Contrary to his own claims, Winsor McCay (1867-1934) did not invent animation; he was preceded by artists such as James Stuart Blackton and Emile Cohl. However, he did bring the art form to a new level of sophistication, in terms of both technical accomplishment and deftness of characterization. During his lifetime he was perhaps better known as a comic strip artist, creating two of the most important early strips: Little Nemo in Slumberland (1905-11 and 1911-14) and Dream of the Rarebit Fiend (1904-11 and 1911-1913). His work is distinguished by extraordinary draftsmanship (evident in his rendering of perspective, size and volume, architectural detail and composition), a forward-looking surrealistic imagination, and skill at delineating character. Animation historian and animator John Canemaker, who supplies the commentary track and other special features for the DVD, points out that McCay's comic strip panels often use sequential movement in a striking manner, anticipating his work in animated films. Several collections of McCay's comic strips have been reprinted in recent years, enabling us to appreciate them in a way that was hardly possible when they were originally published in the ephemeral newspaper medium.
The earliest film in the series, Little Nemo (1911), features characters from the popular comic strip, hand-tinted and animated against a plain white background. While the film lacks a story per se, it displays a remarkable technical facility. The framing device, a live action sequence in which McCay creates the film on a bet that he can make drawings move, was reused for Gertie the Dinosaur. His second film, How a Mosquito Operates (1912), inspired by a panel from Dream of the Rarebit Fiend, is a grotesquely funny account of a giant mosquito harassing a sleeping man, only to be done in by his own gluttony. Probably McCay's most popular film is Gertie the Dinosaur (1914). In it, McCay himself orders a trained dinosaur (albeit one with a childlike sense of humor) to perform tricks for the audience; in the original version, McCay interacted directly with the screen as part of his touring vaudeville act.
Whereas the first three films involved drawing the backgrounds and moving subjects together on a single sheet of paper, requiring the backgrounds to be redrawn thousands of times, with The Sinking of the Lusitania (1918) McCay first experimented with cel animation. This allowed for still greater complexity of design while saving tremendous labor in rendering the backgrounds. While the overt propagandistic subject matter of this film places it squarely with other "hate the Hun" films of World War I, it is nonetheless remarkable for its draftsmanship and its unusual tragic subject matter. The next films in the series, The Centaurs, Gertie on Tour and Flip's Circus, all circa 1918-1921, were unreleased during McCay's lifetime and survive only in fragmentary form. The last three films, Bug Vaudeville, The Pet and The Flying House, all circa 1921, are more fully realized; once again they are inspired by panels from Dream of the Rarebit Fiend. The Flying House is especially appealing for its dreamlike fantasy.
Contemporary viewers used to the films of Disney or Miyazaki may find the comparative technical crudity of McCay's films off-putting, despite their manifest charm. In order to be fully appreciated, they need to contextualized within the history of animation. In that respect, John Canemaker's contributions to this DVD add immeasurably to its value. His commentary track relies heavily on descriptions of the action onscreen; while in most cases this would become irritating after a while, here it's useful because Canemaker points out all sorts of interesting technical details that deepen our understanding of McCay's accomplishment. For one thing, as Canemaker astutely points out, McCay pioneered in "personality animation," using gestures and timing to help delineate character. Canemaker also reads excerpts from McCay's diary and places his work within the history of animation in general.
Other special features include Canemaker's 1978 documentary Remembering Winsor McCay, consisting mainly of an interview with John Fitzsimmons, who worked as an assistant to McCay and bore the tedious task of drawing all the backgrounds for Gertie the Dinosaur. Lastly, there is a stills gallery, also compiled by Canemaker. Unlike many such DVD galleries, this one is not just filler or behind-the-scenes production photos; the photos, mementos and examples from McCay's comic strips are undeniably well chosen. Unfortunately, on a television screen it is difficult to make out all the fine details and words within the comic strip panels, but you at least get a general sense of what they were like. If you have a zoom function on your DVD remote, that will help. I recommend that you also consult some of the reprinted editions of McCay's comic strips to get a better sense of his achievement.
The transfers of the actual films are uniformly good, considering their age and the condition in which some of them survive. The restored print of Gertie in particular is sharp and has pleasing contrast; I seriously doubt that it has ever looked this good in its numerous incarnations on home video. The piano accompaniment by Gabriel Thibaudeaux fits the films well. This release is warmly recommended.
For more information about Winsor McCay: The Master Edition, visit Milestone Film. To order Winsor McCay: The Master Edition, go to TCM Shopping.
by James Steffen
