Is Animation's past a key to its future?

Michael Hirsh’s Animation Nation might be the roadmap the industry needs

Reading Michael Hirsh’s book, Animation Nation: How We Built a Cartoon Empire, reminded me once again that it’s by learning from the past that we can better chart a course for the future.

Hirsh, one of the original three founders of Nelvana — along with Clive Smith and Patrick Loubert — lays out the roots of Canada’s emerging animation industry and the many twists and turns along the way. From small beginnings in 1971, with artwork set up on a wooden platform over a toilet with a camera rig, to big opportunities from the likes of George Lucas to produce the first Star Wars animated shows, Nelvana's story reveals the scrappy, improvisational early days of Canadian animation.

The book delves deeply into the growing pains of artists trying to form and run a business. Hirsh describes the first experimental films they made before fully committing to animation, including a politically radical feature titled Voulez-Vous Coucher Avec God? featuring American counterculture poet Tuli Kupferberg. You can watch a clip of the film on YouTube here (note: not PG!).

The tales of Nelvana’s crew—animators and business minds alike—trying to find their footing in this strange new field will have readers saying, “They did WHAT?” The well-established Nelvana brand of today contrasts sharply with stories of maxing out credit cards or attending bank meetings dressed as Gandalf complete with full-sized wooden staffs. This was the 1970s, after all, when counterculture, free love, and Rochdale College were still the order of the day.

I admit I initially approached the book expecting a narrative of a polished business that included their early strategic plans, investor strategies, and heavy audience research, green-lighting productions only after market validation. After all, the dominant global player, Disney, had long established vertical integration (from shows to toys to theme parks), something we take for granted today. But even Disney was veering off its traditional path at the time, experimenting with live-action films with mixed success.

Yet, this is a Canadian story. As a country, we were hardly making any films outside of the National Film Board or early Telefilm productions (we won’t talk about those). Animation, as an industry? In this country? Who would be audacious enough to try that? Perhaps three radical filmmakers eager to experiment with form.

Nelvana would eventually create globally successful animated specials, series, and films, including A Cosmic Christmas (1977), The Devil and Daniel Mouse (1978), Rock & Rule (1980; a financial flop but now a cult classic), Inspector Gadget (1983+), Strawberry Shortcake (1983+), Care Bears (1985+), Beyblade (2001+), and many more. George Lucas himself became an early mentor, commissioning the now-legendary Star Wars Holiday Special in 1978, which opened doors in the U.S. for the company.

It’s easy to read Animation Nation as an account of Canadian animation’s good ol’ days.
Are our best years behind us?

Nelvana was acquired by Corus in 2000, and Hirsh went on to form other animation companies, including Cookie Jar and WOW! Unlimited. In recounting the successes and struggles of these ventures, he often comments on the tensions between creating high-quality visual storytelling and meeting financial demands. I was struck by his honesty and vulnerability about aspects he now questions or even regrets—including the significant toll his career took on his health, and on his personal and family life.

It’s easy to read Animation Nation as an account of Canadian animation’s “good ol’ days,” especially considering the downturn in production the industry has faced since the pandemic. Animation, gaming, and visual effects are now multi-billion-dollar sectors, yet many trained artists struggle to find work and wonder about their future. Are our best years behind us?

I don’t think so. What struck me most about Michael, Clive, and Patrick’s journey was their relentless tenacity to find new opportunities and take risks, even when outcomes were unknown. Nelvana was on the brink more than once, yet they always found a way through—before the era of government tax credits and other incentives that drive today’s business. Without this history, it might seem that Canadian companies like Nelvana, Mainframe, WildBrain, Guru Studios, 9 Story, and Atomic Cartoons have had an easy path with stable funding, never needing to get truly creative for their survival.

Hirsh, like the others who founded Nelvana, is seen today as royalty in Canadian media, with successful shows, industry contacts, capital-raising history, and a significant role in Canadian media consolidation. Yet, this narrative overlooks his humble beginnings: the son of Holocaust survivors, Belgian-born, developing an early interest in film at a time when the industry barely existed in Canada. Every frame and cell represented a risk in discovering his audience and reaching them.

It’s the same challenge today. But perhaps we’ve forgotten a little that the path to success was never about “finding opportunities” but “making opportunities.” If you’re looking for your next gig in animation, read Animation Nation as a testament to what it took for one scrappy group to pursue every possible opportunity.