Barbara Tepa Lupack

In Silent Serial Sensations: The Wharton Brothers and The Magic of Early Cinema, literature and film scholar Barbara Tepa Lupack argues, “In the early 1910s, the Wharton brothers established a successful independent production studio in Ithaca, New York, where they created some of the most acclaimed and highest-grossing films of the decade. Those popular serials, which aroused the enthusiasm of audiences worldwide, played a vital role in the evolution of cinema as a mass medium and as a form of entertainment for people of all ages and backgrounds; and they became forerunners of today’s ubiquitous crime and mystery procedurals and sensation-filled commercial blockbusters” (pg. xi).

In their short films, Lupack writes, “The Whartons spoke directly to the concerns of their age and to the interests of their audiences” (pg. 13). These themes included the New Woman and feminism of the early twentieth century, particularly through shorts with women protagonists such as The Exploits of Elaine from 1914-1915 (pg. 84). Works like The Mysteries of Myra (1916) blended sexuality with the occult (pgs. 132-133, 146-147). The Wharton brothers similarly tapped into fears of war and sabotage as Europe erupted into conflict (pgs. 165, 211, 219). Like many films from this period, a great deal of the Wharton’s work was lost to time, so Lupack bases her close readings of the films on any extant clips, the archived scripts, and production photographs.

Filming in New York, the Whartons made extensive use of the varied geography surrounding Ithaca and the Finger Lakes region (pgs. 52, 54, 69). Upstate New York offered further benefits due to its proximity to New York City and New Jersey, then the headquarters of the American film industry (pgs. 22-23). Unfortunately, following World War I, the film industry moved out west to Los Angeles (pg. 227). This, combined with the Whartons’ own financial woes once they went fully independent, ended both their business and the film industry in Ithaca (pg. 237).… (altro)

As befits a study on Arthurian book illustrations, Illustrating Camelot has a generous helping of examples of the genre – forty in monochrome and thirty-two in colour. If a picture is worth a thousand words then we have a text automatically augmented by 72,000 words!

And what a text it is. Using thirteen named illustrators as her framework, Barbara Tepa Lupack takes us through two centuries and more of imaging the court of Arthur, commenting on the politics, mores and personalities of the times and their inter-relationship with the depiction of the Arthurian ideal.

The casual reader may well be familiar with a number of the main illustrators who provide the chapter headings – Gustav Doré, Aubrey Beadsley, Walter Crane, Arthur Rackham and Howard Pyle – but may raise a quizzical eyebrow at others such as Dan Beard, Sir William Russell Flint and Hudson Talbott. For the record, Dan Beard is well known to North American readers for his illustrations to Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, Flint’s “theatrical” watercolours for Malory influenced many a lesser artist, and Talbott reveals an indebtedness to the visual arts of the late 20th century, especially comic books. The final chapter discusses Anna-Marie Ferguson, best-known as the first ever female illustrator of the Morte Darthur.

There is a lot of pleasure to be had in the reading of this, an obvious labour of love for the author, whose enthusiasm for her subject is as infectious as her wide research is impressive. Every page has something to stimulate the imagination: at random I find that the publication of illustrated Arthurian books between 1890 and 1910 was three times that of the previous five decades (166), that Beardsley “discomforted viewers ... by defamiliarizing familiar objects” (80), and that Howard Pyle’s illustrated Arthurian books were not only a model for behaving but for “Americanizing, or at least democratizing, the medieval legends”.

While disappointed that there is no mention of Lotte Reiniger, whose pseudo-woodcuts so graced the Penguin edition of Roger Lancelyn Green’s King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, this reader is grateful for the opportunity to delight in old favourites (like Rackham), be introduced to unfamiliar artists (like Lancelot Speed, who must be a prime example of what New Scientist calls “nominative determinism”) and to place all the artists in their cultural and historical context.

http://wp.me/p2oNj1-gt… (altro)

I love medieval legends. If I had all the time in the world, I would dig up every book with a medieval focus and read it. However, many books don't focus on the girls. While I love reading about the adventures that the men went on, it is nice seeing the girl taking center stage, and I appreciate how Barbara Tepa Lupack takes the time to spotlight girls of medieval legend in The Girl's King Arthur.

Many of the girls' stories are well-known. As their fates were tied with famous men in medieval literature, these girls end up giving us summaries of the adventures of men such as King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Sir Galahad. Their fates were so entwined. The dense summary in the narration had me wishing that the stories were drawn out more with more imagery and dialogue; however, the concise nature of the storytelling will hold the attention of a younger child who isn't ready for long chapter books.

This is a wonderful book to give to the young readers of your family. As an academic book, it will teach children famous medieval legends from the girls' perspectives. As a book for a reader, it will entertain them with medieval tales. If you are interested in the companion novel, there is also a Boy's King Arthur, which will tell them medieval legends from the boys' perspectives.… (altro)