Roman Hüben on his documentary film Douglas Sirk – Hope as in Despair: An interview

Physical Education, Exercise, Fitness and Sports: Early PM&R Leaders Build a Strong Foundation

In the 1920 s, the politically heterogeneous Ukrainian emigration community in inter-war Czechoslovakia, with its back in World War I and losing national liberation competitions, desperately needed both physical and spiritual rest. However, the status of «emigrants» transformed the imagination of the natives about leisure and leisure. The recreational regulator was, on the one hand, the scientific and technical implications of the 'stormy twenties' and, on the other, the urgent need to keep 'one's band', that is, a collective form of rest and leisure. Ukrainian exiles visited various theatrical performances, book exhibitions, music concerts, sections and circles, and enjoyed excursions. Slowly, with some nuances, cinema was also part of the Ukrainian emigration leisure. It should be noted that the Ukrainian emigration in the inter-war Czechoslovakia, because of the 1920 s «quick return concept» and the priority, first of all, of its own political projects, did not leave any jobs or references to film vacations. The Great Depression of the 1930 s and the Losses dismissed the issue of leisure in general and film recreation in particular, making it difficult to physically work to survive. Contemporary scientific intelligence on the impact and role of cinema in the life of the Ukrainian emigration community in the interwar CSR is absent because of the fact that despite the status of Prague as a powerful political, cultural and scientific emigration center, it has not become a leading European cinema center, yielding here Berlin. Only those edited by Doctor of Historical Sciences, Professor IB Matyash, the book «Diplomatic History of Ukraine by Yevgeny Slabchenko (Eugene Deslav)», relevant to the subject of our intelligence, and the article by Roman Roslyak «Ukrainfilm».Based on the above, the purpose of the publication is to argue that, despite some efforts by the Ukrainian emigration community in the interwar CSR, a powerful European film center in Prague, unlike Paris, Vienna, Berlin and New York, never. The Ukrainian emigration community in the Czechoslovak Republic numbered about 20-22 thousand people. In its social composition, it was mainly peasant workers, the layer of her intelligentsia was small. Thus, most Ukrainian immigrants either used the moment to seek education in order to further have a higher social status or to work hard without being able to study. First of all, the Ukrainians, as a national community in exile with a lack of sufficient financial base, even in the «scientifically technical twenties» and «economically unstable thirties», were forced to stand in conservative positions on leisure issues. The first «moving pictures» appeared on the territory of the Czech Republic in 1896 in Prague and Karlovy Vary, thanks to the director and cameraman Jan Krzyzyniecki, who, since the second half of the 1890s, made several short documentary films. And a year later, one of the private American film companies came to the Czech Republic to start filming a black and white silent film in Bohemia. Whereas the first permanent cinema on Czech lands was started by the illusionist Victor Ponrepo (1858–1926) in 1907 in Prague. The Czechoslovakian film industry gained considerable momentum during the interwar period. Since 1921 professional film studios have started. And by 1932, the championship was kept by black and white silent films. The soundtrack of films in the Czechoslovakia began in 1930. In addition, in 1930 Czechoslovak authorities imposed a ban on the import of any German-language films. Prohibition of German-language film production leads to the fact that in 1933, the Czech studio «Barrandov Studio», established by the brothers Vaclav and Milos Havel in 1921, is firmly on its feet, and the number of cinemas is counted in 1938. 1824. However, there were attempts to create a quality Ukrainian emigration film product and, accordingly, Ukrainian (emigration) film studios in the Czechoslovak Republic. These attempts were linked to the names of Boris Khoslovsky and Roman Mishkevich. Khoslovsky since 1926 the head of production of advertising departments of the firm «Vira Film». Since 1928 organizer and owner of the «Mercury Film» Studio, specializing in the production of promotional films. Another Ukrainian film studio, «Terra Film», originated in Brno in the early 1930s on the initiative of Roman Mishkevich. This film studio tried to shoot science and plot (situational-natural) films. Until 1939, Myshkevich's firm remained the largest importer of motion pictures from the Czech Republic to Japan, China, India and Central America. Yet, to develop a powerful Ukrainian film industry in the Czechoslovakia proved impossible. There were several reasons for this. First, political (emigrant status) and economic (lack of sustainable financial flows from the Czechoslovakia) were hampered. Secondly, the Ukrainian film industry did not have the support of both Ukrainian and Czech (private) businesses. Thirdly, the low potential of Ukrainian film enthusiasts and the lack of professional education and experience were evident. Fourth, the Ukrainian Prague film production consisted mainly of documentaries, short films, plot films, reports and chronicles.

In December 1916, as Sergei Diaghilev's Ballets Russes company was crossing the United States to make its West Coast premiere in Los Angeles, the Metropolitan Musical Bureau attempted to generate additional publicity and sustain excitement by publishing the first (and only) issue of the Diaghilef Ballet Russe Courier. Squarely in the center of the front page, under the headline “Ballet Too Expensive for Filming,” was a letter from American film director and producer Thomas H. Ince, purportedly responding to impresario and publicist Robert Grau's recommendation that Ince invite the ballet troupe to make a film: Dear Mr. Grau, I have read your communication in regard to the Russian Ballet. I fail to see the practicability of the idea of making a picture of the Russian Ballet, wonderful and unprecedented as the success of this notable organization has been. You understand, of course, that it would necessitate bringing the entire organization to Los Angeles, and any aggregation of dancers that can play to $100,000 dollars in two weeks would most assuredly demand all the money that I have, my right eye and left hand in addition to any hopes that I may have for a future life, in return for their service. Very truly yours, Thomas H. Ince.1Thomas Ince was not the only one skeptical of a Ballets Russes film project. The company's impresario, eager to position his company within the realm of high art, actively shunned mass culture and popular entertainment, including the still-young filmic medium: no Ballets Russes production was ever filmed.2 Despite this, there were numerous encounters between the Ballets Russes and the burgeoning Hollywood film industry during and immediately after the company's American tours in 1916 and 1917. Tales of these encounters paint a picture of the reciprocal fascination and mutual attraction of Diaghilev's troupe and the American film industry, and the spheres of stage and screen more broadly. A few of these connections have been examined: film scholar Gaylyn Studlar, for example, has discussed the influence of the Ballets Russes on the mise-en-scène of The Thief of Baghdad (dir. Raoul Walsh, 1924), particularly the extent to which the film's star, Douglas Fairbanks, was inspired by Vaslav Nijinsky's choreography and stylized movements.3 Scholars have also explored cases in which Ballets Russes dancers went on to choreograph dance numbers for American films, such as Adolph Bolm's work with director Dudley Murphy on Danse Macabre (1922) and Theodore Kosloff's collaborations with director Cecil DeMille on nearly thirty Hollywood productions following his time with the Ballets Russes.4 Relatedly, Lynn Garafola has cited such “crossovers and parallels” between film and the Ballets Russes, though she has focused primarily on the relationship between European avant-garde and experimental film strategies and the company's aesthetics.5 However, the Ballets Russes's sustained influence on silent film culture in the United States—its production, narratives, aesthetics, and exhibition—as well the extent to which Hollywood crafted and offered American audiences its own vision of the Ballets Russes and its dancers long after the company departed, remains largely unexamined. This omission is hardly surprising: not only have many of the silent films (and silent film scores) that may most clearly demonstrate these connections been lost, but crucial information about the production and exhibition contexts in which these relationships were most visible are scattered and incomplete as well. Finally, the West Coast leg of the Ballets Russes's second US tour, which brought the company into the orbit of the burgeoning American film industry, is rarely discussed.In this article, I examine this mutual attraction between the Ballets Russes and cinema, beginning with the company's arrival in Los Angeles for a week of performances in late December 1916, during which Hollywood elite attended performances that received rave reviews and company members, in turn, were treated to behind-the-scenes visits to the town's film studios. With this expanded vision of the troupe's activities and reception in mind, I examine two types of cinematic “appearances” that Diaghilev's dancers made in the years immediately following the company's US tours: first, the performances by company members and invocations of company repertoire and aesthetics in the live stage acts so often integrated into film presentations in the silent era and, second, the incorporation of Ballets Russes dancers, repertoire, and aesthetics, as well as the Ballets Russes as a broader signifier, into a number of feature-length films. In the former performances, I argue, the visual and narrative themes, music, and choreographies associated with the company were reprised on cinema stages, most often under the direction of the company's male dancers. The latter performances offered a more fanciful and imaginative vision of the company onscreen, frequently deploying either female Ballets Russes dancers or fictional modern Russian ballerina characters as visual—and highly visible—icons of the Ballets Russes and American mythologies of Russian culture and politics more broadly. Both types of cinematic (re)appearance, I argue, introduced new audiences to the company's choreographic, musical, and visual aesthetics, allowing these aesthetics to circulate and the company's influence to grow long after its departure. These performances also benefited the film industry, enabling filmmakers, studios, and exhibitors alike to associate themselves with the company's cultural capital, its status as high art, and the aura of mystique and intrigue that surrounded it.Scholars such as Hanna Järvinen have recently challenged standard narratives about why the Ballets Russes failed “to conquer America.”6 Yet the Ballets Russes spawned a fleet of reprises, tributes, and references on cinema stages and screens throughout the country. These cinematic performances generated their own advertisements, programs, and reviews that gestured toward the Ballets Russes and simultaneously invited an ever-expanding segment of the American public to engage with and find their own meanings in both these cinematic “texts” and the Ballets Russes performances and mythologies that they referenced.7 Perhaps this is not a conquest. But this complex, layered, and multivalent intermedial web, I believe, is evidence of the company's significant influence on art and entertainment in the United States, as well as its lasting resonance within American culture.Bypassed during the Ballets Russes's first US tour, Los Angeles audiences and critics were on pins and needles waiting for their first glimpse of the company in the fall of 1916. “Dancers Are Coming!” declared a Los Angeles Times headline, announcing that the company was set to arrive on Christmas day for a weeklong engagement at Clune's Auditorium.8 Over the next several weeks, audiences in Los Angeles were bombarded with glowing previews hyping premier danseur Vaslav Nijinsky; Schéhérazade and other signature ballets; the seventy-piece orchestra traveling with the troupe; and the “wild opulence” of the company's scenery and costumes.9 By the time the Ballets Russes arrived via train—six baggage cars of equipment, three coaches and a dining car for the performers, plus a private car for Nijinsky and an extra baggage car decked for the company's Christmas Eve party, the Los Angeles Examiner reported—the press was near fever pitch. Los Angeles residents were equally excited. The company's premiere, which featured Nijinsky's new ballet Till Eulenspiegel and the dances from Prince Igor, was completely sold out and began late due to the large crowd, which included film industry elite and familiar faces from the screen. As newspapers gleefully reported, the delay was compounded when the dancers, on hearing that Charlie Chaplin was in attendance, demanded that he be brought backstage. One critic explained, “[They] had all heard of him and seen him . . . so that Nijinsky, Revalles, Lopokova, all of them, kowtowed to him, and I shouldn't be surprised if someone kissed him; . . . foreigners do that when greatly enthused.”10That Chaplin and others working in early film would have been eager to see the Ballets Russes is hardly surprising. Those in the film industry had looked to the dance world for inspiration and personnel since its advent, yielding early moving picture experiments such as Thomas Edison's Annabelle Serpentine Dance (1895) and silent feature films like director Lois Weber's The Dumb Girl of Portici, starring Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova (Universal, 1915). For early filmmakers, dance was understood as a means of displaying—and a model for exploring—film's capacity to represent movement, as well as a strategy for creating rhythm, pace, and mood onscreen. Many directors, such as D. W. Griffith, also believed that dance training cultivated an attention to physical presence and a slower, more musical movement style that worked far better on screen than that quicker, larger gestures that many theater actors brought to film studios.11 As a result, a number of dance schools and companies in and around Los Angeles—perhaps most notably Ruth St. Denis and Ted Shawn's Denishawn, but also former Ballets Russes dancers Theodore Kosloff and Alexandra Maria Baldina's ballet school and British dancer Ernest Belcher's Celeste School—quickly became affiliated with the film industry, training film actors and actresses to move on camera and providing a steady supply of dancers for film productions.12 That the principles of movement and gesture established by François Delsarte are as visible in the aesthetics of silent film as they are in the aesthetics of modern dance, as scholar Carrie Preston has demonstrated, is hardly a coincidence.13Reviews of the Ballets Russes's Los Angeles performances were strikingly enthusiastic, praising the company's vigor, speed, and variety. As Los Angeles critic Edwin Schallert wrote, “Daring to the last degree in its big conceptions, startling throughout in its massing of color, and breathtaking in the swiftness of its supreme moments, the first performance of the Diaghileff Ballet Russe . . . made all other dancing we have seen here seem like child's play.”14 Schallert continued at length, almost rhapsodic: “They have an all-consuming energy that leaves you dazed, captivated, and inspired at once. The dancers come and go like magic, they concentrate more motion into the minute than could seem possible, and they finally leave you again seemingly almost before you had realized their presence. . . . [T]here is something inconceivably swift in the magnetic power of this troupe.”15 As exciting to critics as the choreography were the musical performances that accompanied it. “The pulsation of the Borodine [sic] music to the Prince Igor, played in masterly style by an orchestra,” the Los Angeles Times reported, was “worth more than half the price of admission in itself.”16 A critic for the Los Angeles Examiner concluded a description of Cléopâtre by noting, “The Balakireff music is superb; rushing hither and thither with the sweep of the violins predominant—the clash of the cymbals and rumble of tympani combining with the winds to form an overwhelming tornado of Russian fire and expression.”17 The close relationships between music and choreography were praised as well; after watching the company's rendition of Carnaval, Schallert asserted, “Schumann must have dreamt something like this when he wrote this piano series.”18But it was the company's dancers—especially the company's male dancers—who stole the show. Descriptions of the grace and delicacy of female dancers including Lydia Lopokova quickly gave way to lavish praise for Nijinsky's “technical wizardry” and “many-sided genius,” his “rhythmic perfection” and “delicate yet virile suppleness.”19 As Edwin Schallert waxed in an account that, despite its euphoria, was fairly typical of the Los Angeles reaction, “Strange realms does the genius of Waslav Nijinsky invade. Amid the floating clouds of his imagination's horizon arise unreal colors and mysterious shapes of things wherewith to create the background for realities that venture into untried provinces in the world of art. He opens by turn the portals of charm, of fire, of magnificence, he treads the corridors of symbolism and drama and the plastic arts, and he and his assistants lead their audiences through the ever-varying suggestions of these things.”20 Similar accolades were awarded to the “wonderfully expressive” Bolm, whose “facial expression and muscular grace plac[e] him on a plane but little removed from the master, Nijinsky, himself.”21 A few critics acknowledged the company's difficulty moving scenery quickly on opening night, but the concerns about ticket prices, the sexual overtones of Faun, and racial representations in Schéhérazade that had dominated New York and Boston reviews were either absent, dismissed outright, or even mocked by the Los Angeles press.22 Los Angeles audiences, in short, loved the Ballets Russes.The Ballets Russes dancers and personnel were equally enamored with Hollywood, based on anecdotes that emerged in both trade press and first-hand accounts. Company members visited at least two film studios, where they watched the production process with curiosity and wonder. In the February 1917 issue of The Moving Picture Weekly, a short article described the company's tour of a Universal City studio, where they looked on as director W. W. Beaudine shot one of his many comedy shorts. The article reports, The particular set on which they were working had a living room and a hall room next door. In the hall was a telephone on a table. The [ballet master] remembered he had an appointment and was late, and he requested permission to use the phone. Beaudine's sense of humor immediately came to the surface, and he said, “Why, certainly.” The ballet master sat for quite a long time at the phone and then appealed to the director. He tried again. Finally Beaudine told him it must be that the line was out of order. But the Russian never knew that the telephone cord extended no further than the edge of the carpet and that it was merely a “prop” instrument.23About halfway through Charlie Chaplin's autobiography, there is a similar—albeit far more poignant—account of Nijinsky and other Ballets Russes personnel watching the production of a short film in which Chaplin was acting (see Figure 2). According to Chaplin, Nijinsky “sat behind the camera, watching me at work on a scene which I thought was funny, but he never smiled. . . . Before leaving he came and shook my hands, and in his hollow voice said how much he enjoyed my work and asked if he could come again. ‘Of course,’ I said. For two more days he sat . . . watching me. . . . [A]t the end of each day he would compliment me. ‘Your comedy is balletique, you are a dancer,’ he said.”24The details of both stories are likely exaggerated, and the Moving Picture Weekly tale seems particularly apocryphal: it is difficult to believe that anyone associated with the Ballets Russes was not intimately familiar with the concept of sets and props. Indeed, the story seems designed to tacitly imply that company members embodied a sort of innocence—an exotic primitivity—when it came to modern technology like telephones and film. It also conjures for readers an oft-cited distinction between stage and screen in the ‘teens and early 1920s: film's ability to achieve a sense of realism to which stage productions could only aspire—or, in the case of the Ballets Russes, to which many stage productions did not aspire at all. Yet while highlighting the radical differences between comedy shorts and Schéhérazade, these anecdotes also highlight the intimate connections between dance and silent film. Perhaps most importantly, they point to the shared artistry and imagination of these two projects: the continuity between the experiments in choreography, design, and music that the Ballets Russes was conducting onstage as the troupe reimagined twentieth-century ballet and the experiments in movement, mise-en-scène, and visual language that filmmakers and actors were conducting in studios and on location as they imagined into existence narrative cinema. In these visits by Diaghilev's dancers to film studios, in Chaplin's attendance at the Ballets Russes premiere, in the open-minded and enthusiastic reception of the company in Hollywood and beyond, a reciprocal patronage, engagement, and admiration comes into focus.Though Ballets Russes performances were never recorded, the and of the company made their way into American film culture before the company's United States tours even the cinematic in which Ballets Russes aesthetics and of the company's were most immediately were film By the late ‘teens and throughout the large in as well as throughout the offered a feature film as of a larger audiences were treated to a musical by a of live stage and comedy with short films including films, and by the feature and often an or other musical on the of a as much by as by many were around particular a an or or a particular were of acts believed to with the feature film at hand and even with theater or the of can be film trade and newspapers often only the of by the of the However, a number of male Ballets Russes dancers are more than in the of large in several that they in and dance numbers at these Adolph and also in the two US for example, were both in the worked at the and in New York and at the in Los Angeles, the in the in New York and with in but left the company before the 1916, was the at the in and a dance school in the and both of with in before dance numbers in at the and in New York and the in this is to a It is difficult to the they looked and but it is that many or at least Ballets Russes of the company's at the as did at the a of was included on a in and the dances from Prince are as of offered there in both and Ballets Russes to the United States in in the film an of a at the that it would the of the ballet in associated with or inspired by the Ballets Russes was also frequently integrated into at many film during and in the of the troupe's American According to and of at large in newspapers and film trade of Schéhérazade and Till Eulenspiegel were as on such of to the of a also became a popular musical of these were at accompanied by and choreography that Ballets Russes a at New that Schéhérazade as the for example, the stage was with two and in and and a as a of the I a with a scene with a and all to out the music associated with the Ballets Russes both in and as film was actively in the of film trade These of associated with the company such as and exhibitors on where to and piano of their and praised theater and music for their with A in a December issue of Moving Picture for example, with a letter from an in of of the dances in Prince you me how to the there is no music but popular music in my little The that exhibitors the in New York for As was often the case with in film trade this was likely a by a than the of an the simultaneously and a demand for the company's music, a popular with audiences from the company's and exhibitors the to of it into their programs, if only to with their were the filmic in which the music, choreography, and male dancers of the Ballets Russes continued to be to long after the company left the United States is not surprising. offered an for dance and music with exciting musical and stage acts week in and week likely at the to music associated with the Ballets Russes and to the male were with the company in the American The numbers both Ballets Russes eager to of the company's performances and to see the dancers had often been in the company's film art music and comedy from stage to screen from an experimental film short to a popular dance accompanied by a had been in the orchestra an the of the Ballets Russes that most American all-consuming color, and of and But even as these male dancers on their with the Ballets Russes, also the to with new movement aesthetics and performance the of the both to new and and to more and than the company's own performances had As Adolph wrote in his autobiography, is no better for dancer and public than the motion picture the stages of in New Los Angeles, and beyond, male dancers like and were to their aesthetics, of dance, and themselves as performers, while simultaneously and American with and admiration for Diaghilev's own the music and choreography of the Ballets Russes were reprised in film programs, of the company's aesthetics, and were visible and in a number of feature-length silent films in the late and early the company's male dancers and were most visible in both the press the Ballets Russes tours and on the stages of it was the company's female dancers were most visible onscreen. female Ballets Russes dancers were by studios to in films following the second American tour, often in that a to they had a number of films about fictional Russian often played by American were made during these These or in Ballets the and performances of the company's female dancers. Indeed, while film the company's male dancers a to themselves as and at a from Diaghilev's these feature films female Ballets Russes and time and their and performances became of the company and Russian more it is one of the films a fictional Russian ballerina that most conjures the Ballets Russes onscreen. The which and is was by in as the second Ballets Russes tour was to a by the film in the of Russian dancer and A the film as she to with a ballet company and an The company's director that she is the of a Russian and all is when and with making way for to a the film's narrative and visual there are several references to the Ballets Russes and the that had around the company by 1917. Perhaps most the film troupe's from to for its premiere Diaghilev's of the Ballets Russes in the for its first The director in the film also to was with a and around about sexual and a relationship with Vaslav Nijinsky However, the Ballets Russes is early in the film after several of dance an Ballet Russe Ballet In the that and Ballet by Theodore Kosloff's an extended by a large of dancers. It is not the Ballets Russes's choreography, of course, but the and are not the film and theater music would likely have attempted to highlight the by the with from Those had seen the company would have the and members could quite have it for the and publicity for the film on Kosloff's as evidence of the and of the film's dance if not the film as a A dancer had arrived in New York City to and in and would go on to as dance master of the Metropolitan Company in the Kosloff's with the Russian Ballet were and his by was described as a and Russian engagement for the the trade press was of the most ever made in the motion picture and the for Moving Picture came close to that the film was as as the Ballets other ever such of the art of the Indeed, went so far as to that the stage with Kosloff had into a As performance was and by the presence in the of . . . is of how these of the dance go about in and how they into of dancing These dancing in

Kove, Torill. My Grandmother Ironed the King's Shirts. Firefly Books, 2017.My Grandmother Ironed the King’s Shirts is based on Torill Kove’s Academy Award nominated short film of the same title. The book is Kove’s retelling of one of her grandmother’s stories. This book is a fictional story set in a historical period.It is about Norway’s first king in hundreds of years. Following the introduction of the King, it becomes immediately clear that this is a fictional story. The story explains that the new King’s public reputation was harmed by his inability to iron his own clothing. In reality, the King of Norway would have likely had staff to do this. Fortunately, after his first disastrous public appearance in wrinkled clothes, he found a store that was willing to do his family’s ironing. Kove’s grandmother worked at the store and soon realized that the clothes she was ironing belonged to the King. She proudly told everyone that she ironed the king’s clothes, up until the King was forced to flee Oslo during the Second World War. When the Germans invaded, Kove’s grandmother was tasked with cleaning and pressing their uniforms. She decided to join the Norwegian Resistance by sabotaging their uniforms. All of Norway’s shirt pressers joined the movement and in 1945, when the Germans left, they had to do so without clothes.The illustrations in this book are simple line work filled in with solid colours. They are drawn in a comical cartoonish manner and all were pulled from the original short animated film. Pre-war, the images are dominated with brighter colours and they fill the entire page. During the war, the images are smaller, only occupying parts of the pages, with a white background dominating. The illustrations were all pulled from the original short film, where the images always filled the screen, which makes this change to the small images from full-page illustrations seem like it serves no clear purpose.While this story provides a historical setting, and might encourage an interest in history, it may cause confusion in children because it is presented as historical while in reality it is overwhelmingly fictitious. It also makes use of the term “gypsy” which may have been appropriate in the historical period presented in the story, but is now considered a derogatory term (the preferred term is “Roma” or “Romani”) and therefore I would not recommend it for school libraries. That said, it is a quirky and fun story for elementary aged children that communicates a message of strength in adversity. As a result, I would recommend it for public libraries.Editor’s note: One of three new titles in the Firefly Books-National Film Board of Canada partnership.Recommended: 3 stars out of 4Reviewer: Laura HamonicLaura Hamonic is an Academic Library Resident at the University of Alberta’s Science and Technology Library. She has a passion for all things crafty and spends her days cross stitching, crocheting, and costume making.

The best propaganda idea man, of course, is the Film Commissioner for Canada. John Grierson, 19411 John Grierson is best remembered for two distinct phases in his life prior to 1945. Firstly, as th...

Alzheimer's disease, a form of brain degeneration, is an incurable condition where current treatments only delay the progression of symptoms, allowing patients more time to care for themselves before inevitably becoming dependent. Caring for Alzheimer's patients is crucial. In addition, at present there are still few documentaries about dementia that can be viewed, causing the general public to still have the perception that dementia is just general forgetfulness. And through the researcher’s personal experience with a mother who suffered from Alzheimer's disease from 2006 to 2016 at the age of 57, the researcher has gained valuable insights. This first-hand experience not only enhanced his understanding but also fueled his desire to share this knowledge with doctor, nurse, caregivers and the wider public. The paper titled “Memories of My Mother and I Toward an Alzheimer's Documentary Film” aims to achieve several objectives through a creative research approach: 1) to illustrate the progression of Alzheimer's disease using a documentary film, 2) to capture the researcher's memories of living with an Alzheimer's patient within the film, and 3) to assess the documentary's portrayal of these experiences using qualitative research methods. The researcher reviewed pertinent literature and engaged in discussions with those close to the researcher’s mother to gather memories for the documentary script. Subsequently, a 20-minute short documentary film was created, complemented by newly filmed content that adheres to a structured storyline. The film was evaluated by 12 experts in documentary filmmaking and dementia care. The findings according to first objective indicate that the documentary successfully conveyed an understanding of Alzheimer's disease changes through the personal story of the researcher’s mother, reflecting broader societal experiences. The findings, according to the second objective, reveal that the film effectively captured the researcher's memories with his mother, showing the child’s perspective through authentic photographs and footage, which depict the extended journey faced by caregivers and Alzheimer's patients. The findings, according to third objective, show that the evaluation of the documentary revealed its effectiveness in portraying these stories and enhancing understanding of the disease's impact beyond mere forgetfulness, offering valuable insights to audiences, including caregivers. However, the documentary short film could benefit from further improvements, suggesting a need for more skill and experience in short film production.

During the early 1920s, members of Brooklyn's elite Hamilton Club were profoundly interested in the industrial relations policies adopted by businessmen in Worcester, Massachusetts. Somehow they ha...

To “Throw Off the Cloak of Representation”

Samuel A. Levine and the History of Grading Systolic Murmurs

A Digital History of Anglophone Demography and Global Population Control, 1915–1984

This essay examines the early career, up to 1960, of the Jewish-American filmmaker Stanley Kubrick, covering his first five features as well as his short films, his unrealised projects and also, very briefly, his initial work as a photojournalist. With detailed references to Fear and Desire (1953), Paths of Glory (1957) and The German Lieutenant (a script that came close to production in 1959), it discusses Kubrick’s strong interest in twentieth-century German and Austrian culture and history, his ‘procedural’ approach to stories about World Wars I and II, and the increasing internationalisation of the content and production circumstances of his work. These developments are discussed in relation to box office trends and public opinion in the United States as well as to changes in Hollywood’s mode of production and key markets in the post-war era.

Freedom is not free: Examining health equity for racial and ethnic minoritized veterans.

Journal Article The Great Departure: The United States and World War I, 1914–1920, American Diplomacy During the Second World War, 1941–1945, The United States and the Italo-Ethiopian Crisis, Undercurrents in American Foreign Relations: Four Studies, View from the Seventh Floor, The Exercise of Sovereignty: Papers on Foreign Policy and The Southerner and World Affairs Get access The Great Departure: The United States and World War I, 1914–1920. By Daniel M. Smith Foreword by Robert A. Divine. New York, London, Sydney: John Wiley. 1965. 221 pp. Bibliog. Index. (America in Crisis Series.) 38s. Paperback: 15s.American Diplomacy During the Second World War, 1941–1945. By Gaddis Smith Foreword by Robert A. Divine. New York, London, Sydney: John Wiley. 1965. 194 pp. Bibliog. Index. (America in Crisis Series.) 38s. Paperback: 15s.The United States and the Italo-Ethiopian Crisis. By Brice HarrisStanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press. 1964. London: Oxford University Press. 1965. 187 pp. Bibliog. Index. 44s.Undercurrents in American Foreign Relations: Four Studies. By M. S. VenkataramaniLondon: Asia Publishing House. 1965. 218 pp. Index. (ISIS Studies in American Foreign Relations, No. 1.) 30s.View from the Seventh Floor. By W. W. Rostow. New York, Evanston, London: Harper & Row. 1965. 178 pp. Index. $4. 30s.The Exercise of Sovereignty: Papers on Foreign Policy. By Charles Burton Marshall Foreword by Dean Acheson. Baltimore, Maryland: Johns Hopkins Press; London: Oxford University Press. 1965. 282 pp. Index. 52s.The Southerner and World Affairs. By Alfred O. HeroBaton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. 1965. 676 pp. Bibliog. Index. $12. H. G. Nicholas H. G. Nicholas Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar International Affairs, Volume 42, Issue 2, April 1966, Pages 351–354, https://doi.org/10.2307/2611713 Published: 01 April 1966

This special issue on war writing consists of articles based on presentations at the War in Estonian Culture, Literature and History conference held 15–16 December 2022 at the Estonian Literary Museum. The conference focused on the question of the lasting influence and meaning of the two world wars in Estonian culture, literature and history writing. These questions were underscored by the Russian–Ukrainian war which broke out in February 2022 and which actualised memory of the Second World War, the commemoration of its victims, and a weighing of the consequences, influence and meanings of the war for different memory communities. Anniversaries of historical events that have changed world history call for new scholarly perspectives on the past. Thus, in recent years, in connection with the 100th anniversary of the First World War, studies of related topics have become more frequent, including in Estonia. The article collection The First World War in Estonian Culture (2015) is the first step toward an investigation of the representations of the First World War in Estonian culture. In these studies, diaries and letters have particular value. Surviving private letters permit a better understanding of this great war and its meaning for Estonians mobilised for it. From the perspective of Estonian history, the most significant result of the First World War was the disintegration of the Russian Empire, which made possible the birth of Estonia – colonised for centuries –, as an independent state. Estonia was one of the nation-states that emerged from the disintegration of empires. In 2018, based on the Estonian experience and in an international framework, Anu Raudsepp and Tõnu Tannberg presented our perspective on the influence of the First World War on the creation of nation-states and resultant challenges to the writing of history textbooks. Though the independent Estonian republic was proclaimed on 24 February 1918, the declaration was followed by German occupation in 1918 and the defence of Estonia’s freedom against Soviet Russia in the War of Independence of 1918–1920. The 100th anniversary of the War of Independence also inspired new scholarly research. In 2019 Tõnu Tannberg edited a collection of articles entitled The Many Faces of the War of Independence. The 100th anniversary of the Tartu peace treaty was marked in 2020 by the publication of collective research by historians in a two-volume magisterial work on the history of the War of Independence. The Second World War has been deemed the largest catastrophe in history caused by human hands, during which 60 or 70 million people perished and the destruction changed cityscapes and landscapes beyond recognition. The war reached Estonia in summer 1941 when Soviet occupation was replaced by German occupation. The war years have been represented in the works both of exile writers and writers who remained in Estonia after the war. In Estonian war literature, war poetry has a clear profile, authored by writers who fought in the Second World War on the German side and fled Estonia during the war: Arved Viirlaid, Harri Asi, Kalju Ahven, Einar Sanden, Jyri Kork, Tiit Lehtmets and Eduard Krants. Themes related to war are reflected in the prose of Arved Viirlaid, Ilmar Talve, Ilmar Jaks, Harri Asi, Heino Susi and Agu Kask. Arved Viirlaid’s central work Graves without Crosses I–II (1991, 2009, 2015) is the most popular and most frequently translated work representing the Second World War in Estonian literature. The Tartu cycle by Bernard Kangro and autobiographical short stories by Gunnar Neeme are also remarkable. In Soviet Estonian literature the representation of the Second World War was ideologically constrained; but nevertheless two noteworthy autobiographical war novels were published in the 1970s: Ülo Tuulik’s documentary novel In the Path of War in 1974 (unabridged version 2010) and Juhan Peegel’s I Fell in the First Summer of War in 1979. In addition to belles lettres our historical memory is shaped by autobiographical texts such as memoirs, life stories, autobiographies, letters and diaries, which enable the reader to gain insight into the changes that war brought to everyday life and how people learned to adjust to them. If the memoirs of former combatants have evinced the avoidance of personal points of view and preferences for the matter-of-fact style of reportage, the memoirs and other autobiographical texts of civilians are dominated by the judgments, moods and feelings of the writer as a person. Historical writing on the Second World War is diverse. If from the perspective of western European countries, the main embodiment of evil was Hitler, the situation was much more complicated for eastern European countries. Lack of knowledge of acts of violence committed during the Second World War and later repressions in the countries of eastern Europe and the disregard for international war law by Germany and the Soviet Union have had a significant impact on how the Second World War has been handled in research by historians in Europe and the United States. In most research on the Second World War matters related to the Baltic States are regarded as unimportant compared to the larger processes that took place. Nevertheless, the Baltic states were strategically important both for Hitler’s Germany and the Soviet Union, making the Baltic question a bone of contention among the allied countries. Over time events that happened in eastern European countries during the Second World War have come increasingly to the fore in scholarly accounts with radically different viewpoints: Bloodlands: Europe between Hitler and Stalin (2010) by Timothy Snyder, Vanished Kingdoms: The History of Half-Forgotten Europe (2011) by Norman Davies, Soldiers of Memory: Second World War and its Aftermath in Estonian Post-Soviet Life Stories (2011, ed. by Ene Kõresaar). The special issue on war writing contains eight articles on the topic of war, one article on a free topic, a series of translations from the publishing house Loodus, and the archival discovery section in which a letter from the First World War is discussed.

This article briefly reviews the evolution of medical support during wars and conflicts from ancient to modern times and discusses the effect warfare has had on the development of civilian health care and emergency medical services (EMS). Medical breakthroughs and discoveries made of necessity during military conflicts have developed into new paradigms of medical care, including novel programs of triage and health assessment, emergency battlefield treatment and stabilization, anesthesia, and other surgical and emergency procedures. The critical role of organizations that provide proper emergency care to help the sick and injured both on the battlefield and in the civilian world is also highlighted.