The 6th Orphan Film Symposium

After some coffee and chatting in the frequently overwhelmed vestibule of the Cantor auditorium (where orphanistas prove once again that they relish the opportunity the symposium affords for bumping into their admired colleagues and cohorts, literally in this case) Laura Kissel takes the podium to speak about the representation of human disability in scientific and educational films. Her work is part of an effort to rectify the small amount of attention paid to this topic. She brought no less than five clips to the screen, and began her presentation with a series of questions for audience consideration. How is the history of disability documented in orphan films? What do these films display about social attitudes of the day and the construction of normative cultural spaces? How might these films be utilized to chart the evolution of social attitudes (from eugenics to the emergence of a civil rights movement, etc) about disabled persons? The clips she brought to screen broach these questions and more.

Her first clip is a snippet from the 1916-17 film The Black Stork, directed by the Wharton brothers and produced by eugenicist Dr. Harry Haiselden who also starts (as himself) in the film. The Dr. Kevorkian of his day, Haiselden professed the right of parents to allow their disabled babies to die through the withholding of medical treatment.

The narrative of the film finds a diseased fiancé withholding the fact of his disease from his betrothed. A particularly disturbing flashforward shows the couple having their first child, which is born with an unidentified disability. A slender, wide-eyed baby flails about, alone on a cart, as his parents moan and cry in sadness (and apparent horror). The film ends with the ‘good’ doctor convincing them to allow their child to die. This clip introduces the audience to the horrors of the early culture of institutionalization that was the guiding principal of society’s care for the disabled from the 1800's through the 1960's.

Two subsequent clips further illustrate this history by showing the scientific communities’ construction and imposition of normalcy through studies of child development and the attitudes of the public toward these “shut-ins,” respectively. A down syndrome baby who cannot grasp blocks in a way that doctors define as “normal” grows into a precocious and lovely 5 year-old who is obviously proficient and willfully un-stacking the doctor’s carefully constructed towers, in spite of his admonishments. An outrageous ad for a drive-in theater beckons folks to “bring your shut-in friends” for free.

Kissel’s final two clips engage with the advocacy of rights for those with disabilities. The first, a 1978 production of the KU bureau of child research, posits that the bureaucrat responsible for legislating social responses to disability is an alien. The second is a WWI era film clip showing early efforts at vocational rehab with the “legless automobiles.”

Applause.

Jason Livingston. Photo by Rick Prelinger.

Jason Livingston, a film and video maker who confessed that he normally avoids referencing the personal in his work, took the mic next to introduce a piece that turned up in his parent’s closet. The 16mm print turned out to be part of the work of Philip Mallory Jones and the Ithaca Video Project, a 1970s era collective that provided access to portable video equipment to individuals and community groups and encouraged creative and advocacy-related uses of the medium. The two clips from this reel that Livingston screened are part of a work-in-progress on the labor of upstate media arts collectives of this period. Narrated by Irving Powless, the clips deal with protests by members of the Iroquois Nation against the state government’s reneging on the terms of a 1950's era agreement. This breach allowed interstate 80 to pass through their territory.

Onondagas vs. New York State, 1972

Clip one introduces the audience to Oren Lyons, a member of the Seneca Nation and the Iroquois Confederacy whose life is dedicated to fighting for the rights and livelihood of indigenous peoples both locally and internationally. Summing up his feelings after a long history of struggle with state and federal governments, which was characterized by the frequent and gross violations of promises and treaties, a clearly frustrated Lyons declares that he is not asking anything of the government in this current struggle. “All I want is to be left alone.” The second clip from this project strongly resembles footage from the National Film Board of Canada production You Are on Indian Land and features I-81 workers being obstructed by demonstrating Indian groups.

Livingston ended by announcing that he may have just located more footage for the project in the archive of the Visual Studies Workshop, and he looks forward to continuing this research.

Taking the stage next was Grace Lile of the Witness Media Archive (WMA) who began her discussion on the role of visual images in human rights advocacy by referencing the power wielded by the Rodney King video. The video was able to spark protest and investigative action by authorities into what would have otherwise been a forgotten episode of police brutality. What if, she asked, human rights advocates around the world could have the same access to such video production and, more importantly, a highly visible venue for injecting such images into the public arena? She argued that using video strategically to win the struggle for human rights means using it as one component of a larger campaign that has specific goals and plans. By offering a venue for this footage, Witness Media Archive sees itself as having a potentially useful role in the activist process.

She illustrated this by screening three very powerful clips dealing with the struggles of the Nakamata ancestral group in the Philippines to claim rights to their ancestral lands. The first two were segments of Seeing is Believing, a Peter Wintonick documentary about the political and social uses of handicams, that was in production while some of the political events depicted in it were still in the process of unfolding. The third clip was taken from the news coverage of The Probe Team but uses the images shot by the Nakamata on their own camera as ‘witness’ to the retaliatory murders of several of their members.

Seeing Is Believing: Handicams, Human Rights and the News, 2002

In thinking about this footage, and in deciding to post some of it on the web, Lile and others at WMA had to consider many concerns, including whether promoting this piece of technology would further jeopardize the lives of its authors. In this new era of access, with the entrance of You Tube, better cell phone video and other technologies, WMA has created a new website where footage can be uploaded in order to try to develop a model for responsibly increasing the power of human rights advocates. This can be accessed in beta version at http://hub.witness.org/en/node/33.

The Army Films: Pro & Amateur program was introduced by Greg Wilsbacher, Director of the Newsfilm Library at the University of South Carolina, which holds over 11 million feet of Fox News film. He cited the success of the Fox Movietone legacy as not stemming from robust programs, but actually from the inter-war period and subsequent downsizing of resources at a time when the need for the military training film was growing.

Greg turned the microphone over to Bill Birch, work worked as a camera operator for Fox Movietone News as part of Frank Capra’s famed Signal Corps unit. Bill, who filmed stories about the home front as well as combat in the Pacific Theater, was a wonderful raconteur and told an entertaining story about his experience rising through the ranks of Signal Corps.

Bill Burch (843rd SSPD), Dan, and Greg Wilsbacher

Because the army increasingly relied on the Signal Corps during World War II, the organization needed to expand and recruit fast. As a staff cameraman for Newsreel, married and without children, Birch was extremely “draftable,” a point he made as a PowerPoint image appeared of him in his twenties reclined in uniform on an army cot. Bill was interested in working for Signal Corps since he could perform camera duties. After numerous interviews Birch was “enlisted” in Chicago, receiving the impressive rank of Staff Sergeant in December 1942. Birch explained that this was unheard of since he had no basic training and no clue as to who to salute, so he saluted everything that moved! Birch’s precautionary measures paid off since his first job was in California working for none other than Hollywood director, Frank Capra. Under Capra, Birch worked on the entire spectrum of army films—newsreel, studio and documentary material, reenactments, combat films, and the P-word: PROPOGANDA!

Birch was involved in the Why We Fight series, which was intended to demonstrate to American soldiers the reasons for U.S. involvement in the war. Later on they were also shown to the general U.S. public to persuade them to support American actions.

Birch wore many hats during his time at Signal Corps and was responsible for setting up complete units--sound, optic, electric, props--and loading them onto the truck. He even modified a car to shoot newsreel by positioning the camera on the rooftop. Capra received a direct order from Washington to reenact “The Battle of Hill 609,” the film of which was lost when the ship was torpedoed and sunk. Capra whole-heartedly embraced the job and was provided with a cast of soldiers who had been at the actual battle. The unit moved to the desert that apparently bore a strong resemblance to the original battle location in Tunisia. The film team worked in the sweltering heat, around the clock, with no sleep.

While working in Okinawa, Birch received orders to shoot a new training unit in Ft. Washington, Arizona led by revered Army general George Patton, also known as “Old Blood and Guts”. Birch recounted giving orders to the general in order to execute a shot that involved Patton’s salute to the American flag for a specified period of time. When Patton didn’t execute his saluting role correctly, Birch had to graciously accept the blame and request that he do it over. The intimidating general suggested that Birch recite army orders to him to get the shot that he needed. After he completed the orders, his presence was requested by the general. Birch saluted the general and was asked:

”What did you do in civilian life?”

“I was a cameraman,” Birch replied.

“Nobody that hadn’t done something like that for a living would have the balls to do what you did. And you did it perfectly!”

The program then switched to the more sobering subject of concentration camp liberation footage. Marsha Orgeron, author of LIBERATING IMAGES? Samuel Fuller’s Film of Falkenau Concentration Camp (2006), presented on Sam Fuller’s twenty-two-minute film, which recorded the aftermath of the liberation of Falkenau, a Nazi concentration camp in Czechoslovakia. She contextualized the footage as during a time when recording and documenting the horrific truth of the concentration camps was encouraged by the government. Upon full discovery of the Nazi Concentration camps, General Dwight Eisenhower ordered camera crews to comprehensively document evidence of the atrocities for use in the war crimes tribunals. Enlisted men took on the unofficial capacity of filming what they witnessed not only for political ends, but for their personal collections and subsequent viewing by their families and friends. These films eventually made their way into archives in the U.S. Orgeron explained that while there were prohibitions against general filming, there was tacit acceptance for any witness to film the horrors discovered in the liberated camps. Many soldiers immediately sent their amateur footage back home.

Marsha Orgeron and Christa Lang Fuller

Sam Fuller’s liberation footage of Falkenau stands in great contrast to the genre of amateur liberation footage. For one, the film is so extensively edited that it tells a story (a fact that contradicts his claim that he ignored the film for years), and it operates on multiple experiential levels—witnessing, filming, remembering, and revising. Fuller’s film can be broken down into three parts— it depicts 1) the dead before burial, 2) the transportation of bodies to the burial site, and finally 3) the burial itself. Fuller and Captain Kimball Richmond were responsible for the filming and orchestration of the film’s constituent parts. Captain Richmond incorporated residents from the neighboring village into the film, whom play an active role as witnesses and participants; they are forced to confront the reality of what had been done. Fuller often included the neighboring houses in the frame, indicating their proximity to the camp, and hence the town's awareness and complicity.

Sam's Camera

Mark Toscano introduced the newly preserved print of Fuller’s V—E + 1. The original was held at the Academy Film Archive, where Toscano works, for over 10 years. There had been a plan to preserve the film, but it didn’t happen until Orgeron’s research. In her paper, she writes that “Fuller’s panning movement and walking-in reminds us of the cinematographer’s guiding hand, his presence as witness and in some ways, as judge.” The controlled camera is impressive given the horrific content, but also allows for a different kind of witnessing freed from the jittery effects of shock and disbelief, and toward a place of reckoning, remembering, and understanding.

Image from V—E + 1 May 9, 1945

Sam Fuller on celluloid (ca. summer 1945). Courtesy of the Academy Film Archive

Christa Lang Fuller, Sam Fuller’s wife, spoke after the film screened. She discovered the film in 1966, with no previous awareness of its existence. Born in Germany, Christa shared memories of coming from a generation that was continuously reminded of Nazi atrocities, and often applied blame to relatives and friends. She also signaled the importance to show films like Sam’s to young people so they do not become immune to horrors. As an aside, Christa mentioned that Sam shot extensive footage of “less morbid” subjects such as the Karaja Indians in the Brazilian Amazon.

- Gabriella Hiatt

Orphans rushed into Cantor for the celebratory finale visibly altered from the scheduled dinner that was well-stocked with libations. The roaming caterers seemed eager to pour (and re-pour) into everyone’s glass.

The Spread

The food was to die for!

Richard Allen loses his virginity as Dan beams in the background

The happiest table in the room

The mood was indeed celebratory, if a bit raucous, and marked the successful end of a packed week of orphan films. Laura Rooney from AMIA took to the podium for opening remarks: “WOW!” she exclaimed in response to the symposium before she implored us to become members of AMIA. Dan Streible, commonly referred to by students and presenters as Coach Tubbs or Uncle Dan, had to shout into the microphone to be heard over the many rowdy orphans who were having trouble finding their seats. He went “off program” by inserting an Orphans favorite, Ro-Revus Talks about Worms (1971), which the audience devoured at Orphans 5.

Online Videos by Veoh.com

The educational short, produced by the Office of Economic Opportunity, features a frog puppet that warns against the dangers of parasitic worms you can get when eating food dropped on the ground or if you go to the bathroom outdoors. The video has gained a significant cult following. Intended for children, the Orphans audience was well-matched as they howled at the narrating puppets that told horrific tales of invisible worms that migrate into your belly and multiply if you don’t maintain a good diet and appropriate hygiene level.

Unexpectedly, two color reels of outtake footage by Sam Fuller referenced earlier in the day were introduced by Mark Toscano who asked the audience if the location with French street names was recognizable. FRANCE! blurted one audience member, which was quickly refuted by BELGIUM! from another. Audience participation and spontaneous piano interludes were recurring themes for the evening.

Vince Collins’ short psychedelic masterpiece, 200 (1976), offered a nice counterpoint to the conventional political campaigning we have grown increasingly accustomed to seeing. Collins was commissioned by the U.S. Information Agency in 1976 to commemorate the bicentennial. Blinking stars and gyrating stripes reflect a State gone wild on hallucinogens. The national eagle rapidly interchanges with a peace sign, the white house and Mount Rushmore. At one point the Mayflower drifts across the screen followed by a cornucopia of American imagery—hamburgers, televisions, baseballs, and hot dogs.

Julie Hubbert presented excerpts from Music for the Silent Newsreels (1930, Fox Movietone News). She explained that newsreels received unusual treatment and were afforded room for improvisation at a time when popular music was taboo for features. She presented a “film-less film,” featuring pianist Harry Rosenthal at the piano narrating a hypothetical newsreel as he plays recognizable tunes such as Emile Waldteufel’s "The Skater's waltz". He would later go on to act in Preston Sturges screwball comedies, including The Palm Beach Story (1942) and The Lady Eve (1941).

Students from NYU’s MIAP program presented a compilation of three films uncovered from the garage of itinerant filmmakers, Dan Dorn and Dan Dorn Jr. The films promote the civic, industrial, and educational splendors of three New Jersey towns during the 1930s. The opening title of The Story of Hackettstown (1933) declared the film a “Civic and Educational Romance,” and was produced by the Hackettstown Kiwanis Club. The civic film does in fact weave in the love story of a young man visiting from out-of-town who unwittingly falls for a local girl. The love story unfolds in-between devotional footage of the town--the leather factory, a local parade, the Hackettstown Highball Team, a school fire drill--and culminates with the young man’s proposal, for we must assume he has fallen for both the girl and Hackettstown.

Particularly noteworthy was Joseph Clark’s presentation of sound from the March of Time’s Radio City Music Hall premiere of Peace, By Adolph Hitler (1941), a film concerning Hitler’s propaganda campaign and the history of Nazi aggression. Joseph explained that the sound of the audience during the premiere was the orphan, which he recently uncovered from the American Heritage Center at the University of Wyoming. The audience is well-behaved for the most part until Charles Lindbergh, who was heavily involved within the Non-interventionist movement, appeared on screen. Most of the audience reacted vituperatively with boos and jeers, but applause is also audible. The discovered sound is a significant addition to the often-ignored and nebulous history of film reception during World War II.

Martha Kelly presented Our Day (1938), a delightful film made by her father, Wallace Kelly, who was a photographer and writer and made many films for family viewing occasions. The film depicts an idealized and comic day-in-the-life of the Kelly household based in Lebanon, Kentucky. Martha added that it is an exceptional day when “everyone is happy, healthy, and well-dressed”. It is also a full day, complete with an energetic croquet battle, a game of hearts, and a glimpse into the photographic studio of Wallace Kelly that was based in their Kentucky home. The film ends bitter sweetly with a handwritten title that also signals the ensuing end to a fantastic symposium: “All good things must come to an end….And so must Our Day!”

Peggy Ahwesh presented a wildly frenetic film called Beirut Outtakes (2007), derived from material left in a projector in an abandoned theater in Beirut. The material, retrieved by her friend in 1988, consists of a variety of commercial fragments from 1961 to 1968 from Lebanon and overseas. Commercials for French cigarettes, carpet cleaners, United Airlines, underwear, and even the film Dead or Alive, flash on the screen at rapid speed. The decayed film and fragmentary nature of the material is unintentionally experimental, enacting the strange and hypnotic experience of watching commercials.

Beirut Outtakes, 2007

Dan appropriately brought the Symposium full-circle by concluding the night with Tunnel of Love (1996) by Helen Hill. This exceedingly charming film about accidental romance incorporates methods of stop-motion and hand-processed film. It includes delightful footage of toy animals, cotton candy, and swirling cocktail umbrellas. In fact, accidental romance and chance discovery seem to be a common trait uniting all orphan films and everyone involved in the Orphan Film Symposium for that matter. Just when Dan thought he could wipe the sweat off his brow, students declared they had an announcement for Coach Tubbs. As he leaned against the piano in the corner of the room, a student rushed toward him and dumped a water cooler filled with hundreds of film ends over his head, followed by two whipped cream pies that landed smack on his face. And with that, the Sixth Orphan Film Symposium concluded. Until next time!

- Gabriella Hiatt

James Bond working his magic!

Spiro Karantzalis proudly watches over his machines

Two part blog special at the Witness Media Archive website here and here.

Check out Elise Nakhnikian's glowing notice at The House Next Door.

Jenny Davidson, a Comp Lit professor at Columbia, talks about her friend Helen Hill.

Former MIAPer, Lauren Sorensen, now an Assistant Director at Canyon Cinema also weighed in on the Bay Area Video Coalition blog.

Check out Bee Thiam's blog of our "most marvelous" Orphans: Asian Film Archive Blog.

Get a different perspective on Orphans at Walking Off the Big Apple.

Shooting Down Pictures has some serious Orphans envy!.

Check out the definitive link to photos at Orphans 6 on the MIAP website here. If you can't find yourself in this massive collection perhaps you weren't really there. Cheers!