When David Lynch Directed a Mini-Season of Twin Peaks in the Form of Japanese Coffee Commercials

I recent­ly read Mer­ry White’s Cof­fee Life in Japan, a his­to­ry of the west­’s favorite bev­er­age in the Land of the Ris­ing Sun. As with so many cul­tur­al imports, the Japan­ese first enter­tained a fas­ci­na­tion with cof­fee, then got more seri­ous about drink­ing it, then made an offi­cial place for it in their soci­ety, then got even more seri­ous about not just drink­ing it but arti­sanal­ly prepar­ing and serv­ing it, wind­ing up with an orig­i­nal­ly for­eign but now unmis­tak­ably Japan­ese suite of prod­ucts and asso­ci­at­ed expe­ri­ences. Hav­ing spent a fair bit of time in Japan­ese cafés myself, I can tell you that the coun­try has some damn fine cof­fee.

But what about its cher­ry pie? Only one man could take that case: FBI Spe­cial Agent Dale Coop­er, the main char­ac­ter of David Lynch’s ground­break­ing­ly strange ABC tele­vi­sion dra­ma Twin Peaks. A great many Japan­ese peo­ple love cof­fee, but no small num­ber also love David Lynch.

And so, when the oppor­tu­ni­ty arose to take simul­ta­ne­ous advan­tage of local enthu­si­asm for bev­er­age and film­mak­er alike, Geor­gia Cof­fee seized it, work­ing in the robust tra­di­tion of Japan­ese adver­tise­ments star­ring Amer­i­can celebri­ties to reunite mem­bers of Twin Peaks cast, recon­struct the fic­tion­al town of Twin Peaks itself, and have Lynch direct a new mini-mini-mini-sea­son of the show, each episode a forty-sec­ond Geor­gia Cof­fee com­mer­cial.

The first episode, “Mys­tery of G,” finds Coop­er in the Twin Peaks Sher­if­f’s Depart­ment, enlist­ed in the search for a miss­ing Japan­ese woman named Asa­mi. He and Asami’s hus­band exam­ine the first piece of evi­dence: an origa­mi crane with a G on it. The sec­ond, “Lost,” intro­duces two more inscrutable arti­facts: a pho­to of Asa­mi beside a rare road­ster, and a mount­ed deer’s head. The lat­ter leads him to Big Ed’s Gas Farm, where in the third episode, “Cher­ry Pie,” he spots the car and, on its pas­sen­ger seat, a mys­te­ri­ous wedge of red bil­liard balls (which, of course, reminds him of his favorite dessert). The fourth, “The Res­cue,” clos­es the case in the woods, where Coop­er finds Asa­mi, trapped and back­wards-talk­ing, in — where else? — the red-cur­tained room of the extra-dimen­sion­al Black Lodge.

Every step of the solu­tion to this mys­tery requires a cup of Geor­gia Cof­fee — or, rather, a can of Geor­gia Cof­fee, Geor­gia being one of the best-known vari­eties of that vend­ing machine-ready cat­e­go­ry of bev­er­age. The west may nev­er have gone in for canned cof­fee, but Japan drinks it in enor­mous quan­ti­ties. What bet­ter way to adver­tise a Japan­ese inter­pre­ta­tion of cof­fee in the ear­ly 1990s, then, than with a Japan­ese inter­pre­ta­tion of Twin Peaks? Alas, the high­er-ups at Geor­gia Cof­fee did­n’t ulti­mate­ly think that way, giv­ing the axe to the planned sec­ond series of Twin Peaks com­mer­cials. Maybe that’s for the best since, as for the actu­al taste of Geor­gia Cof­fee — well, I’ve had damn fin­er.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Japan­ese Movie Posters of 10 David Lynch Films

Cof­fee is for Peo­ple, Not Robots: The New Ad for David Lynch’s Line of Organ­ic Cof­fee

David Lynch’s Unlike­ly Com­mer­cial for a Home Preg­nan­cy Test (1997)

David Lynch’s Per­fume Ads Based on the Works of Hem­ing­way, F. Scott Fitzger­ald & D.H. Lawrence

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Mr. Rogers Goes to Congress and Saves PBS: Heartwarming Video from 1969

What kind of delu­sion­al self-aggran­diz­er, called to tes­ti­fy before a Unit­ed States Sen­ate Sub­com­mit­tee, uses it as an oppor­tu­ni­ty to quote the lyrics of a song he’s writ­ten… in their entire­ty!?

Sounds like the work of a cer­tain rapper/prospective polit­i­cal can­di­date or per­haps some daffy buf­foon as brought to life by Ben Stiller or Will Fer­rell.

Only children’s tele­vi­sion host Fred Rogers could pull such a stunt and emerge unscathed, nay, even more beloved, as he does above in doc­u­men­tary footage from 1969.

Mis­ter Rogers’ impulse to recite What Do You Do With the Mad That You Feel to then-chair­man of the Sub­com­mit­tee on Com­mu­ni­ca­tions, Sen­a­tor John Pas­tore, was ulti­mate­ly an act of ser­vice to the Cor­po­ra­tion for Pub­lic Broad­cast­ing and its child view­ers.

New­ly elect­ed Pres­i­dent Richard Nixon opposed pub­lic tele­vi­sion, believ­ing that its lib­er­al bent could only under­mine his admin­is­tra­tion. Deter­mined to strike first, he pro­posed cuts equal to half its $20 mil­lion annu­al oper­at­ing bud­get, a mea­sure that would have seri­ous­ly hob­bled the fledg­ling insti­tu­tion.

Mr. Rogers appeared before the Com­mit­tee armed with a “philo­soph­i­cal state­ment” that he refrained from read­ing aloud, not wish­ing to monop­o­lize ten min­utes of the Committee’s time. Instead, he sought Pas­tore’s promise that he would give it a close read lat­er, speak­ing so slow­ly and with such lit­tle out­ward guile, that the tough nut Sen­a­tor was moved to crack, “Would it make you hap­py if you did read it?”

Rather than tak­ing the bait, Rogers touched on the ways his show’s bud­get had grown thanks to the pub­lic broad­cast­ing mod­el. He also hipped Pas­tore to the qual­i­ta­tive dif­fer­ence between fre­net­ic kid­die car­toons and the vast­ly more thought­ful and emo­tion­al­ly healthy con­tent of pro­gram­ming such as his. Mr. Roger’s Neigh­bor­hood was a place where such top­ics as hair­cuts, sib­ling rela­tion­ships, and angry feel­ings could be dis­cussed in depth.

Rogers’ emo­tion­al intel­li­gence seems to hyp­no­tize Pas­tore, whose chal­leng­ing front was soon dropped in favor of a more respect­ful line of ques­tion­ing. By the end of Rogers’ heart­felt, non-musi­cal ren­di­tion of What Do You Do… (it’s much pep­pi­er in the orig­i­nal), Pas­tore has goose­bumps, and the Cor­po­ra­tion for Pub­lic Broad­cast­ing has its 2 mil’ back in the bag.

What do you do with the mad that you feel

When you feel so mad you could bite?

When the whole wide world seems oh, so wrong…

And noth­ing you do seems very right?

What do you do? Do you punch a bag?

Do you pound some clay or some dough?

Do you round up friends for a game of tag?

Or see how fast you go?

It’s great to be able to stop

When you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong,

And be able to do some­thing else instead

And think this song:

I can stop when I want to

Can stop when I wish.

I can stop, stop, stop any time.

And what a good feel­ing to feel like this

And know that the feel­ing is real­ly mine.

Know that there’s some­thing deep inside

That helps us become what we can.

For a girl can be some­day a woman

And a boy can be some­day a man.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mr. Rogers Intro­duces Kids to Exper­i­men­tal Elec­tron­ic Music by Bruce Haack & Esther Nel­son (1968)

Mr. Rogers Takes Break­danc­ing Lessons from a 12-Year-Old (1985)

Pup­pet Mak­ing with Jim Hen­son: A Price­less Primer from 1969

Ayun Hal­l­i­day’s new play, Fawn­book, debuts as part of the Bad The­ater Fes­ti­val in NYC tomor­row night. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

David Lynch Draws a Map of Twin Peaks (to Help Pitch the Show to ABC)

Twin Peaks Map

“How did this even get on the air?” Both the die-hard fans and bewil­dered haters asked that ques­tion about Twin Peaks, David Lynch and Mark Frost’s sur­re­al tele­vi­sion dra­ma that famous­ly aired on ABC prime­time in 1990 and 1991. That such an uncon­ven­tion­al vision — and one real­ized, at least through­out the first sea­son, with such thor­ough com­mit­ment — ever made it to the main­stream air­waves now seems like a his­tor­i­cal achieve­ment in and of itself. So how, giv­en the stul­ti­fy­ing rig­ors of the enter­tain­ment indus­try, did Lynch and Frost actu­al­ly sell this pack­age of cryp­tic dreams, back­ward speech, small-town sav­agery, a mur­dered home­com­ing queen, and damn fine cher­ry pie?

First, Lynch drew a map. Know­ing that no TV exec­u­tive would under­stand Twin Peaks with­out under­stand­ing Twin Peaks, the fic­tion­al Wash­ing­ton town which gives the sto­ry its set­ting and title, he drew what you see above. Nigel Holmes includ­ed it in his out-of-print Pic­to­r­i­al Maps, com­ment­ing that “the peaks of the title, and the town they name, are clear­ly vis­i­ble as white-topped moun­tains ris­ing out of the mod­eled land­scape.

By cre­at­ing a sense of place, Lynch made the town all the more believ­able. A straight­for­ward map would have been dull by com­par­i­son and might have sug­gest­ed that there was some­thing intrin­si­cal­ly inter­est­ing about the geog­ra­phy of the place. What was much more impor­tant to con­vey was the mood of the sto­ry, and it’s nice­ly cap­tured in Lynch’s quirky draw­ing.”

The book also includes a quote from Lynch him­self, on the util­i­ty of the map: “We knew where every­thing was, and it helped us decide what mood each place had, and what could hap­pen there. Then the char­ac­ters just intro­duced them­selves to us and walked into the sto­ry.” As any Twin Peaks fan will notice, the map iden­ti­fies a host of loca­tions ref­er­enced in the show, such as White Tail and Blue Pine moun­tains (the peaks them­selves), Ghost­wood Nation­al For­est, and Lucky High­way 21. But “can you locate Spark­wood and 21, One-Eyed Jack’s and The Great North­ern?” asks fan site Wel­come to Twin Peaks. And if the much-dis­cussed 21st-cen­tu­ry Twin Peaks revival comes to fruition, will it dust off this trusty ref­er­ence doc­u­ment and revive the askew but deep sense of place we (or at least some us) savored the first time around?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Title Sequence, Recre­at­ed in an Adorable Paper Ani­ma­tion

Play the Twin Peaks Video Game: Retro Fun for David Lynch Fans

Ele­men­tary School Stu­dents Per­form in a Play Inspired by David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Vincent Price Turn Into Edgar Allan Poe & Read Four Classic Poe Stories (1970)

Can you have a Hal­loween with­out Edgar Allan Poe? Sure you can — but here at Open Cul­ture, we don’t rec­om­mend it. So that you need not go Poe-less on this, or any, Hal­loween night, we’ve fea­tured not just his com­plete works free to down­load, but oth­er mate­r­i­al like the ani­mat­ed adap­ta­tion of “The Tell-Tale Heart” as well as ani­ma­tions of his oth­er sto­ries; Poe read­ings by the likes of Christo­pher Lee, James Earl Jones, and Iggy Pop; and Orson Welles’ inter­pre­ta­tion of his work on an Alan Par­sons Project album.

We also believe that you should­n’t have to endure a Price­less Hal­loween — that is to say, a Hal­loween with­out Vin­cent Price. Though he proved his ver­sa­til­i­ty in a wide vari­ety of gen­res through­out his long act­ing career, his­to­ry has remem­bered Price first and fore­most for his work in hor­ror, no doubt thanks in large part to his pos­ses­sion of a voice per­fect­ly suit­ed to the ele­gant­ly sin­is­ter. It also made him an ide­al teller of Poe’s inge­nious­ly macabre tales, which you can expe­ri­ence for your­self in the record­ings we’ve post­ed of Price read­ing Poe, a playlist which also includes read­ings by Price’s equal­ly ver­sa­tile Basil Rath­bone.

Rath­bone may also have got to read Poe, the work, but despite his huge num­ber of roles on stage and screen, he nev­er actu­al­ly played Poe, the man. But Price did, in the spe­cial An Evening of Edgar Allan Poe, the clos­est any of us will get to an audi­ence with the trou­bled, bril­liant, and ter­ri­fy­ing­ly inven­tive writer him­self. In it, Price-as-Poe takes the stage and, over the course of an hour, weaves into his per­for­mance four of his most endur­ing sto­ries: “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Sphinx,” “The Cask of Amon­til­la­do,” and “The Pit and the Pen­du­lum.” Go on, join Edgar Allan Poe in his draw­ing room this Hal­loween by hav­ing Price bring him to life on your screen — it will guar­an­tee you a mem­o­rable hol­i­day evening.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load The Com­plete Works of Edgar Allan Poe on His Birth­day

Watch the 1953 Ani­ma­tion of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart,” Nar­rat­ed by James Mason

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” Read by Christo­pher Walken, Vin­cent Price, and Christo­pher Lee

Christo­pher Lee (R.I.P.) Reads Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” and From “The Fall of the House of Ush­er”

Iggy Pop Reads Edgar Allan Poe’s Clas­sic Hor­ror Sto­ry, “The Tell-Tale Heart”

5 Hours of Edgar Allan Poe Sto­ries Read by Vin­cent Price & Basil Rath­bone

James Earl Jones Reads Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” and Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”

Hear Orson Welles Read Edgar Allan Poe on a Cult Clas­sic Album by The Alan Par­sons Project

Edgar Allan Poe Ani­mat­ed: Watch Four Ani­ma­tions of Clas­sic Poe Sto­ries

The Fall of the House of Ush­er: Poe’s Clas­sic Tale Turned Into 1928 Avant Garde Film, Script­ed by e.e. cum­mings

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Young Hunter S. Thompson Appears on the Classic TV Game Show, To Tell the Truth (1967)

Once upon a time, avant-garde com­posers, sur­re­al­ist painters, and Gonzo jour­nal­ists made guest appear­ances on the most main­stream Amer­i­can game shows. It does­n’t hap­pen much any­more.

We’ve shown you John Cage per­form on I’ve Got a Secret in 1960; Sal­vador Dalí do his Dalí schtick on What’s My Line in 1952; and a young Frank Zap­pa turn a bicy­cle into a musi­cal instru­ment on The Steve Allen Show in ’63. Now we can add to the list a young Hunter S. Thomp­son mak­ing an appear­ance on To Tell the Truth, one of the longest-run­ning TV game shows in Amer­i­can his­to­ry. The episode (above) aired on Feb­ru­ary 20, 1967, the year after Thomp­son pub­lished his first major book of jour­nal­ism, Hel­l’s Angels: The Strange and Ter­ri­ble Saga of the Out­law Motor­cy­cle Gangs. (See him get con­front­ed by the Angels here.)

If you’re not famil­iar with the show, To Tell the Truth works like this:

The show fea­tures a pan­el of four celebri­ties whose object is the cor­rect iden­ti­fi­ca­tion of a described con­tes­tant who has an unusu­al occu­pa­tion or expe­ri­ence. This cen­tral char­ac­ter is accom­pa­nied by two impos­tors who pre­tend to be the cen­tral char­ac­ter; togeth­er, the three per­sons are said to belong to a “team of chal­lengers.” The celebri­ty pan­elists ques­tion the three con­tes­tants; the impos­tors are allowed to lie but the cen­tral char­ac­ter is sworn “to tell the truth”. After ques­tion­ing, the pan­el attempts to iden­ti­fy which of the three chal­lengers is telling the truth and is thus the cen­tral char­ac­ter.

Giv­en the whole premise of the show, Thomp­son, only 30 years old, was still an unrec­og­niz­able face on Amer­i­ca’s cul­tur­al scene. But, with the pub­li­ca­tion of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas just around the cor­ner, all of that was about to change.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via @WFMU

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hunter S. Thomp­son Gets Con­front­ed by The Hell’s Angels

Read 18 Lost Sto­ries From Hunter S. Thompson’s For­got­ten Stint As a For­eign Cor­re­spon­dent

Hunter S. Thomp­son, Exis­ten­tial­ist Life Coach, Gives Tips for Find­ing Mean­ing in Life

Read 10 Free Arti­cles by Hunter S. Thomp­son That Span His Gonzo Jour­nal­ist Career (1965–2005)

Hunter S. Thomp­son Inter­views Kei­th Richards

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When Frank Zappa & Miles Davis Played a Drug Dealer and a Pimp on Miami Vice

For all the neon-Fer­rari-and-raw-silk gar­ish­ness the show now seems to embody, Mia­mi Vice (1984–1990) paid uncom­mon atten­tion to cul­tur­al detail. Music, for instance, did­n’t get thrown onto its sound­track, but care­ful­ly select­ed to reflect both the mid-80s zeit­geist and the aes­thet­ic of a par­tic­u­lar episode. Any time you tuned in, you could hear the likes of Devo, Phil Collins, The Tubes, Depeche Mode, or the Alan Par­sons project behind the action. Some­times you could also see musi­cians onscreen, involved in the action, albeit musi­cians of a some­what dif­fer­ent kind: the inno­v­a­tive exper­i­men­tal com­pos­er and rock­er Frank Zap­pa, for instance, once appeared as “weasel dust” deal­er Mario Fuente.

That hap­pened on “Pay­back,” the nine­teenth episode of Mia­mi Vice’s sec­ond sea­son which aired on March 14, 1986, a clip of which you can watch at the top of the post. (Nat­u­ral­ly, the scene takes place on a boat staffed with armed thugs and biki­ni girls.) If, after the cliffhang­er it ends on, you sim­ply must see the whole thing, you may be able to watch the full episode on Hulu. The same goes for Novem­ber 8, 1985’s “Junk Love,” anoth­er episode from the same sea­son with no less dis­tin­guished a musi­cian guest star than Miles Davis.

miles on miami vice

“The idea is that Crock­ett and Tubbs arrest the own­er of a whore­house,” writes Dan­ger­ous Minds’ Mar­tin Schnei­der, “a dude named ‘Ivory Jones’ — played by Miles.” And while “most of Davis’ dia­logue is semi-incom­pre­hen­si­ble… you haven’t lived until you’ve seen the genius behind Bitch­es Brew croak, ‘Watch that big cab­in cruis­er, he has a thing about them.’ ” We’ve embed­ded part of “Junk Love” just below, which, since “Ivory is a scum­bag but col­lab­o­rat­ing with the local con­stab­u­lary,” offers “plen­ty of scenes of him hang­ing out with Crock­ett and Tubbs.” Add to this Leonard Cohen’s 1986 role as malev­o­lent French secret ser­vice agent Fran­cois Zolan, and you real­ize that Mia­mi Vice has turned out to cater straight to cul­tur­al­ly omniv­o­rous 21st cen­tu­ry view­ers: those who can appre­ci­ate Songs of Love and Hate as well as a neon Fer­rari, Freak Out! as much as raw silk, and Devo as much as Davis.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Frank Zap­pa Play Michael Nesmith on The Mon­kees (1967)

The Paint­ings of Miles Davis

Frank Zap­pa Debates Cen­sor­ship on CNN’s Cross­fire (1986)

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Bob Dylan Appears in Rare TV Ad: Watch IBM’s Super Computer Offer a Literary Analysis of His Songs

To my knowl­edge, Bob Dylan has only appeared in a hand­ful of TV com­mer­cials over the decades, includ­ing most notably a bizarre ad for Vic­to­ri­a’s Secret back in 2004. Now you can add anoth­er to the small list. Last night, IBM debuted a new ad with the icon­ic singer-song­writer. And this time around, Dylan isn’t ped­dling bras. Rather, it’s IBM’s cog­ni­tive sys­tem called “Wat­son,” which promis­es to ana­lyze data for cor­po­ra­tions in all kinds of inter­est­ing ways. Says IBM:

Humans cre­ate a stag­ger­ing amount of infor­ma­tion. Poet­ry, equa­tions, films, self­ies, diag­noses, dis­cov­er­ies. Data pours from our mobile devices, social net­works, from every dig­i­tized and con­nect­ed sys­tem we use. 80% of this data is vir­tu­al­ly invis­i­ble to computers—including near­ly all the infor­ma­tion cap­tured in lan­guage, sight and sound. Until now.

IBM Wat­son applies its cog­ni­tive tech­nolo­gies to help change how we approach and under­stand all of this infor­ma­tion. Every­thing that is dig­i­tal has the poten­tial to become cog­ni­tive, and, in a sense, be able to “think.”

Wat­son can bring cog­ni­tion to every­thing and every­one. To evolve in this data-dri­ven cul­ture, every busi­ness will need to become a cog­ni­tive busi­ness.

To demon­strate its ana­lyt­i­cal pow­ers, IBM asked Wat­son to ana­lyze Dylan’s lyrics, and it con­clud­ed that the major themes of Dylan’s songs are “time pass­es and love fades”. It’s a con­clu­sion, I’m sure, that nev­er dawned on casu­al or ardent fans of Dylan’s music.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bob Dylan’s Con­tro­ver­sial 2004 Victoria’s Secret Ad: His First & Last Appear­ance in a Com­mer­cial

“They Were There” — Errol Mor­ris Final­ly Directs a Film for IBM

Andy Warhol’s ‘Screen Test’ of Bob Dylan: A Clas­sic Meet­ing of Egos

Bob Dylan Reads From T.S. Eliot’s Great Mod­ernist Poem The Waste Land

Bob Dylan and The Grate­ful Dead Rehearse Togeth­er in Sum­mer 1987. Lis­ten to 74 Tracks.

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The Night Ed Sullivan Scared a Nation with the Apocalyptic Animated Short, A Short Vision (1956)

On May 27, 1956, mil­lions of Amer­i­cans tuned in to The Ed Sul­li­van Show, expect­ing the usu­al vari­ety of come­di­ans, tal­ents and musi­cal guests. What they weren’t pre­pared for was a short ani­mat­ed film that Sul­li­van intro­duced thus­ly:

Just last week you read about the H‑bomb being dropped. Now two great Eng­lish writ­ers, two very imag­i­na­tive writ­ers — I’m gonna tell you if you have young­sters in the liv­ing room tell them not to be alarmed at this ‘cause it’s a fan­ta­sy, the whole thing is ani­mat­ed — but two Eng­lish writ­ers, Joan and Peter Foldes, wrote a thing which they called “A Short Vision” in which they won­dered what might hap­pen to the ani­mal pop­u­la­tion of the world if an H‑bomb were dropped. It’s pro­duced by George K. Arthur and I’d like you to see it. It is grim, but I think we can all stand it to real­ize that in war there is no win­ner.

And with that, he screened the hor­rif­ic bit of ani­ma­tion you can watch above. At the height of the atom­ic age, this film was a short sharp shock. Its vision of a nuclear holo­caust is told in the style of a fable or sto­ry­book, with both ani­mals and humans wit­ness­ing their last moments on earth, and end­ing with the extin­guish­ing of a tiny flame. The most­ly sta­t­ic art work is all the more effec­tive when faces melt into skulls.

A Short Vision

Many chil­dren didn’t leave the room of course, and the web­site Conel­rad has a won­der­ful in-depth his­to­ry of that night and col­lect­ed mem­o­ries from peo­ple who were trau­ma­tized by the short as a child. One child’s hair–or rather a small sec­tion of his hair–turned white from fright.

It was as for­ma­tive a moment as The Day After would be to chil­dren of the ‘80s. The papers the next day report­ed on the short in sala­cious detail (“Shock Wave From A‑Bomb Film Rocks Nation’s TV Audi­ence”) and Sul­li­van not only defend­ed his deci­sion, but showed the film again on June 10.

The film was cre­at­ed by mar­ried cou­ple Peter and Joan Foldes, and shot for lit­tle mon­ey in their kitchen on a makeshift ani­ma­tion table. Peter was a Hun­gar­i­an immi­grant who had stud­ied at the Slade School of Art and the Court­laud Insti­tute and appren­ticed with John Halas where he learned ani­ma­tion.

(Halas is best known for the ani­mat­ed fea­ture ver­sion of Orwell’s Ani­mal Farm.)

A Short Vision would go on in Sep­tem­ber of that year to win best exper­i­men­tal film at the 17th Venice Film Fes­ti­val. (Peter Foldes would lat­er make anoth­er dis­turb­ing and award-win­ning short called Hunger.)

Once so shock­ing, A Short Vision fell out of cir­cu­la­tion. But a gen­er­a­tion grew up remem­ber­ing that they had seen some­thing hor­rif­ic on tele­vi­sion that night (in black and white, not the col­or ver­sion above.) For a time, it was hard to find a men­tion of the film on IMDB and a dam­aged edu­ca­tion­al print was one of the few copies cir­cu­lat­ing around. For­tu­nate­ly the British Film Insti­tute has made a pris­tine copy avail­able of this impor­tant Cold War doc­u­ment.

What we want to know is this: Did Steven Spiel­berg see this movie that Sun­day night in 1956? He would have been 10 years old.

A Short Vision will be added to the Ani­ma­tion sec­tion of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

via A Wast­ed Life

Relat­ed con­tent:

Dick Van Dyke, Paul Lyn­de & the Orig­i­nal Cast of Bye Bye Birdie Appear on The Ed Sul­li­van Show (1961)

Ani­mat­ed Films Made Dur­ing the Cold War Explain Why Amer­i­ca is Excep­tion­al­ly Excep­tion­al

Dizzy Gille­spie Wor­ries About Nuclear & Envi­ron­men­tal Dis­as­ter in Vin­tage Ani­mat­ed Films

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

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