Ryan Larkin, the Self-Destructive Genius

By Eric Magnuson

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On most days before 2007, you could walk down Saint-Laurent Boulevard in Montreal and find a fragile, bespectacled man working the crowd that often lined up outside of Schwartz’s Hebrew deli. As the smells of smoked meat wafted from the front door, the 50-something man who was known as the “unofficial” doorman at Schwartz’s would perform mime, do a dance, or make impromptu drawings for a Loonie or two. Other times he’d just hold out his hat and ask, “Sp-pare any change?”

Nearly forty years earlier, however, this loveable drunk without a permanent home was a 26-year-old Academy Award nominee for his psychedelic-influenced "Walking", a five-minute-long cartoon that’s been lauded as one of the most influential works in animation history. But that was a long, long time ago.

Throughout the 1990s and most of the 2000s, this man, Ryan Larkin, didn’t care that strangers could see him piss out on the street in broad daylight. The people of Montreal either knew him -- “I have people that expect me to be there in front of Schwartz’s restaurant,” Larkin said, “and I don’t want to disappoint them.” -- or they talked behind his back in agitated whispers: “I’ve seen that man scream at people when they refuse to give him money,” a woman said after her friend gave Larkin some change. He said that panhandling was “a job like any other job… You have to be there on time. You have to wear the right clothes. You have to be nice to your clients…” When his daily shift in front of Schwartz’s ended, he’d bury himself in his alcoholism by drinking beer after beer at the “far-from-hip” Copacabana Bar down the street. Then he’d be off to the Old Brewery Mission for the homeless once it was time to go to bed. The Academy Awards were a long time ago, indeed.

Ryan Larkin’s career in animation was brief---he only completed four short cartoons throughout his lifetime. His last was 1972’s "Street Musique", which he finished before turning 30. That incredibly brief oeuvre, however, is regularly described as “genius.” People who know animation still point to Larkin’s "Walking" for

“how smoothly it is possible to carry out an extremely difficult human movement.” One how-to book on animation, Timing for Animation, goes on to say how Larkin’s female nude in "Walking" “makes good use of perspective animation through the exaggeration of the character’s arm nearest to the camera,” which, as an animation layman, is amazing to consider because the short is so seamless that I’d never think about the minute details that went into making "Walking" without them being pointed out. Larkin, however, could not sustain the genius that everybody began expecting from him.

His addictions started early in life. As a frail 10-year-old, Larkin’s doctor apparently prescribed him a daily pint of stout in order to improve his health. It wasn’t long before he was drinking far more than his daily prescribed pint, however. And when Larkin was only 12 years old, one of his long-time friends said he was “seeking homosexual encounters, meeting men while hitchhiking” to Montreal. When "Street Musique" premiered in 1972, Larkin was also consumed by a cocaine addiction on top of his alcoholism. "I had difficulty handling my ego when I was famous," Larkin said years later, after he’d quashed his coke habit. "I've made a fool of myself. I chose to deal with whatever psychological problems I had by using cocaine. I had sexual proclivities, too - I was doing coke and getting hard-ons instead of what I should have been doing, which was making interesting, comical, beautiful animation films." In other interviews, however, Larkin depicted himself in far more romantic terms: “The media like to say I have struggled with my addictions,” he once said. “But I am happy. I've never struggled with anything but life."

As the 1970s progressed, Larkin let a very productive relationship with Canada’s National Film Board deteriorate. He began making one film under the board’s finances that drew calls of prejudice---“There was an anti-Muslim thing, and anti-Christian thing,” he said in defense. “I was trying to put down the nationalistic attitude that was happening at the time.” And in 1975, the NFB commissioned him to paint a public mural in Montreal: He gave them a 20- by 15-foot image of an adolescent boy with a boner who, as Larkin’s biographer noted, “may or may not have been ejaculating.” So Larkin’s time with the NFB ended unceremoniously in the late 1970s. From that point on, he never reclaimed his early peaks.

By the 1990s, Larkin’s self-destructive addictions and refusal to play by the film industry’s conventional rules left him panhandling outside of Schwartz’s deli. By the 2000s, he’d essentially fallen off of everybody’s radar until a couple of chance meetings put Larkin in the same room as Chris Landreth, a young animator who was blown away by "Walking" and"Street Musique". Intrigued by the affable drunk, Landreth befriended Larkin and soon made the biographical animated short, "Ryan," about Larkin’s fall from greatness. Repeating the accolades of his mentor, Landreth’s "Ryan" was nominated for an Academy Award in 2005 for best animated short.

When the big night arrived, Larkin didn’t do anything particularly special---he sat at the Copacabana Bar, drinking his beers and brandies as usual. Friends and admirers gathered around him to watch the awards show on the bar’s television. Then, with the announcement that "Ryan" had won the Oscar, the crowd went absolutely ballistic. Larkin jumped off of his stool and pumped his fist into the air. Friends crowned him with a plastic tiara. The raucous cheers were so loud that Larkin couldn’t hear Landreth tell the awards show audience that he won the Oscar because of "the grace and humility of one guy watching in Montreal. Ryan Larkin, I dedicate this award to you."

The Oscar win brought renewed interest to Larkin’s work. He was commissioned to create a series of animations for MTV in Canada. But Larkin didn’t quit his day job. As an interview with a local newspaper wrapped up the day after the Academy Awards, Larkin asked the reporter the same question he’d been asking for years: "By the way, do you have any spare change?"

Two years later, Larkin passed away after lung cancer had spread to his brain.

Comments

[Frank Andrews]

... too bad, as often is the case, the article fails to capture, in it's own form, the quality(/ies) of the work being described. Mr. Magnuson should have a fine career at Time magazine.

F. Andrews

[Get Bent]

What a snobby, worthless comment. The video of "Walking" is right there and doesn't need to be described any further, while the text was providing a general artist bio that links the short to the present. You did make a good point when you wrote "quality(/ies)," though. That was inspired.

G. Bent

[Um Bongo]

I enjoyed the article immensely and I'm thoroughly intrigued by the work of the artists.

This is at least partly because the work is described fairly concisely with a minimum of gushish and pretentiousness. So shut up, Frankie.

Btw, I've heard of old-school doctors prescribing a glass of port after every meal, too. These days I think we have a hard time imagining how weird it was for adults to not drink, smoke or eat meat back in the day.

[Frank Andrews]

... get bent gone straight? Um Bongo now tubthumping for the dumb-down? Wouldn't want to have to look for something to read on the backs of your toilets.

FA

[Um Bongo, him thump tub]

Um Bongo he say: More complex doesn't mean more intelligent. Dumb yourself down, enjoy life more.

My bathroom offers classic comics, a couple of books on Japanese history and some cheesy old science fiction novels, so your snobbery is possibly justified. But Jack Vance and the Beano will do for the likes of me (and my family).

I still think that long, gushing descriptions of people's work A) create false expections based on the writer's and readers' differing understanding of terms and comparisons and B) are a bit dull to read, generally.

Sorry Frankie. Have fun being elite.

[Frank Andrews]

... like momma said, dull is as dull writes ...

frank to you, my friend

[dddave]

this is a wild article for me to encounter. I am currently digitizing NSCAD's audio archive in Halifax and spent two hours listening to a presentation/talk Ryan gave in 1976. because it was only audio, I had no idea what the animations looked like (although I could tell they were superfly because the music was great). I kept thinking how much he sounded like a quiet, modest animator who is probably still working in the film industry if he hasn't already retired with a comfy NFB pension (BAH!)... BOY WAS I WRONG.

[Louise Rolirad]

I feel I should set the record straight. The National Film Board never commissioned Ryan to paint a mural, I did. I was in charge of the decoration of the hall for a "Women in Film" seminar, and was wondering what to do with this large blank wall. Ryan stopped by for a visit and half jokingly I asked him if he wanted to do a mural for the seminar. He became very excited about it, and within a few hours had already started to paint. He worked feverishly for a week. At first it looked like a wave of colors, I thought it was a water scene. It was not until the last day before the seminar that the boy became apparent to me. I became anxious, and voiced my concern to him. He explained that women had to contend with a lot of social stigma, just like a young boy was always told that it was wrong to masturbate, and for him it was a symbol of liberation from all the stupid moral stigma. He was very upset when a group of women and the Board of Director complained. He wrote a letter that he posted on the wall explaining his liberation theory. I was asked to convince him to remove the private parts from the mural, (a suggestion was that he paints a bathing suit!!) Ryan decided to do a "veiling party" where with a party of friends it was painted over. Ryan was fun, with an incredible sense of humor and had great enthusiasm for life. I enjoyed his company and friendship very much.

[Elle Gee]

Please get facts straight before publishing. There's loads of way more current info then made redundant here in this out of date info/article. Ryan did quit his "day job" and stopped panhandling for the last two years of his life. He continued to work on his film "Spare Change" while battling lung cancer. He was earning his own money though creating art once more. The story is chronicled in a documentary film "Ryan's Renaissance" which continues to screen at festivals, airing in Canada on CTV Television-Bravo. Ryan conquered his battles despite his untimely death. He returned to his art and "Spare Change" was finished. You can see it online or on TV. Just google it! It's time for people to know Ryan's true legacy.

[simulator]

Very intriguing article. I like the part about the symbol of liberation.