This, for me, was a marvelous reminder: no matter how much you think you know, every day provides a subject about which you know nothing. You open up a drawer in the Internet Archive, and out tumbles an entire world. In this case it was a link for “Soviet Filmstrips,” and you know I’m going to be stuck there for an hour or two. (Yes, this was the Diner topic a few weeks back.)
I mean, how can you resist such thumbnails:
It gets better.
"No, sorry! Volume 2" is the MacOS translation. As I will learn, it's not correct.
We follow a disreputable wolf. His guitar perhaps marks him as a Western-influenced slacker? He’s certainly not a new Soviet Man.
"One evening Wolf went to the park of Culture, Culture to have a rest"
"Sees the animals sitting on the bench. The Wolf sat down from the edge, hit the strings of the guitar."
The animals leave. "Suddenly, I heard bunny coming (drum roll: past)"
"Wolf was happy, attached himself from behind. 'First we’ll have fun, then we’ll have lunch.'”
"Bunny walks cheerfully, beats his wands into the bar-ban, does not see the Wolf behind him."
Bar-ban?
I’ll save you some time. The wolf tries to eat the bunny, but the bunny shoves a balloon into the wolf’s stomach, and he floats away. He is carried along on a string by a pedestrian -
“'Don’t Touch! Deadly!' The wolf is about to fly a pole."
I guess electrical poles vibrating with lethal currency were everywhere. The wolf punches himself in the stomach to burst the balloon. Forty more illustrations follow, as we observe the hapless predator’s attempt to get something to eat.
The end credits: hey, there’s an address. I wonder . . .
There’s where it was made.
The filmstrip says it was a “Diafilm,” and searches turn up a recollection of a lad who watched this very film strip. He even mentions the wolf. On a lark, with nothing else pressing at the moment, or the moment after that, I googled “Russian cartoon wolf,” expecting a comic book, maybe.
Kotyonochkin wanted the Wolf to be voiced by the actor and singer Vladimir Vysotsky, but was not given permission by the officials.
And there’s another rabbit hole.
Vladimir Semyonovich Vysotsky (25 January 1938 – 25 July 1980) was a Soviet singer-songwriter, poet, and actor who had an immense and enduring effect on Soviet culture.
He became widely known for his unique singing style and for his lyrics, which featured social and political commentary in often-humorous street jargon. He was also a prominent stage- and screen-actor.
Though the official Soviet cultural establishment largely ignored his work, he was remarkably popular during his lifetime and has exerted significant influence on many of Russia's musicians and actors.
He played the guitar. So the sound of his voice coming from the Wolf might have wired together a few stray strands and made the cartoon something more. Vysotsky’s last act was total utter addiction. To what? Everything.
The actor they chose for the voice was Anatoli Papanov and the voicework for the wolf “has been considered his best role, overshadowing all of his other work, to his great displeasure.” Heh. I imagine.
He was in a 1961 movie called “The Man from Nowhere,” which was banned for 25 years after its release. You’d think they would’ve got hints when they were making it, no? Someone in the studio would’ve give them a warning? You’d think someone who’d made their way up the Soviet movie industry would be politically adept, and anticipate what the reaction might be. Or not. Or they wanted to push a little, and had been given a wink: go ahead, I’ll butter your path.
All I know is that Soviet film is a strange parallel universe.
I love this without reservation.
Today it's 1973.
They are DONE with that hippie nonsense.
1974: We are moving into the Global Enterprise with Great Social Responsibility era. Out with the Tarot cards; now the photos show how the company provided jobs to noble peasants in Morocco.
The photography was much better - richer, more intimate, anything but corporate.
But it would come to define the corporate style, because it put a human gloss on large unapproachable institutions.
Here's a newstyle that will stick around through the 90s.
In the 80s, the annual reports took on an austere appearance, with black-and-white portraits and simple layouts; product pictures were de-emphasized. They returned in the 90s, along with more inventive layouts made possible by computer graphics. They look dated now, but in a pleasant way; 90s design was full of fascinating, interesting mistakes.
Oh - and they do that 90s thing where they print off the internet for you.
The last one in the collection is 2010, and it’s straightforward and not particularly interesting.
Innovation, at least in the annual reports, is done.
That will do; thanks for enduring a Hiatus week, and I hope you enjoyed it. Back Monday with something not surprising at all.
