentary filmmaker John Grierson founded the National Film Board of Canada. Since then, this remarkable organisation has produced amongst its varied output, a steady stream of brilliant cartoon films – witty, irreverent, informative, sometimes didactic but never dull. This programme looks at many of these cartoons and at the animators who made them, including Norman McLaren, who is recognised as one of the greatest animators of all time. (5 May 1977)96

In 1981 the new Film House cinema in Edinburgh, host of the Edinburgh International Film Festival, dedicated two seats in their names, gifted by the NFB, essentially cementing the relationship between the pair and Scotland, as well as between the two men themselves. Accounts from those who worked with Grierson suggested that he was a principled man in his outlook and politics and was clever at encouraging the best work, albeit through seemingly abrupt or odd means (such as telling McLaren that his films were not great) by making people challenge themselves to get the best results. McLaren’s own feelings on Grierson can be summed up with a quote from an undated postcard to Biddy Russell, ‘I am on the best of terms with John Grierson . . . I think he is a remarkable person. A mad strange brilliant person – whose talents for the past 10 years have not had a chance to flourish at fully.’97 Grierson, too, said much about McLaren when interviewed in later years, and crucially is sure he took credit for his discovery, as seems fitting to Grierson’s personality, There is a man who belongs to my home town. He was a very young man who went to my own school, and I got interested in him because he came from my home town. He made a little amateur film when he was at the School of Art in Glasgow. I went to judge an amateur film competition and gave it a prize. I saw the film and then invited him to work with Len Lye, who was my abstract operator . . . He came down and was with us with that unit through the 30’s. I remember his mother saying to me, please would I look after him, and I  said I  would. When I  started the Film Board I  pulled him up from

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Norman McLaren New York . . . we established the right of Norman McLaren to operate as our sort of court amuser. And, of course he has been one of the most vital products of the Canadian people. (22 September 1969)98

Grierson was sure to keep track of those he considered close, ‘All of my people, I know where they are. We were closer than the free masons. We still are.’99 His sense of pride of his own accomplishments is always demonstrated through the discussion of others, none so as when he was talking about Norman McLaren.

Notes 1 Norman McLaren’s letter to sister Sheena, 1 June 1986, not catalogued, University of Stirling Archive. 2 Forsyth Hardy in The John Grierson Project John Grierson and the NFB (Montreal: McGill University ECW Press,1984), p.160. 3 Jack C. Ellis, John Grierson: Life, Contributions, Influence (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000), p.158. 4 J. Murray, ‘ “Keep Your Head Down and Save Your Breath”: “Authentic” Scotlands and British Cinema in The Brave Don’t Cry’, The Drouth, Scottish Arts Council, 2002, pp.7–17. 5 Grierson is commonly the subtitle in books on Documentary, as seen in Ian Aitken, Film and Reform: John Grierson and the Documentary Film Movement (London: Routledge, 1990); G. Evans, John Grierson and the National Film Board: The Politics of War Time Propaganda (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1984); and Brian Winston, Claiming the Real: The Griersonian Documentary and its Legitimations (London: British Film Institute, 1995) and Claiming the Real II: Documentary: Grierson and Beyond (London: British Film Institute, 2008). 6 Forsyth Hardy, John Grierson: A Documentary Biography (London: Faber & Faber, 1979). p.102. 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid., p.21 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid., p.23. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid., p.23. 13 Ibid., p.28. 14 Ibid., p.29. 15 Ibid., p.34. 16 Ibid., p.35. 17 Ibid., p.38. 18 Ibid., p.41. 19 Ibid., p.42. 20 This quote is taken from the article ‘First Principles of Documentary’, Cinema Quarterly, (Winter 1932): 43. 21 John Grierson, ‘First Principles of Documentary’, in Grierson on Documentary, ed. Forsyth Hardy (London: Faber, 1979), pp. 35–6

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22 This is an interesting point about one of the key definitions of documentary – the representation of the real or the captured real. Several schools of thought have developed over the years in which the level of ‘realism’ has varied. See authors in Brian Winston (ed.), The Documentary Film Book (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013)for more information on the contemporary documentary debate. 23 Hardy, John Grierson, p.53. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid., p.54. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid., p.59. 29 Ibid., p.62. 30 Ibid., p.65. 31 Ibid., p.77. 32 Ibid., p.83. 33 Len Lye will be discussed further in Chapter 4. 34 This particular story has been recounted many times and in several ways. Suggestions were that Grierson took the young McLaren to task for what he perceived as ‘sexually suggestive imagery’. McLaren innocently denied this as we see later in the chapter. 35 Hardy, John Grierson, p.85 36 Ibid., p.88. 37 Ibid., p.115. 38 A 1972 interview cited in John Grierson and the NFB (The John Grierson Project, McGill University. ECW Press, 1984). Emphasis in original. 39 The festival ran from the 31 August to 7 September and was the first of what would become the Edinburgh International Film Festival, or EIFF. Though McLaren’s letters don’t explicitly say he attended, earlier in the year he mentioned it and was back in Scotland at that time so we can guess that he did attend. 40 Hardy, John Grierson, p.166. 41 Murray, ‘Keep Your Head Down’. 42 Ibid., p.7. 43 Grierson quoted in Murray, ‘Keep Your Head Down’, p.7. 44 Hardy, John Grierson, p.182. 45 Ibid., p.190. 46 Ibid., p.191 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid. 49 Ibid., p.192. 50 Ibid., p.202. 51 Ibid., p.13. 52 Ibid., p.205. 53 Grierson’s archive is also held at the University of Stirling. 54 McLaren, quoted in James Beveridge, John Grierson: Film Master (New York: Macmillan, 1978), pp. 80–81. 55 Stirling Sentinel 14 April 1936. 56 University of Stirling Archive GAA.31/C/1/1936/1. 57 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/3/1936/24.

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85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99

Norman McLaren University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1939/4. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1939/5. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1939/9. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1939/7. University of Stirling Archive – Grierson Archive, G4-23-54-1. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/2. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/20. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/21. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/22. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/23. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/25. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/26. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/28. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/29. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/4. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/6. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/30. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/7. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/21. This would be the film which was released as Hen Hop in 1942. One of the first of McLarens films which would feature the playful nature and movement of birds. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/8. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/20. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/4. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/3. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/13. This is exemplified by a letter home on 25 January 1944 (GAA31/C/1/1944/1) which outlines the festive season and talks about hosting parties and Xmas dinner (the Grierson’s attended and supplied the birds). University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1944/2 – this letter has no month written by McLaren, but his brother Jack seems to have written ‘January, cant be’ on the letter as though trying to date it. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1945/2. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1945/3. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1946/4. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1946/6. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1947/4. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1947/8. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1948/6. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/PC/1952/5. University of Stirling Archive, not catalogued. Hardy, John Grierson’s Scotland. Magnusson, 23 July 23 1962, University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/PC/1962/?. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/PC/1977/?. National Library of Scotland Accession. 5649 n.d. University of Stirling Archive – Grierson Archive G7A.5.1. Ibid.

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Chapter 3 W O R L D T R AV E L L E R

Norman McLaren was fortunate throughout his life to be able to travel quite extensively. From trips to Europe with his family during his late teenage years and an informative trip to Russia, to the eventual winter breaks in Mexico and frequent trips as jury member for the increasing number of film festivals he was invited to. He enjoyed the experience of travel and lived during an exciting time of new developments including air travel and later in his life, the bullet trains of Japan. His letters home detailed his weeklong sea voyage to the United States from Glasgow and later his first flight. This chapter examines some of the most influential voyages, looking at his first job in London, his eye-opening trip to Spain at the start of the Civil War, his move to New York and later to Canada for his career at the NFB. The trip to China for UNESCO gave him another perspective and reinforced his humanitarian politics, leading to one of his most obviously political films, Neighbours (1952). The chapter also discusses some of the other places he enjoyed visiting, particularly when the cold Montreal winters made working more difficult. All of these experiences informed his work in some way, from the political extremes of war, to the Indian music of Ravi Shankar, who would contribute to the soundtrack of the film A Chairy Tale (1957). Though he did not always enjoy the social aspect of the duties at film festivals, he appreciated the opportunity to visit new places, often travelling via Scotland, and as discussed previously, the chance to catch the sun.

Russia Throughout the letters, and throughout various times in his life, McLaren was interested in Russia in terms of both its culture and politics. The films of the Russian, Sergei Eisenstein inspired him to turn to the moving image, and in his formative years he looked to Russia as an example for political success. In the script for the Creative Process documentary, he recounted how shocked he was at the scenes of deprivation in the slums in Scotland during the Depression.

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Figure 3.1 Postcard from Moscow, September 1935. McLPost001.

So, like many young people, in the Great Depression, our minds went to Russia as a possible experiment along new economic lines. My father, who was a staunch conservative, pillar of the church and all that, was greatly concerned when he found that I had such left-wing thoughts and feelings. When I suggested I wanted to go to Russia, he said ‘fine. I’ll give you enough money for a good tour in Russia, and you’ll see how they live, and you’ll be cured from thinking that communism is a good thing . . .’ Actually I went to Russia, and it was for a film and theatre festival. So I had a marvellous time. [You weren’t cured?] No, I was far from cured. But I began to get cured when the purges happened in Russia.1

This trip was an adventure for the 21-year-old McLaren, who wrote to friend Biddy Russell that he was saving hard. ‘Sailing to Leningrad on Sat, I’m busy packing my suitcase with films & myself with Russian’ (19 August 1935).2 He sent a postcard from the trip, which reinforced that he had enjoyed himself, ‘I’m having a very energetic holiday here. The Moscow theatre Festival is providing an excellent menu of opera, ballet and plays. I’ve managed to see over a film factory, & have met many film people. I saw today one of the latest films. “New Gulliver” – it’s a hum-snorer of a picture’ (7 September 1935).3 At this time he identified himself as a communist, but by 1938 he had declared himself a pacifist, having witnessed the march to war as well as the Civil War in Spain. The possible admiration of a communist, or rather Marxist, ideology would resurface when he visited China (discussed further in this chapter) but more in terms of social justice. Directly after his trip to Russia, he was

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Figure 3.2 Postcard from Moscow, September 1935. McLPost001.

interested in making a film about Russia with Helen Biggar, though this never materialized. In 1943 he and Glover had decided to take Russian lessons as he thought it might be a useful language after the war. Though Glover’s nephew David Lloyd Glover confirmed his uncle’s proficiency with languages, it was never mentioned elsewhere in the archive; there is nothing to suggest they went beyond this initial interest. He did however visit Russia again in the 1970s and was always interested in seeing the Russian ballet when he had the chance.

Spain McLaren’s political views had already been formed before he visited Spain during the Civil War. His anti-war film Hell Unltd with Helen Biggar, discussed in Chapter 1, showed the strength of his feelings. In late 1936, after moving to London to begin his work at the GPO for Grierson, he discovered that he was getting the opportunity to develop his technical training by accompanying director Ivor Montague to Spain to capture footage of the war. He wrote about the trip to his parents and friends Helen Biggar and Biddy Russell. To his parents, he was keen to stress his safety would be assured; he would only be filming refugees at the border.4 Earlier that week, he told Helen a bit more about the technical details and asked her about the cameras she had previously used, “Ivor Montague is phoning me up . . . they’re going to be filming in Spain, or a film about Spain, apparently or something & and they want to know what

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kind of camera would be best” (3 November p/m 1936).5 Interestingly, in his next letter to Helen, on the same day as his parents, when he told her that he was going to Spain, he suggested that it was somehow a secret; this suggests he knew there might be an element of risk that he did not want his parents to be aware of, ‘its all hush hush . . . been told to write for a leave of absence for illness to go for three weeks . . . Mr Grierson knows the truth’ (11 November 1936).6 In a letter on his return, he suggested that someone high up at the GPO might have found out and that he might lose his job. Again he did not tell his parents this. In a longer letter to his parents dated Wednesday, 2 December 1936, ‘9.30pm’, McLaren outlined the horror of the bombing and what the people were enduring, as well as the poverty in the villages.7 He told them that he is learning a lot about the history and culture of the area (near Madrid). He talked positively about the experiences of flying across the Pyrenees and the kindness and hospitality of the villagers but was obviously affected by the horror. He asked for donations to help them. The horror of what he witnessed was recounted more than once to Biddy Russell. In December 1936, when he was safely back in London and working on the film, he talked about the urgency of the work, “Its so important to get this Spanish film out soon, that I’m letting everything else go to Hell’ (14 December 1936).8 He outlined the terrible situation, especially for the children, and described the lack of medical attention. His party visited the only hospital in Madrid that had not been bombed. ‘The civilians are having a terrible time of it. Its criminal that so little’s being done to give medical assistance.’ ‘Wait until you see our film & you’ll see what its really like. By God, its criminal. By the way the GPO Film Unit & my visit to Spain must not be mentioned in the same breathe please.’9 This secrecy was again reiterated, the political aspect presumably seen at the time as sensitive. If the film had not officially been sanctioned by the GPO, Grierson had certainly been involved in its inception, even if only by virtue of knowing what McLaren was doing (and setting up the opportunity to learn camera work first hand). This plea is interesting, as it reveals the difficult political position Grierson was in. With the benefit of an historical lens we can see that the film was too important to Grierson to go through the GPO officially, and as such both Montague and McLaren were officially on leave while away filming. The film was screened around the country to raise money for the Red Cross to aid the Spanish civilians. A year later, McLaren was still affected by the experiences, and in a beautifully illustrated letter to Russell in July, he talked of his feelings of seeing ongoing press coverage of the Civil War, particularly seeing images of Basque children ‘I felt so mad at this whole business of killing & war & being so helpless individually’ (11 July 1937).10 In a letter to his parents in March 1938, he reflected on the situation in Europe, as he had been discussing with Glover and was fearful of ‘modern warfare’ after what he saw in Spain.

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It will end up with a long & terrible war, infinitely worse than the last one and probably much longer. If you read the latest news from Barcelona, you will get just a faint hint of what it’s going to be like. Under the shadow of such a future, it is quite impossible to think of a career in film directing with any hope at all . . . I am only glad I didn’t go out to Spain again. (20 March 1938)11

Unfortunately he was correct in his assumptions about what the war situation would be like and this would lead to one of his biggest moves in terms of distance travelled. Prior to that, however, he returned from Spain to his job in London at the GPO.

London and the General Post Office Film Unit (GPO) Margaret Ann Elton: Everyone forgets that Norman McLaren had some mastery in black-and-white live film, and he made an absolutely splendid film called Book Market, a compiling of the London telephone directory. Perhaps his only token documentary film, not animated.12

Despite being sent to Spain so quickly after making the move to London, McLaren’s time in the capital was mostly concerned with his work at the GPO. As this was his first move away from home of any significant distance (he stayed in Glasgow often while attending Art School but that was not a great distance from Stirling), many of McLaren’s letters to his parents concerned his living situation, how much money he was spending, where he was staying and as discussed in Chapter 1, his gardening habits. Most of the early discussion about his work at the GPO came through his letters to Helen Biggar and Biddy Russell. He told Biggar about the working practices at the Film Unit and compared them to theirs, My ‘official postion’ is ‘director’s assistant’, but so far I’ve been doing damn all. It’s a delightful holiday compared with my accustomed work . . . I’ve been in the cutting room so far . . . The other two fellows . . . seem to take 1000’s of feet & use about a 1/10th . . . for the final version. After seeing this it seems that we’ve cut ‘Hell’ with next to no scrap! Yesterday it took all day to shoot about four very small scenes, it’s so terribly slow . . . My job for the next week or two is to be with Miss Evelyn Spice’s film. (5 October 1936)13

Within a few weeks he wrote to her again and described a screening of other GPO films, relating what he thought was good or not. He also suggested that while he was enjoying having little responsibility at this job, it felt more like a hobby and that he might get bored soon. This boredom obviously did not last as he stayed until 1939; he was also moved onto more films and was gradually

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given more to do. Indeed by the following year he was complaining that he was too busy with GPO work, Its terrible, I  felt too miserable at beginning of this week to do anything except go to bed after work . . . ‘Cal[endar] of Year’ got finished by the 11th after many late nights  – & then Cavalcanti suddenly decided the film was terrible when he saw the show copy  – & so he’s re-cutting & chopping & changing it now . . . its the way here – lots of wasted effort – one person goes & undoes what another person has done . . . I don’t know what it will be like when I direct a film here. (16 January 1937)14

This change in his tone suggests that these working practices do not suit his own style. He feels that there is a lot of waste in terms of time and resources and longs for the freedom to return to making political films. He is still clearly affected by what he has experienced in Spain and is keen to be ‘useful’ once more. Only three weeks later he tells Helen that he is quite, ‘fed up with GPO stuff just now’ (8 February 1937).15 His experiences begin to change once he is given more work to do and perhaps has some control over the process. By May he describes a film that he is working on as useful work, again reinforcing the notion of what film should, or could be to him. In July 1937, Grierson left the GPO and McLaren was left wondering what would happen, ‘Grierson has left GPO now. Stuart Legg is in charge at the moment  – temporarily  – tho there’s a chance he may become permanently  – I hope so – I dont know him well, but what I do know of him makes me hope he will remain in charge’ (July 1937).16 His mentor had gone, but McLaren carried on in London and at the GPO for another two years, during which time he made his own films, which he described in letters to Russell, telling her about an upcoming screening at the GPO of their work, ‘ “North to Sea” “Mony a Pickle” “Trailer” – lots of work and nervousness for all . . . I’m responsible for making the “Trailer” film which will open the shows – also for the editing and supervision of Mony a Pickle & Fizzie MacAlister & self were responsible for the “kitchen” episode in Mony a Pickle’ (25 April 1938).17 In the spring of the following year he described another very busy period which outlined his latest work, For the past 7 weeks I have been lent by the GPO to Grierson’s outfit ‘Film Centre’ for the purpose of making a short film for the Gas Light & Coke Company to publicize their latest streamlined gas cookers! [film idea spawned 2 films] . . . one diagrammatic entirely, the other in actuality . . . When I return to the GPO, it will be to complete experimental color cartoon which advertises New Empire Airmail rates in a very flippant way. Its dealing with the love life of a little winged letter & will be called ‘Love on the Wing’ & probably shown in the ordinary theatres . . . When I go back to the GPO, I also have to work on some short trailer film for the World Fair at New York. (Sunday 26th March 1939)18

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This interesting to note McLaren’s use of the term ‘actuality’ here for live action, just as Grierson had used it with documentary. He also suggested that Russell would be able to see Love on the Wing despite the fact that it was never released.

Love on the Wing (1938) Made for the GPO in 1938 to publicize the Royal Mail Postal services, Love on the Wing, at 4 minutes 27 seconds, is one of the earliest remaining examples of McLaren’s cameraless animation. An excellent example of metamorphosis in animation, the drawings depicted a love story between two stick figure characters that use the postal service to connect, despite barriers to their romance in the form of war. The film was never released due to what the then head of the film unit described as ‘Freudian imagery’, an accusation which McLaren always denied; though if viewed today, the phallic imagery, though possibly coincidental, is clear. The film is described in the Creative Process documentary in terms of the music used to accompany the film, Divertissement by Jacques Ibert was the musical inspiration for Love on the Wing, McLaren’s loud entry into the world of experimental cinema -- his first professional step as a maker of fancy and fantasy. A sudden juxtaposition of two things very different from each other as in a dream. The spirit is able to jump around with an extreme rapidity in spite of the laws of logic.19

By October 1939, McLaren has made the decision, with Glover, to emigrate to the United States. The reasons were never explicitly stated in the letters home, but it could be argued that the oncoming war, the changes at the GPO, as well as his own failure (or what could be perceived as failure) for Love on the Wing were all contributing factors in them wanting to leave the country. As a pacifist also, he would be keen to avoid the potential draft. The next section examines his move to New York in some detail, but as we saw in the previous chapter, while he was keen to maintain contact with Grierson and see what his work prospects might be, he claimed to be less keen to move to the NFB in 1939 as he felt it would be too close to the work at the GPO, reinforcing the notion that he was not terribly interested in maintaining his work, or at least this type of work at the GPO and that a move away from London was the best choice.

New York McLaren and Guy Glover emigrated to the United States on 7 October 1939, sailing from Glasgow to New York on the S.S. Cameronia. They spent two years there before Grierson ‘pulled him up to Canada’. This time is often considered as a bad time for McLaren artistically, certainly Terence Dobson20 writes off the

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period as something of a failure. Perhaps in comparison to later periods it was, but the letters home suggest something quite different. Though he struggled to find work at first, what he did produce would become key pieces in his filmography and lead to great things for him elsewhere. It would also see another interesting collaboration with another young female filmmaker, Mary Ellen Bute. Most importantly though, I would argue that New York was a most enjoyable time for both of them; their social life was full and the city inspiring. This section discusses this in detail, beginning with the letter from his initial voyage at sea. In his weeklong voyage, McLaren wrote a diary style letter home, describing fellow passengers, Glover’s constant sea sickness, his own wellbeing and relative good health in the choppy conditions of the sea. He mused on the situation of the war and was glad to have little news from the rest of the world, though he was occasionally curious. This account of his trip and the attention to detail is part conversation and part journal. Despite his earlier protests to Russell about the chore of writing letters, he clearly used this type of profuse output as an outlet and as a sense of companionship, in the absence of his parents.21 Once he has arrived in New  York, his first letter home enthusiastically described their first experiences. My dear Mum & Dad, It is exactly one week since I arrived in New York. And already I feel quite settled & at home. During this week I have made many friends & met many kind people. Monday the 16th Oct was a glorious day. Before breakfast little sparrows were hopping about on deck & shortly after that we sighted land . . . At about midday we saw faintly thru the heat haze in the distance the skyline of New York. By 2 o’clock we were sailing past the Statue of Liberty, past the skyscrapers & into the dock . . . Well we went to the YMCA for the first night, where we paid about 8/- for a double room . . . Next morning . . . we got down to the job of hunting for a room . . . we went to the north side of town and found a very nice room at a most reasonable price for New York. It is in a good locality beside the Hudson River. (23 October 1939)22

The letter went on for another two pages outlining the next couple of days in which McLaren began making contact with the people he knew, or had been told to contact. They visited the World’s Fair and saw many interesting films, and though he described the city as expensive and something of a ‘racket’, he already seemed to be enjoying the place. This enthusiasm came through very strongly in most of the letters from New York. The apartment they rented was on the Upper West Side – 583 Riverside Drive and was convenient for the rest of the city. As discussed in the previous chapter, he referred to Grierson in these early letters as he tried to make contacts and secure work.

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Within only a few weeks he had begun making contacts about his films. The films he brought with him had been held up in customs as they had wanted to charge him extra to bring them into the country, but after initially delaying the decision, he paid to release them so he could screen them for prospective clients. In the meantime he carried on drawing and working on ideas for films, while Glover began writing television scripts. Within a month of arriving in New York, McLaren began arranging screenings of his films. His contacts brought him to the attention of the television networks, and between a number of meetings with CBS and NBC he landed a small commission with NBC. He was tasked with creating a one-and-a-halfminute Christmas greeting to be shown on the network. He created it by hand painting on film, returning to the technique he used to great effect in Love on the Wing (and would be used many times in the future). In the meantime he contacted his parents to inform them that he has asked the GPO for copies of his ‘Trailer’ and ‘Mony a Pickle’ presumably to use as a part of his reel; he had asked the GPO to charge the costs to his parents. In these early days in New York, McLaren often referred to financial support from his parents as also from his extended family. Though he did not always use the money he had been sent, he liked to have it for emergencies. In January 1940, McLaren wrote home to his mother; this letter is the first of many, which are typed, an interesting development in technology and his access to it. The NBC card was successful and the network hired McLaren for more work. The deadline for this next commission was not as strict so he was under less pressure but he told them that the pay rate was quite low and he did not feel like he could ask for more. I drew up a list of ideas for using this sort of film on all kinds of ways in their programs . . . and there will be a little leeway for experimenting, so i’m happy about that . . . I’ve done nothing about showing my art work and drawings to anyone, just simply because I’ve really had no time to do so, what with following up my film and television contacts. (5 January 1940)23

This area of filmmaking was beginning to be more interesting to him, in terms of experimentation and the possibilities for creativity. He continued his painting habit, which remained an important part of his work over the years (and will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 4) but the chance to work direct on film in this way gave him some vital experience which was to be useful later. On 9 January he followed up to his mum that from the success of the NBC film, the head of CBS had been back in touch and might want him to do some work for them. This moderate success was only three months after arriving in the city and suggests that the gradual success was more useful than other writers and critics have suggested. At the end of the month, he updated his mother that the NBC

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film was almost finished and that because the commissioner liked it, it would likely be broadcast in February. The contact from CBS led to a meeting but he reported that they could not offer him anything but that he should keep in touch with them, . . . In fact I am going to make something happen, by sending him every week or so a letter with ideas and suggestions, until he sort of succumbs to the pressure of them, for I know he is interested. Of course he has to consult his superiors about taking new people on . . . but still, I am determined to see what I can do along this line. (24 January 1940).24

This interest in television was to be put on hold due to the connection he made at the start of the month. In the first letter of the year he also referred to a Miss Bute, who we discover is animator Mary Ellen Bute. She had a studio space that she had been letting McLaren work in and may have had some work for him soon. In the meantime Glover also had favourable responses from NBC for one of his scripts. The studio space rental led to another collaboration with a pioneering female filmmaker who, like Helen Biggar, would prove to be influential in McLaren’s work. Though this section shows that he was not entirely satisfied with the outcome of their work, he did find it useful.

Mary Ellen Bute (1906–83) Mary Ellen Bute is well known in animation history as a pioneer woman in animation. She studied art at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts then moved to New York where she learned stage lighting at the Intertheatre Arts School. Bute then attended Yale in 1925, but in 1926 won a place on the first floating university, a ship called the Ryndom which visited thirty-three countries in eight months. Her experiences left her feeling that the film, which was being produced at the time, was too commercial and decided to work in abstract animation which is said to have been inspired by the work of artists Wassily Kandinsky and Oskar Fischinger (McLaren was also inspired by Fischinger). In 1932 she was credited with Leo Thurmin as working in the first forms of computer animation through their experiments in drawing with electronically determined codes. She continued experimenting with a variety of techniques and made her first abstract film, Rhythm in Light, in 1934. Many of Bute’s films were influenced by pieces of music and she became very interested in the relationship between line and color as counterparts to compositions in sound, as McLaren would be later in his career; she undoubtedly influenced him here. Her filmmaking and painting continued to explore this and she began to use new technologies such as the oscilloscope, to create

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animated patterns. Other films include Synchrony No.2 (1935), Escape (1938) and a series of shorts she made including Spook Sport, which was animated by Norman McLaren. Many of her films were produced by her husband Tim Nemeth, and in 1965 she made the award-winning Finnegans Wake as a reaction to the James Joyce novel; the film was very successful and was shown commercially.25 This collaboration is interesting as, like Biggar, Bute was an older woman, perhaps able to guide McLaren in his career. Though she was not as politically influential, she was clearly of artistic influence as is seen later in the discussion. McLaren outlined his working relationship with ‘Miss Bute’ (always very formally), in the letters to his parents. A week after telling them about sharing her studio, he told of more good news, Miss Bute asked me along to her personal studio to discuss plans for making a 7 minute film on a piece of music. She would like me to do it in the particular hand drawn method that I have been developing . . . she would pay me 200 dollars . . . I am very happy over this for I shall enjoy doing it, and it wont interfere with my prospects for any other jobs. (14 January 1940)26

Because of this he set up his drawing frame at her studio so he could work in better conditions than at home in their small apartment. The film with Bute took on extra pressure when she told him her intention to finish by the end of February so they could market it to Hollywood during the New York scouting season. However, between the end of January and start of March it became clear that the film was taking longer than they had hoped. They decided to spend more time on it to make it better rather than rush it out for the market. By 18 May, two months later, he wrote home to say that it was finally finished and they were waiting for colour prints from the lab. After they completed the film, they screened it for CBS, presumably following McLaren’s existing connections, a meeting which he described as positive. However, nothing else was said about this aspect of the marketing of the film.

Spook Sport (1940) This 7 minute 52 second short film is synchronized to the music, Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens and features ghosts and skeletons dancing in a graveyard from night until dawn. Much of the animation is directly drawn on the film, and is unmistakably McLaren’s style, particularly when compared to the aesthetics of the NBC greeting he had completed just before taking on this project. The figures are also reminiscent in style to his drawings in Love on the Wing. The hand-drawn element essentially takes on the form of a handwritten signature.

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He told his parents about the progress of the film in its early stages and the fact that it was taking up so much of his time; in fact it was impacting his social life and his getting away for the weekend to their friends: [I] will be able to enjoy it much more when this film is finished. That is not to say that I am not enjoying drawing this one, because I am finding it interesting work, and I appreciate the greater freedom of this free-lance work in contrast to the more rigid limitations of the G.P.O. (14 January 1940)27

In a letter to Helen Biggar, McLaren described the film, the making process and his final thoughts on it, reiterating the ‘interesting’ nature of it, The first six months of this year were almost entirely taken up with making of an abstract film to Danse Macabre by Saint Saens, by drawing direct on film. Technically it was one of the most advanced work I had done in that line. I got my hand to doing things more easily than ever before and made it do a great many new things. As a whole I think the film is more unified and better modulated than previous efforts. We spent a long time with much consideration on it (in fact the film was to have been made in 1 month), but despite my own satisfaction about it, I don’t like the film. The original conception was at fault or else distasteful to me. It was unimaginative and cold. I did the best I could with it. But still on looking at it now I feel sorry I put so much effort into it, but glad I  got so much general experience from it. We used Warner Bros. Color system, a two color process, something very like cine color. Well the film is made. But alack! It has not been sold, and I’m still in receipt of only a small sum for all my labor. Miss Bute for whom it was made is not what you’d call a first class salesman, and she foolishly did not turn it over to an agent. The war also has put a damper on the market. So the whole effort can be summed up as Economically a failure. Experimentally a success, Artistically of interest if not of merit. (23 August 1940)28

However, as he suggested, this was not a waste of time for him, indeed he went on, One strange outcome of my experience in working at it is that I have been fired with a tremendous desire to create a really very serious Abstract film. I have within me the source of an inexhaustible power to create something very important in this line. I shall feel desperately thwarted if I don’t, and yet at present I don’t see any way of doing it . . . in old fashioned talk I might say I have a mission to do it.29

This opportunity, provided by Bute, would be seen throughout his work in both the style of his cameraless animation and the increased use of sound synchronization.

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Their friendship lasted beyond this commission, with reference to her possibly coming to the film board in 1942 to work with him, and much later when they had the chance to meet at a film festival. Like Grierson before him, McLaren followed up with old connections to aid a friend. During a visit to New York in 1942, he visited his friends at the Guggenheim, ‘I also saw Mary Ellen Bute’s latest film, and managed to sell it to the Baroness for her. Mary Ellen wanted me to do some film work for her but of course I don’t have time’ (9 May 1942).30 During the course of making Spook Sport McLaren and Glover found a new place to living in Flushing, Queens. He was feeling particularly settled by this time (March 1940), and in April sent a letter which conveyed a sense of joy at being in the city and having the opportunities he had. In it he describes his mostly vegetarian breakfast and in an interesting side note, refers to issues of nationality that had occurred in New York, ‘I got your letter of the 11th March (Monday) on March the 28th with your remarks about my being a Scotch and an Englishman. Well to most people here, its all one and the same thing whether we like it or not’ (2 April 1940).31 This is typical of the common misconception from much of the rest of the world of the UK situation but is interesting that he still referred to his Scottish heritage throughout his life in numerous examples. The mention of a vegetarian breakfast reinforces the notion of the health fashions discussed earlier, and within this letter he included a drawing of ‘mum and dad going to the vegetarian convention’; this of course may also be due to the scarcity of meat during the war and a necessity rather than a trend or healthyliving kick but it is interesting in light of his other concerns with vitamins or health supplements in the post-war years. Once the Bute film ended, he found himself without work for a slightly longer period, and in August 1940 spoke of his disappointment that he had not been more successful at finding work, It is not through the lack of trying. Perhaps my artistic conscience has got the better of my commercial sense . . . but it was very difficult for it not to . . . I believe that in the long run, it will pay to do honest and good work, and not skim it just to make money faster. You have no idea how grateful I am to you for making it possible for me to do this. I appreciate the good fortune very much. (26 August 1940)32

The lack of filmmaking led him back to drawing and painting, often using pastels. He mentions using watercolours in September 1940, lamenting that oil paints were too expensive. This return to his previous artistic training led to a new, rather different job in September 1940, working in an unnamed department store painting/modelling window displays. Though the work was not in film, he told his parents that he rather enjoyed the hourly paid nature of the freelance job but that he had a long commute, so the store must be in Manhattan. The job did not last long, however, and in a letter on 18 September,

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he talked about ‘making a series of abstract films which I am going to present to the Baroness Hila Rebay, who is in charge of the Guggenheim money for sponsoring artistic work of that kind’ (18 September 1940).33 Rebay was known in the art world as a supporter of abstract work, or as she called it, ‘non-objective art’ and was instrumental in promoting the Guggenheim as it is now known. A month later they went to see Rebay give a talk and gave his parents his impressions of the Baroness. He and Guy were amused by her style, describing her as a ‘barmaid’ (12 October 1940).34 They were of course interested in the fact that she had access to funding by Guggenheim and they began working on a film for her (as discussed previously, Guy assisted McLaren in some of these earlier productions). Glover also played a supporting role by accompanying McLaren to their next meeting with the Baroness – a screening of the work. This screening was successful and Rebay was sufficiently impressed to want to show the work at a screening alongside other artists. McLaren was paid for his time and equipment, and for the first time was paid for creating a film of his own design. This next presentation by Rebay was more impressive than the first time they met, and McLaren suggested to his parents that she may have been tipsy before (22 October 1940).35 The success of the screening led to more commissions and a series of probably his best-known output from his time in New York, Dots and Loops both two-minute films made in 1940.36 Over the next few months he received numerous offers and by 6 November 1940, he started a new job with a Mr McKean at a company called Caravel films as a scriptwriter. During this time he continued to help Mary Ellen Bute find distribution for their film but was also making a new film: colour, image and sound direct on film for Rebay’s next screening. The new job worked out well and McLaren reported back to his parents at the end of the month that he was finding it interesting work. He was able to work in all departments and could pick up any slack if people were off. In the meantime he had set up his drawing table in the attic at home so that he could carry on making his experimental films in his spare time free from financial pressures, ‘Some day I hope that all my very own efforts and ideas about films will become some-thing important. In the meantime I must go gradually, and bow to the materialist forces of commercialism – for very obvious reasons!!’ On a recent cinema trip with Guy, he commented, ‘Went to see the new Disney film, “Fantasia” – 2 hours of color, and fantasy to music; interesting and novel, and in a way, along the lines of the work I have been attempting; however it was rather tasteless and cheap at times’ (30 November 1940).37 Oskar Fischinger had been involved in the early part of the filmmaking process and Jules Engel, another visual music pioneer, worked on it. These filmmakers had similar interests to McLaren and as such it is clear that the film would have intrigued him, whether he knew about these connections or not.38 The screenings of his new films yielded his most positive outcome since arriving in New York. The day after the show with Rebay, he wrote, ‘I think it

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was a great success . . . After the show was over, so many people wanted to be introduced to me that I was somewhat embarrassed . . . and whats best of all, Mr Guggenheim agreed to buying copies of my three little films I made here in America, and I’m to get 350 dollars for them’ (7/8 December 1940).39 This notion of being embarrassed by the attention was an issue, which arose later in his career as he became better known and was invited to more events. He was modest about his success and rather shy about having to socialize with, and most importantly to McLaren, make small talk with strangers and well wishers. However, he did become more friendly with ‘the Baroness’ as he called her, including spending the New Year at her country home; though he was not entirely comfortable with her wealth and was saddened by what he saw as a waste. Again he saw injustice as he witnessed elsewhere and was troubled by it. At the start of the new year in 1941, McLaren wrote that he had found a quiet time with his job at Caravel films and so would take a couple of weeks off so he could make another film to sell to Rebay. His second screening at the museum was also successful and his films were mentioned directly by a New York critic. At the screening he met Grierson, as discussed previously, and the success of these new films put him firmly back on Grierson’s radar leading to the first suggestions of going to Canada (12 and 18 January 1941).40 In the first half of the year most of his letters outlined his social life and that his work had been quite quiet with the film company. He had been tasked with scriptwriting for ads and doing jingles. He told his parents that he was working on a ‘slide film’ for Pepsi Cola ‘It sometimes makes me quite mad to think that I am wasting my abilities to such a ridiculous end’ (23 May 1941).41 His frustrations perhaps made the invitation, which would appear from Grierson a few months later, more attractive. As discussed in the previous chapter, he had been asked by Grierson to send copies of his films to Canada by July of that year, with the hope of finding work for him there. We know that this led to a visit by Grierson to New York to see about some of his hand-drawn films. In the same period he updated his parents on their social activities with friends and his continued good fortune with offers of work, FRIDAY 11TH JULY Arthur Hungerford approached me to ask if I would be interested in making some short films for television. If the job comes off, I would have to turn about a film 20 seconds long each day all about watches or clocks, for a big watch making firm that advertised every day on television. I would get about 6 pounds for every film . . . but the job is not certain yet . . . then to make matters still more complicated, a long film script that I  wrote for Caravel about Bakelite company has sold the idea, and that means that I will be in charge of directing this half-hour Technicolor trick film . . . [he wants a salary rise to do it] . . . it is a very skilled and responsible job entailing a great deal of hard work. AND what with my art training which will come in very

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The comment regarding Hollywood is interesting as later he would be offered such a position but was not interested in the commercial nature of such work, despite the higher fee it would command. This of course is before he got a taste of the relative artistic freedom he would be given at the NFB. By the middle of July, as seen earlier, McLaren was trying to decide whether or not to stay in the city he enjoyed so much. He was torn at the decision as the Caravel project had come off and he was in charge of the Bakelite film which he estimated would take another five months. He later decided to take the job in Canada but remain at Caravel for at least six weeks and continue making the film. He also told his parents that he was thinking about taking citizenship in the United States despite planning to leave for Canada (26 July 1941).43 This suggests that he was thinking of Canada as a short-term move, rather than the permanent move it would be. I would argue that he might also be only thinking short term as Guy was not able to go with him initially. In the end Caravel decided to find a new director to take over the whole project, so he was released early from his contract.44 ‘All my friends here in New York are very sorry that I am leaving, and of course

Figure  3.3 Norman McLaren with Guy Glover, Vera and Jack Wilson, New  York, c 1942. Acc 14 04 004.

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I am equally sorry to be leaving them, for New York seems like home to me after two years and so many contacts’ (3 August 1941). Before leaving the city, McLaren visited with the Baroness again to say goodbye, ‘at the same time I managed to get her to buy a copy of “Loops” which is a 4 minute abstract45 film I made at the beginning of the year, on my own, in my spare time, when working at Caravel’ (7 September 1941).46 Even though he remained in Canada until his death, and took Canadian citizenship in the end, he visited New York often. Sometimes it was to process parts of his film that needed technology unavailable at the NFB, occasionally to visit friends. In 1957, for example, he took what he described as a ‘quick trip’ to New York to take part in a symposium at the Museum of Modern Art. He noted that the presentation was fine but the party after was tiring. However, most importantly, he got to see some old friends, including Mary Ellen Bute (10 November 1957).47 The move to Ottawa was initially a difficult adjustment; the city was much quieter culturally than New York and he didn’t have the same network of friends (and crucially Glover was not there for the first few months). He would try to catch any performance of travelling theatre or ballet while he had the chance. He did once again settle fairly quickly, and once his job had settled down, found suitable accommodation. The years at the Film Board have been discussed by others including Dobson, McWilliams and Waugh among others and as such will not be discussed in much detail here beyond the key collaborations he forged while working there. The years spent in Canada reinforced the lack of exposure in Scotland, and perhaps the wider UK generally, and as such I  find the time outside of Canada more interesting. Likewise many of the letters home from the Canadian period are most interesting when he was outlining trips that he was planning, or often ones he had undertaken (and occasionally during them). He first returned home in 1947 to visit what is now the Edinburgh Film Festival, which Grierson also attended; he spent several months away in which there was a significant gap in the letters, presumably because he was at home at this point. By 1948 he was fully settled, and when pondering the previously mentioned offer from Gainsborough Pictures in Britain, he talks about how much he would miss Canada, ‘I really feel more at home here that any place I have been’ (14 March 1948).48 Over the years, McLaren was given the opportunity to travel extensively to attend festivals and to escape the harsh Canadian winters. Though all of these trips were useful in terms of raising his international profile and often an extra opportunity to visit his family at home, none were so directly influential in terms of his work than his UNESCO trips, discussed in the following section.

UNESCO (China and India) There has already been some published discussion of McLaren’s trips with UNESCO, particularly to China,49 but it is so influential to his life in terms

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of political views and as a consequence in some of his films, that it is vital to include further discussion here. Beginning with a lengthy excerpt from his initial announcement to his parents: Now for the biggest bit of news . . . There is quite a possibility that I may see you before this year is out . . . .last weekend I  was down in New  York seeing UNESCO. As a result, the prospect of my going to China is much more certain now. It would be for four months; and as I shall be busy on this present film until June, and will not want to leave until the middle of July, after Sheena and David and the boys have gone, I  have said I  cannot leave for China, until then. (Though they would like me to go right away) The present situation in China, wont affect my trip or job; as I am being sent there by UNESCO, I shall have full protection. The work of UNESCO out there, in the Fundamental education movement, is apolitical, and not likely to be affected by the present changes. By July, it is more likely the war will be over, there; and traveling will be more settled . . . I am going to teach a group of Chinese artists how to make animated films so that they can start making them themselves in order to educate the people in the backward villages there, who cant read or write, and who need films made to teach them how to have a healthy village. Films on vaccination, hygene [sic], and all matters about health. I shall be going to the province of Szechwan, which is in the interior in the south. A very backward area. I shall be working with Mr Hubbard, an educationist from UNESCO, and the project we are working on is called the CHINESE AUDIO-VISUAL PROJECT. What we do with it, is supposed to act as a model for all other member-nations in UNESCO who want to do something about education in their backward areas. I am being paid a lump-fee for the four months job . . . The job will have a lot of work, responsibility and initiative attached to it . . . I  am toying with the idea of going one way and coming back the other, so that by the end of the trip I will have gone right round the world. (1 May 1949)50

His choice of routes took him west over the Pacific and in doing so, he ‘spent four days in Honolulu’ then on to Tokyo and then Hong Kong.51 He writes in a very lyrical way about all of these new places he visited. On 4 September McLaren wrote home describing the accommodation in Pehpei, Szechwan; he said it was very pleasant and that he was renting a room from a nice couple. He told them about the food and the servant that worked for the family. He noted that he should be back in Scotland in around six months time and updated them on the war in China.52 In the follow-up letter he reassured them that the fighting was nowhere near him.53 In October McLaren sent diary pages home describing the conditions of the area, his work, the weather and an interesting fruit he had found. There appear to be some blacked-out sections  – though it is hard to know if these are censored or errors. He talked about the bad situation of the farmers and

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Figure 3.4 Letter to parents from China, 26 September 1949. GAA 31 66.

their relationship with the landowners, and the increasing spiral of debt. He suggested that the communists were being welcomed with a promise or hope of redistribution of wealth. UNESCO worked under the old regime and it was hard to tell farmers about the healthy food they should be eating when they could not even get enough rice. You can imagine the relative futility of designing posters filmstrips and movies on the idea of a healthy diet for the farmers. Suggest he eats a couple of eggs a day, or a chicken, or a little bit of meat; he will just laugh at you, for he knows the idea is preposterous when it takes him all his time to get enough rice to eat. However we are designing filmstrips to encourage him and his family to eat green leafy vegetables every day, and bean products (both of which are relatively cheap) and would provide him with protein and

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minerals . . . All we can do in the Unesco project is to at least show the country folk how it might be; to put a blue print in their mind.(12 October 1949)54

He continued with technical details about the creation of the filmstrips and how they were being used, as well as what tools and equipment they had. Based on his report, this information was published in the ‘Healthy Village’ UNESCO publication and contained diagrams outlining the processes. He spoke about the progress made by the project in the documentary Creative Process, I was able to teach them a few things, but they taught me a good deal more, especially about communicating with people of other races and languages. Although the Healthy Village project took place at the climax of the Chinese civil war between the Nationalists and the Communists, the program had an impressive impact. Its philosophy became the basis for future UNESCO projects.55

Over the next few months he was kept busy and wrote to his parents again at the start of 1950, explaining that there was no communication possible for a month at the end of the year during ‘the changeover’ of regime from the Nationalists to the Communists. He describes the townspeople greeting the ‘peoples army’ joyfully. However his trip had been extended by virtue of bureaucracy; he could not leave until he got an exit permit which meant he was virtually on holiday: ‘The weather here at this season is not good – very damp, cold and grey (rather like Scotland – only not as much rain)’.56 This enforced flexibility saw him remain for several weeks more but this suited his interests as he planned to travel down the Yangtze river towards Hong Kong and get a flight; the trip would take two weeks but he was looking forward to seeing the gorges. McLaren’s experiences in China, in terms of seeing the effects of war, again, close up, seeing the changes being brought in under communism and interestingly working under a simplistic process, uncomplicated by external pressures or deadlines, remained with him for many years. His experiences in Spain of war and poverty were recalled, but in China he witnessed the end of their civil war and the beginning of the new communist regime. He returned to Canada just as the Korean War broke out and he was once more compelled to make an anti-war film – the Oscar-winning Neighbours (1952). He outlined his feelings on this to Donald McWilliams in a discussion of what he viewed as his most important film, ‘I came back to North America, and I felt great tension about war in general. The tension that was produced from my year’s experience in China, plus my return to here and to an environment where the newspapers were saying something totally different from what I’d been used to, that tension produced the film Neighbours.’57

Neighbours (1952) Animated using McLaren’s pioneering ‘pixilation’ technique  – stop motion using live performers, the film features two men whose garden boundaries

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Figure 3.5 Letter from China with drawing of Yangtze (date unconfirmed). GAA/31/ PP/19/31/001.

become disputed over the appearance of a new flower. They fight over the ownership of the land, which the flower is on, ultimately destroying each other and the flower. The film was made as an anti-war film and won an Oscar.58 It was a departure from the earlier abstract films, but the use of pixilation gives the film a slightly abstract aesthetic. After the completion of the film, McLaren reflected on its significance in a letter to Biddy Russell, Ever since China removed me from my . . . Ivory tower in Ottawa, I am more and more aware of the significance of this [being human first]. It is a significance which in my teens and early 20s I  was keenly aware of, and which

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got submerged during the last war and which got more clear in me now. And which for the first time I have been able to marry with my technical & creative capabilities in this film . . . Neighbours. I  am happy with this, this bridging a gap. All other films or drawings or paintings that I have done is the playing of games . . . I hope it [neighbours] will just be a beginning. (7–11 April 1952)59

While Neighbours would become one of McLaren’s best-known films, arguably for the anti-war content, and indeed as discussed above, he was keen to reinforce this, it was also (like many of his films) a technically pioneering work. He made detailed technical notes for most of his films, which he shared with those who enquired, and for Neighbours he discussed how we would manipulate both the camera speed and the actor’s speed to create the effects he achieved. He noted that this was not a new technology but was clearly very excited about what he saw as ‘the creative potentialities of this stop-motion live-action technique are quite considerable for a new genre of filmic ballet and mime.’60 By using actors to perform in this way, he talked of the ‘spectacular feats of virtuosity that this makes the actor capable of, it is possible to use the technique in a concealed way behind what appears to be normal acting’61 (1952/59). The film was (and still is) critically acclaimed, winning an Oscar, notably in the documentary category rather than the Termite Terrace and Disney dominated short animation category – the film would no doubt have been viewed as too experimental to put alongside the more familiar cel animation, which was more common in the mainstream. The local Ottawa press reported on it proudly. A pixilated NFB film which defies the normal laws of motion and preaches brotherly love last night won an Oscar at the annual Academy Awards dinner in Hollywood as the best documentary short of 1952. The experimental color film . . . also brought further honours to the National Film Board’s already world renowned experimenter, Norman McLaren, who made it. A reticent Scots bachelor who is a combination artist, composer, animator and inventor, McLaren was thousands of miles away in Mysore, India, recovering from an attack of ameobic dysentery when news of the Oscar reached Ottawa late last night.62

McLaren was interested in the opinions of those he cared about and had responded to a comment by his father on the film in September after its release, I found your criticism of ‘neighbours’ very good. No one in their criticism of it so far has ever suggested that it would be improved by being even more beautiful in the beginning, but now that you point it out, it seems very true that it would have been much improved, and would have made its point better, if it had. I think that is a very good observation of yours . . . I thought the

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Sentinal write up was better than the Journal, and in fact I thought that its point at the end was very well written and made. (9 September 1952)63

Before the Oscar win, he reported that, ‘I had a letter from the Canadian Film Commissioner last week. He says “Neighbours” is being shown in 400 cinemas in the U.S. Hope it does some good!!’64 He was clearly still interested in doing useful work and the film (and the experiences leading up to it) had inspired something in him, which he had not felt since he was a much younger man. He spoke to Russell about making some sort of a sequel later but the closest he came was A Chairy Tale (1957). He suggested much later in his life that, I can’t judge my films, but if all my films were to be destroyed, except one, I  would prefer to have Neighbours because it has a strong social message about the covetous of man, about the irrationality of using violence to solve solutions; it’s a human statement which reveals human nature, which none of my other films do. But the Oscar didn’t mean anything to me, winning an Oscar. I didn’t know what it was. It’s not important, but the film I feel is important . . . [In 1971, McLaren was asked why he hadn’t made any more films like Neighbours]. That’s because the life I lead here is – doesn’t bring it out of me. You see, I shuttle back and forth between home and the National Film Board, and lead a relatively quiet existence with a few intimate friends. And I’m not out in the world meeting people, or in a different culture. And the only films which concern human beings, apart from some very early films, is Neighbours, Chairy Tale and Pas de Deux.65

Despite what McLaren thought about his success with the film, his mentor John Grierson was open about his dislike of it. In an interview with Grierson’s biographer, Forsyth Hardy, in 1976, McLaren recalled a conversation they had about it: Long after I had made ‘Neighbours’, out of the blue [Grierson] phoned me, somewhat sloshed, to press home the point the ‘Neighbours’ was the worst film I  had made, and that I  should’nt get involved with social or political themes. I was stunned and I didn’t know what to say . . . What he seemed to be saying was that I was much better at other kinds of films, and he grudgingly praised a couple of them, that I didn’t think much of . . . This catalyzed me into defending ‘Neighbours’ . . . In the end, neither of us changed opinions. (Interview with Forsyth Hardy, Montreal, 29 February 1976)

Grierson, however, was one of the few dissenting voices regarding the social content of Neighbours,66 and in an undated report by Celia Anderson, director of the Film Library of New York University, the potential for the film to help ‘delinquent boys’ was outlined, based on the observations of a school teacher in 1955.

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NEIGHBOURS is a story about a grudge fight . . . ‘These men acted like children . . . ’ ‘They hit the women and babies. Why they want to do that?’ . . . ‘In a grudge fight nobody’s a winner’ . . . The above are scattered comments from the discussion following the showing of NEIGHBOURS to boys in one of New York City’s so-called ‘600’ schools, established for delinquent and predelinquent children.67

A copy of this report was sent to Colin Low at the Film Board and passed on to McLaren, who then told Biddy Russell all about how much his film moved the boys. He was clearly proud of this achievement, recalling his desire to make ‘useful’ films.68 In late 1952, McLaren took another commission with UNESCO, this time travelling to India, to carry out the same type of project as he had carried out in China. Though politically not as influential as China, this trip was still interesting to McLaren and he spent many months giving seminars to trainee animators and extended his stay by several months (though he was also ill, as mentioned in the newspaper segment). ‘This life here is not at all like China; there’s no roughing it here’ (28 October 1952). Once he left Old Delhi, his initial destination, he travelled south to Mysore where he spent most of his time. In my first week I also visited several villages near Delhi, and saw open air displays, film shows and dramatic performances . . . The homes were whitewashed and beautifully decorated with colourful patterns painted on . . . a desperate attempt was being made by these folk to make life beautiful. They themselves were the most corteous [sic], friendly, and having a great natural dignity . . . I  have come to feel certain that this Fundamental Education is no more than giving an aspirin for an abcesced [sic] tooth. (23 November 1952)69

Just as in China, the inequality and terrible poverty in certain parts of the country deeply troubled him. In the mid-1950s he re-created the practises developed in India and China to work with artists more locally and he enjoyed the pared down experience. Though he does not explicitly state the influence in his letters, his film A Chairy Tale features musical accompaniment by Ravi Shanker, and other Indian musicians, it could be presumed that he heard this music while he was travelling in the country.

Around the World In 1954 his South American trips began, with an invitation to attend a film festival in Brazil. His month-long trip saw him visit Argentina, where he sent a letter home, describing his trip so far, including flying in to Argentina with a planeful of Hollywood stars (he visited Argentina again in 1964). ‘At São

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Figure 3.6 Jury at unknown film festival, c.1958. GAA/31/PP/19 008.

Paulo “Begone Dull Care” was on the opening program and my latest film “BLINKITY BLANK” on the closing’ (11 March 1954). Though he seemed to enjoy the chance to visit Argentina, he complained of too much networking and not enough time to see any films. This would be a common complaint over the years, reinforcing his more conservative and quieter side. In 1956 the Film Board moved to their new location in Montreal, wherein there seemed to be some problems in terms of distance from the office, and most frequently he complained of the harsh winters. He would often try to take his Christmas vacation in South America, Mexico or the Caribbean to try to fend off a bout of winter depression. In April 1963 he visited Cuba on a return trip from Mexico and met Fidel Castro by chance. He doesn’t explicitly mention his previous communist leanings but reports on an interesting visit to film studios there and was clearly impressed by meeting Castro: On my last evening I met Fidel Castro! – but just by the sheerest chance. We had been to see a dance performance, and after it was over, around midnight, the film animators wanted to take me to a rather fancy restaurant for a farewell drink. When we went in, we were rather surprised to see Castro, sitting two tables away. On his going out of the restaurant, a number of well-to-do Cubans . . . started questioning and berating him . . . I  was amazed at how openly & frankly they attacked him in public. He spent a great deal of time replying to them – I wasn’t able to follow all the Spanish . . . but I could tell by

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the tone of voice that his questioners were furious at the state of affairs, and that he had a great gift of the gab, and a keen sense of wit & humour, for he had everyone in stitches quite often, and was able to parry with them at great length . . . He is a very unusual character. As he left the building the animators would have me introduced to him. So we shook hands – but he spoke only in Spanish – asked me how long I was to be in Cuba – when I said ‘5 days’ – he said ‘-not nearly long enough – better come back and stay longer’. (7 April 1963)70

In these later years of his career, he travelled more frequently whenever his health allowed. This included a trip to Japan in 1971 where he took a ride on a bullet train. This experience is almost the opposite in terms of the technological progress of his first major sea voyage from Glasgow to New York. Even as he got older he was still fascinated by, and commented on, the modes of transport he had the chances to try.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Donald McWilliams, Creative Process script, 1990. National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/2. Ibid. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1936/1. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/3/1936/32. Ibid. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1936/3. National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/2. Ibid. (Underlines in original). Ibid. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1938/2. (Underlines in original). The John Grierson Project (John Grierson and the NFB, McGill University: ECW Press, 1984). University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/3/1936/25. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/3/1937. Ibid. Ibid. National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/2. Ibid. McWilliams, Creative Processt. Terence Dobson, The Film Work of Norman McLaren (Eastleigh: John Libbey, 2006). The letter has several dates over the week in October 1939 during the sailing. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1939/3. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1939/4. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/1. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/4

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25 This biography was transcribed from Nichola Dobson, Historical Dictionary of Animation and Cartoons (Lanham, MA: Scarecrow Press, 2009). 26 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/3. 27 Ibid. 28 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/3/1940 29 Ibid. 30 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/9. 31 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/9. 32 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/19. 33 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/22. 34 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/25. 35 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/26. 36 Dots and Loops were made to sell to the Guggenheim and were created by drawing both the abstract images and the sounds directly onto the film. 37 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/29. 38 Later, McLaren met Fischinger and reminded his parents of how much he was influenced by his work; see Chapter 4. 39 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1940/30. 40 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/2. 41 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/18. 42 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/21. 43 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/22. 44 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/23. 45 The film may have been 4 minutes when he made it, but the NFB currently lists it at 2 minutes 40 seconds. 46 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/25. 47 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1957/11. 48 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1948/5. 49 See Terence Dobson, The Film Work of Norman McLaren (Eastleigh: John Libbey, 2006) and Donald McWilliams, Creative Process, 1990, for more discussion. 50 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1949/1. 51 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1949/2, 8 August 1949. 52 GAA31/C/1/1949/3, 4 September. 53 GAA31/C/1/1949/4, 26 September. 54 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1949/6. 55 McWilliams, Donald. Creative Process Script, 1990. 56 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1950/1 11th January 1950. 57 McWilliams, Creative Process. 58 The Academy Award was given for Best Documentary, the film was of course animated fiction, but given the unique nature of the style of the film, I would argue that the academy members might not have known how to categorize it. 59 National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/3. 60 Norman McLaren, ‘Some Notes on Stop-Motion Live-Actor Technique’, in Technical Notes by Norman McLaren (1933-1984) (Toronto: National Film Board of Canada, 1952), p. 84. 61 Ibid., 9. 62 The Journal, 20 March 1953. 63 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1952.

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64 University of Stirling Archive GAA:31:83 11 January 1953. 65 McWilliams, Creative Process. 66 The scene in which each neighbour destroys the other’s wife and child was cut after some issues with screening it in Italy. McLaren was happy with this cut, but in later years the scene has been restored (presumably after his death). 67 The 1955 report by Celia Anderson, director of the Film Library of New York University, outlines how the film was shown to a group of boys with short attention spans and engaged them very well. ‘The boys were flattered by Mr McLaren’s film and made self conscious about it,’ University of Stirling Archive GAA:31:200 68 National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/6, 28 February 1955. 69 University of Stirling Archive GAA:31:78. 70 University of Stirling Archive – not catalogued.

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Chapter 4 I N F LU E N T IA L   A RT S

McLaren found inspiration and influence in many aspects of his life, with early talent undoubtedly informed, by his family and their interior decorating business. A  flair for this could be seen in early examples of drawing and design completed while he attended Stirling High School and then Glasgow School of Art. It has been outlined elsewhere1 that he was influenced by early interests in music and dance and these rather substantive aspects of interest are examined in more depth later in this chapter. This section considers some of the earlier, formative experiences that remained with him throughout his career, from his Art School education, through to some of the pioneering animators, and which he would later cite as being so influential to him. The chapter begins with a discussion of his painting habit; something which would remain with him throughout his life and would even be used as a metaphor when describing his process of direct animation: ‘And so my militant philosophy is this: to make with a brush on canvas is a simple and direct delight – to make a movie should be the same’.2 The animators most often cited by McLaren will be considered, followed by a section each on dance and music, arguably two of McLaren’s biggest performance art interests outside of moving image. According to his family, he was never terribly interested in popular culture (particularly later in life) but had keen interests in areas of culture, which he found most enjoyable; much of this can be seen in examples of his work, throughout his filmmaking career.

Painting McLaren’s interest in the arts developed through his college days, where he found creative inspiration in filmmaking; however, his initial teachings of drawing and painting were maintained throughout. Though it has been suggested that McLaren favoured animation and the emerging filmmaking movement over painting, in part due to an inherent lack of movement in the still image,3 McLaren continued drawing and painting as

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Figure  4.1 School on the Rock, illustration from Stirling High School, c.  1928, not catalogued.

both a pastime, and in early days of his time in New  York, as a way to earn income. Three months after his arrival in New  York, McLaren was commissioned by friends to paint murals, I went busy on three Mural pictures that I had got commissions (diminutive) to do. Two for one person, one for another. I  worked for about six weeks on this latter . . . they are all in pastel and Conte Crayon. It is an elaborate

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Figure 4.2 Stirling High School painting, c.1928, not catalogued.

Figure 4.3 Norman McLaren painting, date unknown, not catalogued.

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and symbolic scene done in somewhat a meticulous style a sort of still life – cum – landscape, or pictures of a preliminary type I had to do this serious abstract film I am going to do some day. (23 August 1940)4

This early painting work set a trend for freelance work, which he would fall back on when film work was scarce, but the above quote also demonstrates how keen he was to keep working in animation. Prior to working on new films to submit to the Guggenheim, he had a job from September 1940 painting and decorating window displays in an unnamed department store. As discussed in the previous chapter, he enjoyed the nature of the job and was essentially more creative as a freelancer, but the commute did not suit him. In the early 1940s he returned to the pastels of his youth lamenting the cost of oil paints and the lack of film. But maintaining this habit was important to earning an income as well as developing styles which would be useful later in his animation career as seen in such works as La-Haut sur ces Montagnes (1945), C’est L’aviron (1944) and La Poulette Grise (1947); these films were all created as part of the Chants Populaires series of animated songs released by the NFB. The painterly style reveals the surrealist style seen in many of his drawings and paintings and discussed later in the chapter. Once McLaren moved to the Film Board in Ottawa and became immersed in filmmaking once more, he still continued with this practice in his spare time, but this time it had more of a social function. He attended drawing and painting classes at the board between 1943 and 1944, though noted that he was something of an accomplished member of the group, ‘All the others apart from myself are amateurs’ (15 November 1943) and his painterly skills caught the eye of Grierson, who commissioned him to paint for him a landscape of their Stirling home: I have got most of it done, but there is still a lot of work on the details, however; and thats what I was busy on today. I worked on the Wallace Monument (from memory, which was very difficult – if you can get any picture postcard of it, please send it in your next letter). (11 January 1943)

Mrs Grierson also attended the classes and they often discussed the practice, with McLaren giving advice on improving her technique. In 1944 he began developing ideas for his new invention of ‘stereo paintings’, which excited him greatly and would form the basis of his later stereoscopic films (this will be discussed further in the book). Once again though, he was essentially using hobby work to develop his animation. This connection between his hobby and work was reinforced when in 1946  ‘one of the boys in animation’, the up-and-coming animator George Dunning, made him a wooden easel for his painting work. At various times in his career his work space adapted to take on different functions and his living space allowed for more work space. But this continuity of painting and drawing remained important throughout his career.

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His vacation landscapes often inspired his painting style with doodles and letters decorated in a manner which would reflect his latest travel destination. In one of his typically decorative notes to friend Biddy Russell in May 1952, he drew a delicate pen and ink sketch featuring Chinese temples on a mountainous landscape and inscribed with the title ‘The sun shining on Biddy’s pavilion with Einstein’s light’,.5 He had only recently returned from his trip to China with UNESCO which ended with a trip down the Yangtze River. His painting-themed letters to Biddy often featured art postcards of old masters or unknown works. He occasionally included an influential image from one of his favourite painters, JWM Turner, who he noted had influenced his painting and which can be seen in many of his works, particularly in the use of colour. This is reinforced in the Creative Process documentary, ‘McLaren readily admitted to the painterly influence of the 19th century English artist, J. W. Turner, on his attempt to capture the seasons in this impressionistic manner.’6 During the mid-1950s McLaren suffered from overwork on his films and wanted to spend more time on his paintings. This was seen as an outlet from the pressure of the film board which was mounting on him following his Oscar success of Neighbours (1952). Once again he returned to his earliest creative outlet, free from demands, to rest. As his film career was firmly established during the 1960s, McLaren continued with his hobby and began to exhibit his work. In 1962, he wrote about an invitation to show and, potentially sell, his paintings: I was asked if I would contribute one of my paintings to this (see enclosed clipping) exhibition, and of course was very glad to . . . It’s an oil painting 16” by 2 feet, called ‘the last days of Autumn’. Two figures sitting on the ground in front of an late autumn landscape and skyscape . . . and I’m pricing the painting at $150.00 I wonder if anyone will buy it! (28 April 1962)7

In October 1963, he tells his parents that there will be a show of some of his paintings in Paris in the next year; a visiting collector chose some of his work, demonstrating the international appeal of his work. This was followed up in 1965 with an exhibition of his work in Montreal which was reviewed in the Montreal Star newspaper and which described some of his paintings as having a potential ‘sinister’ feeling and referred to his surrealism. It also suggested that McLaren’s sense of humour was apparent in the work, something which I feel is true of his animation also. This notion of surrealism, noted in the art critic’s review, was correctly identified, and the Surrealist art movement undoubtedly influenced him. Even without his direct references to the movement, the stylistic features are evident in his paintings and in many of his films. However, he did speak often about the style over the years: Surrealism meant cutting down the conscious control of what was happening. Now I had tended to be an improviser in earlier films, so this fitted in

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with the idea of surrealism. You let it come out of your subconscious – what the image is going to do next. Knowing about surrealism and having seen just one or two surrealist paintings released me to make films like Love on the Wing where the image keeps metamorphosing.8

Terence Dobson9 writes at length about the surrealist influence in McLaren’s work, pointing out that when the London Surrealist Exhibition was being held in 1936, McLaren was still in Glasgow at Art School. He argues that though McLaren might have read Andre Breton’s groundbreaking What is Surrealism from 1934, their ideas on musical imagery differed greatly. He also suggests that The surrealists’ antipathy towards total abstraction is in accord with McLaren’s persistent reluctance to completely forgo representational imagery even in his otherwise frameless, directly painted films such as Fiddle-de-dee (1947) . . . The anthropomorphic movements of abstract imagery as well as the perceived effects of gravity on abstract imagery are explained . . . by McLaren’s kinesthetic empathy with his films. This in turn is partly a consequence of his love of dance.10

This love of dance will be discussed later in the chapter but the quote is interesting in that it reflects McLaren’s general reluctance to categorize himself beyond that of an artist. The techniques he used varied so much that he clearly did not want to be pinned down to any one style, or indeed content of film. The description of surrealism in his work, which also appeared alongside his obituary, in a letter from Professor George Brandt of Bristol University, to The Times, London, describes his abilities and contribution to film overall: Norman McLaren’s work . . . was an authentic expression of his own gentle but extraordinarily perceptive personality. He looked deeply at things: he had the key to the door of the subconscious. Indebted in some ways to the visual language of surrealism, he achieved in his own unmistakable style – witty, probing, dreamlike, sometimes shot through with a sudden awareness of the right side of life . . . Not specifically Canadian in his visual idiom (not specifically Scots either) he created a substantial body of work that was at the same time profoundly personal and accessible to audiences all over the world . . . He is literally irreplaceable.11

As well as providing a thorough obituary which speaks well of McLaren’s achievements, it reinforces the notion that perhaps one of the most overriding movements of influence was Surrealism. Though never categorized within a history of surrealism, one might suggest that he was as much a part of it as were his contemporaries? Though Surrealism may have been the overall aesthetic in much of his work, McLaren was typically interested in other forms of art, and in the 1970s discussed his developments with Biddy Russell:

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As you know I have loved ‘op art’, and my drawing . . . since 1964 have all been in the Op style. I  found it naturally, from my animation process of change, and was unaware that it as happening in the ‘STILL’ ART world, until somewhat later, which makes me believe in a ZEITGEIST. I draw a line at the top of the page, & then draw another, which was slightly different in its curve or kink, then another even more so in its idiosyncrasies, and the idiosyncrasies in this first straight line kept developing – undulating in & out – finally to finish in a straighter line at the bottom of the page. Well, that is my op world. But what you gave me is a real link between the world of STILL ART & the world of MOVING ART (I’m talking strictly visually). And that is why it is so interesting. (20 December 1970, underlines in original)12

Biddy has clearly observed the style in his work, which he often sent examples of. The abstraction of Op Art was of course present in his later geometric works, such as the Lines films Lines Vertical (1960) and Lines Horizontal (1962), Mosaic (1965) and Spheres (1969) (which was later reworked from the unfinished Chalk River Ballet).

Figure 4.4 Three contrary objects, 24 June 1958. GAA/31/PP/19/31/004.

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Film and Animation Though painting remained as both a tool of practice within his own animation and a creative outlet over the whole of his life, McLaren was obviously interested in film and moving image a great deal. This section examines some of the key influences in film and animation, which McLaren cited over the years. Like Grierson before him, he was excited by what he saw coming from Russia and what the potential could be for moving images, but where Grierson saw educational power, McLaren saw creative possibilities for movement and rhythm which he felt that painting lacked. The passion was sparked, and as previously discussed, he would use his extracurricular involvement with the Kinecraft film Society while studying at Glasgow School of Art to test the medium. In the documentary, Creative Process (1990), he recalled the important moment when he first saw these new films, But in the third year I discovered great works of cinema. I saw the works of Pudovkin and Eisenstein. I know they did have a terrific impact. The intimacy of the intercutting, the wide variety of viewpoint of the subject matter. Cutting from one thing to another, is rather similar to the mental process of human beings. It’s instantaneous. A sudden juxtaposition of two things very different from each other, as in a dream. The spirit is able to jump around with an extreme rapidity in spite of the laws of logic.

The description here suggests a sense of rhythm which would become one of the key elements of all of McLaren’s films. McLaren was very interested in the concept of movement and suggested that ‘The basic substance of cinema is movement. At its lowest physical level, the movement of lightwaves (the visuals) and the movement of sound waves (the sound track)’.13 This can be seen in all examples of his work and clearly comes from influences and interests in these performing arts, but is also one of the key elements contained in the work of the filmmakers he most admired.

Georges Méliès and Emile Cohl Though he travelled extensively to international film festivals, McLaren did not always discuss other animators. As we saw earlier, he was dismissive of Disney in his production style and also found Fantasia lacking. His letters suggest that he was too busy working on his own films to look at other people too much, and only occasional cinema outings with Guy were mentioned. He was aware of others’ work but it rarely came up in his correspondence. However, when asked, he was happy to discuss those he felt were of most interest or influence to his own work.

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The Biddy Russell letters archive contained a transcript of a speech given by McLaren at a film festival in Zurich, Switzerland, in 1954 titled, ‘Homage to George Méliès’.14 He spoke about the value of Méliès (1861–1938) work and said, ‘for it is the hallmark of the creative technician to make a positive artistic virtue out of technical necessities and to find a real source of creative possibilities in the technical accidents and distastes that happen in the course of daily work’.15 This connection to Méliès demonstrates that McLaren considered himself a technician at times, and has elsewhere said that he enjoys the experiments and processes of making the films as much as the final output.16 It is also interesting that Méliès often comes into the category of experimental filmmaker or animator much like McLaren, but almost defies categorization. Using the combination of stop motion animation techniques, with the live action performers creates an interesting hybrid of live action, or actuality film, and what we might consider animation. In the same transcript he mentions another pioneer of early animation, with a homage to Émile Cohl (1857–1938), ‘It set a brilliant example, at a remarkably early date of what animation is, and could be, and it is amazing it was neglected for so long.’ ‘Émile Cohl, for towards him I feel a very personal debt of gratitude.’17 This is reinforced in the script for Creative Process, describing his work, McLaren used a technique of filmic metamorphosis, or continual change, to make his surreal cinema. He had discovered metamorphosis in 1937 in films by Emile Cohl. The French animator had used the technique as early as 1908, here, in his film Fantasmagorie. McLaren said Cohl’s animation was a revelation which impressed him deeply, and greatly affected his work. Here was animation at its purest and best.18

That McLaren was influenced by two pioneering filmmakers, who both used very different techniques, but neither in the early form of what would become 2D cel animation as seen in the early studios dominant in the United States, says a great deal about his own practice and thoughts on the potential of the materiality of the film itself, rather than simply an image-capturing device. Over the years McLaren cited several other animators as influential in his work, including his good friend Alexandre Alexieff, Oskar Fischinger and Len Lye. Fischinger and Alexieff are discussed further in the book, in the music and collaboration sections respectively. Len Lye, the New Zealander Grierson referred to as his ‘abstract man’, worked at the GPO in the 1930s and is often compared to McLaren as another direct, cameraless animator. It is generally suggested that Lye influenced McLaren in terms of technique and style, but in the quote mentioned earlier, McLaren claimed to have been unfamiliar with his work until after his own experiments in the technique at Art School. Valliere Richard suggested that neither of the men pioneered the method, but simply revived it.19 However, he described Lye’s

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use of the method as a similarly necessary one, due to lack of money for appropriate filming equipment; painting on film required no processing.

Len Lye (1901–1980) Len Lye was born in Christchurch, New Zealand, and from an early age had an interest in drawing and movement. He was interested in representing kinetic energy and was inspired by aboriginal art. Lye moved to London, Great Britain, in 1926 and joined a modernist group of artists, the Seven and Five Society’. He exhibited work with the group but became more interested in animation than static art. His first film Tusalava (1929) was created over a number of years, involving over 4,000 drawings. The film featured abstract images and shapes but was not well received and he found it difficult to support his work. Lye made a puppet film Experimental Animation (1933) with sponsorship from an exhibitor, and then joined the GPO film unit, where he was able to experiment with techniques while creating his films. He began to experiment with cameraless animation techniques, painting directly on the film. His first film with the GPO was A Colour Box (1935) (most often cited in comparison to McLaren), and still managed to include his abstract shapes as long as the sponsor’s message was within the film. The film was successful and Lye began to achieve some acclaim. In 1936 he made Rainbow Dance which McLaren saw while he was in London: ‘I saw Len Lye’s “Rainbow Dance” (very hot – I got great thrill from it.)’ (24 October p/m 1936).20 Lye began to experiment with technique even more, using silhouette or stencil patterns but always maintained a concrete symbol in the films. He produced the puppet film Kaleidoscope (1936) with Humphrey Jennings, and in Trade Tattoo (1937) he incorporated documentary footage with his abstract animation. His last film with the GPO was N or N.W. (1937) which took a slightly more conventional approach. After this Lye made some advertising films, and then during the war worked on propaganda films. Lye moved to New  York in 1944 and co-directed a series of four educational films with I.  A. Richards. At this point he began experimenting with kinetic sculptures as well as continuing with his abstract films. He moved back to New Zealand in 1968 by which time his reputation as an important nonrepresentational artist had been formed.21 Lye was like McLaren of course, another animator who left his home country for an extended period to gain employment elsewhere. It is interesting to look at the development of both men’s careers and their interests in movement in both film and elsewhere (dance in McLaren’s case). They both had origins in fine art, something which McLaren frequently revisited in his painting, and even occasionally threatened to give up filmmaking during particularly stressful periods. Perhaps if his position at the NFB had not developed in the way it did, McLaren might have returned to fine arts as Lye did?

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As well as the visual arts including painting and film, McLaren was extremely interested and heavily influenced by music and dance, both of which will be discussed in more detail in the following sections.

Music Music played an important part in McLaren’s life. He was interested in listening, playing, composing and deconstructing it in many forms. As well as having a keen interest in jazz, he enjoyed classical music, though he was open to many other forms during his lifetime. In Creative Process he spoke at length of his relationship with music, In my teens, before I went to the Art School, I used to hear music, for the first time, on the radio, coming from the radio stations of Europe. As I shut my eyes, I saw the play and dance of forms. This state of multi-sensory reaction to stimuli is called synaesthesia. Music can do all kinds of things. There’s a tempo which can be slow or fast, or can accelerate, decelerate, it can be pianissimo or fortissimo, and I could visualize the equivalent of these things in the picture area. Things could skip and leap about joyfully or they could drag themselves tragically around. There are a whole lot of adjectives that you can apply to music and you can apply to the movement of the shapes and forms in an abstract film. And so some of the pieces I heard excited me so much I wanted to express them visually. Debussy’s L’Après-midi d’un faune . . .

Figure 4.5 Norman McLaren with violin orchestra, c. 1924. GAA/31/PP/19/036.

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Figure 4.6 Students musical, c.1934, not catalogued.

Cgany interpretation of Hungarian folk music, Scottish rhapsody . . . It was only when I joined the Film Society in Glasgow that I saw the first abstract film, Brahms’s Fifth Hungarian Rhapsody make by Oscar Fischinger. I  said ‘that’s it. Film is the medium to express my feelings about music, and that led me on to’. . . What may be half of my whole output of films is the expression of the spirit of music.22

This lengthy quote speaks of both his interest as a young man and what inspired him to think about music and film. He discusses the influence of Oskar Fischinger23 and his experimental sound films, which were so bold and different from anything McLaren had seen before. On Saturday, I went and visited Mr Oscar Fischinger, whose films, away back in 1935 had excited me so much at the Glasgow Film Society. Remember the Sunday nights I used to go into Glasgow for the shows? I took him to lunch and later we visited his home and I saw his latest film in his basement. (Sunday, end October 1951)24

Oskar Fischinger (1900–1967) Born in Germany, Fischinger worked as a technical artist in Frankfurt and was inspired by Walther Ruttmann’s25 Opus I in 1921 and began making abstract

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films. He moved to Munich in 1922 to become a full-time filmmaker, establishing a production company, where he produced animated shorts. However, after some financial problems he closed down and moved to Berlin in 1927 and began producing abstract animation synchronized to classical music. These ‘studies’ were shown in Europe, Japan and the United States and Fischinger’s work came to be in demand. By 1932 he had established Fischinger Studios with his brother, wife and three other employees. Fischinger pursued the abstract relationship to music and began to use a three-colour process, completing his first colour film Kreise in 1933. He attracted acclaim and was offered a contract with Paramount Studios in America in 1936. He then moved to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) in 1937 and later to Disney Studio from 1938 to 1939, where he worked on Fantasia (1940) though at the time he was not credited for his contribution to the film. Fischinger continued to paint as he was frustrated at not being able to produce independent films in Hollywood. He came under the patronage of Hilla Rebay, curator of the Guggenheim Foundation, who provided him with grants during the war. Motion Painting No.1 (1947) was one of his most famous films, using the music from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Third Brandenburg Concerto. He used a technique of painting on plexiglass. However, he was never able to secure enough funding to produce another finished work and spent the last twenty years of his life experimenting, but never completing another film.26 The sense of rhythm that McLaren describes is evident in nearly all of his films, and very early in his filmmaking career, he tried to marry the soundtrack to the visuals as best he could, before developing the technology to compose his own soundtrack directly. Upon meeting Mary Ellen Bute, McLaren was struck by not just the chance of paid work, but also the opportunity to work with a specific soundtrack in such a synchronized way. Bute had previously experimented with this form, and though McLaren’s earlier work had considered some form of synchronization, this was the first to allow him to really develop the idea. It led on to the creation of the sounds in both Dots and Loops made in New York, as well as Boogie Doodle.27 In his first year in Ottawa, McLaren discusses his new film and the job of organizing the soundtrack, ‘This past week I have been very much occupied with preparing the music for my first film. The music is a piano solo, in a style of negro piano-playing called, “Boogie- Woogie” It is very lively kind of music’ (27 September 1941).28

Boogie Doodle (1941) One of McLaren’s first films at the NFB in 1941 (though there is some suggestion that this was made in New York but released by the NFB), Boogie Doodle once again features his hand-drawn animation, developing his style from the previous two abstract works; but even though the forms are abstract and the suggestion is very much of the forms dancing, there is a distinct pairing going

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on. There are numerous hearts throughout and love is arguably a big part of the film. The shapes dance with each other, chase each other (perhaps woo each other) and come together in various other shapes. This sense of dance and movement is a theme in much of his work. While he became increasingly aware of the possibilities of synchronization, there were many films which required specific music, namely those of the wartime propaganda made in the early days of the NFB, such as V for Victory (1941) and Mail Early (1941). From 1944 he created a series of films based on French Canadian folk songs, the Chants Populaires series, arguably something of an early form of music video, or less flippant Silly Symphonies series of the Disney Studio in the 1930s.29 Films such as La Poulette Grise (1947) or the later Le Merle (1958) represent visually, the content of the songs. He wrote to his parents on his twenty-eighth birthday in 1942 to explain the process of synchronizing the music and film in clear terms, in a style which he would replicate over the years in his copious technical notes. I am going to buy a piano, a second hand one of course. I am going to attend music classes at the Dominion Conservatory of Music here. I wish to study piano technique and composition. For some time past I have wanted to start studying music seriously, but I haven’t been able to do it, as I have never lived where there was a piano where I could practise on regularly. But at last I shall have the facilities. It will be of great value to me in connection with my film work, which is so largely tied up with music. Often, I can’t get the sort of music I want for my films, and I am planning eventually to be able to compose my own music for them. Almost all the ideas in my films spring from the music I use. In every film I make, the first job is to find the right music. Then we record that on a film sound track. This track is a thin wiggly-looking line that runs along the side of regular motion picture celluloid. The soundtrack is then analysed extremely carefully. Every little note and beat in the music is identified and numbered; and from this we make out a chart which shows some shape of the music and the duration of the notes. This is some of the work which Guy has now taken over from me. When Guy has the chart prepared, I can go ahead on the drawings that will be done to the music. The drawings are done on a strip of clear film (like what I enclose) hundreds of feet long. This strip does not have the soundtrack on the side of it; but it does have certain numbers and markings, on the side which tell me what particular notes of the music I am at when I am drawing. These numbers and markings are written on the side by Guy beforehand, and I constantly refer to them, while I am drawing, so that I can immediately listen to the music, if I want. After my drawing is done, the track with the drawings on it, and the track with the wiggly line of sound, are printed together on a new track. This can then be run in any normal cinema projector, and the results will be seen in

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my little drawings dancing and moving in perfect time to the music. ‘Trigger animation’ it is called. (11 April 1942, underline in original)30

This detailed letter refers to both his long-running interest in music and his practice, which he later detailed in his technical notes at the Film Board. Guy Glover was a key collaborator at this point, and as well as sharing his interest in music, this role demonstrates the level of support Glover provided and the trust McLaren put in him. This also outlines one of the major developments in moving image which McLaren became known for, animated music. His creation of animated music, like the rest of his work, required the construction of a highly technical process, more than simply the crude synchronization of a film to some music; Rather the films and music were interlinked. ‘When the exposed negative was developed and printed on a continuous printer, the print, if run on any kind of optical sound system . . . would be heard as music, transferred to magnetic it would serve as a work print.’31 He developed a full system for the creation of these soundtracks, and sound at the NFB was a detailed and organized process – pitch cards were prepared and created for the chromatic scale. These were then ordered into a box and kept beside the animation table in order to be easily used, ‘to control the precise pitch of a note by direct drawing on the film, the spacing of the lines has to be very even for any given note. Low pitches were easier to make than high pitches since the distance between strokes was much greater’.32 At this time, music clearly played an important part in McLaren’s work, but through the letters we get a greater sense of the role of music in his social life; over the years there are frequent references to playing or listening to music in his spare time and with friends. In 1946, he and friends (including animator George Dunning) gathered to celebrate McLaren’s birthday by having lunch and then playing music together on various instruments.33 By the 1950s he included less explanation of his filmmaking process in letters to his parents, perhaps presuming they knew what he was talking about. Numerous updates on the progress of Neighbours revealed the production stages, the length of time taken and the relative interest he had in doing them. After a particularly heavy session of lectures and social events, he was glad to be working on the music: ‘I’m looking forward to getting back to work on my film NEIGHBOURS, which is finished being shot, but which I have now to edit, and make the music for. That will be such pleasant work, after all this running around giving talks and screenings etc.’34 Again he points out how much he preferred his work to the social necessities it increasingly brought. In November 1951 he wrote that he attended a dinner at the American ambassadors, and that despite other artists being present, he found it all rather dull. He enthused instead that, ‘At work I am editing and cutting the NEIGHBOURS film, which I hope to finish before xmas. I have still to do the music for it, which I hope to compose myself, and create synthetically.’35

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The emphasis here is on the description of the work as synthetic, something he was increasingly interested in and was doing for the majority of his films. During this time he also told friend, Biddy Russell that he had discovered another talent in music, ‘That is how I have felt about music – where I have had no formal training – but I know I could compose’(end November 1955).36 This confidence is almost a rare display but is in the context of a letter to a close friend, with whom McLaren was always more open, and perhaps more honest about how he felt about his abilities. One of the key areas regarding the music for his films involved collaboration with animator Evelyn Lambart, who helped McLaren develop a system for the synthetic music, and with musician Maurice Blackburn; both will be discussed in the next chapter. Other musicians featured in his work and, as discussed in the previous chapter, he was influenced by his travels. In 1957 he informed his parents that Indian musicians were arriving to work on music for Chairy Tale.37 ‘Coming up next week from New York is another famous Hindu musician, Mr Narayan Menon, to perform for the Canadian Broadcasting Company; I  have been arranging that he comes out to the NFB of Thursday night to give a lecture demonstration on Indian music. He plays an instrument which is called the VINA.’ (Sunday, 5 May 1957).38 Later that year McLaren himself was giving a lecture, but this time in Toronto for a television programme on ‘Music to See,’ spending twenty minutes explaining his animated sound process. The influence of the Indian music would be discussed in relation to his Lines films created with Evelyn Lambart in the early 1960s. Aimee Mollaghan suggests, ‘there are still notable semblences of Indian doctrine present in McLaren’s films’.39 He also reflected on the Indian compositions in the interview in McWilliams’s Creative Process, Well, what’s influenced me in that direction has been my contact with Hindu classical music . . . because there you get one germ in the raga, and that germ is developed and developed and developed. And it builds all the time. Yes It’s not an A,B,A . . . it’s just a constant build. Once you start on a film. Once you make an initial statement, it forecloses all sorts of possibilities. You’re narrowing down the channel in which you can progress. It’s like starting off a melody in one key. You could go off at a tangent, then come back, and go off at another tangent. It’s a theme and variation. You could build it in to the structure. A great work often uses very few elements, it may do a theme and variations on . . . or it may do a rondo form or sonata form. Many of the structures in music I’ve found helpful as guidelines for structures in abstract films – or in films in general.40

In later letters home, he spoke less of music; they became more about his health and his parents’ health as they all grew older, and had more complaints. However, in 1963 he began planning a series of films based on

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musical expressions with frequent collaborator Grant Munro.41 These later films were aided by new technology, and in a letter dated 19 October, he outlined a trip to Toronto to visit the Royal Conservatory of Music and their electronic sound studios to see about the music for one of the films called Canon (it explains the form of a canon in music using pixilation). For this film McLaren and Munro worked with the composer Eldon Rathburn, one of the NFB’s staff composers. Looking again at McWilliams’s Creative Process we see more reflection on some of the highlights of McLaren’s musical animation, in particular Begone Dull Care with Lambart, which was painted on film with a soundtrack by the Oscar Peterson Trio (whom Glover was said to have secured for the job). Asked about his process, he again talked about the organized methods they used: I know, and there’s been lots of people who’ve written theories about colour and music and pitch. I have no precise theory about this, but I know that if there are sections of music which are very low in pitch, I will tend to use dark colours. If there is high pitch music, I’ll use light colours like yellows and whites or very pale blues. And in Begone Dull Care I was conscious of manipulating colour this way, but you can’t evolve a theory about it, you can’t push it too far or you end up in impossibilities.42

In the 1960s he corresponded with other animators who shared similar influences and would all be considered to work in the area of animated music. Hans Richter, himself considered a pioneer and often described alongside Fischinger and Ruttman, wrote to ask if McLaren would consider hosting a talented young Indian musician: ‘I have been mostly in Europe where I saw . . . your remarkable films . . . In the interest of the young generation I would appreciate it very much if you could consider his request’ (4 November 1961).43 In the same year he would apologize to John Whitney (another pioneer in both animated sound and later computer graphics) for not being able to help him with any information on animated opening credits in his films, but goes on to say, ‘my most recent abstract films, LINES Vertical and Horizontal, have perfectly routine, figurative titles’ (11 October 1961). This correspondence demonstrates the awareness each had of their contemporaries’ work, and the cooperative and arguably supportive nature of these filmmakers, each at the periphery of the larger film industry, with the majority of their output in abstract and experimental filmmaking. McLaren’s pioneering work in animated music, and indeed with the development of his own techniques continued into his career. The film Spheres, which was originally made in the late 1940s, was reworked in 1969 with new music by Canadian composer, Glen Gould. He suggested that he had not been satisfied with the film in its original state but with changes in techniques and technology, he was able to make it the way he had wanted. As he constantly strived to make his processes better, he also developed more of his interest in movement

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and, as discussed in the final section of this chapter, his love of another performing art – dance.

Dance An artist may be like a person who hears music and just starts to dance. He may be dancing for his own satisfaction, but what motivates him to dance also motivates hundreds of other people to dance. The artist is only speaking some kind of common language, speaking to himself, expressing something. And yet, other people come along and recognize it and realize that, in this person’s dancing, there is something new and different.44

Like music and painting, dance, and in particular, ballet held a fascination for McLaren which could be seen throughout his career. This was visible in the rhythmic movement of his dots, loops, hens, blackbirds, lines, spheres and in the pixilated actors in his films. From his earliest notes to Biddy Russell and Helen Biggar asking them to book tickets at the ballet in Glasgow for him, to the numerous references to ballet performances that he and Guy attended over the years, McLaren’s love of the art was clear. As well as showing movement in his films, he described the process of making them in the same way; in the technical notes for Begone Dull Care, he described his practice as though he were performing, ‘Thus, the knife-point was made to slide and move on the surface of the film; my hand pressed, guided, and, as it were, made to “dance” to the rhythm of the music.’45 This, combined with his statements in Creative Process and elsewhere that all movement is a form of dance, and as discussed previously, his take on the form of ‘ballet and mime’ that Neighbours presented, demonstrated and reinforced his interest. Once he started to capture people in his films, such as the aforementioned Neighbours and A Chairy Tale (1957), his shift to more explicit use of dance and bodily movement gave him a new outlet for his creative interests. He was able to explore the true meaning of movement and performance and he wrote eloquently about the way in which movement could be broken down into tiny moments of motion. ‘In fact the mobile element of a film can almost always be broken down into two components, the form of the moving object, and the motion itself. It is the motion that is the heart of cinema, and that makes the film (as well as the more traditional arts of dance, ballet, pantomime, theatre etc.), such a powerful medium. An international language.’46

A Chairy Tale (1957) For this film, McLaren teams his human performer with an inanimate object made animate – the chair of the title. A man (Claude Jutra) is looking to sit

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and read a book, the chair does not want to be sat upon. After what can be perceived to be a battle of wits through a choreographed chase and ‘dance’, the chair triumphs by sitting on the man. At the end of the film the chair allows the man to sit and read, the man having experienced what it is to be sat upon (a fable of cooperation classified as anti-war in the NFB collection). The film uses pixilation, used in Neighbours, for much of the man’s movement, and the chair is animated by what might be termed traditional stop motion – but is also manipulated by wires akin to a puppet. The setting is simple, with little discernible background or any other objects. The music is synchronized to the movement and becomes part of the performance. The chair inhabits a distinct character through the movements. We can sense an attitude, at times playful or rebellious, as it refuses to conform to its presumed purpose, and we are drawn into its performance. It could be argued that A Chairy Tale is more of a conventional comedic chase narrative (though in Neighbours there is still the structural convention of a conflict being played out) but the combination of synchronized music as well as the pixilation (which could be viewed by the untrained eye as live action) makes the performance more interesting than if McLaren had say drawn a chair and man interacting in the same way. McLaren is able to use the body and the object together to present something which seems as ‘real’ as live action but with the particularity of animation, and perhaps could be argued to be part of this new genre of ballet and mime that he desired (mime being used in the comedic sense here). Though he continued with abstract films throughout the 1950s and 1960s, he remained interested in the possibilities of working with people in his films again, and indeed did so in Two Bagatelles (1952) and later Canon (1964) with Grant Munro. During a trip to the ballet in Toronto in 1954, he paid close attention to the dancers, later telling Biddy Russell that he was thinking of making a film about them.47 By 1955 he told Biddy of his desire to make a ‘pure ballet film’. He had been thinking about it since making Neighbours but the timing was never right with all of his other commitments.48 Unfortunately his other commitments lasted a significant amount of time, and in May 1962, he wrote home: It looks as if, at long last, my idea for a ballet film may materialize. The purpose of my trip to New York is to meet George Balanchine, who is one of the foremost choreographers or designers of ballets in the USA . . . to discuss the possibility of a collaborative work with him on a film ballet . . . I think I have a lot of ideas on the subject; I hope he also has. (Monday, 7 May 1962)49

This initial meeting would lead to a long process of tests and experiments to create his ‘pure ballet film’. Over the next few years he made several test films with other choreographers, while continuing with other film projects. By 1966 he has been filming preliminary tests with two dancers for what would eventually

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become his first ballet film, Pas de Deux (1968), and commented, ‘I have high hopes for the film’ (17 April 1966).

Pas de Deux (1968) The film featured a pair of dancers filmed in white in a black space, with their movements multiplied to give the appearance of being multi-limbed. ‘In the original shooting of Pas de Deux no attempt was made to get a multiple image.’50 McLaren explained in his technical notes how the effects were achieved by making multiple exposures of freeze frame scenes. These were later combined to make the effect of the multiplication of movement. Though the ballet dancers were choreographed, it was in the post-production that the filmic effect of animation became apparent and revealed the elements of movement and rhythm which McLaren was so interested in. At thirteen minutes in length, the music and almost ghost-like images presented a very different approach and style to McLaren’s previous films, and though almost purely about movement, the film feels like a significant departure from his earlier work. However, if one is to consider the experimental nature of many of McLaren’s films, then Pas de Deux is the beautiful result of and an of extension of this philosophy of work. The film was followed up in 1972 with Ballet Adagio, which takes the movement of the adagio, or love duet sequence, from the pas de deux, or dance for two, of the previous film in slow motion to fully demonstrate the movement in its minute detail. Though the film is interesting in its study of movement, it seems less connected to his previous films in terms of any form of animatedness which would set it apart. He described the editing process as stressful in a letter to Biddy Russell.51 Despite this he obviously liked the outcome and was keen to follow up with another ballet film, already musing on the idea of something on the Narcissus legend, which would be his last film. This last film took several years to make, not just in terms of the work involved but also due to his failing health at the time of filming. He was assisted by several of his key collaborators, including Don McWilliams, who would eventually become his biographer.

Narcissus (1983) This film allows the titular protagonist to dance with his ultimate lover, himself, by using some of the multiplication techniques seen in Pas de Deux. The film was his most ambitious in terms of length, coming in at twenty-two minutes and, like Adagio, seems very different from his previous films. Even though the movement is captured and essentially deconstructed through the filmic process, there is a lack of movement, or perhaps a stillness which was missing in his earlier films. This may be in part simply a new direction of motion study, or it could also reflect his age and health, him slowing down, retiring from

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work and making his elegant swan song as it were. He described the film as a chance to show what he could do:  ‘Narcissus legend gave me the story to show off my techniques’, as if there was any doubt. The film is probably best described as a culmination of his techniques and processes honed over years of experimentation. Thomas Waugh suggests that the film was made when the ‘social climate and McLaren’s unassailable status would permit a relatively explicit exploration of the sexual signification of the story’.52 The film features a male lead dancing first with a female partner, then a male, which Waugh describes as ‘a stunning effect as an unprecedented representation of gay male sexuality’.53 Ultimately the lead rejects both of these and instead becomes consumed with his own reflection and dances with it instead, which is where the multiplication effect comes in with such force. The end of the film sees the lead literally imprisoned by his ‘self-absorption . . . of sexual repression, even of the thwarted self-realization of the closet’.54 This assessment rings largely true on viewing the film now, particularly in the knowledge of McLaren’s sexuality. It is interesting that this film was the boldest and also his last. Of course, as Waugh suggested, the social climate allowed for this to be permissible but McLaren may have also been more comfortable with the idea of not so much revealing his sexuality but rather not hiding it. It comes nearly forty years after he innocently claimed that he did not understand Grierson’s claims of sexual innuendo in Camera Makes Whoopee or even later the Freudian nature of Love on the Wing, which saw the film refused a release. Perhaps through the medium of dance, McLaren was finally able to express this side of his life more explicitly.

Notes 1 See Terence Dobson, The Film Work of Norman McLaren (Eastleigh: John Libbey, 2006) and Donald McWilliams, Creative Process script, 1990. 2 McLaren in ‘Documentary Film News’, 1948, p.52. 3 T. Dobson, The Film Work of Norman McLaren, p.66 4 Letter to Helen Biggar, University of Stirling Archive, 23 August 1940. 5 National Library of Scotland Archive Acc.5649/3, 25 May 1952. 6 McWilliams, Creative Process script. 7 University of Stirling Archive, not catalogued. 8 McWilliams, Creative Process script. 9 T. Dobson, The Film Work of Norman McLaren. 10 Ibid., pp. 85–6. 11 George Brandt, 29 January 1987; University of Stirling Archive, not catalogued. 12 National Library of Scotland Archive Acc.5649/16. 13 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/F/1/09/1952. 14 Letter to Biddy Russell containing a copy of a transcript for a speech for a Zurich Film Festival on 12 October 1954, National Library of Scotland Archive Acc.5649/5. 15 Ibid.

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16 See the previous chapter when he described the making of Spook Sport as interesting in terms of the process rather than the output (xxx). p.91–93 17 See n.14. 18 McWilliams, Creative Process script. 19 Valliere T. Richard, Norman McLaren, Manipulator of Movement: The National Film Board Years, 1947–1967 (Newark NJ: University of Delaware Press, 1982). 20 Letter to Helen Biggar, 24 October 1936, University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/ 3/1936/28. 21 This biography was transcribed from Nichola Dobson, Historical Dictionary of Animation and Cartoons (Lanham, MA: Scarecrow Press, 2009) 22 McWilliams, Creative Process script. 23 See Donald McWilliams’s online biography in which he talks about Fischinger as an influence, http://www3.nfb.ca/animation/objanim/en/filmmakers/NormanMcLaren/biography.php (accessed 5 March 2014). 24 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1951. 25 Ruttman (1887–1941) was also a German abstract filmmaker with origins in engraving and painting. He began making films in 1921. He collaborated with Lotte Reiniger. Though his work in animation was very limited, he is said to have been a great influence on many animators, particularly in his use of abstract rhythms and movements, such as Hans Richter, Oskar Fischinger and Norman McLaren. 26 This biography was transcribed from N. Dobson, Historical Dictionary of Animation and Cartoons. 27 Boogie Doodle was made in 1940 but was released by the NFB in 1941. 28 It is unclear if McLaren is talking about the music for Boogie Doodle here; the film was made while in New York but released under the NFB so it is possible that he finished the film in Ottawa. There are no other films made in that year which use the piano he describes. University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1941/26. 29 Disney’s first Silly Symphonies short was Skeleton Dance in 1929. This series of musical-themed short was similar in style to the Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes by the Warner Bros. studios in the same era. 30 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1942/8. 31 From technical notes on ‘Synthetic Sound’, original notes compiled 1952, final version 1985, University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/F/1/8. 32 Dots and Loops technical notes, 1940, University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/F/1/ 1. 33 The photographs at the start of this section show McLaren with the violin and either a clarinet or a recorder. He also spoke of being able to play piano a little. 34 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1951 (Sunday, end October 1951). 35 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1951 (24 November 1951). 36 National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/6. 37 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1957/ (24 March 1957). 38 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/C/1/1957/6. 39 Aimee Mollaghan, ‘“An Experiment in Pure Design:” The Minimalist Aesthetic in the Line Films of Norman McLaren,’ Animation Studies, vol. 6 (2011). http:// journal.animationstudies.org/aimee-mollaghan-an-experiment-in-pure-designthe-minimalist-aesthetic-in-the-line-films-of-norman-mclaren/ (accessed 19 March 2014).

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McWilliams, Creative Process script. Munro will be discussed further in the next chapter McWilliams, Creative Process script. National Film Board of Canada archives. McWilliams, Creative Process script. Technical notes for Begone Dull Care, University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/F/1/ 6. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/F/1/09/1952 (underline in the original). National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/5, 12 May 1954. National Library of Scotland Acc.5649/6, January 1955. University of Stirling Archive, not catalogued (underlines in original). Technical notes for Pas de Deux. National Library of Scotland Acc 5649/17. Thomas Waugh, The Fruit Machine: Twenty Years of Writing on Queer Cinema (London: Duke University Press, 2000), p. 202. Ibid. Ibid.

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Chapter 5 C O L L A B O R AT IO N S

Sometimes I get the impression from articles people write about me that I make my films almost single-handed. Now, this is a quite erroneous impression. Usually it’s with one or two people. We form a small team. Most often it’s been with Evelyn Lambart, but almost as frequently with Grant Munro. On the music side it’s with Maurice Blackburn. So there’s usually three people in the team.1

Frequently referred to as a ‘pioneer’ or genius in developing new animation styles and techniques, McLaren’s work has received international attention. Despite the fact that the majority of his film title cards bear his name alone, McLaren was an enthusiastic collaborator in most of his work. He was modest about his own successes but keen to reinforce the part that other people played in his success. From the early film-making efforts at the Kinecraft Society and then the more substantive work with Helen Biggar, discussed earlier, McLaren found kindred creative spirits at various points in his career. His work with Mary Ellen Bute, not strictly considered collaborative as such, also previously discussed, gave him the opportunity to develop his techniques and earn some money at the same time. It gave him a chance to work with someone who took a different approach to the job of selling the work. In Guy Glover, also his romantic partner, he had a creative companion who supported his work in terms of helping with the practice but also in the extraneous work of producing, securing music and generally overseeing much of the work at the FB of Canada in later years. This chapter moves into a different phase of McLaren’s life, covering more of his time at the film board. This has been discussed extensively by both McWilliams and Dobson through the lens of McLaren’s creative output during his forty-year career there, and as such will not be too concerned here with the work itself, but instead examine these later, and arguably more important, collaborations and relationships McLaren had at the board. The chapter discusses Evelyn Lambart and Grant Munro in the main as two people McLaren became closest to, apart from Glover. It also looks at some

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of the other key influences in his work at this time, from composer Maurice Blackburn, protégé Claude Jutra, to friend and animator Alexandre Alexieff. The FB was well known for fostering new talent, particularly in those days, as exemplified by people such as James Beveridge and George Dunning who went on to other places. Though there were a great number of people from the board, particularly in later years, who worked with McLaren, including René Jodoin and Tom Daly, this chapter (like the rest of the book) is concerned with these main relationships through McLaren’s correspondence; there is far less in the way of substantive discussion of others. That is not to say that there is no material available which discusses these other people, just that they were not available to me at the time of writing and as such are considered outside the scope of this book.

Evelyn Lambart (1914–1999) Of all of McLaren’s collaborators over the years, the closest in terms of both working practice and creative drive and friendship was probably Evelyn Lambart (another key female in his life). She was known fondly as Eve in letters home from an early stage of their relationship; she was someone with whom

Figure  5.1 Norman McLaren with Evelyn Lambart, date unknown. GAA/31/PP/19/ 024.

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McLaren spent a great amount of time both inside and outside of the working environment. This section considers Lambart’s own work both before and after her collaborations with McLaren and examines their relationship through his letters. Lambart is fairly well known in her own right as a Canadian animator who was encouraged in art by her father, who was a photographer, and her mother, a botanist. Lambart studied commercial art at the Ontario College of Art. She spent a year and a half after graduation working on Canada’s Book of Remembrance doing illuminations. This was delicate work which showed her skill with fine work and colour. She then went to work at the National Film Board of Canada in Ottawa in 1942, a year after McLaren joined the board. She first began to work with McLaren as an assistant but very quickly began working with him, animating and often co-directing. Not all of her time was spent working with McLaren; she took a break in the post-war years to create maps and diagrams for the World in Action series and in 1947 began her first solo work, The Impossible Map (1947). She resumed her partnership with McLaren in 1949 with Begone Dull Care (1949), which is often considered to be the partnership’s best film.

Begone Dull Care (1949) Co-directed by McLaren and Lambart, Begone Dull Care, released in 1949, is an interpretation of jazz music by the Oscar Peterson Trio, with a running time of 7 minutes 40 seconds. The images were painted directly onto film (using a variety of materials including fabric and dust), and the film is generally held up in animation history as one of the best examples of cameraless animation. The film demonstrates the kinetic qualities of the soundtrack and studies the nature of movement. The film was made by recording the soundtrack and then cutting lengths of film to match the music. The images were created with a variety of methods including scratching and painting directly onto film (and accidentally melting it with a serendipitous effect). In 1950 Norman McLaren won a Special Award at the Canadian Film Awards, and in 1951 both animators won the Silver Plaque at the Berlin Film Festival for Best Documentary/Cultural Film. While Begone Dull Care is the film most commonly associated as collaboration between the two, there were several more over the years, including Rythmetic (1956), A Chairy Tale (1957), Le Merle (1958), Lines Vertical (1960), Lines Horizontal (1962) and Mosaic (1965). Lambart once talked about her experiences at the board and working with McLaren in a newspaper interview. ‘I’m working with Norman all the time on something or other . . . I’ve been doing all kinds of animation. I like three-dimensional things and I like color. Almost any artist does.’ She frequently produces the material with which Mr McLaren works. The birds for ‘Le Merle’ were hers and so were the numbers for ‘Rythmetic’. ‘I moved the chair in Chairy Tale . . . I moved the chair with

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black nylon fishing line. The greatest trick was when the chair jumped, turned a somersault and landed on its feet again. That took two of us.’ . . .Evelyn did the ‘lines’ for two more recent McLaren productions – ‘Lines Vertical’ and ‘Lines Horizontal’ . . . She admits that she and Mr McLaren sometimes disagree but says: ‘He is a person of enourmous talent, I respect his opinions very much but I think its my business to use my own brains.’2

The article went on to describe her then-current film, designing DNA molecules, which at the time had a working title of Microcosm, produced by Colin Low at the board. It also talked about her personal life, which in the context of McLaren’s letters was interesting. Evelyn is the Board’s only female animator although there are several apprentices. After 19 years she says happily: ‘It suits me beautifully. I am an extremely lucky and privileged person to work here. There are many talented people who don’t have this opportunity.’ Does she care about the world outside? ‘I read the papers. I hate them but I read them. I do some gardening and weaving. I have a summer cottage and keep a couple of cats. Oh and I have a house in the suburbs. I’m only mildly social. But I don’t like people around all the time. I like privacy. My life here is such a rich and satisfying thing.’3

It is clear from this quote that she and McLaren shared a similar personality type in describing themselves as private and non-social, though from the letters we see that they, along with Guy (and later Grant Munro), would spend much of their time together. In the letters home McLaren frequently sent Evelyn’s love home to his parents, suggesting that they may have met at some point, or perhaps he spoke of them all to each other so often he felt that they knew each other. One of the most frequent mentions of Evelyn in the letters was in social gatherings – generally at Eve’s house where she cooked elaborate meals for them all. In late 1947 he wrote home to describe a dinner at Eve’s followed by a film screening on her new projector which was better than his.4 In his next letter he sent his own news combined with Evelyn’s. ‘On Wednesday evening Evelyn came for dinner, and then went to a concert for which she had seats . . . she is very busy now, making a film on the history of Canada, which looks as if it is going to be very good.’ ‘Im not so busy at the moment, but my mind has been taken up with trying to decide what to do about an offer to go to Hollywood for a short job.’5 ‘ I am getting a copy of that list of my films for you Mum: I don’t think I took it away by mistake, but anyway, I’ll send you another. I have been seeing about getting more copies of my films for England so it is quite possible you may get another chance to see “Poulette Grise” again Mum.’6 (12 January 1948)

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In many letters over the next few years he described even more meals cooked by Evelyn either for large groups from the board or for smaller gatherings – she was always interested in trying new recipes and, from McLaren’s accounts, was a very good cook. Her creative skills in the kitchen extended into other areas of craft as well. He would usually use the post-Xmas letter to describe the gifts he and Guy had received and in 1951 told his parents about Eve’s new craft output, ‘Evelyn gave me a most beautiful waistcoat, which she had knitted herself.’ ‘I returned to work on the Tuesday, and Eve and I did a lot of shooting on the film for the Festival of Britain’ (7 January 1951, underline in the original).7 The time taken to create a personal gift demonstrated the closeness of their relationship and most Xmas meals were spent together. Over the next year (1951), they worked together on McLaren’s stereoscopic film experiments (though these are rarely mentioned in connection with Lambart’s work ). One example from Wednesday, July 1951, talks about McLaren and Eve finishing a film (a revision of Around Is Around) and sending it to London to be color printed for the Canadian National Exhibition. ‘An invitation just arrived today from the American Society of Motion Picture Engineers asking me to go out to Hollywood in October to attend their annual conference and give a talk on stereoscopic techniques in animated films.’8 This invitation would have boosted McLaren’s confidence in developing what he thought was very new technology. In fact he was developing something which had been thought of before. In an article written in 2014, Alison Loader outlined the early stages of his stereoscopic drawings, that the technology was Victorian and that he had, ‘unwittingly recreated the 1838 apparatus and technique of Sir Charles Wheatstone – a fact pointed out to McLaren by fellow NFB filmmaker Raymond Spottiswoode on a visit to the animator’s Ottawa home.’9 Loader’s assertion is reinforced in McLaren’s letters home, including one from 1944 when he outlined his new invention. I have been very busy doing a new type of drawing and painting. It is absolutely new and revolutionary, and all my own invention. I have been inventing it this summer, about June, and have been working and perfecting it, in my spare time ever since. You will probably hear quite a lot about it in the future, but not immediately, as I have still got a lot of progress to make in it. It is called ‘Stereoscopic’ drawing and painting. For every scene or picture, I have to draw actually two drawings – one for each eye. The drawings are of the same scene, but seen from a slightly different point of view. When you look at the two drawings together, the eye fuses the two images into one scene, which has an amazing sense of reality about it. You may remember, away back in your young days looking at Stereoscopic photos of scenery thru a little gadget for viewing them. well this is the same thing, only they are drawings and paintings, instead of photos. No one has ever thought of doing drawings for a stereoscope before, or, if they have, have been able to do them.

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However, I have invented a marvellous method for doing them with ease. (27 November 1944)10

Despite the fact that it was not new as such, it did not diminish McLaren’s enthusiasm for the process and he continued developing what would be some of the earliest 3D animation. Most of my spare time has been taken up with writing a thesis on doing stereoscopic painting and drawing that I have been doing from time to time, during the last two years. I am thinking of submitting it to the Carnegie foundation, in the hope of getting money to carry on my experiments in a bigger way . . . I enjoyed doing it. (9 June 1946)11

Over the next few weeks McLaren continued with the documentation of his techniques, ‘This past week I have been busy writing a report on the methods I used to make the two films you so [saw]. Now it is finished, and this coming week I shall be going out to shoot more on a film I’m making on “Good Neighbourliness” ’ (Sunday, 9 September 1951).12 In the letter he asked his mother if she enjoyed the film (Around Is Around) and that he thought it was more restful than the previous years film (the very active Begone Dull Care). He also wondered about the effects of the stereoscopy, ‘I wonder if you were able to get the stereopscopic effect of depth very much? Some people do so more than others. It is rather ironic that I myself don’t very much, nor does Eve who worked so much on the film too.’ It is interesting that during such a creative period, Eve’s name is so absent from much of the history of these films. That said, the films were only recently nominated for restoration by the National Film Board to be shown during the centenary celebrations and very little had been written about them before. That Eve is missed from much of the discussion also speaks to the relative celebrity of the name McLaren and though collaboration is often mentioned, it is for the better-known films, with the most visible collaboration being Begone Dull Care (and as we will see with Grant Munro, Neighbours). Though he moved on to work on Neighbours over the next year, he continued with some work in the stereoscopic films, having completed both Around Is Around and Now Is the Time in 1951. He supervised Evelyn’s O Canada and Gretta Ekman’s Twirligig in 1952, both of which used the stereo techiniques. Around is Around presents the graceful arabesques of an oscilloscopic line, while Now is the Time features a whimsical figure dancing amidst layers of smiling suns and cartoon clouds, animated by drawing directly onto film. O Canada travels cross-country in a sequence of zooms through pastel-painted Canadian landmarks, and the abstract Twirligig transforms in stream of consciousness shapeshifting. Each film spotlights movement in depth, and significantly accomplished without a stereoscopic camera rig.13

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All four of these films were shown at the Venice Film Festival in 1952. The films were also developed for the Festival of Britain the same year, and in another letter he spoke to his parents of different issues of collaboration, once more revealing his political feelings. In my regular work, when I have been getting time for it I have been working on the stereoscopic film for the opening of the new stereo cinema in London on the 23rd of May, in the pleasure gardens at Battersea Park. It was a big rush, and meant working evenings and weekends, for the finished negatives had to be airmailed to England by the 7th of May, where they will be made into colour prints. The name of the film is TWIRLIGIG; however I  have withdrawn my name from the film, as has also the composer of the music, in protest against what we both consider unwarranted political discrimination against the artist who did the animated drawing for the film. Yesterday I cabled London to cut out our credit titles from the film, and avoid all reference to the artists who made the film in publicity to the public or to the press. (1April 1952)14

In 1954, the extent of the closeness of McLaren’s friendship with Eve was demonstrated in a letter home to Stirling, this time from Eve on McLaren’s behalf, telling them of his safe departure to South America for more film festival duties. Norman asked me to send you this magazine, or correctly I offered and he said fine. We got him off to Brazil yesterday in something of a hurry to say the least. I had been working with him for the previous week to help him finish his current film ‘Night Encounter’. It is being printed in color in New York and from there he goes on to São Paulo where there is a great festival of new films being held. He is there in an official capacity, and will have to make some speeches. I hope he meets some interesting people otherwise he will find it a great strain and a great bore. He may go over to the Argentine afterwards where there is another festival of a different sort, he is going to take about a months holidays while there too. The Canadian Ambassador has asked him to stay over in Rio after the Brazilian festival is over and make some speeches. People on this side just love a Scottish accent. If he would just roll his Rs a little he could be a hit on that alone . . . he has worked awfully hard the last few months and I hope he has a good holiday, the last few days he did not even stop to eat his lunch. He ate while working. He does not seem too tired, I have seen him look a lot worse. He and Guy and I had a few days at Blue Sea last summer were you really get away from people and relax and I think they both enjoyed it. Norman painted all the time that we were not swimming, and I got Guy carving a fork and spoon out of drift wood. Ps I hope you have not heard all this before. With much love to you both from Evelyn Lambart. (5 February 1954)15

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The personal references to how tired, or otherwise McLaren was and the details of their trip to her holiday home showed how much she cared for him as well as how far their friendship extended beyond work. The next major project the pair worked on together, started in 1954, was Rythmetic and as seen in the earlier interview, Evelyn was heavily involved in the animation of the film, creating the moving parts. It must be more than five weeks now that Eve and I have been shooting our new film ‘RYTHMETIC’. It is slow steady and fairly exacting work, and if you were to drop I and see us doing it from time to time, it would almost certainly seem to you that we were always doing the same thing . . . It would seem very monotonous work to a bystander, but to us it is engrossing, because by our thousands of little moves we are making the arithmetic numbers come to life, and they will seem to move and behave like little creatures in the final film . . . When the film is finished I hope it will make you laugh. No word about my TV program in the UK, so far. BLINKITY BLANK is being shown at the Cannes Film Festival this spring. (Mid-March 1955)16

Over the next few years they worked on different projects but still spent their Xmas breaks together. By 1959 they had started working along with composer Maurice Blackburn on their Lines films.17

Lines and Rythmetic Over the years of their collaboration, McLaren and Evelyn continued to experiment with movement, form, rhythm and music. In 1956 they made Rythmetic, which used cut-out animation, music and movement to explain mathematics to children. This technique was useful in producing pure movement and in the early 1960s they simplified the form of movement again in the form of single lines which would move, meet and multiply. Over the next few years they used this technique to produce what is known as the Lines trilogy  – Lines Vertical (1960), Lines Horizontal (1962) and Mosaic (1965). The films have different moods and evoke emotional response to the combination of music and movement. The use of music in these films is discussed eloquently by Aimee Mollaghan,18 who argues that their work is situated within a period of minimalism in art. McLaren often considered himself to be at the zeitgeist of many areas though he didn’t always look for them or indeed engage with them deliberately. As with many of McLaren’s films though, they were never entirely finished and in 1960 they worked on a television credit sequence in New York which was based on the style of animation used in Rythmetic. The job was successful and resulted in three well-paid job offers but he was not interested, ‘as it would be really wasting my abilities on cheap commercial trash’ (6 February 1960).19

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Their projects diverged again and in 1962 (as discussed earlier) Evelyn began working on ‘a film to do with the “microcosm”, showing atoms and molecules” (Monday, 7 May 1962). In the same year though they came together again to make Mosaic which was based on the Lines films. Mosaic was not finished though, until 1965. In 1963, another letter to McLaren’s mother demonstrated how much Evelyn cared about and admired him, but also reassured his mother how well he was doing and how well he was regarded at the board. He has been very well this Christmas, much better than usual at this season. He has kept going, and done everything, while pretending to do nothing . . . I think Norman has been saying some flattering things to you about me and I think you should know the truth. The talent I have is very limited, and in my fingers (this is not a rare sort of talent as everyone knows). He is the one with the real inspiration. A talent which is very rare and I am very happy that he so often finds a use for what I can do. Besides this he is such a gentle person, and so sympathetic and understanding of other people, that it is a joy to be associated with him. It is just wonderful to work with a person whose taste and opinions are so excellent and so sure and who so completely commands your respect, that you can put the best you have into the job with confidence and pleasure. I do not think he realizes how great his influence is both in the animation dep. and in the board in general not only for the magnificently high standard which his work always has:  but also for the thoughtfulness and generosity which is in all his human relationships. When I go about our mutual business around the board, and I ask for something for N, there is not a person who does not eagerly rise with a smile to the job, in the pleasure of doing it for Norman. No matter how much trouble it may involve. I am sometimes guilty of hinting that a thing may be for N when really it is for me and I always get it faster and better. We do share everything eventually. I do not know how you have produced this paragon. But you have done it and I would like to say thank you and congratulate you for all of us. With many Best Wishes for the New Year and love to all of you, from Eve. (13 January 1963, underline in original)20

The language in the letter, similar to the last example, reinforces how similar they were in both their own modesty, but also caring for others. After the Lines films were completed, McLaren received a letter from the Canadian Embassy in Tokyo extolling the virtues of the films and offering congratulations on their success. He added a note by hand to make sure that Evelyn’s name was included. During the year 1961, as discussed in the previous chapter on McLaren’s health, he had several hospital stays, and each time Eve visited almost daily, along with Grant Munro (particularly with Guy away in India). In March 1965, Evelyn was invited to the Annecy festival as part of the jury and at the same festival, a retrospective celebrating 25 years of McLaren’s work was to be shown.

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Figure 5.2 Letter from Canadian Embassy, Tokyo, to Norman McLaren with additional handwritten note including Evelyn Lambart, 9th February 1961.

McLaren and Evelyn would travel together for the festival (joined by Grant Munro and Maurice Blackburn). As the work and related ‘celebrity’ led to more official duties for McLaren , they took great comfort at Eve’s summerhouse on Blue Lake with rejuvenating trips getting them away from the busy pace of the board. ‘I am begin bombarded by visitors & press critics, etc & I  will have to get a secretary of my own at the NFB to cope with it – else I’ll never be able to get on with making films.’21 McLaren had this ‘special person’ by the letter of 5 September, ‘This

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new arrangement has been in effect only two days, but already it has made a big difference.’ Evelyn’s lake house would also accommodate visiting guests such as their friends the Alexieffs during one summer visit from France. Shortly before his mother died, McLaren sent a letter to tell her what he had been up to. He told her of a trip to Eve’s for the day when they went on to visit Eve’s sister. This was interesting to McLaren as Eve had not spoken well of her but he thought she was ‘a perfectly charming person’.22 They went on to make maple toffee, which involved pouring hot maple syrup into the snow and eating it cooled, like ice-cream. He had previously sent a detailed drawing of the process of tapping the trees for Maple syrup when he first saw it in his early years in Canada. McLaren and Lambart continued to work well together but in the 1960s his interest in dance films grew and she began making her own films, though she did help complete Ballet Adagio when McLaren was ill. She began to use a technique of paper cut-outs transferred onto litho plates and then painted and animated. This was used to make seven award-winning films including Fine Feathers (1968) The Hoarder (1969), Paradise Lost (1970), The Story of Christmas (1973) and Mr. Frog Went A-Courting (1974). Lambart retired from the film board in 1975 and moved to the country where she made her last film, The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse/Le Rat de maison et le Rat des champs (1980). Their relationship was born out of work and grew into close and trusted collaboration and friendship. It is interesting to see how they reflected each other later in their lives. In an interview in September 1987, eight months after McLaren’s death, Evelyn described her own filmmaking career and her work with McLaren. Norman was a moving spirit in the invention of animation techniques. There was always something new brewing in his mind . . . Sometimes I think I’m really a piece of Norman. You can’t work that closely with a person for so long and not feel that. We co-ordinated so well together . . . We were compatible. Our feeling for time and colour was the same. It all became integrated because every tiny detail was discussed back and forth until we came to an agreement on what was acceptable . . . Norman had great prestige. I feel that all my life Norman’s mantle has fallen a bit on me and I think people respect me mainly because I  was working with him. Norman was a big figure . . . I often felt very insignificant beside him, but he respected me very much.

She talked about McLaren’s move to his ballet films in the 1960s and how their collaborations essentially ended, and how difficult this was for her, ‘Until then, the relationship had been so comfortable and so successful that there’d never been any reason to think otherwise. I felt very lost at that time; I had always worked with Norman and I found it difficult to have to make my own decisions. I had to force myself.’23

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Asked about Evelyn’s role as collaborator in an interview which eventually became part of the Creative Process documentary, McLaren said, She played an immense role in almost all my films, except for the last ten years, when she started making her own films. We got together in the forties. I remember working out tests with her for Poulette Grise before I arrived at the final decision. She started kind of as an assistant, but more and more we fitted in and in some films she was really co-directing them. One thing was that she was very methodical. Terribly systematic, had lots of things on hand – protractors and compasses and many other instruments. So we thought and felt the same way about it – the use of colour. She came into the designing the use of colour in Mosaic, where there’s little flickers . . . when the dots crowd together, you get a little clump of flickers. So we shared ideas and opinions. And . . . and . . . she was a – I felt the value of a second person provided that other person – felt the same way about art and colour and about movie movement. And there she was.24

Both of these lengthy quotes of reflection of a long friendship demonstrate their closeness and trust the pair had in each other. It is interesting that McLaren felt so at ease with Evelyn despite once writing to Biddy Russell that he felt uncomfortable in the presence of women, though this was in a letter, which was essentially coming out, and what seems to be the rejection of Biddy’s advances. His romantic interests may have never been inclined towards women, but his work and friendship never precluded them. This could be seen in his work with Helen Biggar, arguably with Mary Ellen Bute, but reinforced with Evelyn. He clearly saw her as a creative kindred spirit and as such their work and friendship flourished.

Grant Munro (1923–) Though Evelyn was a creative constant at the National Film Board, Grant Munro, who came and went over several years, became well known for working with McLaren on some of his most famous films, namely Neighbours (1952), Two Bagatelles (1953), Canon (1964), and the instructive series Animated Motion.25 Winnipeg native Munro had many talents as a director, actor, cinematographer and documentarian,26 but in this context is discussed as another key collaborator during McLaren’s years at the board. Munro joined the board in 1944 but left in 1947 to work with another company. He returned in 1951, in time to perform the physically demanding role of one of the neighbours in Neighbours as well as continuing the experiments in the pixelation technique also seen in Two Bagatelles. He left the board again in 1957 to work with fellow former board staffer George Dunning, who had set up a studio in London, England. He came back to the board once more in 1961 and

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remained there until 1970. After this period he began making documentaries, including the Animated Motion series with McLaren. The sporadic tenure at the board is reflected in the letters which go from constant references to Munro to next to nothing and back again (as with Evelyn and Guy, Grant would always say ‘hello’). It is unclear if they kept in touch during Munro’s periods away from the board, however during certain periods, like Evelyn, he was a constant presence, particularly during McLaren’s periods of ill health in the 1960s. I would suggest that due to the sporadic nature of Munro’s time at the board, the friendship was generally more social than work based, and indeed in 1965 when McLaren had moved into another apartment in his building to accommodate his painting equipment, he noted that while Guy was across the hall, Munro lived above them in the same building. In 1960, just before Munro returned to work at the board, he visited and stayed with McLaren and Glover in their Montreal apartment. He stayed for several weeks before going back to England. By 1962 however, he was outlining plans to make a film with Munro, one which looked at describing musical forms for children. They returned to the pixelation method, but before they could work on what would become Canon they were tasked with a shorter film, which would become Christmas Cracker (1963). A new job for a Xmas film . . . Grant Munro & I have been assigned to do a special sequence for this film. He is going to play the part of a Jester, who introduces the film and its titles, and who appears between each of the scenes, and who winds up the film at the end . . . During all this coming week we are going to be shooting it, and during the following few weeks we will be editing it and arranging the music and special effects . . . The musical cannon film has been put aside for the moment. (17 June 1962)27

In 1963 McLaren commented that Munro had moved on to another project and that he was working with the composer Eldon Rathburn on the music for Canon, as previously discussed.28 Canon was finished by 1964 by which time Munro was beginning to work on several other projects. Munro’s films during this period (and into the 1970s) took on the political or social issues of the day with a level of humour present in Neighbours, but not tackled directly by McLaren. In 1966 Munro made one of his most well-known films Toys, which featured a mixture of live action, pixelation and stop motion to tell an unnerving story about the horror of war (just as they had previously in Neighbours) but this time depicted through the graphic use of children’s toy soldiers. The film’s social commentary was far more obvious than in his work with McLaren, which in their later collaborations moved more towards the whimsical. From McLaren’s letters (and Munro’s filmography), it seems that Munro had a varied approach to his subjects and in 1966 was making a film which would

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be released as The Animal Movie, ‘He has finished his children’s film on how animals move, and is starting on a new one.’29 (The new film was presumably Toys.) Munro changed subjects again and in 1970 Munro once more used a comedic approach, this time in a live action film warning against the dangers of smoking called Ashes of Doom. The short film played off the horror genre of the day, and was particularly reminiscent of a Hammer Horror film, popular in Britain in the 1960s and 1970s. In 1983, Munro made McLaren on McLaren and also filmed McLaren giving a speech to take to a film festival in Holland. McLaren was unable to travel by this point and Munro went as his representative. By this time Munro was becoming more of a support for McLaren, particularly as he graduated into retirement from the board. McLaren’s official retirement was in 1984, which was attended by 400 to 500 people from the board, and a smaller group for lunch.30 This was despite his suggesting in a previous letter to his sister, Sheena, that he hoped ‘like old soldiers, to quietly fade away’.31 His fame and immense contribution to the board did not allow him to go so quietly. Munro himself retired from the board in 1988, one year after McLaren’s death. In 1992, Cecile Starr interviewed Munro about his time at the board. He described the process of working with McLaren, reinforcing the supportive nature of McLaren’s working style, ‘You never worked for Norman, you always worked with him. He always encouraged us to come up with ideas.’32 In 2003, on Munro’s eightieth birthday, the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) in New York held a retrospective of his films. Like McLaren he was awarded an honorary doctorate and given the ‘Order of Canada’ in 2008 – this included appropriate recognition of his work – ‘One of the earliest and longest-serving members of the National Film Board of Canada, he developed innovative techniques that influenced both the film industry and other animators.’33 Though Munro has been subject of special collections at the MOMA and National Film Board, he, like Evelyn is often discussed more for his contribution to McLaren’s success, despite amassing his own body of award-winning work. However his collaboration with McLaren does not (or should not) diminish his own work; rather it should be recognized in terms of the supportive friendship and playful creativity he brought to McLaren’s work.

Other Collaborations Over the years, McLaren had the opportunity to work with numerous people at the film board. Performers and fellow animators, composers and producers, the list includes many names of people, well known in their own right – Maurice Blackburn, René Jodoin, Claude Jutra, George Dunning, Alexandre Alexieff. This is by no means intended to be an exhaustive list and there are undoubtedly many others who worked closely with McLaren but have been neglected from this discussion. As suggested at the start of this chapter, there are limits

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on the scope of the work due to constraints of both time and available information. The following section discusses those whom McLaren mentioned most frequently in his correspondence home.

Maurice Blackburn (1914–1988) A Quebec native, composer Maurice Blackburn was, like McLaren and Evelyn Lambart, born in 1914. He studied music in Quebec and later Boston before joining the National Film Board in 1941, one of the first composers to be hired by the board. He arranged scores for the Chants Populaires series, which so many of McLaren’s contemporaries worked on. He also composed soundtracks for animated films and documentaries. One of the earliest members of the board, he was included in McLaren’s circle of friends and they shared an interest in a particular type of visual imagery. He worked with McLaren several times and created the scores for La Poulette Grise (1947), A Phantasy (1952), Blinkity Blank (1955), La Merle (1958), Lines Vertical (1960), Lines Horizontal (1962), Pas de Deux (1968) and Narcissus (1983). When McLaren was in the final stages of filming Neighbours, he was also making A Phantasy  – typically it was a film which had been started several years earlier and was being revisited. He told friend Biddy Russell about it, ‘I am busy completing a new film called “love your Neighbour: – using alive people for animating. Also a film called Phantasy. Visuals done in 1948 & the music just completed by a Canadian composer Maurice Blackburn for saxophone and synthetic sound.’34 This remark regarding the synthetic sound suggests that Blackburn was instrumental in helping McLaren develop this technique which would feature in so many of his films. Blackburn was frequently mentioned in letters home over the years and during the initial experiments of what would become Blinkity Blank, McLaren wrote about trying to put something together before Blackburn’s trip to Paris, ‘I returned to Ottawa on Monday, and have been busy working with Maurice Blackburn on the music for another film, (before he leaves next week for a year’s absence from the film board to study music in Paris).’35

Blinkity Blank (1955) This rush to work created an experimental abstract film which saw McLaren scratching the surface of the film emulsion to create the image, rather than painting on the film. He did not scratch every frame,with the residual image instead leaving an impression on the eye once the frame had finished. Blinkity Blank would become one of McLaren’s best-known films (apart from Neighbours) and though it won several awards, including the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival, McLaren was rather dismissive of the film, suggesting that it had been done as an experiment with Blackburn rather than anything else. Though he

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(arguably) proudly told his parents each time it was to be shown at a festival, or won an award, he also said he was not satisfied with it and wanted to revise it.36 In letters to Biddy Russell in 1955 McLaren told her of the origins of Blinkity Blank and why he didn’t like it (he thought it won at Cannes due to ‘novelty value’) – Maurice Blackburn had a short space of time before going to Paris and wanted to work with him. He had several ideas (enough for five or six films) but Blinkity Blank was the result. McLaren implied to Biddy that he was rushed and not that interested in it. ‘Thank God it is now finally finished. I’m none too happy about it. Its one of those for the high brows probably. But not the kind of film I want to make. As an experiment it has very considerable interest but experiment is not enough.’37 After Blackburn had returned to the board from his trip to Europe in 1959 they collaborated again, this time with Evelyn on the first of the Lines films (he also worked on the second variation). Over the years, Blackburn worked with numerous filmmakers at the board and was described as having ‘great stylistic diversity, sometimes inspired by folklore, at others by contemporary music, but always lively and colourful. This adaptability charmed the producers who worked with him’.38 This diversity can be seen in his work with McLaren as well as his larger body of work. Like Munro, Blackburn is hailed as a great Canadian artist whose contribution to McLaren’s success was never forgotten by McLaren. This friendship was entirely mutual with Blackburn once saying, ‘The sincere and deep friendship that I feel for him includes both the man and his work; they are as inseperable as the heart and the egg of his animated poems.’39

Alexandre Alexieff (1901–1982) Russian-born Alexieff moved to Paris when he was eighteen years old to study painting but like McLaren was inspired by other performing arts, namely ballet, and became a set designer. He was said to have been inspired by Fernand Léger’s Ballet Mechanique (1924) and began to develop his own work, pioneering his own animation techniques. He used a ‘pinscreen’ technique to create metamorphosis and imagery in several films, including his best-known Night on Bald Mountain (1933). The pinscreen created a pastel effect, and had an aesthetic similar to McLaren’s pastel animations. Despite this revolutionary technique, he did not use it very often; however he was invited to create films for the National Film Board of Canada during World War II and created En Passant (1943) using the technique. Alexieff and his wife, animator Claire Parker (1906–1981), became good friends with McLaren and Guy and over the years made sure to visit. McLaren was inspired by Alexieff ’s talent and innovation, and Alexieff once more used his pinscreen with Le Nez in 1965.40 McLaren referred to the Alexieffs many times over the years and the letters described their good friendship,

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The Alexieffs were up here in Ottawa, but they didn’t actually stay at the flat, but at a hotel. However they were much around the flat, and we had most of our meals together, and had a very pleasant time. Alexieff showed his films at a special screening at the Film Board, and gave a talk about them.41

Every time the couple visited Canada, they would get together and when McLaren travelled to Europe he would visit them too, in their home in Belgium.42 In 1963 he was keen to fit in a visit home around another film festival, but he was also keen as this one was in Belgium and he would be picking up some equipment for the film board ‘which our friends the Alexieffs have been building for us’.43 That his friends were already in Europe made the arduous trips to festivals worthwhile. He was especially pleased to attend the Annecy Festival in 1965 as his friends Evelyn, Grant and Maurice Blackburn would be travelling with him and they would meet the Alexieffs there.44 Though McLaren did not collaborate directly with Alexieff, he admired him (and his wife) greatly (and was inspired to make Pinscreen in 1973) and was always pleased to have the opportunity to see them. After McLaren’s death, the Alexieffs contributed to a document on his legacy, compiled by the NFB. In McLaren’s films none of the fundamental properties of living matter is absent: one may recognize emotion; mobility; plasticity; excitability and the extravagance of love. The entire work of Norman McLaren may be considered a sort of fundamental human comedy. It is refreshing to find that in his experiments there is always the idea of artisitic risk, the recognition of the dangers of creation and the affirmation of the importance of craft and execution. The quality of tolerance, which so became him, made him an ideal teacher.45

George Dunning (1920–1979) Dunning was a Canadian animator who attended the Ontario College of Art and later became a member of the National Film Board in 1943 where he worked in a team editing films with McLaren. Dunning’s early films include Grim Pastures (1944), Three Blind Mice (1945) with Grant Munro and Robert Verrall and Cadet Rouselle (1946) with Colin Low. In 1946 he went to Paris but returned to Canada to co-found his own production company in Toronto with his former colleague Jim McKay. In 1950 he collaborated with Evelyn Lambart on Family Tree, which won a Special Award from the Canadian Film Awards in 1951.46 In 1956 Dunning joined United Productions of America (UPA) in New York City. He then moved to London to open a production company with John Coates in 1957. Dunning’s films from that period included The Apple (1962), Moonrock (1970), Damon the Mower (1972) and The Maggot (1973). Dunning is perhaps

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best known for directing Yellow Submarine (1968), which was inspired by and set to the music of the pop group the Beatles. It was described as groundbreaking and featured psychedelic images and stylized movement, which influenced commercial design for many years.47 McLaren described Dunning as ‘a fine painter’48 and often discussed him with his parents. Dunning was clearly part of the social group in the early days of the film board and in 1946 helped McLaren with some equipment, ‘George Dunning, one of the boys in the Animation Department made me a big wooden easel, which is of great help when I am painting’. McLaren and Glover went on to socialize with Dunning and other friends for the afternoon.49 In 1948, when Dunning was leaving the board, McLaren described his going-away party, which they held at McLaren’s apartment.50 Though Dunning had left the board, McLaren kept in touch with him and in 1954 mentioned visting Dunning’s studio during a trip to Toronto.51 George Dunning is another example of an early collaborator, in terms of technical collaboration, who was one of a small creative circle of friends and made up part of the early animation department at the film board. Though they did not work together directly once each had begun to establish himself at the board, Dunning was fondly recalled in McLaren’s letters home. He is also noteworthy as another early film board member who became very well known in his own right, in this case for much later work. According to David Curtis, Dunning was influenced by McLaren, among others, and was ‘encouraged to find his own style’.52 Though this may be true to a certain extent, McLaren was the head of the animation department during Dunning’s four years there; however at that time there was a particularly strong sense of collaboration and as such many others, including Grant Munro, could also be included in the realm of influence. Dunning had this to say about McLaren, Norman McLaren is a phenomenon almost as surprising and unique as the phenomenon of animated film itself. His name is synonymous with experimental animation to all students of the medium who have followed its development for the past twenty years and who have looked even further back. The medium is still at an infant stage because nearly everyone except McLaren who has worked in it has treated the medium from a creative graphic point of view and not as a part of cinema, that is, moving pictures. He is a great teacher, constantly alive to exploit the most unlikely leads to a new discovery and has awakened both artists and audiences to the medium.53

Among those who had some contact and arguably influence during McLaren’s time at the National Film Board, particularly in the early days, were animator René Jodoin (b. 1920) and Claude Jutra. Quebec native Jodoin joined the board in c.1942 and collaborated with McLaren on Alouette (1944). He left the board in 1949 but returned in 1954 and remained for a further seven years. In 1966

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Jodoin became head of a newly formed French language animation unit at the board. According to Don McWilliams, McLaren considered René the ‘resident NFB philosopher’.54 Claude Jutra (1930–1986), another French Candian, considered McLaren to be a mentor and was greatly influenced by his work. Jutra performed in A Chairy Tale before going on to make his own films at the board. One of his best-known films À tout prendre (1963) was dedicated to McLaren. According to Leach, McLaren saw Jutra’s short film Mouvemement perpetual at the Canadian Film Awards in 1949 and was ‘so impressed . . . that he invited its director to make an experimental film at the NFB. Their encounter is a virtual replay of McLaren’s own meeting with John Grierson’.55 Leach goes on to suggest that ‘Jutra’s encounter with McLaren left its mark in the traces of animation that remain in many of his feature films’.56 His live action films were often made independently of the board, never feeling that he held a permanent post (according to Evelyn Lambart none of them were on long-term contracts, as Grierson felt it kept people motivated57). Jutra also felt that he was an outsider arriving before the true development of the French language division. Like many others, he was something of a transient at the board, coming and going between various projects, in Jutra’s case working in Europe and Africa for a time before coming back for a brief period from 1961 to 1963 when he left to make À tout prendre which according to Véronneau was an ‘autobiography in fictional guise [which] broached such subjects as interracial love, homosexuality, and bohemian life, and launched the new Quebec cinema’.58 Thomas Waugh noted that Jutra had to leave the board to make ‘his gay film’ and that ‘the freedom of financial autonomy (as well as poverty) is apparent . . . and thus also, because the film appeared twenty years earlier than Narcissus, the recklessness of an imagination ahead of its time’.59 He later went on to make several films for cinema and television, which Waugh suggests were thematically linked by issues of youth and and struggles with sexuality. In this lengthy quote he sums up the themes of Jutra’s films as well as connecting McLaren’s last film and their work overall. Though the quixotic protogay rebel of À tout prendre is no longer present in this fifteen-year series of intense and poetic youth films, another aspect of the artist’s sociosexual imagination is almost as vivid, his compassion for the flame of childhood struggling under the weight of society. It is significant that the theme echoes Narcissus’ prison and the vision of Jutra’s mentor McLaren. Our two great gay filmmakers were allied in their art, after all, just as they were in their careers and they were in the season of their deaths.60

Jutra suffered from Alzheimer’s disease and disappeared in 1986; his body was found in the St Lawrence River in April 1987, three months after McLaren’s death. The NFB held a tribute to them both in the February of that year, though

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at the time they considered Jutra to be missing and McLaren would never have known what had happened to his friend.

Notes 1 Quote taken from McLaren (1980) published by the National Film Board of Canada, Montreal, Quebec, Canada. 2 Montreal Star, 27 May 1961. 3 Ibid. 4 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1947/9. 5 He decided that the job would be silly, even if the money was good, and declined the offer. 6 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1948/1. 7 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1951/1. 8 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1951. 9 A. Loader (2014) ‘3D or Not 3D?’ Animation Studies 2.0, http://blog. animationstudies.org/?p=750#_edn2 (accessed 14 April 2014). 10 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1944/10. 11 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1946/5. 12 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1951. 13 Loader, ‘3D or Not 3D?’. 14 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1952. 15 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1954. 16 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1955. 17 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1959 9 August 1959. 18 Aimee Mollaghan, ‘ “An Experiment in Pure Design”: The Minimalist Aesthetic in the Line Films of Norman McLaren’, Animation Studies, vol. 6 (2011), http:// journal.animationstudies.org/aimee-mollaghan-an-experiment-in-pure-design-theminimalist-aesthetic-in-the-line-films-of-norman-mclaren/ (accessed 19 March 2014). 19 Not catalogued. 20 University of Stirling Archive GAA:31:198. 21 University of Stirling Archive, not catalogued, 15 August 1965. 22 Sunday, 10 April 1966. 23 Jayne Pilling (ed.), ‘Evelyn Lambart, an interview with Joan Churchill’,” in Women and Animation (Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk: St Edmundsbury Press, 1992), Suffolk, pp.31–32. 24 Donald McWilliams, Creative Process, 1990. 25 The series took in five parts over two years running from 1976 to 1978. 26 For a full biography, see http://www.torontointernationalfilmfestival.ca/ CANADIANFILMENCYCLOPEDIA/content/bios/grant-munro (accessed 11 April 2014). 27 University of Stirling Archive, not catalogued. 28 27 October 1963. 29 6 March 1966. 30 Letter to sister Sheena, 18 May 1984, outlined the full retirement party and the speeches which were made.

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31 Saturday, 24 September 1983. 32 Cecile Starr, 1995, ‘Conversations with Grant Munro and Ishu Patel: The Influence of Norman McLaren and the National Film Board of Canada’, Animation Journal, no. 2 (Spring 1995): 44–53. 33 Caption from citation taken from The Canadian Encyclopedia website, entry ‘Grant Munro’ by Wyndham Wise, published 17 January 2012. http:// www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/grant-munro/ (accessed 11 April 2014). 34 National Library of Scotland Acc. 5649/3 Xmas letter 13 December 1951. 35 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1953 (Halloween Saturday 1953). 36 In a letter home dated 1 May 1954 he describe how he wants to alter the film but won’t have time before going to Brazil. 37 National Library of Scotland Acc. 5649/6 January 1955. 38 Quote taken from the biography on The Canadian Encyclopedia website, entry ‘Maurice Blackburn’ by Pierre Véronneau, published 21 August 2006. http:// www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/maurice-blackburn/ (accessed 18 April 2014). 39 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/F/5/28. Excerpts from a catalogue compiled for the Annecy animation festival in 1965 by Journées Internationales Du Cinema D’Animation Annecy with Cinemathéque Canadienne, Montreal. 40 Jerry Beck (ed.), Animation Art (London: Flame Tree Publishing, 2004), 48–49. 41 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1944/10, 27 November 1944. 42 1 May 1958 (4.30 pm) – small notelet from Cannes to say he has arrived – ‘Brussels was extremely arduous work, but worth it for me’ and also that he will be able to catch up with some friends there including the Alexieffs. 43 Not catalogued, 19 October 1963. 44 19 May 1965. 45 This quote is taken from a legacy document compiled by the NFB on McLaren’s death. University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/PC. 46 Quote taken from the biography on The Canadian Encyclopedia website, entry ‘George Dunning’ by Wyndham Wise, published 17 January 2012. http://www. thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/george-dunning/ 47 This biography was transcribed from N. Dobson, Historical Dictionary of Animation and Cartoons (Lanham MD: Scarecrow Press, 2009). 48 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1943/18, 20 November 1943. 49 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1946/4, 23 April 1946. 50 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1948/9, 29 April 1948. 51 University of Stirling Archive GAA31/C/1/1954, 12 May 1954. 52 David Curtis, ‘Animated Cinema’, ‘The Movie’, The Illustrated History of the Cinema, Issue 33 (London: Orbis Publishing, 1980), 654. 53 University of Stirling Archive GAA/31/F/5/28. Excerpts from a catalogue compiled for the Annecy animation festival in 1965 by Journées Internationales Du Cinema D’Animation Annecy with Cinemathéque Canadienne, Montreal. 54 Personal correspondence. 55 Jim Leach, Claude Jutra, Filmmaker (Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 1999), 35. 56 Ibid. 41.

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57 Described in an interview with Joan Churchill, in Jayne Pilling (ed.), ‘Evelyn Lambart, an interview with Joan Churchill’, in Women and Animation (Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk: St Edmundsbury Press, 1992), 31. 58 Pierre Véronneau, ‘Maurice Blackburn’, The Canadian Encyclopedia website, published 21 August 2006,http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/ maurice-blackburn/ (accessed 18 April 2014). 59 Thomas Waugh, The Fruit Machine: Twenty Years of Writing on Queer Cinema (London: Duke University Press, 2000) 202. 60 Ibid. 207.

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Chapter 6 A C OM P L IC AT E D   M A N

The starting point of this project was to consider the legacy of someone who was either well known as one of the most innovative animators of the twentieth century, or a relatively unknown Scottish pioneer, forgotten in his native land. This opposition speaks perfectly to who Norman McLaren was, both in his life and his work. This final chapter considers this opposition and reflects upon the legacy of this often-conflicted man in his centenary year. In the early 1980s, a conference was held at McGill University in Montreal on documentary and the NFB. The panel of speakers were drawn from a historical relationship with the board and John Grierson, but inevitabley McLaren’s name came up, both with regard to his relationship with Grierson and his own role at the board. Colin Low, an animator who had worked alongside McLaren, described him during a panel discussion. Colin Low: Contradictions of McLaren, on one side, there is a graphic sort of genius for intimate detail and, at the same time, an incredible sense of social interest . . . he returned and talked to us about his experiences in China at the same time beginning to draft Neighbours . . .There’s a continuity connecting the usefulness of animation and that which is peculiar to McLaren. He would do things that seemed so personal, and so nutty on one side, then swing one hundred eighty degrees to confront the world with – Gerald Potterton: – with Neighbours – Colin Low: Yes, world issues, with quixotic abandon, and that was hard to relate to, but it had a very powerful influence on me.1 Low spoke first-hand about what he witnessed in McLaren’s working practice but this notion of contradiction fits perfectly with the preceding discussion in this book and what his correspondence reveals about his personality, life and work. Low arrived at the board in 1945, and was essentially the next generation of animators after McLaren. Though he never worked directly on any of McLaren’s films, he would have been in close enough proximity to have a sense of his practice.

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As previously discussed, McLaren was frequently concerned with his films being useful or ‘doing good’ and he was often dismissive about his own achievements if the films were not directly reflecting social need. I would argue that though he was driven by social concerns in many of his films (particularly in the early years), he was also driven by artistic need for both creation and experimentation. While he was at the GPO, he was able to do both, work on films to promote the social issues of pre-war Britain and begin to play with and develop his direct animation in Love on the Wing. Once in New York, the drive to survive as an artist took over with the move to advertising when necessary and creation of his own experimental films, which so impressed the Baroness von Rebay. His invitation to Canada once again established his relationship with Grierson and as the early work there was for the war effort, he could make art and be useful. His work with Evelyn Lambart and later Grant Munro provided him the opportunity to continue to push the boundaries, as it were, of what animation could do and how they could create and capture rhythm and movement. But they would also reinforce his playfulness and sense of humour which comes through in so many of his films, even in Neighbours, which shifts into the realm of the darkly absurd to make his point all the more powerful. His films demonstrate the creativity and to a certain extent the ‘too muchness’ of his mind. He was full of ideas, driven to the point, occasionally, of considering giving up, but the drive of curiosity and the desire to make art was relentless even when his health slowed him down (and was sometimes the reason why his health slowed him down). Like so many artists, he was prone to periods of depression, though this was rarely evident in his films; perhaps they were able to reveal the best of his subconscious. It was also rarely seen in his letters to his parents, but more in those to Biddy Russell, who had similar experiences and would thus understand, when McLaren himself did not. McLaren was famously modest and unassuming, and his letters reveal a sense of pride in his work as he informed his family of the latest release or award, but to friends he was dismissive of them as experiments and nothing more, being his own worst critic. It was said that he was shy, but he simply kept a very tight circle of close friends, preferring their company and detesting the chore of small talk and social requirement which increasingly came with his success. As suggested at the beginning of the book, McLaren dutifully wrote to his parents nearly every week, but at the same time complained to his friend that he disliked doing so. However he was perhaps more open in his letter, with an opportunity to reveal more personal thoughts and concerns than he felt comfortable doing in person. His sexuality was a burden to him and he felt ashamed for a long time, but in the context of the day, he would have been unable to be more open given the limits of the judicial system and society. In those eloquent letters home to his parents, he thanked them for their understanding and acceptance, yet was said to have been fearful of them finding out the true nature of his relationship with

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Guy Glover. In the later years of his life, he was more comfortable perhaps, and began to be more open with his family. Again, within the context of the time, as he noted in a letter to Robin Hardy,2 he began to be aware of the work of the ‘gay liberation movement’. Others were working towards a more accepting society and indeed McLaren must have felt more able to accept himself by this time, or perhaps age gave him a different perspective. It can certainly be seen in Narcissus, which is arguably his most self-indulgent film. The film is about rhythm certainly, but is more reflective of the nature of humanity and with a calm grace, far removed from the energy of Boogie Doodle. The film reflects someone slowing down and, as Waugh argues, someone more comfortable with his homosexuality at this stage in his life that he can directly reference it. His body of work reveals as much about his life as it conceals – the frantic movement; the humourous tales of birds; the consequences of conflict and lack of humanity; the joyful methods of learning and the constant interest in the relationship between sound, colour, shape and movement. All of this gave pleasure to countless members of the audience and continues to do so as new audiences find his work. It encourages new generations of animators to start with nothing and develop ideas to their limits. As part of a larger celebration of McLaren’s centenary, the NFB launched an application for the Apple iPad with a full back catalogue of his films, and the chance to animate using some of his techniques. The app was taken around to over 100 schools in his native Scotland in an attempt to bring his work and legacy to a new audience. From feedback received by the date of publication, the children who participated were very interested and pleased with the experience. This form of dissemination of McLaren’s work is exciting in terms of developing a more lasting legacy beyond screening retrospectives for younger generations. Though McLaren was aware of early computer animation, he did not ‘learn’ how to use computers as he explained to Biddy Russell on the complexities of his work. A bewildering number of possibilities, combinations & permutations . . . one small mistake may ruin days of work. (I think I should have learned about computers to do it.) Any my NEXT FILM is going to be TECHNICALLY VERY SIMPLE. It has to be or I’ll lose my mind. But, Alas, I always have been saying ‘my next film is going to be technically simple’ – but they always get more so. (14 June 1970, underline in original)3

By this stage of his career, he was working on Synchromy (1971) and on plans for Ballet Adagio (1972). He was beginning to slow down and it took ten years before Narcissus was ready, though he worked on his Animated Motion series with Grant Munro during the mid-1970s. I suspect that he would have been interested in the potential for computers but he often remarked that he enjoyed the closeness of working on film, so perhaps he would have preferred more traditional methods.

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Figure 6.1 Norman McLaren at home 1974, Montreal. Image courtesy of David Lloyd Glover.

McLaren was acutely aware of his failing health and though he frequently discussed his health problems, it was in a letter to his sister Sheena that he was more reflective. My Dear Sheena, I keep dating letter in ‘1968’ – wishful thinking I suppose! Oh those dear old days when all our healths were good, and we took it for granted – that life would keep on going like that. Anyway all in all, we had a pretty good time; compared with the lot of many the world over, we should count ourselves lucky.

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I consider I’ve had a pretty rich full life with travelling to all those Film Festivals in Europe, South America, & the years in China & India, and a steady job at the NFB for most of the time, with great creative freedom . . . Tho’ I’m enjoying retirement – I don’t at all fear death, if it comes swiftly ; but I hate the thought of petering out slowly, painfully & being a burden on other people. (1 June 1986, underline in original)4

He continues in the letter to tell her about Guy’s health problems with his cancer, but then, true to form, changes mood, ‘The garden is glorious now. Last summer Guy planted all sorts of new flowers, & plants & shrubs. And so life goes on!’5 As outlined in the introduction, the concern here was less for another examination of his extensive body of work, but rather to look at his life in a more personal context. Though there is much more that might have been said about his position within animation or filmmaking history, or his development of techniques and practices in animation, this book through the lens of his own words, has (perhaps reinforced) that McLaren was a complicated man. He had many influences and undoubtedly influenced many over his lengthy career, and potentially a great many more in the future. I do not think it is necessary (or perhaps even useful) to pigeonhole him as either a Scottish or a Canadian animator – he was a humanitarian and world citizen with a deep awareness of the suffering of others, sometimes suffering himself, but always striving to make movement either between or on the frames.

Notes 1 John Grierson and the NFB, The John Grierson Project, McGill University (Toronto: ECW Press, 1984),158–9. 2 Letter to Robin Hardy, recounted by Thomas Waugh in The Romance of Transgression in Canada (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queens University Press, 2006), 466. 3 National Library of Scotland. 4 University of Stirling, not catalogued. 5 Ibid.

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A GUIDE TO FURTHER RESEARCH Dobson, Terence. The Film Work of Norman McLaren (Eastleigh:  John Libbey, 2006). Perhaps the seminal book on McLaren (until now), Dobson’s detailed monograph is impressive in its scope. Dobson provides a great deal of contextual and historical detail and a close analysis of McLaren’s key works. Supported by a vast array of images, the book situates McLaren’s work within the filmic landscape and higlights his innovation and experimentation. Loader, Alison. “3D or not 3D? Animation Studies 2.0 http://blog.animationstudies.org/?p=750#_edn2 2014 (accessed 14 April 2014) In this paper, Loader introduces new archival and interview research which presents McLaren’s approach to making stereographic animation. The paper discusses how McLaren viewed his own work as well as the history of the stereo process. McWilliams, Donald. Creative Process, 1990. In this documentary, McWilliams, as McLaren’s collaborator, archivist and friend, shows the range of work which McLaren produced. With talking head interviews intercut with clips and out takes, the film presents McLaren in his own words as much as possible. Interesting links are made between a variety of subjects, films and motivations. Mollaghan, Aimee. ‘ “An Experiment in Pure Design”: The Minimalist Aesthetic in the Line Films of Norman McLaren,’ Animation Studies, Vol. 6 (2011). http:// journal.animationstudies.org/ aimee- mollaghan- an- experiment- in- puredesign-the-minimalist-aesthetic-in-the-line-films-of-norman-mclaren/ In this article, Mollaghan examines the Lines trilogy in exceptional detail and argues for its place in minimalism as well as within the history of experimental music and film. By considering the music in detail, the article presents a thorough reading of the films which McLaren produced with his long-time collaborator, Evely Lambart. Pilling, Jayne (Ed.) ‘Evelyn Lambart, an Interview with Joan Churchill,’ in Women and Animation (Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk:  St Edmundsbury Press, 1992).

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In this chapter, Pilling presents a very detailed interview with collaborator and close friend, Evelyn Lambart. The interview reveals much about her feelings for McLaren and their work as well as provides some much-needed history of her work as an animator in her own right. Waugh, Thomas. The Fruit Machine: Twenty Years of Writing on Queer Cinema (London: Duke University Press, 2000). Waugh, Thomas. The Romance of Transgression in Canada (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2006). In both of these books, Waugh challenges the standard hagiography of deceased subjects by considering the issues of their private lives and sexualities. He argues that in many cases the subjects (in this case, McLaren, Glover and Claude Jutra) were closeted, not always by their own choice. He provides queer readings for many of their key films but also contextualizes their work and lives in the social and political landscape of Canada in the period of their lives, during which homosexuality was still criminalised (it was decriminalized in 1968).

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Aitken, Ian. Film and Reform: John Grierson and the Documentary Film Movement. London: Routledge. 1990. Aitken, Ian. (Ed.). Encyclopedia of the Documentary Film. New York: Routledge, 2006. Auslander, Philip. From Acting to Performance: Essays in Modernism and Postmodernism. London: Routledge, 1997. Auslander, Philip. ‘Reactivation: Performance, Mediatization and the Present Moment’, in Maria Chatzichristodoulou, Janis Jefferies and Rachel Zerihan (Eds), Interfaces of Performance. Farnham, Surrey : Ashgate Publishing, 2009. Beck, Jerry. (Ed.) Animation Art. London: Flame Tree Publishing, 2004. Beveridge, James. John Grierson: Film Master, New York: Macmillan, 1978, pp. 80–81. Beveridge, Nina. The Idealist: James Beveridge, Film Guru, http://www.beevision.com/ JAB/father1.shtml (accessed 12 February 2014). Bial, Henry. (Ed.) The Performance Studies Reader. New York: Routledge, 2004. Butler, Judith. ‘Performative Arts and Gender Constitution’, in Henry Bial (Ed.), The Performance Studies Reader. New York: Routledge, 2004. Crafton, Donald. Shadow of a Mouse. Berkeley : University of California Press, 2013. Curtis, David. ‘Animated Cinema’, ‘The Movie’, The Illustrated History of the Cinema. Issue 33. London: Orbis Publishing, 1980, 654. Cutler, May Ebbitt. ‘Norman McLaren Reflections on a Life’, Canada Cinema, vol. 99 (September 1983). De Villiers, Nicholas. Opacity and the Closet: Queer Tactics in Foucault, Barthes, and Warhol. Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press, 2012. Dobson, Nichola. Historical Dictionary of Animation and Cartoons. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2009. Dobson, Nichola. ‘Dancing to the Rhythm of the Music: Norman McLaren and the Performing Body’, Animation Studies, vol. 9 (2015). Dobson, Terence. ‘The Definition of Animation: A Letter from Norman McLaren’, Animation Journal, no. 2 (Spring 1995): 62–66. Dobson, Terence. ‘McLaren and Grierson: Intersections’, Screening the Past: An International Electronic Journal of Visual Media and History, November 1999, http://www.latrobe.edu.au/screeningthepast/firstrelease/fr1199/tdfr8d.htm8 (accessed 10 June 2012). Dobson, Terence. The Film Work of Norman McLaren. Eastleigh: John Libbey, 2006. Ellis, Jack C. John Grierson: Life, Contributions, Influence. Carbondale, IL: SIU Press, 2000. 158. Evans, G. John Grierson and The National Film Board: The Politics of War Time Propaganda, Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1984. Grant Munro Biography. Canadian Film Encyclopedia TIFF http://www. torontointernationalfilmfestival.ca/CANADIANFILMENCYCLOPEDIA/content/ bios/grant-munro (accessed 14 April 2014).

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Hardy, F. John Grierson: A Documentary Biography. London: Faber & Faber, 1979. Hardy, Forsyth. (Ed.). John Grierson’s Scotland. Edinburgh: Ramsay Head Press, 1979. ‘Helen Biggar’. Mapping the Practice and Profession of Sculpture in Britain and Ireland 1851–1951, University of Glasgow History of Art and HATII, online database 2011, http://sculpture.gla.ac.uk/view/person.php?id=msib6_1222162579 (accessed 29 April 2014). Ivins-Hulley, L. ‘The Ontology of Performance in Stop Animation’, Animation Studies, vol. 3 (2008). The John Grierson Project John Grierson and the NFB. Toronto: ECW Press,1984. Leach, Jim. Claude Jutra, Filmmaker. Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 1999. 35. Loader, Alison. ‘3D or Not 3D?’ Animation Studies 2.0, 2014, http://blog. animationstudies.org/?p=750#_edn2 (accessed 14 April 2014). Macpherson, Don. (Ed.). British Cinema: Traditions of Independence. London: British Film Institute, 1980. McInnes, Graham. One Man’s Documentary: A Memoir of the Early Years of the National Film Board. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 2004. McLaren, Norman. ‘Statement on My Own Work’, St James Press Film Book Series, London. Held at National Film Board of Canada online archive, http://www3.nfb. ca/archives_mclaren/items/37.pdf (accessed 23 February 2014). McLaren, Norman. ‘Some Notes on Stop-Motion Live-Actor Technique’, Technical Notes by Norman McLaren (1933-1984). Toronto: National Film Board of Canada, 1952, p. 84, http:// www3.nfb.ca/archives_mclaren/notech/NT_EN.pdf. McWilliams, Donald. Creative Process, 1990. Mollaghan, Aimee. ‘ “An Experiment in Pure Design”: The Minimalist Aesthetic in the Line Films of Norman McLaren’, Animation Studies, vol. 6 (2011), http://journal. animationstudies.org/aimee-mollaghan-an-experiment-in-pure-design-theminimalist-aesthetic-in-the-line-films-of-norman-mclaren/ (accessed 19 March 2014). Murray, J. ‘ “Keep Your Head Down and Save Your Breath”: “Authentic” Scotlands and British Cinema in The Brave Don’t Cry’, The Drouth. Edinburgh, UK: Scottish Arts Council, 2002. 7–17. Norman McLaren Filmography. National Film Board of Canada website, http://www3. nfb.ca/animation/objanim/en/filmmakers/Norman-McLaren/filmography.php (accessed 2 May 2014). Pilling, Jayne. (Ed.). ‘Evelyn Lambart, an Interview with Joan Churchill’, in Women and Animation. Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk: St Edmundsbury Press, 1992. 31. Pilling, Jayne. (Ed.). A Reader in Animation Studies. Eastleigh: John Libbey, 1997. Richard, Valliere T. Norman McLaren, Manipulator of Movement: The National Film Board Years, 1947–1967. Newark NJ: University of Delaware Press, 1982. Russett, Robert and Cecile Starr. Experimental Animation: An Illustrated Anthology. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1976. Russwurm, Lani. ‘Waiting for Lefty’, Past Tense Vancouver Histories, http:// pasttensevancouver.wordpress.com/2010/10/29/waiting-for-lefty/, posted October 29 2010 (accessed 12 Februaru 2014). Starr, Cecile. ‘Conversations with Grant Munro and Ishu Patel: The Influence of Norman McLaren and the National Film Board of Canada’, Animation Journal, no. 2 (Spring 1995): 44–53.

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Véronneau, Pierre. ‘Maurice Blackburn’, The Canadian Encyclopedia, 21 August 2006, http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/maurice-blackburn/ (accessed 18 April 2014). Véronneau, Pierre. ‘René Jodoin’, The Canadian Encyclopedia, 26 July 2007, http://www. thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/rene-jodoin/ (accessed 18 April 2014). Walden, K. ‘Double Take: Rotoscoping and the Processing of Performance’, Refractory, a Journal of Entertainment Media, 2008, http://refractory.unimelb.edu.au/. Waugh, Thomas. The Fruit Machine: Twenty Years of Writing on Queer Cinema. London: Duke University Press, 2000. 202. Waugh, Thomas. The Romance of Transgression in Canada. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2006. Winston, Brian. Claiming the Real: The Griersonian Documentary and its Legitimations. London: British Film Institute, 1995. Winston, Brian. Claiming the Real II: Documentary: Grierson and Beyond. London: British Film Institute, 2008. Winston, Brian. (Ed.). The Documentary Film Book. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Wise, Wyndham. ‘Grant Munro’, The Canadian Encyclopedia, 17 January 2012. http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/grant-munro/ (accessed 11 April 2014).

166

SELECTED FILMOGRAPHY* 7 till 5 (1933). Dir. Norman McLaren and William J. MacLean, UK: Glasgow School of Art Kinecraft Society, GSAKS 12 min. 16 s. Camera Makes Whoopee (1935). Dir. Norman McLaren, William J. MacLean and Violet Anderson, UK: Glasgow School of Art Kinecraft Society, GSAKS 18 min. 22 s. Polychrome Phantasy (1935).. Dir. Norman McLaren. UK 2 min. 52 s. Defence of Madrid (1936). Dir. Ivor Montague. UK 33 min. 53 s. Hell Unlimited (1936). Dir. Norman McLaren and Helen Biggar. UK 14 min. 25 s. Book Bargain (1937). Dir. Norman McLaren. UK: GPO 8 min. 10 s. Love on the Wing (1938). Dir. Norman McLaren. UK: GPO 4 min. 27 s. Mony a Pickle (1938). Dir. Norman McLaren. UK: GPO 10 min 32 s. News for the Navy (1938). Dir. Norman McLaren. UK: GPO 10 min. 37 s. The Obedient Flame (1939). Dir. Norman McLaren. UK: GPO 9 min. 57 s. Scherzo (1939). Dir. Norman McLaren. US: 1 min. 25 s. Dots (1940). Dir. Norman McLaren. US 2 min. 21 s. Loops (1940). Dir. Norman McLaren. US 2 min. 40 s. [NBC Greeting] (1940). Dir. Norman McLaren. US 1 min. 20 s. NBC Valentine Greeting (1940). Dir. Norman McLaren. US 1 min. 43 s. Spook Sport (1940). Dir. Mary Ellen Bute. US 7 min. 52 s. Stars and Stripes (1940). Dir. Norman McLaren. US 2 min. 6 s. Boogie-Doodle (1941). Dir. Norman McLaren. US/Canada: NFB 3 min. 18 s. Mail Early (1941). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 1 min. 44 s. V for Victory (1941). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 2 min. 5 s. Five for Four (1942). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 2 min. 52 s. Hen Hop (1942). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 3 min. 40 s. Dollar Dance (1943). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 4 min. 5 s. Alouette (1944). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 2 min. 22 s. C’est l’aviron (1944). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 3 min. 18 s. Keep Your Mouth Shut (1944). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 2 min 20 s. Là-haut sur ces montagnes (1945). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 3 min 10 s. Hoppity Pop (1946). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 1 min. 48 s. A Little Phantasy on a 19th-Century Painting (1946). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 3 min. 37 s. Fiddle-de-dee (1947). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 3 min. 22 s. La Poulette grise (1947). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 5 min. 33 s.

* A full list of all of Norman McLaren’s films, including his tests, is available from the NFB website, http://www3.nfb.ca/animation/objanim/en/filmmakers/NormanMcLaren/filmography.php (accessed 2 May 2014).

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Selected Filmography

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Begone Dull Care (1949). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 7 min. 48 s. Around Is Around (1951). Dir. Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart. Canada: NFB 10 min. Now Is the Time (1951). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 3 min. Pen Point Percussion (1951). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 5 min. 58 s. Neighbours (1952). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 8 min. 6 s. A Phantasy (1952). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 7 min. 15 s. Two Bagatelles (1952). Dir. Norman McLaren and Grant Munro. Canada: NFB 2 min. 22 s. Blinkity Blank (1955). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 5 min. 15 s. Rythmetic (1956). Dir. Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart. Canada: NFB 8 min. 40 s. A Chairy Tale (1957). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 9 min. 53 s. Le merle (1958). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 4 min. 39 s. Mail Early for Christmas (1959). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 40 s. Serenal (1959). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 3 min. 4 s. Short and Suite (1959). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 4 min. 53 s. Lines Vertical (1960). Dir. Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart. Canada: NFB 5 min. 49 s. New York Lightboard (1961). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 9 min. Opening Speech: McLaren (1961). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 6 min. 52 s. Lines Horizontal (1962). Dir. Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart. Canada: NFB 5 min. 55 s. Christmas Cracker (1963). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 8 min. 59 s. Canon (1964). Dir. Norman McLaren and Grant Munro. Canada: NFB 9 min. 13 s. Mosaic (1965). Dir. Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart. Canada: NFB 5 min. 29 s. Pas de deux (1968). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 13 min. 22 s. Spheres (1969). Dir. Norman McLaren and Rene Jodoin. Canada: NFB 7 min. 21 s Synchromy (1971). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 7 min. 27 s. Ballet Adagio (1972). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 9 min. 50 s. Animated Motion: Part 1 (1976). Dir. Norman McLaren and Grant Munro. Canada: NFB 9 min. 8 s. Animated Motion: Part 2 (1976). Dir. Norman McLaren and Grant Munro. Canada: NFB 8 min. 31 s. Animated Motion: Part 3 (1977). Dir. Norman McLaren and Grant Munro. Canada: NFB 9 min. 53 s. Animated Motion: Part 4 (1977). Dir. Norman McLaren and Grant Munro. Canada: NFB 7 min. 1 s. Animated Motion: Part 5 (1978). Dir. Norman McLaren and Grant Munro. Canada: NFB 7 min. 6 s. Narcissus (1983). Dir. Norman McLaren. Canada: NFB 21 min. 47 s.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Dr Nichola Dobson is based in Edinburgh, lecturing in Design and Screen Culture at Edinburgh College of Art, University of Edinburgh. Founding editor of Animation Studies from 2006 until 2011 and the new academic blog Animation Studies 2.0 (2013–). She has published on both animation studies and television, most recently The A to Z of Animation and Cartoons (2010) and Historical Dictionary of Animation and Cartoons (2009) for Scarecrow Press. She has published in anthologies on Crime Scene Investigation and Life on Mars, as well as shorter works for the online journal FLOW. She is currently working on a book on TV animation with Paul Ward for Edinburgh University Press and has recently published articles on Norman McLaren. She began a new role as the president of the Society for Animation Studies in autumn 2014.

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INDEX abstraction 38, 114–15 Academy Awards, The 61, 102, 107 A Chairy Tale 8, 81, 103–4, 124, 126–7, 135, 151, 167 actuality 57, 86–7, 117 adagio 128, 143, 157, 167 airmail 86, 139 Albert Place viii, 9–10, 17, 40–1, 65 Alexieff, Alexandre 117, 134, 146, 148 Alexieffs, The 45, 143, 148–9, 153 Animation Annecy 153 Animation Art 153, 163 Art Kinecraft Society 166 awards 3, 8, 26, 61, 63–4, 91, 102, 107, 135, 143, 146–9, 151, 156 Balanchine, George 127 Ballet Adagio 128, 143, 157, 167 Ballet Mechanique 148 ballet (see also dance) 8, 29, 40, 45, 47, 82–3, 97, 102, 115, 126–8, 143, 148, 157, 167 Begone Dull Care 8, 46, 105, 125–6, 131, 135, 138, 167 Berlin Film Festival 15, 135 Best Documentary (Award) 102, 107, 135 Beveridge, James 76, 79, 134, 163 Biggar, Helen viii, 15, 20–2, 24, 26–8, 66, 83, 85, 90, 92, 126, 129–30, 133, 144, 164, 166 blackbirds 46, 126 Blackburn, Maurice 35, 124, 133, 140, 142, 147–9, 153–4, 165 Blinkity Blank 105, 140, 147–8, 167 Boogie Doodle 121, 130, 157 Book Bargain 166 boredom 29, 85 Brandt, George 114, 129 Breton, Andre 114 British Film Institute 50, 59, 78, 165

Bute, Mary Ellen 71, 88, 90, 93–4, 97, 121, 133, 144, 166 Camera Makes Whoopee viii, 21–2, 65, 129, 166 Cameraless Animation 2, 47, 87, 92, 118, 135 Canadian Broadcasting Company 124 Canadian Embassy ix, 141–2 Canadian Film Awards 135, 149, 151 Canadian Film 3, 48, 60, 103, 135, 149, 151, 163 Cannes Film Festival 140 Castro, Fidel 105 celluloid, 26, 54, 122 centenary xi, 2–3, 5, 138, 155, 157 Chalk River Ballet 115 Chants Populaires 112, 122, 147 Christmas Ball 22 Cinema Quarterly 59–60 Civil War 29, 37, 81–4, 100 Cocktail Bar 23 Cohl, Emile 116–17 Colour Box 59, 118 Colour Cocktail 59, 65 communism 60, 82, 100 Creative Process (Documentary) 34, 37, 87, 100, 113, 116, 119, 126, 144 dance (see also ballet) x, xi, 4, 8, 22, 43, 47, 59, 105, 109, 114, 118–19, 122, 126–30, 143, 166 Danse Macabre 92 Disney Studio 121–2 Dobson, Terence xi, 3, 37, 50, 87, 106–7, 114, 129 Documentary Film Movement 78, 163 Documentary Film 5, 45, 54, 57–61, 65, 77–9, 85, 129, 163, 165 Dollar Dance 43, 166

170

170

Index

Dunning, George 123, 134, 144, 146, 149–50, 153 Edinburgh International Film Festival xi, 62, 79 Eisenstein, Sergei 56, 81 Ekman, Gretta 138 Ellis, Jack 44, 51 Empire Marketing Board, The 57–9 emulsion 2, 147 Engel, Jules 94 exhaustion 32, 36 Experimental Animation 47, 118, 150, 164 experimentation 8, 22, 89, 129, 156, 161 Fantasia 94, 116, 121 Fiddle Dee Dee 46 Fifth Hungarian Rhapsody 120 Film Unit 20, 58–9, 62, 65, 68, 84–5, 87, 118 filming viii, 23, 25, 57, 65, 83–4, 118, 127–8, 147 Fine Arts 90, 118 Fischinger Studios 121 Fischinger, Oskar 90, 94, 117, 120, 130 Flaherty, Robert 42, 57 Foucault, Michel 9 freudian 22, 87, 129 Fruit Machine, The 131, 154, 162, 165 General Post Office Film Unit (see GPO) Glasgow Amateur Film Festival 53 Glasgow Film Society 120 Glasgow School of Art viii, xi, 4, 8–9, 19– 23, 26, 50, 54, 59, 116, 166 Glasgow University Magazine 56 Glover, David Lloyd ix, viii, x, 39, 46, 49, 51 Glover, Guy ix, viii, 8–9, 11, 17, 36–42, 44, 49, 61, 67, 87, 96, 133, 157 Gould, Glen 125 GPO 8, 25, 27–9, 51, 53, 59–61, 65–7, 83– 7, 89, 117–18, 156, 166 Granton Trawler 59 Great Britain 118 Great Depression 22, 82

Grierson Archive 51, 80 Grierson Project 78–9, 106, 159, 164 Grierson, John viii, xi, 2, 8, 20, 42, 51, 53, 55, 65, 67–8, 76–80, 103, 106, 151, 155, 159, 163–4 Guggenheim Foundation 121 Guggenheim 60, 93–5, 107, 112, 121 Hardy, Forsyth 54–5, 62, 65, 75, 78, 103 Hardy, Robin 157, 159 Healthy Village 98, 100 Hell Unltd viii, 8, 23–6, 83, 166 Hen Hop 8, 80, 166 homosexuality 8–11, 15, 22, 37–8, 42, 47–8, 54, 65, 79, 129, 151, 156–7, 162 Hong Kong 98, 100 Hoppity Pop 166 humour 29, 37, 43, 63, 106, 113, 145, 156–7 Hungerford, Arthur 95 ideology 21–2, 37, 82 Impossible Map, The 135 Jodoin, Rene 167 Jutra, Claude 47, 126, 134, 146, 150–1, 153, 162, 164 Keep Your Mouth Shut 166 Kinecraft Society 19–20, 133, 166 Koenig, Wolf 77 Korean War 100 Lambart, Evelyn ix, 46, 48, 124, 133–4, 139, 142, 149, 151–2, 156, 161–2, 164, 167 Legg, Stuart 44–5, 86 Light Fantastick, The 77 Lines Horizontal 115, 135–6, 140, 147, 167 Lines Vertical 115, 125, 135–6, 147, 167 Little Phantasy 166 London Surrealist Exhibition 114 Love on the Wing 59, 86–7, 129, 156, 166 Low, Colin 104, 149, 155 Lye, Len 59, 67, 77, 79, 117–18

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Index Mail Early 122, 166–7 marxism (see communism) masculinity 47 Mccarthy 61 metamorphosis 87, 117, 148 metaphor 109 minimalism 140, 161 modernism 118, 163 montage 57 Montague, Ivor 65, 83, 166 Mosaic 115, 135, 140–1, 144, 167 Motion Painting 121 multiplication 128–9 Munro, Grant 48, 125, 127, 133, 136, 138, 141, 144–5, 149–50, 153, 156–7, 163–5, 167 Mysore 102, 104 Narcissus 36, 128–9, 147, 151, 157, 167 National Film Board, The xi, 60, 76, 102, 107, 131, 138, 144, 146–50, 152–3, 163–4 nationality 39, 93 Neighbours 8, 15, 71, 81, 100, 102–4, 113, 123, 126–7, 138, 144–5, 147, 155–6, 167 New York Lightboard 167 Newman, Sydney 63 NFB (see National Film Board, The) Obedient Flame, The 166 Odet, Clifford 39, 42 Opening Speech 167 oscilloscope 90 overwork 33, 36, 69, 113 pacificism 14 painter 18, 56, 112–13, 150 Parker, Claire 148 Patel, Ishu 153, 164 Pen Point Percussion 167 Peterson, Oscar (see also Oscar Peterson Trio) 46, 125, 135 playfulness 8, 156 Polychrome Phantasy 166 postmodernism 163

171

Poulette Grise 46, 112, 122, 136, 144, 147, 166 Propaganda Cinema 51 propaganda 26, 39, 43, 51, 55, 60, 71–2, 78, 118, 122, 163 Queer Cinema 131, 154, 162, 165 queer (see homosexuality) Rathburn, Eldon 125, 145 Rebay, Baroness Hilla 94, 121 Red Cross 84 Reiniger, Lotte 47, 130 Richter, Hans 130 Rooftop Lounge viii, 20 Russell, Biddy viii, 1, 12, 15, 28, 33, 36–7, 76–7, 82–3, 101, 104, 113–14, 117, 124, 126–9, 144, 147–8, 156–7 Ruttmann, Walther 120 Saint Saens, Camille 91–2 Save Your Breath 78, 164 Scherzo 166 Scottish Amateur Film Festival 19, 26, 53, 59 Scottish Arts Council 78 Scottish Cinema 62 Scottish Council 63 Scottish Documentary 77 Scottish Nationalists 29 Scottish Television 64, 76 Shanker, Ravi 104 shyness 95, 156 Skeleton Dance 130 South America 32, 104–5, 139, 159 Spook Sport 91, 93, 130, 166 Spottiswoode, Raymond 44, 137 Starr, Cecile 153, 164 Stereographic Art 74 stereoscopy 138 Stirling Archive 2, 5, 23, 50–2, 78–80, 106–8, 129–31, 152–3 Stirling High School ix, 55, 76, 109–11 Stop Animation 164

172

172 surrealism 67, 113–14 symbolism 54 synaesthesia 119 synchronization 92, 121–3 Synchrony 91 Synthetic Sound 130, 147

Index Venice Film Festival 139 Visual Media 163

Tallent, Stephen 58 Taylor, Margaret 57–8 technicolor 95 This Wonderful World 63–4 Thurmin, Leo 90 Trade Tattoo 59 Two Bagatelles 127, 144, 167

Wallace Monument 112 War Time Propaganda 78 Warner Bros 92, 130 Waugh, Thomas 37, 50, 129, 131, 151, 154, 159 Whitney, John 125 Winston, Brian 78–9 World Fair 86 World Film News 60 World Today, The 61 Wright, Basil 66

unesco 45–6, 61–2, 75, 81, 97–100, 104, 113

Yangtze River 100, 113 Yellow Submarine 150