The Famous Schrodinger’s Cat Thought Experiment Gets Brought to Life in an Off-Kilter Animation

Schrödinger’s Cat is one of the more famous thought exper­i­ments in mod­ern physics, cre­at­ed by Aus­tri­an physi­cist Erwin Schrödinger back in 1935.  The Tele­graph sum­ma­rizes the gist of the exper­i­ment as fol­lows:

In the hypo­thet­i­cal exper­i­ment … a cat is placed in a sealed box along with a radioac­tive sam­ple, a Geiger counter and a bot­tle of poi­son.

If the Geiger counter detects that the radioac­tive mate­r­i­al has decayed, it will trig­ger the smash­ing of the bot­tle of poi­son and the cat will be killed.

The exper­i­ment was designed to illus­trate the flaws of the ‘Copen­hagen inter­pre­ta­tion’ of quan­tum mechan­ics, which states that a par­ti­cle exists in all states at once until observed.

If the Copen­hagen inter­pre­ta­tion sug­gests the radioac­tive mate­r­i­al can have simul­ta­ne­ous­ly decayed and not decayed in the sealed envi­ron­ment, then it fol­lows the cat too is both alive and dead until the box is opened.

The Uni­ver­si­ty of Not­ting­ham’s Six­ty Sym­bols YouTube chan­nel pro­vides a more com­plete expla­na­tion. But with or with­out any fur­ther intro­duc­tion, you can watch the off-kil­ter ani­ma­tion, above, which imag­ines the ori­gins of the orig­i­nal exper­i­ment. It was cre­at­ed by Chav­dar Yor­danov for an ani­ma­tion show in Lon­don.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

80 Free Online Physics Cours­es

Nick Cave Nar­rates an Ani­mat­ed Film about the Cat Piano, the Twist­ed 18th Cen­tu­ry Musi­cal Instru­ment Designed to Treat Men­tal Ill­ness

Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tions to Quan­tum Mechan­ics: From Schrödinger’s Cat to Heisenberg’s Uncer­tain­ty Prin­ci­ple

Ani­ma­tions of 6 Famous Thought Exper­i­ments

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A Short Video Introduction to Alice Guy-Blaché (1873–1968), the First Female Film Director & Studio Mogul

This year’s Women’s His­to­ry Month theme is “Hon­or­ing Trail­blaz­ing Women in Labor and Busi­ness.” Before these lioness­es are hus­tled off­stage in order for us to refo­cus our atten­tions on Asian/Pacific Amer­i­cans, Jew­ish-Amer­i­cans, Autism Aware­ness, Mul­ti­ple Births, Sex­u­al­ly Trans­mit­ted Dis­ease Edu­ca­tion, pecans and the myr­i­ad oth­er cal­en­dar girls and boys that April brings, let’s join video essay­ist Cather­ine Strat­ton in cel­e­brat­ing the achieve­ments of film­mak­er Alice Guy-Blaché, above.

While not an offi­cial­ly rec­og­nized hon­oree, Guy-Blaché, who made over 1,000 films over two decades, def­i­nite­ly qual­i­fies as a trail­blaz­ing woman.

At age 21, she became the first female direc­tor in cin­e­ma his­to­ry with The Cab­bage Fairy, below, a whim­si­cal, if not par­tic­u­lar­ly accu­rate vision of where babies come from. (It was shot in 1896, long before rules lim­it­ing the amount of time a new­born actor can spend on set, but only a hand­ful of years before nurse Mar­garet Sanger took up the cause of women’s repro­duc­tive health.)

She tack­led the Life of Christ with a pas­sel of ani­mals, spe­cial effects, and 300 extras.

She popped view­ers eyes with can­dy-col­ored hand tint­ing.

She built a state-of-the-art film stu­dio in Fort Lee, New Jer­sey, prun­ing the ter­rain to serve as a vari­ety of land­scapes.

Viewed from the lens of 2017, one of her most star­tling achieve­ments is 1912’s A Fool and His Mon­ey, an excerpt of which is below. The tale itself is an unre­mark­able crowd­pleas­er: a poor guy falls in love with a wealthy young woman. He goes to great lengths to woo her, out­fit­ting him­self with fan­cy duds and throw­ing a huge par­ty, only to be best­ed by a flashy rival.

What is remark­able is that Guy-Blaché was white and the film’s cast is entire­ly African-Amer­i­can. Accord­ing to essay­ist Strat­ton, the char­ac­ters are por­trayed with none of the explic­it racism DW Grif­fith brought to The Birth of a Nation three years lat­er.

As Amy Poehler’s Smart Girls site reports, Guy-Blaché passed from the pub­lic view after an expen­sive divorce from her phi­lan­der­ing hus­band forced her to sell her stu­dio. She strug­gled to gain pub­lic recog­ni­tion for her pio­neer­ing con­tri­bu­tions to film his­to­ry with lit­tle suc­cess. A Fool and His Mon­ey was redis­cov­ered when a flea mar­ket shop­per bought a musty chest of old, unmarked reels.

Like that film, her rep­u­ta­tion is slow­ly being restored to its for­mer glo­ry. She was award­ed France’s Legion of Hon­or in 1955 and a Director’s Guild of Amer­i­ca Life­time Achieve­ment Award in 2012.

Give this trail­blaz­ing woman anoth­er look!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

100 Over­looked Films Direct­ed by Women: See Selec­tions from Sight & Sound Magazine’s New List

85 Com­pelling Films Star­ring and/or Direct­ed By Women of Col­or: A List Cre­at­ed by Direc­tor Ava DuVer­nay & Friends on Twit­ter

245 Films by Female Direc­tors You Can Stream Right Now on Net­flix

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Carl Sagan Explains How the Ancient Greeks, Using Reason and Math, Figured Out the Earth Isn’t Flat, Over 2,000 Years Ago

The denial of sci­ence has entered the high­est lev­els of gov­ern­ment, and no mat­ter what the data says, the U.S. promis­es to cease all efforts to cur­tail, or even study, cli­mate change. Astro­physi­cist Katie Mack calls this retrench­ment a form of “data nihilism,” writ­ing in an exas­per­at­ed tweet, “What is sci­ence? How can a thing be known? Is any­thing even real???” Indeed, what can we expect next from what Isaac Asi­mov called the Unit­ed States’ anti-intel­lec­tu­al “cult of igno­rance”? A flat earth lob­by?

Welp… at least a cou­ple celebri­ty fig­ures have come out as a flat-earth­ers, per­haps the van­guard of an anti-round earth move­ment. First Cleve­land Cav­a­liers guard Kyrie Irv­ing made the claim on a pod­cast, insist­ing, Chris Matyszczyk writes, that “we were being lied to about such basic things by the glob­al elites.”  Then, no less a bas­ket­ball wor­thy than Shaquille O’Neal weighed in with his own belief in flat-earth­ism.

Is this a joke? I hope so. Neil DeGrasse Tyson—who host­ed the recent Cos­mos remake to try and dis­pel such sci­en­tif­ic ignorance—replied all the same, not­ing that Irv­ing should “stay away from jobs that require… under­stand­ing of the nat­ur­al world.” The weird affair has played out like a sideshow next to the main­stage polit­i­cal cir­cus, an unset­tling reminder of Carl Sagan’s pre­dic­tion in his last book, The Demon Haunt­ed World, that Amer­i­cans would soon find their “crit­i­cal fac­ul­ties in decline, unable to dis­tin­guish between what feels good and what’s true.”

Sagan devot­ed much of his life to coun­ter­ing anti-sci­ence trends with warmth and enthu­si­asm, park­ing him­self “repeat­ed­ly, arguably com­pul­sive­ly, in front of TV cam­eras,” writes Joel Achen­bach at Smith­son­ian. We most remem­ber him for his orig­i­nal 1980 Cos­mos minis­eries, his most pub­lic role as a “gate­keep­er of sci­en­tif­ic cred­i­bil­i­ty,” as Achen­bach calls him. I think Sagan may have chafed at the descrip­tion. He want­ed to open the gates and let the pub­lic in to sci­en­tif­ic inquiry. He char­i­ta­bly lis­tened to unsci­en­tif­ic the­o­ries, and patient­ly took the time to explain their flaws.

In the very first episode of Cos­mos, Sagan addressed the flat-earth­ers, indi­rect­ly, by explain­ing how Eratos­thenes, a Libyan-Greek schol­ar and chief librar­i­an at the Library of Alexan­dria, dis­cov­ered over 2000 years ago that the earth is a sphere. Giv­en the geo­g­ra­ph­er, math­e­mati­cian, poet, his­to­ri­an, and astronomer’s incred­i­ble list of accomplishments—a sys­tem of lat­i­tude and lon­gi­tude, a map of the world, a sys­tem for find­ing prime numbers—this may not even rank as his high­est achieve­ment.

In the Cos­mos clip above, Sagan explains Eratos­thenes’ sci­en­tif­ic method: he made obser­va­tions of how shad­ows change length giv­en the posi­tion of the sun in the sky. Esti­mat­ing the dis­tance between the cities of Syene and Alexan­dria, he was then able to math­e­mat­i­cal­ly cal­cu­late the cir­cum­fer­ence of the earth, as Cyn­thia Stokes Brown explains at Khan Acad­e­my. Although “sev­er­al sources of error crept into Eratos­thenes’ cal­cu­la­tions and our inter­pre­ta­tion of them,” he nonethe­less suc­ceed­ed almost per­fect­ly. His esti­ma­tion: 250,000 sta­dia, or 25,000 miles. The actu­al cir­cum­fer­ence: 24,860 miles (40.008 kilo­me­ters).

No, of course the Earth isn’t flat. But Sagan’s les­son on how one sci­en­tist from antiq­ui­ty came to know that isn’t an exer­cise in debunk­ing. It’s a jour­ney into the move­ment of the solar sys­tem, into ancient sci­en­tif­ic his­to­ry, and most impor­tant­ly, per­haps, into the sci­en­tif­ic method, which does not rely on hearsay from “glob­al elites” or shad­owy fig­ures, but on the tools of obser­va­tion, infer­ence, rea­son­ing, and math. Pro­fes­sion­al sci­en­tists are not with­out their bias­es and con­flicts of inter­est, but the most fun­da­men­tal intel­lec­tu­al tools they use are avail­able to every­one on Earth.

via 9Gag

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Carl Sagan Pre­dicts the Decline of Amer­i­ca: Unable to Know “What’s True,” We Will Slide, “With­out Notic­ing, Back into Super­sti­tion & Dark­ness” (1995)

Hear Carl Sagan Art­ful­ly Refute a Cre­ation­ist on a Talk Radio Show: “The Dar­win­ian Con­cept of Evo­lu­tion is Pro­found­ly Ver­i­fied”

Carl Sagan Presents His “Baloney Detec­tion Kit”: 8 Tools for Skep­ti­cal Think­ing

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Stream Loads of “City Pop,” the Electronic-Disco-Funk Music That Provided the Soundtrack for Japan During the Roaring 1980s

News about Japan today tends to focus on the coun­try’s long eco­nom­ic stag­na­tion and pop­u­la­tion decline, but in the 1980s it looked like the world’s next super­pow­er. Har­vard social sci­en­tist Ezra Vogel had just pub­lished the best­selling warn­ing Japan as Num­ber One. Post­war recon­struc­tion had turned into rapid growth, then into a kind of finan­cial gigan­tism. Inter­na­tion­al con­sumers drove Japan­ese cars and filled their homes with Japan­ese elec­tron­ics. Japan­ese con­glom­er­ates went on a world­wide spend­ing binge, snap­ping up oth­er coun­tries’ real estate, their man­u­fac­tur­ers, and even their movie stu­dios. Cam­era-wield­ing Japan­ese tourists replaced the “ugly Amer­i­can” as the boor­ish wealthy tourist of stereo­type.

What went on back in Tokyo as the rest of the devel­oped world looked on in amaze­ment (and a kind of hor­ror)? Out­side of Japan’s infa­mous­ly rig­or­ous work cul­ture — itself part of the rea­son for all the growth — its boom and con­se­quent­ly enor­mous asset bub­ble gave rise to new lifestyles and cul­tures, and the sound­track of the par­ty was “city pop.” Mix­ing Eng­lish lyrics in with Japan­ese, draw­ing influ­ences from West­ern dis­co, funk, and R&B, and using the lat­est son­ic tech­nolo­gies mas­tered nowhere more than in Japan itself, this new, slick­ly pro­duced sub­genre offered a cos­mopoli­tanism, accord­ing to Mori-ra at Elec­tron­ic Beats, that “appealed to those who ben­e­fit­ed from the so-called post-war ‘eco­nom­ic mir­a­cle.’ ” While out­side Japan “city pop might be viewed as gen­er­al 1980s Japan­ese music, now that Japan­ese music has become trendy, city pop has begun to be uncov­ered and even reis­sued.”

What’s more, city pop has become a sub­cul­ture again in our inter­net era, and a glob­al one at that. Its cur­rent enthu­si­asts, many of them not Japan­ese or in any case born too late to ben­e­fit from the boom, cre­ate and share their own city pop mix­es, care­ful­ly curat­ing the tracks (some­times even sup­ply­ing visu­als gath­ered from sources like the Japan­ese ani­ma­tion of the era, often with a Blade Run­ner aes­thet­ic) to per­fect­ly evoke the high life in 1980s Tokyo as they imag­ine it. (Friends who actu­al­ly lived in Japan then describe it as an envi­ron­ment of unal­loyed new-mon­ey obnox­ious­ness, but city pop, like all pop, sells fan­ta­sy, not real­i­ty.) You get a taste of that high life by sam­pling the many city pop mix­es freely avail­able on the inter­net. At the top of this post you’ll find the one post­ed to Youtube by a user called Van Paugam, whose chan­nel also fea­tures a 24-hour city pop radio stream (com­plete with night­time Tokyo dri­ving footage).

Below that, we have a 45-minute “Mix­tape from Japan” whose cre­ator goes by Star­funkel. It fea­tures not just city pop tracks but, for tran­si­tion­al mate­r­i­al, vin­tage record­ings and movie clips to do with the Land of the Ris­ing Sun. (Keep your ears open for the voice of Bill Mur­ray.) Then, the vinyl-only mix by I’m­manuel in Ams­ter­dam sim­ply titled “音楽 Ongaku #1” — Japan­ese for “music” — places city pop in a con­text with oth­er Japan­ese grooves of the era. You’ll find much more curat­ed city pop on Sound­cloud, from the ever-grow­ing “High School Mel­low” series to Brazil­ian funk musi­cian Ed Mot­ta’s 70s-ori­ent­ed mix to Mori-Ra’s own max­i­mal­ly mel­low “Japan­ese Breeze” col­lec­tion. Get too deep, though, and you’ll end up like me, mak­ing trips to Japan to go city pop-shop­ping and even (slow­ly) read­ing Japan­ese books on the sub­ject. The bub­ble may have long since burst, but the beat goes on.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Japan­ese Priest Tries to Revive Bud­dhism by Bring­ing Tech­no Music into the Tem­ple: Attend a Psy­che­del­ic 23-Minute Ser­vice

Blade Run­ner Spoofed in Three Japan­ese Com­mer­cials (and Gen­er­al­ly Loved in Japan)

A Wealth of Free Doc­u­men­taries on All Things Japan­ese: From Ben­to Box­es to Tea Gar­dens, Ramen & Bul­let Trains

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

 

Nick Cave Narrates an Animated Film about the Cat Piano, the Twisted 18th Century Musical Instrument Designed to Treat Mental Illness

What do you imag­ine when you hear the phrase “cat piano”? Some kind of whim­si­cal fur­ry beast with black and white keys for teeth, maybe? A rel­a­tive of My Neigh­bor Totoro’s cat bus? Or maybe you pic­ture a piano that con­tains sev­er­al caged cats who shriek along an entire scale when keys are pressed that slam sharp­ened nails into their tails. If this is your answer, you might find peo­ple slow­ly back­ing away from you at times, or gen­tly sug­gest­ing you get some psy­chi­atric help.

But then, imag­ine that such a per­verse odd­i­ty was in use by psy­chi­a­trists, like the 18th-cen­tu­ry Ger­man physi­cian Johann Chris­t­ian Reil, who—reports David McNamee at The Guardian—“wrote that the device was intend­ed to shake men­tal patients who had lost the abil­i­ty to focus out of a ‘fixed state’ and into ‘con­scious aware­ness.’”

So long, meds. See you, med­i­ta­tion and man­dala col­or­ing books.… I joke, but appar­ent­ly Dr. Reil was in earnest when he wrote in an 1803 man­u­al for the treat­ment of men­tal ill­ness that patients could “be placed so that they are sit­ting in direct view of the cat’s expres­sions when the psy­chi­a­trist plays a fugue.”

A baf­fling­ly cru­el and non­sen­si­cal exper­i­ment, and we might rejoice to know it prob­a­bly nev­er took place. But the bizarre idea of the cat piano, or Katzen­klavier, did not spring from the weird delu­sions of one sadis­tic psy­chi­a­trist. It was sup­pos­ed­ly invent­ed by Ger­man poly­math and Jesuit schol­ar Athana­sius Kircher (1602–1680), who has been called “the last Renais­sance man” and who made pio­neer­ing dis­cov­er­ies in the fields of micro­bi­ol­o­gy, geol­o­gy, and com­par­a­tive reli­gion. He was a seri­ous schol­ar and a man of sci­ence. Maybe the Katzen­klavier was intend­ed as a sick joke that oth­ers took seriously—and for a very long time at that. The illus­tra­tion of a Katzen­klavier above dates from 1667, the one below from 1883.

Kircher’s biog­ra­ph­er John Glassie admits that, for all his undoubt­ed bril­liance, sev­er­al of his “actu­al ideas today seem wild­ly off-base; if not sim­ply bizarre” as well as “inad­ver­tent­ly amus­ing, right, wrong, half-right, half-baked, ridicu­lous….” You get the idea. He was an eccen­tric, not a psy­chopath. McNamee points to oth­er, like­ly apoc­ryphal, sto­ries in which cats were sup­pos­ed­ly used as instru­ments. Per­haps, cru­el as it seems to us, the cat piano seemed no cru­eller in pre­vi­ous cen­turies than the way we taunt our cats today to make them per­form for ani­mat­ed GIFs.

But to the cats these dis­tinc­tions are mean­ing­less. From their point of view, there is no oth­er way to describe the Katzen­klavier than as a sin­is­ter, ter­ri­fy­ing tor­ture device, and those who might use it as mon­strous vil­lains. Per­son­al­ly I’d like to give cats the last word on the sub­ject of the Katzen­klavier—or at least a few fic­tion­al ani­mat­ed, walk­ing, talk­ing, singing cats. Watch the short ani­ma­tion at the top, in which Nick Cave reads a poem by Eddie White about tal­ent­ed cat singers who mys­te­ri­ous­ly go miss­ing, scooped up by a human for a “harp­si­chord of harm, the cru­elest instru­ment to spawn from man’s gray cere­bral soup.” The sto­ry has all the dread and intrigue of Edgar Allan Poe’s best work, and it is in such a milieu of goth­ic hor­ror that the Katzen­klavier belongs.

The Cat Piano nar­rat­ed by Nick Cave will be added to our list of Free Ani­ma­tions, a sub­set of our meta col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Explo­sive Cats Imag­ined in a Strange, 16th Cen­tu­ry Mil­i­tary Man­u­al

Thomas Edison’s Box­ing Cats (1894), or Where the LOL­Cats All Began

Medieval Cats Behav­ing Bad­ly: Kit­ties That Left Paw Prints … and Peed … on 15th Cen­tu­ry Man­u­scripts

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Watch Janis Joplin’s Breakthrough Performance at the Monterey Pop Festival: “One of the Great Concert Performances of all Time” (1967)

“No one to that point had seen a White girl sing the blues like she sang it. And she was a tough Texas girl, she lived real­ly tough, she drank tough, she did drugs, too many and too tough. But as a vocal­ist, her per­for­mance at Mon­terey was also one of the great con­cert per­for­mances of all time.”

That’s famed music and film pro­duc­er Lou Adler talk­ing in 2007 about Janis Joplin and her per­for­mance 40 years before at the Mon­terey Inter­na­tion­al Pop Fes­ti­val. After those three days of music (June 16-June 18, 1967) in the Sum­mer of Love, many of the acts cat­a­pult­ed to fame.

The Who explod­ed state­side, The Jimi Hen­drix Expe­ri­ence essen­tial­ly launched their career from that stage, Ravi Shankar got intro­duced to Amer­i­cans, and Otis Red­ding played to a most­ly white audi­ence for the first time. Lau­ra Nyro and Canned Heat became famous overnight.

And then there was Big Broth­er and the Hold­ing Com­pa­ny, front­ed by a 24 year-old Janis Joplin. Their first album wasn’t due until August, and most of the crowd had not heard of this blues band when they took the stage on Sat­ur­day after­noon, June 17. Five songs lat­er, and fin­ish­ing with “Ball and Chain,” the crowd had gone wild. They knew they had seen some­thing spe­cial.

But D.A. Pen­nebak­er, the doc­u­men­tar­i­an behind Dylan’s Don’t Look Back and Bowie’s “Zig­gy Star­dust” con­cert films, had not filmed the set. In an unprece­dent­ed move, Joplin and band were invit­ed back to recre­ate the set the fol­low­ing evening–the only band to do two sets at the festival–and that is the footage seen above. Joplin’s per­for­mance is just as good, maybe even bet­ter, though the Sun­day per­for­mance does not fea­ture James Gurley’s extend­ed gui­tar solo. That ver­sion can be found here.

Not only did Mon­terey Pop launched sev­er­al careers, it legit­imized the idea that rock music was mature and impor­tant enough to have its own fes­ti­val, just like the worlds of jazz and folk. For orga­niz­ers Adler, along with John Phillips of the Mamas & the Papas, Alan Paris­er, and Bea­t­les pub­li­cist Derek Tay­lor, it was a huge suc­cess. Two years lat­er a lit­tle gath­er­ing called Wood­stock went even fur­ther. And the rest as they say is…whoever’s head­lin­ing Coachel­la this year.

If you enjoy this footage, you will want to pick up a copy of the film, The Com­plete Mon­terey Pop Fes­ti­val, from the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Janis Joplin’s Final Inter­view Reborn as an Ani­mat­ed Car­toon

Wood­stock Revis­it­ed in Three Min­utes

Dick Cavett’s Epic Wood­stock Fes­ti­val Show (August, 1969)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Hitler Was ‘Blitzed’ On Cocaine & Opiates During World War II: Hear a Wide-Ranging Interview with Best-Selling Author Norman Ohler

His­to­ri­ans have writ­ten an extra­or­di­nary amount about Hitler, the Third Reich, and World War II–so much, that it’s hard to imag­ine any­one could find some­thing nov­el to say about this dark peri­od of his­to­ry. But Ger­man jour­nal­ist Nor­man Ohler has done just that. In his new book, Blitzed: Drugs in the Third Reich, Ohler looks at how Hitler became increas­ing­ly depen­dent on a mix­ture of cocaine and opi­ates dur­ing the wartime years, all of which could have influ­enced his deci­sion mak­ing. Mean­while, despite Nazi pro­pa­gan­da against “degen­er­ate” cul­ture, Ger­man troops con­sumed large quan­ti­ties of crys­tal meth dur­ing major mil­i­tary oper­a­tions. Some 35 mil­lion meth tablets were ingest­ed dur­ing the 1940 inva­sion of France alone.

Ohler gath­ered much of his evi­dence while review­ing the papers of Hitler’s pri­vate physi­cian, Dr. Theodor Morell. And while some schol­ars have crit­i­cized Ohler’s account, Ian Ker­shaw, arguably the world’s lead­ing author­i­ty on Hitler and Nazi Ger­many, has called Blitzed “a seri­ous piece of schol­ar­ship” and “very well researched.”

Below you can hear Ohler talk about Nazi drug use in a 35-minute inter­view with Ter­ry Gross.

If you want to down­load Blitzed as a free audio­book, you could always get it through Audible.com’s 30-day free tri­al. Find more details on that here. Audiobooks.com also offers a sim­i­lar deal.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Nazi’s Philis­tine Grudge Against Abstract Art and The “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937

The Nazis’ 10 Con­trol-Freak Rules for Jazz Per­form­ers: A Strange List from World War II

Fritz Lang Tells the Riv­et­ing Sto­ry of the Day He Met Joseph Goebbels and Then High-Tailed It Out of Ger­many

How Did Hitler Rise to Pow­er? : New TED-ED Ani­ma­tion Pro­vides a Case Study in How Fas­cists Get Demo­c­ra­t­i­cal­ly Elect­ed

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How Orson Welles’ F for Fake Teaches Us How to Make the Perfect Video Essay

If you don’t under­stand what makes Cit­i­zen Kane so impor­tant, just watch a few movies made before it. In his first out­ing as a film­mak­er, Orson Welles, whether by igno­rance or oth­er virtues, pio­neered so many aes­thet­ic and nar­ra­tive tech­niques that we can now hard­ly imag­ine how the medi­um ever did with­out. If you don’t under­stand what makes Welles’ last pic­ture, the qua­si-doc­u­men­tary on fact and false­hood F for Fake so impor­tant, just com­pare it to all the video essays pro­lif­er­at­ing on the inter­net today.

If Cit­i­zen Kane was just slight­ly ahead of its time in 1940, F for Fake, which came out in 1973, now looks more than three decades ahead of the curve. Nobody knows that bet­ter than Tony Zhou, cre­ator of the pop­u­lar cin­e­ma-focused video essay series Every Frame a Paint­ing.

“I’ve stolen more ideas from this film than from any oth­er,” he admits at the begin­ning of his trib­ute to F for Fake. “Every­thing I know about edit­ing” — and he knows a lot — “I’ve learned from this film.”

The first les­son it teach­es has to do with how to struc­ture, or rather, how not to struc­ture: instead of mak­ing cuts that feel like a repet­i­tive series of “and then“s, make cuts that, in the words of South Park co-cre­ator Trey Park­er, stands for “either the word there­fore or but.” In oth­er words, whether mak­ing a video essay, a fea­ture film, or any­thing in between, build the struc­ture not out of sim­ple, unordered list-like sequences, but out of caus­es, effects, and con­tra­dic­tions.  Through­out F for Fake, “Orson Welles does the exact same thing, except he does­n’t con­nect scenes; he con­nects thoughts. Even though this movie is an essay, each moment has the con­nec­tive log­ic of a South Park episode.”

This leads into the sec­ond les­son: “Have more than one sto­ry mov­ing in par­al­lel,” so that when­ev­er one “reach­es peak inter­est,” you can oscil­late to the oth­er. (No less an edit­ing mas­ter than Alfred Hitch­cock also sub­scribed to this prin­ci­ple, describ­ing it with the phrase “Mean­while, back at the ranch…”) Welles’ bravu­ra per­for­mance, how­ev­er, rotates between no few­er than six sto­ries: of art forg­er Elmyr de Hory, of “hoax-biog­ra­ph­er” Clif­ford Irv­ing, of Irv­ing’s sub­ject Howard Hugh­es, of Welles’ girl­friend Oja Kodar, of Welles him­self (and his infa­mous War of the Worlds broad­cast), and even of the mak­ing of F for Fake itself.

Tech­ni­cal points aside, Zhou draws from all this a per­spec­tive on his work: “It’s not about what you get. It’s about how you cut it, and what comes out the oth­er end. Remem­ber, video essays aren’t essays, they’re films, so you want to struc­ture and pace them like a film­mak­er would.” And in this final major work that he him­self describes as a “film about trick­ery and fraud,” Welles presents that and every­thing else he’d learned about film­mak­ing over the past forty years doing it. Even if some say we live a “post-fact” era — a term that would have end­less­ly amused Welles, or at least the “char­la­tan” ver­sion of him­self he plays in F for Fake — the laws of cin­e­ma retain their truth.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

F for Fake: Orson Welles’ Short Film & Trail­er That Was Nev­er Released in Amer­i­ca

Orson Welles Explains Why Igno­rance Was His Major “Gift” to Cit­i­zen Kane

Every Frame a Paint­ing Explains the Film­mak­ing Tech­niques of Mar­tin Scors­ese, Jack­ie Chan, and Even Michael Bay

The Alche­my of Film Edit­ing, Explored in a New Video Essay That Breaks Down Han­nah and Her Sis­ters, The Empire Strikes Back & Oth­er Films

Alfred Hitchcock’s 7‑Minute Mas­ter Class on Film Edit­ing

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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