“Bleu, Blanc, Rouge”: a Striking Supercut of the Vivid Colors in Jean-Luc Godard’s 1960s Films

What’s your favorite col­or? A sim­ple ques­tion, sure — the very first one many of us learn to ask — but one to con­sid­er seri­ous­ly if you see a future for your­self in film­mak­ing. Ear­li­er this year, we fea­tured video stud­ies on the use of the col­or red by Wes Ander­son and Stan­ley Kubrick. Yasu­jiro Ozu, as Jonathan Crow points out in that post, “made the jump to col­or movies very reluc­tant­ly late in his career and prompt­ly became obsessed with the col­or red,” and a teaket­tle of that col­or even became his visu­al sig­na­ture. No less an auteur than Krzysztof Kieślows­ki made not just a pic­ture called Red, but anoth­er called Blue and anoth­er called White, which togeth­er form the acclaimed “Three Col­ors” tril­o­gy.

Jean-Luc Godard, nev­er one to be out­done, has also made vivid use through­out his career of not just red but white and blue as well. The video above, “Bleu, Blanc, Rouge — A Godard Super­cut,” com­piles three min­utes of such col­or­ful moments from the Godard fil­mog­ra­phy, draw­ing from his works A Woman Is a WomanCon­temptPier­rot le Fou, and Made in U.S.A., all of which did much to define 1960s world cin­e­ma, cap­tur­ing with their vivid col­ors per­for­mances by Godar­d­ian icons Jean-Paul Bel­mon­do and Anna Kari­na.

“Bleu, Blanc, Rouge” comes from Cin­e­ma Sem Lei, the source of anoth­er aes­thet­i­cal­ly dri­ven video essay we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured on how Ger­man Expres­sion­ism influ­enced Tim Bur­ton. This one makes less of an argu­ment than that one did, but tru­ly obses­sive cinephiles may still find them­selves able to con­struct one. An obvi­ous start­ing point: we con­sid­er few film­mak­ers as French as Godard, and which coun­try’s flag has these very col­ors? Well, besides those of Amer­i­ca, Aus­tralia, Cam­bo­dia, Chile, Cuba, Ice­land, North Korea, Lux­em­bourg, Schleswig-Hol­stein, Thai­land, and so on. And in inter­views, Godard has dis­tanced him­self from pure French­ness, pre­fer­ring the des­ig­na­tion “Fran­co-Swiss.” But still, you can start think­ing there. Or you can just enjoy the images.

Relat­ed Content:

How Ger­man Expres­sion­ism Influ­enced Tim Bur­ton: A Video Essay

Wes Ander­son Likes the Col­or Red (and Yel­low)

Jean-Luc Godard Gives a Dra­mat­ic Read­ing of Han­nah Arendt’s “On the Nature of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism”

A Young Jean-Luc Godard Picks the 10 Best Amer­i­can Films Ever Made (1963)

Jean-Luc Godard’s After-Shave Com­mer­cial for Schick (1971)

Jean-Luc Godard’s Debut, Opéra­tion béton(1955) — a Con­struc­tion Doc­u­men­tary

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

David Bowie Sings in a Wonderful M.C. Escher-Inspired Set in Jim Henson’s Labyrinth

A gen­er­a­tion grew up watch­ing and re-watch­ing Jim Hen­son’s Labyrinth. Now, their fond mem­o­ries of that musi­cal fantasy—featuring not just Hen­son’s sig­na­ture pup­pets but live actors like Jen­nifer Con­nel­ly and David Bowie—have got them try­ing to turn their own chil­dren on to the movie’s won­ders. Some now regard Labyrinth as a goofy, flam­boy­ant nov­el­ty suit­able for no oth­er audi­ence but chil­dren, but that gives short shrift to the con­sid­er­able craft that went into it. To get a sense of that, we need only take a look at Jim Hen­son’s Red Book.

Hen­son kept the Red Book, a kind of diary writ­ten one line at a time, until 1988, not long after Labyrinth’s release, and it cap­tures intrigu­ing details of the film’s pro­duc­tion. On its site, the Jim Hen­son Com­pa­ny has sup­ple­ment­ed the Red Book’s entries with oth­er mate­ri­als, such as the mak­ing-of clip above, which shows what went into the scene where “Bowie’s char­ac­ter Jareth taunts Sarah (Jen­nifer Con­nel­ly) as she tries to get to her broth­er Toby (Toby Froud) in an elab­o­rate set inspired by the art of Dutch artist and illus­tra­tor M.C. Esch­er.”

Hen­son and his team want­ed to bring into three dimen­sions “Escher’s images of seem­ing­ly impos­si­ble archi­tec­ture where stairs seemed to lead both up and down at the same time. The inabil­i­ty of the view­er to rec­og­nize what is and is not real was a theme the per­me­at­ed some of Jim’s exper­i­men­tal works in the 1960s and was explored at length in the film.” You can watch the still-con­vinc­ing final prod­uct, in which Bowie sings the song “With­in  You” while step­ping and leap­ing from one per­spec­tive-defy­ing plat­form or stair­way to anoth­er, just above. Spe­cial cred­it for pulling all this off goes to the film’s pro­duc­tion design­er Elliot Scott. But from which mem­ber of the team should we demand an expla­na­tion for, by far, the most bizarre visu­al aspect of Labyrinth — David Bowie’s hair?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie Paper Dolls Recre­ate Some of the Style Icon’s Most Famous Looks

Watch The Sur­re­al 1960s Films and Com­mer­cials of Jim Hen­son

Jim Henson’s Orig­i­nal, Spunky Pitch for The Mup­pet Show

Jim Henson’s Zany 1963 Robot Film Uncov­ered by AT&T: Watch Online

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The 2,000+ Films Watched by Presidents Nixon, Carter & Reagan in the White House

family-theater-reagan

Many of us keep a record of the movies we watch. Few of us, how­ev­er, lead the free world. As the reli­able sales num­bers of pres­i­den­tial biogra­phies (no mat­ter how thick) attest, the actions of the Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca, no mat­ter who that Pres­i­dent may be and no mat­ter what sort of actions that Pres­i­dent takes, always draw inter­est. For instance, you may have seen that Pale­o­fu­ture’s Matt Novak recent­ly went through Jim­my Carter’s diaries to draw up a list of every sin­gle movie Carter watched dur­ing his Pres­i­den­cy.

“Part of my fas­ci­na­tion with the movies that pres­i­dents watch is just cheap voyeurism,” Novak writes. “But the oth­er part is an earnest belief that pop­u­lar cul­ture influ­ences things in the real world. Pres­i­dent Nixon was obsessed with the film Pat­ton dur­ing the Viet­nam War. Pres­i­dent Rea­gan urged Con­gress to take com­put­er secu­ri­ty seri­ous­ly after see­ing War Games in 1983.” And you can learn what else they watched by pulling up What Nixon Saw and When He Saw It by Nixon at the Movies author Mark Feeney, and the list of films Mr. and Mrs. Rea­gan viewed from the Ronald Rea­gan Pres­i­den­tial Library.

Nixon watched sev­er­al depic­tions of hard-bit­ten heroes (and anti­heroes) tough­ing out their trou­bles: not just Pat­ton, but Bul­littTrue GritIce Sta­tion ZebraOur Man in Havana, The Trea­sure of the Sier­ra MadreSpar­ta­cus, and Lawrence of Ara­bia — with the occa­sion­al Paint Your Wag­on or Aun­tie Mame thrown in there as well. Carter hewed a bit clos­er to the over­all Amer­i­can cin­e­mat­ic zeit­geist, watch­ing such era-defin­ing films as RockyNet­workStar WarsAir­port ’77Annie HallAni­mal HouseThe Last Pic­ture ShowApoc­a­lypse Now, Alien, and 10. 

Rea­gan, famous­ly a film actor him­self, watched all sorts movies, though his list shows a cer­tain pref­er­ence for mil­i­tary-themed spec­ta­cles like Gal­lipoliInchonDas BootFire­foxRed DawnIron Eagle, and Top Gun, as well as sports pic­tures like Break­ing AwayThe Win­ning Team, and even Knute Rockne, All Amer­i­can, in which he him­self por­trayed foot­ball play­er George Gipp, a role that anoint­ed him with the nick­name that would stick until the end.

The Free­dom of Infor­ma­tion act assures us that we’ll have the chance to study the in-office view­ing habits of many pres­i­dents to come. Novak, in fact, has already put in a request for the lists from George H.W. Bush, Bill Clin­ton, and George W. Bush: “They said I can expect the list in 46 months.” Well, the wheels of gov­ern­ment do grind slow­ly, after all — we’ve learned that from the movies.

Below you can find a list of the first 10 films each pres­i­dent watched upon tak­ing office. The dif­fer­ence in their cul­tur­al sen­si­bil­i­ties imme­di­ate­ly leaps out.

Nixon (list of 528 films here):

  • The Shoes of the Fish­er­man 
  • The Sound of Music 
  • The Sand Peb­bles
  • Play Dirty 
  • Doc­tor Zhiva­go 
  • Where Eagles Dare 
  • Camelot 
  • A Man for All Sea­sons
  • May­er­ling 
  • Twist­ed Nerve

Carter (list 403 films here):

  • All the President’s Men
  • One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest 
  • Net­work
  • Rocky 
  • The God­fa­ther 
  • The Mag­ic Chris­t­ian 
  • Buf­fa­lo Bill and the Indi­ans 
  • The Bad News Bears
  • The Shoo­tist 
  • Butch Cas­sidy and the Sun­dance Kid 

Rea­gan (list of 363 films here)

  • Trib­ute
  • Nine to Five
  • Black Stal­lion
  • Break­ing Away
  • Oh God, Book II
  • Tess
  • Being There
  • The Com­pe­ti­tion
  • Blood­line
  • The Mir­ror Crack­’d

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Por­traits of Vice Pres­i­dents with Octo­pus­es on Their Heads — the Ones You’ve Always Want­ed To See

Watch a Wit­ty, Grit­ty, Hard­boiled Retelling of the Famous Aaron Burr-Alexan­der Hamil­ton Duel

Pres. Oba­ma Releas­es a Free Playlist of 40 Songs for a Sum­mer Day (Plus 6 Books on His Sum­mer Read­ing List)

Lyn­don John­son Orders New Pants on the Phone and Requests More Room for His … John­son (1964)

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Columbia U. Launches a Free Multimedia Glossary for Studying Cinema & Filmmaking

Columbia Film Language Glossary

You can find no short­age of clas­sic films to watch on Open Cul­ture. (See our col­lec­tion: 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.) But what we haven’t giv­en you is a toolk­it for engag­ing in a more for­mal study of these films. Enter The Colum­bia Film Lan­guage Glos­sary, devel­oped at the Cen­ter for New Media Teach­ing and Learn­ing at Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty.

The free/open resource uses a com­bi­na­tion of text, film clips, and audio com­men­tary to explain terms essen­tial to the study of film — words like Cin­e­ma Ver­itéMon­tage, and Mise-en-Scène. And it also defines a lot of nuts-and-bolts con­cepts like Aspect RatioHigh-Angle Shot and Long Take.

The Colum­bia Film Lan­guage Glos­sary “is avail­able to any stu­dent of film. Def­i­n­i­tions and audio com­men­tary are writ­ten and nar­rat­ed by fac­ul­ty at Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty.” You can dive in right now, right here.

h/t Peter Kauf­man

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Visu­al Intro­duc­tion to Sovi­et Mon­tage The­o­ry: A Rev­o­lu­tion in Film­mak­ing

Hitch­cock on the Filmmaker’s Essen­tial Tool: The Kuleshov Effect

Alfred Hitchcock’s Sev­en-Minute Edit­ing Mas­ter Class

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A Film Festival of Kick Ass Kung Fu/Martial Arts Films in the Public Domain

Every­one remem­bers their first kung-fu movie — or every­one remem­bers their first wave of kung-fu movies, any­way. For some, they came late at night on the less-explored fre­quen­cies of the tele­vi­sion broad­cast­ing spec­trum; for oth­ers, they came on sparse­ly attend­ed dou­ble- and triple-bills at the local dis­count the­ater. They looked fad­ed and mud­dy, but some­how still vivid; they felt cheap­ly pro­duced, yet full of life and ener­gy; and as for how they sound­ed, time has turned their both hol­low and the­atri­cal Eng­lish-lan­guage dub­bing into an art form with con­nois­seurs of its own. They came from far­away lands, which ren­dered them exot­ic, but we expe­ri­enced them almost as dreams, prod­ucts of anoth­er real­i­ty alto­geth­er. And some of them you can expe­ri­ence again as pub­lic domain films.

We still call them “kung fu movies” even though, hav­ing grown old­er and wis­er — or at least more cul­tur­al­ly aware — we now know their heroes did­n’t always defeat their ene­mies with the Chi­nese mar­tial arts cov­ered by that umbrel­la term. But the label applies well enough to 1977’s Leg­end of Shaolin, the Hong Kong-made epic at the top of the post set in the 13th-cen­tu­ry Yuan Dynasty and deal­ing with that most kung-fu of all themes, revenge. But such his­tor­i­cal “kung fu” pic­tures could also come from coun­tries like Japan, an exam­ple of which you can thrill to just above: 1983’s Leg­end of the Eight Samu­rai fea­tures Son­ny Chi­ba, liv­ing embod­i­ment of the 1970s mar­tial-arts film, under the direc­tion of the pro­lif­ic and respect­ed provo­ca­teur Kin­ji Fukasaku, best known today as the mak­er of the con­tro­ver­sial Bat­tle Royale.

Next in this pub­lic-domain mar­tial-arts marathon, we have anoth­er Hong Kong movie, Guy with the Secret Kung Fu from 1981, whose title alone strikes me as rec­om­men­da­tion enough. And for our final selec­tion, we move to a more con­tem­po­rary set­ting with 1987’s Four Rob­bers, where­in the tit­u­lar quartet—pursued by both the police and a malev­o­lent crime syn­di­cate that at first wants to recruit them and lat­er wants revenge against them—have to flee from Hong Kong to Thai­land with­out gam­bling away the fruits of their labor or com­pro­mis­ing their prin­ci­ples. This movie, and many oth­ers of its kind, give the lie to the notion that there’s no hon­or among thieves. Most all of the wan­der­ers, samu­rai, rebels, aris­to­crats, cops, and rob­bers you see in them have one kind of hon­or or anoth­er — but when they come into con­flict, it tends to take some old-fash­ioned kung-fu fight­ing to set­tle things. You can find these films added to our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More, which includes more 23 Free Kung Fu and Mar­tial Arts Movies Online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

700 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, etc.

Rad­i­cal French Phi­los­o­phy Meets Kung-Fu Cin­e­ma in Can Dialec­tics Break Bricks? (1973)

The Five Best North Kore­an Movies: Watch Them Free Online

The 5 Best Noir Films in the Pub­lic Domain: From Fritz Lang’s Scar­let Street to Ida Lupino’s The Hitch-Hik­er

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Radical French Philosophy Meets Kung-Fu Cinema in Can Dialectics Break Bricks? (1973)

Can Dialectics Break Bricks?

And here I’d always con­sid­ered La Chi­noise the only French-lan­guage film that used both bor­rowed Chi­nese imagery and lofty the­o­ry to mount a cri­tique of cap­i­tal­ism. It turns out that six years after Jean-Luc Godard made that movie, Sinol­o­gist, Sit­u­a­tion­ist, and film­mak­er René Viénet came out with the next impor­tant vol­ume in that fas­ci­nat­ing minor tra­di­tion, La Dialec­tique Peut-Elle Cass­er Des Briques? (Can Dialec­tics Break Bricks?), an entire Hong Kong mar­tial-arts pic­ture entire­ly repur­posed into, as Dan­ger­ous Minds’ Richard Met­zger puts it, “a cri­tique of class con­flicts, bureau­crat­ic social­ism, the fail­ures of the French Com­mu­nist Par­ty, Mao­ism, cul­tur­al hege­mo­ny, sex­u­al equal­i­ty and the way movies prop up Cap­i­tal­ist ide­ol­o­gy.”

Using as its visu­al mate­r­i­al 1972’s Crush, Tu Guangqi’s hand-to-hand-com­bat-inten­sive tale of Kore­an rebel­lion against Japan­ese impe­ri­al­ism, the film fol­lowed the mod­el of Woody Allen’s What’s Up, Tiger Lily? “which re-dubbed humor­ous dia­logue over a Japan­ese spy movie to make the plot about a recipe for egg sal­ad […] but here the cin­e­mat­ic Sit­u­a­tion­ist provo­ca­teur is less out for laughs (although there are plen­ty of them) and more about the polit­i­cal sub­ver­sion.” This inter­sec­tion of lo-fi chop-socky action with high-flown rev­o­lu­tion­ary jar­gon and aca­d­e­m­ic name-drop­ping (“My Fou­caults! My Lacans! And if that’s not enough, I’ll even send my struc­tural­ists”) has for decades struck its view­ers as sub­lime­ly ridicu­lous. But do the images and the dia­logues real­ly clash as total­ly as they would seem to?

“Like many Hong Kong pro­duc­tions of the ear­ly sev­en­ties,” writes Luke White at Kung Fu with Braudel, “the sce­nario of the orig­i­nal film is clear­ly one in which colo­nial exploita­tion and resis­tance are at issue. Set in Korea under the Japan­ese occu­pa­tion that last­ed much of the first half of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, the heroes (those turned by Viénet into ‘the Pro­le­tar­i­ans’) are the mem­bers of a mar­tial arts school who start to resist the colo­nial vio­lence of the mil­i­taris­tic Japan­ese forces. How­ev­er poten­tial­ly con­ser­v­a­tive the nation­al­is­tic dimen­sion of its nar­ra­tive, this is also a work about strug­gle and lib­er­a­tion from tyran­ny in some of its most typ­i­cal­ly mod­ern forms.” In its mul­ti­plic­i­ty of pos­si­ble inter­pre­ta­tions, La Dialec­tique Peut-Elle Cass­er Des Briques? joins the ranks of all the most inter­est­ing works of art — and it cer­tain­ly makes for a refresh­ing break from actu­al­ly read­ing your Fou­caults, your Lacans, and your struc­tural­ists.

via UBU

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Sear­le on Fou­cault and the Obscu­ran­tism in French Phi­los­o­phy

The Five Best North Kore­an Movies: Watch Them Free Online

Bruce Lee Audi­tions for The Green Hor­net (1964)

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Everything is a Remix: A Video Series Exploring the Sources of Creativity

Our vet­er­an read­ers will per­haps remem­ber Kir­by Fer­gu­son’s four-part video series Every­thing is a Remix. Cre­at­ed between 2010 and 2014, the series explored the idea that (to quote from one of my ear­li­er posts) “great art doesn’t come out of nowhere. Artists inevitably bor­row from one anoth­er, draw­ing on past ideas and con­ven­tions, and then turn these mate­ri­als into some­thing beau­ti­ful and new.” That applies to musi­cians, film­mak­ers, tech­nol­o­gists, and real­ly any­one in a cre­ative space.

This week, to mark the 5th anniver­sary of the series’ launch, Fer­gu­son has remas­tered and re-released Every­thing is a Remix as a sin­gle video in HD. “For the first time now, the whole series is avail­able as a sin­gle video with prop­er tran­si­tions all the way through, uni­fied styling, and remixed and remas­tered audio.” Find it fea­tured above, and added to our col­lec­tion of Free Online Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Why Man Cre­ates: Saul Bass’ Oscar-Win­ning Ani­mat­ed Look at Cre­ativ­i­ty (1968)

Why You Do Your Best Think­ing In The Show­er: Cre­ativ­i­ty & the “Incu­ba­tion Peri­od”

Albert Ein­stein Tells His Son The Key to Learn­ing & Hap­pi­ness is Los­ing Your­self in Cre­ativ­i­ty (or “Find­ing Flow”)

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A Guided Tour of Guillermo del Toro’s Creativity-Inducing Man Cave, “Bleak House”

Many guys have man caves – a room, a base­ment, a shed where a dude can get away from the demands of domes­tic­i­ty and do dude things. Guiller­mo del Toro, the Oscar-nom­i­nat­ed direc­tor of such movies as Pan’s Labyrinth, Pacif­ic Rim and the upcom­ing Crim­son Peak, doesn’t just have a cave. He has an entire house. It’s called Bleak House and it’s pret­ty amaz­ing. In a fea­turette for Criterion’s release of Cronos (1993), Del Toro gives a guid­ed tour. You can watch it above.

As you can see, the place feels less like a frat house than an eccen­tric muse­um. One of his inspi­ra­tions was curios­i­ty cab­i­nets of old. Indeed, the walls are crammed with paint­ings, prints and curios and just about every cor­ner is teem­ing with skele­tons, skulls, ten­ta­cles and creepy things float­ing in bot­tles of formalde­hyde.

Anoth­er inspi­ra­tion was the orig­i­nal research library for Dis­ney Stu­dios, which fed the imag­i­na­tion of the studio’s artists with lots of art. So Del Toro has orig­i­nal frames from Ger­tie the Dinosaur by Win­sor McCay, the first ani­mat­ed movie ever, along with draw­ings by Moe­bius and pho­tographs of Alfred Hitch­cock. He also has piles of books, mag­a­zines and DVDs. “What­ev­er it is,” says Del Toro, “it’s here to pro­vide a shock to the sys­tem and get cir­cu­lat­ing the lifeblood of cre­ativ­i­ty, which I think is curios­i­ty. When we lose curios­i­ty, we lose entire­ly inven­tive­ness, and we start becom­ing old. So the man cave of Bleak house was designed to be sort of a com­pres­sion cham­ber where we can cre­ate a stim­u­lat­ing envi­ron­ment…” for artists.

Right above you even more about Bleak House in which Del Toro gives a tour to hor­ror direc­tor Tim Sul­li­van. Not only is the place filled with strange and macabre curiosi­ties but also memen­toes from Del Toro’s movies. Want to see Del Toro bran­dish the orig­i­nal Big Baby from Hell­boy II: The Gold­en Army? Check this video out.

Via @LaFa­mil­i­aFilm

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sketch­es by Guiller­mo del Toro Take You Inside the Director’s Wild­ly Cre­ative Imag­i­na­tion

Geome­tria: Watch Guiller­mo del Toro’s Very Ear­ly, Ghoul­ish Short Film (1987)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing lots of pic­tures of bad­gers and even more pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

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