Filmmaker Michel Gondry Presents an Animated Conversation with Noam Chomsky

Even if you reg­u­lar­ly read Open Cul­ture, where we make a point of high­light­ing unusu­al inter­sec­tions of cul­tur­al cur­rents, you prob­a­bly nev­er expect­ed a col­lab­o­ra­tion between the likes of Michel Gondry and Noam Chom­sky. Gondry we’ve known as an imag­i­na­tive film­mak­er behind fea­tures like Eter­nal Sun­shine of the Spot­less Mind and Be Kind Rewind (as well as music videos for artists like Beck, Kanye West, and the White Stripes), one dri­ven to pur­sue a Con­ti­nen­tal whim­sy tem­pered by a ded­i­ca­tion to elab­o­rate, dif­fi­cult-look­ing hand craft and an appar­ent inter­est in Amer­i­can cul­ture.

Chom­sky we’ve known, depend­ing on our inter­ests, as either a not­ed lin­guist or a con­tro­ver­sial writer and speak­er on pol­i­tics, soci­ety, and the media. Gondry’s new doc­u­men­tary Is the Man Who Is Tall Hap­py?, the project that brings them togeth­er at least, show­cas­es both the less-seen pure­ly philo­soph­i­cal side of Chom­sky, and the also rarely acknowl­edged inquis­i­tive, con­ver­sa­tion­al side of Gondry. In the New York Times “Anato­my of a Scene” clip at the top, the direc­tor explains his process.

Nat­u­ral­ly, Gondry went through a fair­ly unusu­al process to make the film, giv­en that he based the whole thing on noth­ing more elab­o­rate than a long-form in-office con­ver­sa­tion with the MIT-based pro­fes­sor and activist. To get the footage he need­ed of Chom­sky talk­ing, he brought in — nat­u­ral­ly — his vin­tage wind-up Bolex 16-mil­lime­ter film cam­era. He then wove those shots in with his also high­ly ana­log hand-drawn ani­ma­tion, which illus­trates Chom­sky’s ideas as he describes them — and as Gondry prods him for more. “The cam­era is very loud,” Gondry explains over a delib­er­ate­ly shaky frame, “and that’s why I have to draw it each time you hear it.” Just above, you can watch the film’s trail­er, which offers Chom­sky’s voice as well as Gondry’s. “Why should we take it to be obvi­ous that if I let go of a ball,” we hear the inter­vie­wee ask, “it goes down and not up?” We also hear the inter­view­er admit that he “felt a bit stu­pid here,” but these two men’s con­sid­er­able dif­fer­ences — in gen­er­a­tion, in nation­al­i­ty, in sen­si­bil­i­ty, in their con­cerns, in the forms of their work — pro­vide all the more rea­son to lis­ten when they talk. And if you find the intel­lec­tu­al trip not to your taste, just behold the visu­al one.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Noam Chom­sky & Michel Fou­cault Debate Human Nature & Pow­er (1971)

Noam Chom­sky vs. William F. Buck­ley, 1969

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The 10 Hidden Cuts in Rope (1948), Alfred Hitchcock’s Famous “One-Shot” Feature Film

Among his many accom­plish­ments at the inter­sec­tion of show­man­ship and pure cin­e­ma, Alfred Hitch­cock man­aged, in 1948, to make a fea­ture film with­out any cuts — or rather, more impres­sive­ly, he made a fea­ture film peo­ple believed had no cuts. Though cinephiles will know sev­er­al fine exam­ples of no-cut or few-cut movies from recent years (I’ve enjoyed Mike Fig­gis’ four-screen Time Code since it came out in the nineties, and I often rec­om­mend Il-gon Song’s more recent but rar­er one-cut Magi­cians), they’ll also know that, due to phys­i­cal lim­i­ta­tions in the film tech­nol­o­gy of Hitch­cock­’s day, nobody — not even Hitch­cock — could pos­si­bly have made a film longer than ten min­utes out of a sin­gle, unbro­ken shot.

So how did Rope, one of Hitch­cock­’s less­er-cel­e­brat­ed but still thor­ough­ly fas­ci­nat­ing projects, con­vinc­ing­ly fake its own form? Edi­tor Vashi Nedo­man­sky shows us in the three-minute video above. “On fur­ther exam­i­na­tion,” Nedo­man­sky writes on his blog, “Hitchcock’s gem actu­al­ly con­tains ten edits. Five of them are hid­den as the cam­era lens is filled by fore­ground objects. The oth­er five edits are reg­u­lar hard cuts that not many peo­ple either real­ize or acknowl­edge.”

Nofilm­school offers a post that goes into greater depth on Rope and edit­ing: “Even though there is edit­ing, it’s often described as a film that plays out in real time. Why? Prob­a­bly because it’s such an immer­sive piece of film­mak­ing; the hid­den edits and use of hand­held cam­eras fol­low and track its char­ac­ters, allow­ing audi­ences to expe­ri­ence and react to each sit­u­a­tion at the same moment the actors do — right in the thick of the action.” You can find a more the­o­ret­i­cal take from Peter J. Del­lo­lio at Flick­head, who describes Rope as a pic­ture explor­ing “some of the fun­da­men­tal char­ac­ter­is­tics of the cin­e­mat­ic abstrac­tion of time and space by using the mobile cam­era as an agent that gives plas­tic real­i­ty to sub­jec­tive mate­r­i­al” whose “syn­the­sis of real time and filmic space forces the view­er to absorb nar­ra­tive infor­ma­tion on mul­ti­ple, often dis­taste­ful­ly iron­ic lev­els.” For a dif­fer­ent fram­ing, pre­sen­ta­tion, and analy­sis of Rope’s cuts, see also the short video essay “Skip­ping Rope.” Hitch­cock may not have had the abil­i­ty to real­ly make the movie in one shot, but he cer­tain­ly had the abil­i­ty to keep us all tak­ing about it these 65 years.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

21 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online

Hitchcock’s Sev­en-Minute Edit­ing Mas­ter Class

Who Cre­at­ed the Famous Show­er Scene in Psy­cho? Alfred Hitch­cock or the Leg­endary Design­er Saul Bass?

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How Benoit Mandelbrot Discovered Fractals: A Short Film by Errol Morris

Even if you know lit­tle of math­e­mat­ics, you prob­a­bly have some aware­ness of frac­tals. You’ve almost cer­tain­ly heard them invoked, cor­rect­ly or oth­er­wise, to describe things that look or act the same at the large scale as they do at the small. You may even know the name Benoit Man­del­brot, the much-lau­reled Pol­ish-French-Amer­i­can “father of frac­tal geom­e­try.” Hard sci­ence-fic­tion titan Arthur C. Clarke called his epony­mous set of math­e­mat­i­cal points “one of the most aston­ish­ing dis­cov­er­ies in the entire his­to­ry of math­e­mat­ics.”

Nas­sim Nicholas Taleb, the famous­ly dis­crim­i­nat­ing author of The Black Swancalled him “the only per­son for whom I have had intel­lec­tu­al respect.” Even for­mer French pres­i­dent Nico­las Sarkozy gave Man­del­brot his props, cred­it­ing his dis­cov­er­ies of the geo­met­ri­cal reg­u­lar­i­ties of “rough” things, from coast­lines to stock-mar­ket fluc­tu­a­tions, as antecedent to mod­ern infor­ma­tion the­o­ry. He also acknowl­edged Man­del­brot’s hav­ing car­ried on his work “entire­ly out­side main­stream research,” and the math­e­mati­cian’s rep­u­ta­tion as an unusu­al­ly insight­ful intel­lec­tu­al mav­er­ick sur­vives him.

Who bet­ter to reveal the mind of an intel­lec­tu­al mav­er­ick, insight­ful or oth­er­wise, than Errol Mor­ris, the doc­u­men­tar­i­an behind such head-on inter­view-dri­ven fea­ture films as A Brief His­to­ry of Time, about astro­physi­cist Stephen Hawk­ing; Mr. Death, about elec­tric-chair design­er and Holo­caust-denial mav­er­ick Fred A. Leuchter Jr.; and The Fog of War, about for­mer Defense Sec­re­tary and Viet­nam War engi­neer Robert S. McNa­ma­ra? His five-minute pro­file of Man­del­brot comes cour­tesy of IBM, where the father of frac­tals worked for 35 years — and whose then-cut­ting-edge com­put­ers he used to father those frac­tals in the first place. “A for­mu­la can be very sim­ple,” he says, sum­ming up one impact of the Man­del­brot set in this inter­view shot 19 days before his death in 2010, “and cre­ate a uni­verse of bot­tom­less com­plex­i­ty.” To find out more about just how that hap­pens, vis­it to IBM’s page on Man­del­brot and frac­tal geom­e­try as well as their ongo­ing frac­tal-themed Tum­blr.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Arthur C. Clarke Nar­rates Film on Mandelbrot’s Frac­tals; David Gilmour Pro­vides the Sound­track

Watch A Brief His­to­ry of Time, Errol Mor­ris’ Film About the Life & Work of Stephen Hawk­ing

“They Were There” — Errol Mor­ris Final­ly Directs a Film for IBM

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Everything That’s Wrong With Back To The Future in 8 Minutes

There’s noth­ing real­ly wrong with Back to the Future. Crit­ics loved Robert Zemeck­is’ sci-fi com­e­dy when it first came out in 1985. (Roger Ebert likened it to a great Frank Capra film.) And it still delights old and new view­ers almost 30 years lat­er. But, like every film, Back to the Future has its minor flaws. The web site/YouTube chan­nel Cin­e­ma Sins is “ded­i­cat­ed to point­ing out all the sins [they] can find in movies, some big and some small. Some … down­right micro­scop­ic.” And that’s what you get here. A break­down of every lit­tle prob­lem and incon­sis­ten­cy in Zemeck­is’ film. For­tu­nate­ly, the folks behind Cin­e­ma Sins don’t take them­selves too seri­ous­ly. Nor do they con­sid­er them­selves beyond reproach. Heck, this sum­mer they pro­duced Every­thing Wrong With Cin­e­ma Sins In 3 Min­utes Or Less. You can watch it here.

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!

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David Bowie Appears in the “Director’s Cut” of a New Louis Vuitton Ad, Nods to Labyrinth

Look­ing like a haute cou­ture treat­ment of “As the World Falls Down” from Labyrinth, by way of Peter Jackson’s Beau­ti­ful Crea­tures, the “Director’s Cut” of this Louis Vuit­ton ad above, titled “L’Invitation au Voy­age,” is pret­ty stun­ning. Bowie lip syncs “I’d Rather be High,” a stand out from his lat­est, The Next Day, and looks near­ly as mag­net­ic as his Gob­lin King did almost thir­ty years ago. He’s def­i­nite­ly still got it on screen, mak­ing me pine for anoth­er Bowie-led fea­ture-length fan­ta­sy (but not a Labyrinth remake).

The mak­ing-of reel above might also be of inter­est, although at under two min­utes, the tech­no mon­tage doesn’t offer much insight into the elab­o­rate design of the short. Of more inter­est for fans of fash­ion, design, and film may be this blog post (in Chi­nese), which fea­tures some gor­geous pro­duc­tion stills and sto­ry­boards, like the one below. The short’s direc­tor, Romain Gavras, pre­vi­ous­ly made the video for Kanye West and Jay Z’s “No Church in the Wild,” so he’s def­i­nite­ly got an eye for spec­ta­cle.

VuittonStoryB

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch David Bowie’s New Video for ‘The Stars (Are Out Tonight)’ With Til­da Swin­ton

David Bowie’s Fash­ion­able Mug Shot From His 1976 Mar­i­jua­na Bust

Lis­ten to Fred­die Mer­cury and David Bowie on the Iso­lat­ed Vocal Track for the Queen Hit ‘Under Pres­sure,’ 1981

David Bowie Releas­es Vin­tage Videos of His Great­est Hits from the 1970s and 1980s

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

Watch Wes Anderson’s Charming New Short Film, Castello Cavalcanti, Starring Jason Schwartzman

Wes Ander­son, it seems, has entered his Euro­pean peri­od. His next fea­ture film, The Grand Budapest Hotel, which comes out in March, takes place in its tit­u­lar loca­tion. His new short film Castel­lo Cav­al­can­ti, too, takes place in its tit­u­lar loca­tion, a ham­let tucked away some­where undis­closed in Italy. Then again, has­n’t Ander­son, aes­thet­i­cal­ly and ref­er­en­tial­ly speak­ing, always enjoyed some­thing of a Euro­pean peri­od? (Maybe we can call it Euro­pean by way of his native Texas, which, for me, only adds to the visu­al inter­est.) This, com­bined with his appar­ent fas­ci­na­tion with the objects and built envi­ron­ment of the ear­ly- to late-mid­dle twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, has won him a great many fans sym­pa­thet­ic to his sen­si­bil­i­ties. (Along with, of course, a hand­ful of detrac­tors less sym­pa­thet­ic to them.) This brief but vibrant new piece should, for them, res­onate on sev­er­al lev­els at once.

Ander­son trans­ports us to Castel­lo Cav­al­can­ti in the suit­ably mid­cen­tu­ry year of 1955. The qui­et evening scene, exud­ing that rich­ly Ital­ian feel­ing falling some­where between idyll and indo­lence, splin­ters apart when a race car crash­es into the cen­ter of town. Out of the wreck emerges the unscathed but enraged dri­ver: Jed Cav­al­can­ti, played by none oth­er than Jason Schwartz­man, star of Ander­son­’s 1998 break­out Rush­more. Once his anger at his broth­er-in-law mechan­ic cools — evi­dent­ly, the steer­ing wheel got screwed on back­ward — the Ital­ian-Amer­i­can Cav­al­can­ti real­izes he may have dri­ven not only straight into his own ances­tral vil­lage, but into the com­pa­ny of his ances­tors them­selves. These charm­ing and vivid­ly col­or­ful sev­en Ander­son­ian min­utes come brought to you by Pra­da, who, apart from our hero’s rac­ing suit, don’t seem to have left many overt stamps on the fin­ished prod­uct. Prada’s prices may still keep me away from their door, but their taste in direc­tors sure won’t.

Castel­lo Cav­al­can­ti will be added to our col­lec­tion of 600 Free Movies Online.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch 7 New Video Essays on Wes Anderson’s Films: Rush­more, The Roy­al Tenen­baums & More

Wes Ander­son from Above. Quentin Taran­ti­no From Below

Wes Anderson’s First Short Film: The Black-and-White, Jazz-Scored Bot­tle Rock­et (1992)

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Everything You Wanted to Know About the L.A. Aqueduct That Made Roman Polanski’s Chinatown Famous: A New UCLA Archive

chinatown-nicholson

Next year marks the 40th anniver­sary of a mod­ern clas­sic, Roman Polanski’s Chi­na­town. And sure­ly no oth­er film has even come close to mak­ing the con­struc­tion of an aque­duct so thrilling.

For sure, the siz­able serv­ings of incest, cor­rup­tion, and greed help car­ry Robert Towne’s bril­liant screen­play. But under Towne’s script are the bones of anoth­er sto­ry, the sto­ry of an engi­neer­ing feat that eclipsed the Pana­ma Canal. Yes we’re talk­ing about the build­ing of the great Los Ange­les aque­duct start­ing in 1908.

In the pref­ace to the script Towne wrote this, “the great crimes in Cal­i­for­nia have been com­mit­ted against the land—and against the peo­ple who own it and future gen­er­a­tions. It was only nat­ur­al that the script should evolve into the sto­ry of a man who raped the land and his own daugh­ter.”

Towne didn’t wor­ry about stick­ing to the facts (he set the action of Chi­na­town in the 1930s—an inher­ent­ly more glam­orous peri­od, espe­cial­ly in Los Ange­les). Some even argue that the film cre­ates an entire­ly dif­fer­ent (and wrong) his­to­ry of the project that is remem­bered as fact.

UCLA has cre­at­ed the Los Ange­les Aque­duct Dig­i­tal Plat­form, a col­lec­tion of arti­cles, maps, images and gen­er­al his­to­ry of the project and time that sets the record straight. Among its great­est resources are those about the film that made South­ern Cal­i­for­ni­a’s water issues famous. In fact, there is an abun­dance of infor­ma­tion about the film itself, even if it wasn’t his­tor­i­cal­ly accu­rate.

There are links to, among oth­er resources, a con­ver­sa­tion with Robert Towne where he dis­cuss­es his inspi­ra­tion for the screen­play.

Kate Rix writes about dig­i­tal media and edu­ca­tion. Fol­low her on Twit­ter.

Watch Jimi Hendrix: Hear My Train A Comin’, the New PBS Documentary (Free for a Limited Time)

Def­i­nite­ly worth a quick men­tion. For a lim­it­ed time, PBS is mak­ing avail­able its lat­est film from its great Amer­i­can Mas­ters doc­u­men­tary series. My Train A Comin’ traces Jimi Hen­drix’s “remark­able jour­ney from his hard­scrab­ble begin­nings in Seat­tle, through his stint as a US Army para­troop­er and as an unknown side­man, to R&B stars until his dis­cov­ery and ulti­mate inter­na­tion­al star­dom.” It fea­tures “pre­vi­ous­ly unseen footage of the 1968 Mia­mi Pop Fes­ti­val, home movies, and inter­views with those clos­est to Jimi Hen­drix.” From what we can tell, PBS will keep this film online for only a mat­ter of days. So watch it while you can.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In 1969 Telegram, Jimi Hen­drix Invites Paul McCart­ney to Join a Super Group with Miles Davis

Jimi Hen­drix Wreaks Hav­oc on the Lulu Show, Gets Banned From BBC

‘Elec­tric Church’: The Jimi Hen­drix Expe­ri­ence Live in Stock­holm, 1969

See Jimi Hendrix’s First TV Appear­ance, and His Last as a Back­ing Musi­cian (1965)

575 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, Doc­u­men­taries & West­erns, etc.

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