Quentin Tarantino’s 10 Favorite Films of 2013

Quentin_Tarantino_Django_3

The Quentin Taran­ti­no Archives, which bills itself, per­haps not hyper­bol­i­cal­ly, as the “web’s biggest and most pop­u­lar web­site about Quentin Taran­ti­no and his movies,” has post­ed an exclu­sive — a list of the film­mak­er’s favorite movies of 2013, through the month of Sep­tem­ber.

1. After­noon Delight (Jill Soloway)
2. Before Mid­night (Richard Lin­klater)
3. Blue Jas­mine (Woody Allen)
4. The Con­jur­ing (James Wan)
5. Drink­ing Bud­dies (Joe Swan­berg)
6. Frances Ha (Noah Baum­bach)
7. Grav­i­ty (Alfon­so Cuarón)
8. Kick Ass 2 (Jeff Wad­low)
9. The Lone Ranger (Gore Verbin­s­ki)
10. This Is The End (Seth Rogen, Evan Gold­berg)

There you have the films that touched Taran­ti­no over the past nine months. But are you won­der­ing about the longer term? The past 25 years? The entire his­to­ry of cin­e­ma? If so, see:

Quentin Taran­ti­no Lists His Favorite Films Since 1992

Quentin Taran­ti­no Lists the 12 Great­est Films of All Time: From Taxi Dri­ver to The Bad News Bears

via Fla­vor­wire

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch My Best Friend’s Birth­day, Quentin Tarantino’s 1987 Debut Film

Film­mak­ing Advice from Quentin Taran­ti­no and Sam Rai­mi (NSFW)

Quentin Tarantino’s 75 Minute Inter­view with Howard Stern

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Stanley Kubrick to Ingmar Bergman: “You Are the Greatest Filmmaker at Work Today” (1960)


If you saw our post on Stan­ley Kubrick­’s ten favorite films in 1963, you may remem­ber that Ing­mar Bergman ranked high on his list, specif­i­cal­ly with 1957’s Wild Straw­ber­ries. Three years ear­li­er, Kubrick had mailed the Swedish film­mak­er a fan let­ter prais­ing his “vision of life,” “cre­ation of mood and atmos­phere,” “avoid­ance of the obvi­ous,” and “truth­ful­ness and com­plete­ness of char­ac­ter­i­za­tion.” Could a screen­ing of Wild Straw­ber­ries, a film which stands as evi­dence of all those qual­i­ties, have moved the 31-year-old Kubrick to write to Bergman such words of appre­ci­a­tion about his “unearth­ly and bril­liant” work? The dream sequence above, made haunt­ing in a way only Bergman could do it, show­cas­es just one of the many facets of that pic­ture’s mood, atmos­phere, and unearth­li­ness.

Along­side Vic­tor Sjöström as the bad-dream­ing pro­fes­sor Isak Borg, Wild Straw­ber­ries stars Ingrid Thulin as his con­temp­tu­ous daugh­ter-in-law Mar­i­anne. Kubrick sin­gles Thulin out as one of the Bergman reg­u­lars who “live vivid­ly in my mem­o­ry,” though she may also have attained her place in that cre­ative­ly hyper­ac­tive mind on the strength of her gen­der bound­ary-cross­ing per­for­mance in 1958’s The Magi­cian, view­able just above. Read all that Kubrick wrote to Bergman below, or vis­it the orig­i­nal post fea­tur­ing it at Let­ters of Note. You’ll notice that Kubrick also name-checks Max von Sydow, as any seri­ous Bergman enthu­si­ast should: not only did the man appear in both Wild Straw­ber­ries and The Magi­cian, but by 1960 he’d also starred as a venge­ful father in Bergman’s The Vir­gin Spring and, of course, as the Cru­sades-weary knight Anto­nius Block in The Sev­enth Seal, which would become a sig­na­ture film for both actor and direc­tor. Whether those par­tic­u­lar per­for­mances cap­tured Kubrick­’s imag­i­na­tion I don’t know, but I feel sure of one thing: play chess with Death, and you right­ful­ly earn the admi­ra­tion of the next big auteur.

Feb­ru­ary 9, 1960

Dear Mr. Bergman,

You have most cer­tain­ly received enough acclaim and suc­cess through­out the world to make this note quite unnec­es­sary. But for what­ev­er it’s worth, I should like to add my praise and grat­i­tude as a fel­low direc­tor for the unearth­ly and bril­liant con­tri­bu­tion you have made to the world by your films (I have nev­er been in Swe­den and have there­fore nev­er had the plea­sure of see­ing your the­ater work). Your vision of life has moved me deeply, much more deeply than I have ever been moved by any films. I believe you are the great­est film-mak­er at work today. Beyond that, allow me to say you are unsur­passed by any­one in the cre­ation of mood and atmos­phere, the sub­tle­ty of per­for­mance, the avoid­ance of the obvi­ous, the truth­full­ness and com­plete­ness of char­ac­ter­i­za­tion. To this one must also add every­thing else that goes into the mak­ing of a film. I believe you are blessed with won­der­full actors. Max von Sydow and Ingrid Thulin live vivid­ly in my mem­o­ry, and there are many oth­ers in your act­ing com­pa­ny whose names escape me. I wish you and all of them the very best of luck, and I shall look for­ward with eager­ness to each of your films.

Best Regards,

(Signed, ‘Stan­ley Kubrick’)

Stan­ley Kubrick

via Let­ters of Note

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stan­ley Kubrick’s List of Top 10 Films (The First and Only List He Ever Cre­at­ed)

Rare 1960s Audio: Stan­ley Kubrick’s Big Inter­view with The New York­er

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Very First Films: Three Short Doc­u­men­taries

Ing­mar Bergman’s Soap Com­mer­cials Wash Away the Exis­ten­tial Despair

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.

Slavoj Žižek’s Pervert’s Guide to Ideology Decodes The Dark Knight and They Live

Do we have a more ener­getic com­men­ta­tor on pop­u­lar cul­ture than Slavoj Žižek, the Sloven­ian phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sor who has risen to the role the Chron­i­cle of High­er Edu­ca­tion calls “the Elvis of cul­tur­al the­o­ry”? In the 2006 essay film The Per­vert’s Guide to Cin­e­ma, Žižek offered psy­cho­an­a­lyt­ic read­ings of such pic­tures as The Red ShoesAlien, and The Matrix. (See him take on Ver­ti­go in a clip fea­tured here before.) Now he returns with a sequel, The Per­vert’s Guide to Ide­ol­o­gy. At the top, you can see him expound upon the role of ide­ol­o­gy in They Live, John Car­pen­ter’s 1988 sci­ence-fic­tion semi-com­e­dy in which wrestler “Row­dy” Rod­dy Piper hap­pens upon a pair of sun­glass­es that, when worn, reveal a host of sin­is­ter alien com­mand­ments behind adver­tis­ing and the media. “These glass­es func­tion like cri­tique-of-ide­ol­o­gy glass­es,” Žižek asserts.“We live, so we are told, in a post-ide­o­log­i­cal soci­ety. We are addressed by social author­i­ty not as sub­jects who should do their duty, but sub­jects of plea­sures: ‘Real­ize your true poten­tial,’ ‘Be your­self,’ ‘Lead a sat­is­fy­ing life.’ When you put the glass­es on, you see dic­ta­tor­ship in democ­ra­cy.”


Just above, Žižek looks into the ide­ol­o­gy of The Dark Knight, Christo­pher Nolan’s sec­ond Bat­man movie. “Who is Jok­er?” he asks. “Which is the lie he is oppos­ing? The tru­ly dis­turb­ing thing about The Dark Knight is that it ele­vates a lie into a gen­er­al social prin­ci­ple: the prin­ci­ple of orga­ni­za­tion of our social, polit­i­cal life, as if our soci­eties can remain sta­ble, can func­tion, only if based on a lie, as if the truth — and this telling the truth is embod­ied in Jok­er — means destruc­tion.” Last year at the Toron­to Inter­na­tion­al Film fes­ti­val, Žižek par­tic­i­pat­ed in an on-stage con­ver­sa­tion about the project (intro­duc­tion, part one, two), “explain­ing” in his inim­itably round­about fash­ion some of the think­ing behind these cin­e­mat­ic cul­tur­al analy­ses. The Per­vert’s Guide to Ide­ol­o­gy also uses oth­er big-name movies like Taxi Dri­ver, Titan­icWest Side Sto­ry (and Jaws, some of which you can see him com­ment briefly upon in the trail­er) as jump­ing off points for extend­ed mono­logues on the unseen forces that he finds shape our beliefs and behav­ior. Unseen, of course, unless you’ve got those super­pow­ered sun­glass­es — or unless, even more uncon­ven­tion­al­ly, you’ve got a mind like Slavoj Žižek’s.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Žižek!: 2005 Doc­u­men­tary Reveals the “Aca­d­e­m­ic Rock Star” and “Mon­ster” of a Man

Good Cap­i­tal­ist Kar­ma: Zizek Ani­mat­ed

Slavoj Žižek: How the Marx Broth­ers Embody Freud’s Id, Ego & Super-Ego

A Shirt­less Slavoj Žižek Explains the Pur­pose of Phi­los­o­phy from the Com­fort of His Bed

After a Tour of Slavoj Žižek’s Pad, You’ll Nev­er See Inte­ri­or Design in the Same Way

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 PrimerFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Watch Dating Dos and Don’ts: An Old-School Instructional Guide to Teenage Romance (1949)

From the mid-1940s to the mid-1970s, Coro­net Instruc­tion­al Media, that for­mi­da­ble fac­to­ry of class­room edu­ca­tion­al films, taught Amer­i­ca’s school­child­ren how to study, how to land a job, how to per­form their soci­etal and fil­ial duties, how to bathe. Cer­tain gen­er­a­tions no doubt retain vivid mem­o­ries, fond or oth­er­wise, of such 16-mil­lime­ter stand­bys as Good Eat­ing HabitsJoan Avoids a ColdAre You Pop­u­lar? and Com­mu­nism. In 1949, Coro­net came up with a short sub­ject rather clos­er to the eter­nal inter­ests of the teenag­er: Dat­ing: Do’s and Don’ts. This twelve-minute film, direct­ed Gilbert Altschul with the assis­tance of Reuben Hill, Research Pro­fes­sor of Fam­i­ly Life at the Uni­ver­si­ty of North Car­oli­na, nav­i­gates the gar­den of fork­ing paths formed by all the choic­es, from ide­al­ly gen­tle­man-like to poten­tial­ly dis­as­trous, that con­front young Woody on his very first date.

Who, for instance, should Woody ask to join him at Cen­tral High­’s Hi-Teen Car­ni­val? “Whose com­pa­ny would you enjoy?” asks the voice-of-mid­cen­tu­ry-author­i­ty nar­ra­tor.” “Well, one thing you can con­sid­er is looks. Woody thought of Jan­ice, and how good-look­ing she was. He real­ly had to rate to date some­body like her.” Still: “It’s too bad Jan­ice always acts so supe­ri­or and bored. She’d make a fel­low feel awk­ward and infe­ri­or.” Per­haps the more ground­ed Bet­ty? “And yet, it just does­n’t seem as if she’d be much fun. What about Anne? She knows how to have a good time.” Even 64 years on, I dare­say fel­lows would still do well to cleave to the Annes of the world. But giv­en how far the pen­du­lum of sex­u­al pol­i­tics has swung since Coro­net’s hey­day, oth­er pieces of of Dat­ing: Do’s and Don’ts advice seems more quaint than cur­rent. For a more mod­ern per­spec­tive, see also How to Be a “Mr. Good-Date,” a Looney Tunes par­o­dy star­ring Bugs Bun­ny as the hope­ful suit­or Reg­gie Geran­de­vu and Elmer Fudd as the pro­tec­tive home­own­er of whom he runs afoul.

When you’re done watch­ing Dat­ing: Do’s and Don’ts, don’t miss Coro­net’s 1951 sequel of sorts “Going Steady.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sto­ry Of Men­stru­a­tion: Walt Disney’s Sex Ed Film from 1946

Duck and Cov­er, or: How I Learned to Elude the Bomb

How to Spot a Com­mu­nist Using Lit­er­ary Crit­i­cism: A 1955 Man­u­al from the U.S. Mil­i­tary

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 PrimerFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Watch The Surreal 1960s Films and Commercials of Jim Henson

Today marks the 77th anniver­sary of Jim Hen­son’s birth. To cel­e­brate the pup­peteer, film­mak­er, and Mup­pet inven­tor’s life and career, we offer here three of his ear­ly short works. Most of us know only cer­tain high-pro­file pieces of Hen­son’s oeu­vre: The Mup­pet Show, the Mup­pet movies, Sesame Street, or per­haps such pic­tures now much attend­ed on the camp revival cir­cuit as Labyrinth and The Dark Crys­tal. But even by the Mup­pet Show’s 1974 debut, Hen­son (1936–1990) had already put in decades devel­op­ing his dis­tinc­tive aes­thet­ic of pup­pets and pup­petry. We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured the unchar­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly vio­lent com­mer­cials he pro­duced for Wilkins Cof­fee between 1957 and 1961 and Lim­bo, the Orga­nized Mind, his sev­en­ties trip of a John­ny Car­son seg­ment. But unless you count your­self as a seri­ous Hen­son, fan, you prob­a­bly haven’t yet seen the likes of Mem­o­ries, The Paper­work Explo­sion, and Rip­ples. Cre­at­ing each of these shorts, the young Hen­son col­lab­o­rat­ed with pianist, jazz com­pos­er, and sound engi­neer Ray­mond Scott, now remem­bered as a pio­neer in mod­ern elec­tron­ic music.

The par­tic­u­lar sound of Scott, no stranger to scor­ing car­toons (we’ve by now heard it in every­thing from Looney Tunes to Ren and Stimpy to The Simp­sons), also suit­ed the sorts of visions Hen­son real­ized for his var­i­ous projects of the six­ties. Mem­o­ries, which plunges into a man’s mind as he remem­bers (with nar­ra­tion by Hen­son him­self) one par­tic­u­lar­ly pleas­ant after­noon near­ly ruined by a headache, appeared in 1967 as a con­tin­u­a­tion of Hen­son’s com­mer­cial career; the pain reliev­er Bufferin, you see, lit­er­al­ly saved the day. That same year, the com­mer­cial (and in form, almost mini-doc­u­men­tary) The Paper­work Explo­sion illus­trates the time- space‑, and labor-sav­ing advan­tages of IBM’s then-new word-pro­cess­ing sys­tem, the MT/STRip­ples Hen­son and Scott put togeth­er for Mon­tre­al’s Expo 1967. It takes place, like Mem­o­ries and Lim­bo, inside human con­scious­ness: an archi­tect (Sesame Street writer-pro­duc­er Jon Stone) drops a sug­ar cube in his cof­fee, and its rip­ples trig­ger a mem­o­ry of throw­ing peb­bles into a pond, which itself sends rip­ples through a host of his oth­er poten­tial thoughts. You’ve got to watch to under­stand how Hen­son and Scott pulled this off; con­ve­nient­ly, they only take one minute to do it.

For more ear­ly works by Hen­son, see this Metafil­ter post.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jim Henson’s Ani­mat­ed Film, Lim­bo, the Orga­nized Mind, Pre­sent­ed by John­ny Car­son (1974)

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

Jim Hen­son Pilots The Mup­pet Show with Adult Episode, “Sex and Vio­lence” (1975)

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

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 PrimerFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The 55 Strangest, Greatest Films Never Made (Chosen by John Green)

The Lord of the Rings star­ring the Bea­t­les?

The Lit­tle Prince, adapt­ed by Orson Welles?

Bat­man vs. Dwight D. Eisen­how­er? 

These are movies I’d pay to see! The first two made Men­tal Floss’ list of 55 Unfor­tu­nate­ly Unfin­ished Films, a roll call of movies that got hung up in pro­duc­tion or pre-pro­duc­tion, nev­er mak­ing it to the screen. As far as Bat­man bat­tling the 34th pres­i­dent goes, that one’s mere wish­ful think­ing, deliv­ered as a typ­i­cal­ly off-the-cuff remark from list pre­sen­ter, author John Green.

Mov­ing at a speed that will be famil­iar to fans of his Crash Course series, Green races through a tempt­ing menu of triv­ia and mis­for­tune, obses­sion and obscu­ri­ty.

Super­heroes fig­ure promi­nent­ly, as do musi­cians. The Clash in Gangs of New YorkThe Sex Pis­tols in Who Killed Bam­bi? (The screen­play of which is avail­able online, cour­tesy of its author, Roger Ebert.)

Death turns out to be anoth­er big plug-puller here. The untime­ly if not entire­ly sur­pris­ing ear­ly exits of John Belushi, John Can­dy, and Chris Far­ley led to the “curse” of A Con­fed­er­a­cy of Dunces.

As for Don Quixote, both Ter­ry Gilliam and the afore­men­tioned Mr. Welles have tilt­ed at that wind­mill only to find out their dream was impos­si­ble, if not unfilmable.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Orson Welles Explains Why Igno­rance Was the Genius Behind Cit­i­zen Kane

Mar­tin Scors­ese Brings “Lost” Hitch­cock Film to Screen in Short Faux Doc­u­men­tary

Jean-Paul Sartre Writes a Script for John Huston’s Film on Freud (1958)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day would love to see John Green under­take a Crash Course Cin­e­ma series. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

David Lynch Lists His Favorite Films & Directors, Including Fellini, Wilder, Tati & Hitchcock

At least a few of you — more than a few, I’d wager — think of David Lynch as your favorite film­mak­er. Back when we post­ed about the great­est films of all time as named by Stan­ley KubrickMar­tin Scors­eseWoody Allen, and Quentin Taran­ti­no, you prob­a­bly won­dered what selec­tions the Eraser­head auteur would make. You can get an idea from the inter­view clip above, in which Lynch con­sid­ers the ques­tions “Whose work do you admire?” and “What movies have you watched over and over and could still watch a hun­dred times more?” Well-asked, since the movies we actu­al­ly watch most often reveal more about us than the movies we hap­pen to call “favorites.” “I love Stan­ley Kubrick,” he replies. “I can watch his movies over and over. I love Bil­ly Wilder, Sun­set Boule­vard in par­tic­u­lar, and I’ve watched it over and over. I loved the world Bil­ly Wilder cre­at­ed.”

“I love Felli­ni,” Lynch con­tin­ues. “Watched ’em over and over. If you want to see some great come­dies, check out Jacques Tati’s Mr. Hulot’s Hol­i­day. I like W.C. Fields. I like the movie It’s a Gift. I like Hitch­cock, par­tic­u­lar­ly Rear Win­dow.” And after a moment of reflec­tion: “I like a lot of dif­fer­ent film­mak­ers, but those are… some of them.” MUBI.com also offers a post on Lynch’s favorite films, drawn from Lynch on Lynch, Chris Rod­ley’s book-length inter­view with the direc­tor, and Catch­ing the Big Fish, Lynch’s own vol­ume on med­i­tat­ing your way to inter­est­ing ideas.

Here he pro­vides more details on his fel­low film­mak­ers of choice:

  • In , “Felli­ni man­ages to accom­plish with film what most­ly abstract painters do – name­ly, to com­mu­ni­cate an emo­tion with­out ever say­ing or show­ing any­thing in a direct man­ner, with­out ever explain­ing any­thing, just by a sort of sheer mag­ic.”
  • In Sun­set Boule­vard, Wilder “man­ages to accom­plish pret­ty much the same abstract atmos­phere, less by mag­ic than through all sorts of styl­is­tic and tech­ni­cal tricks. The Hol­ly­wood he describes in the film prob­a­bly nev­er exist­ed, but he makes us believe it did, and he immers­es us in it, like a dream.”
  • Mon­sieur Hulot’s Hol­i­day wins his favor “for the amaz­ing point of view that Jacques Tati casts at soci­ety through it. When you watch his films, you real­ize how much he knows about – and loved – human nature, and it can only be an inspi­ra­tion to do the same.”
  • Rear Win­dow does the same “for the bril­liant way in which Alfred Hitch­cock man­ages to cre­ate – or rather, re-cre­ate – a whole world with­in con­fined para­me­ters. James Stew­art nev­er leaves his wheel­chair dur­ing the film, and yet, through his point of view, we fol­low a very com­plex mur­der scheme. Hitch­cock man­ages to take some­thing huge and con­dense it into some­thing real­ly small. And he achieves that through a com­plete con­trol of film mak­ing tech­nique.”

Com­mu­ni­cat­ing with­out direct­ly say­ing, show­ing, or explain­ing? Craft­ing abstract atmos­phere? Evok­ing a dream­like ver­sion of Hol­ly­wood? Cast­ing an eye on soci­ety that sees things dif­fer­ent­ly? Cre­at­ing worlds in tight con­fines? Seems to me, as some­one who’s expe­ri­enced more than his share of screen­ings of such films as Eraser­headBlue Vel­vetLost High­way, and Mul­hol­land Dri­ve, that you could ascribe new ver­sions of not one but all of these cin­e­mat­ic ten­den­cies to Lynch him­self. We call imi­ta­tion the sin­cer­est form of flat­tery, but sure­ly it counts as a whole oth­er order of com­pli­ment to take the accom­plish­ments of the cre­ators who inspire you and some­how make them com­plete­ly your own. It takes, as the man says, a sort of sheer mag­ic.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The 10 Great­est Films of All Time Accord­ing to 846 Film Crit­ics

David Lynch Talks About His 99 Favorite Pho­tographs at Paris Pho­to 2012

David Lynch Explains How Med­i­ta­tion Enhances Our Cre­ativ­i­ty

David Lynch’s Sur­re­al Com­mer­cials

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 PrimerFol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Irrepressible Bette Davis Recalls Her Good and Bad Days Kissing in the Movies

In 1971, a year before Last Tan­go in Paris was released in the US,  Bette Davis went on The Dick Cavett Show to dish on a career’s worth of onscreen kiss­es. Four decades on, when access to Net­flix is all that’s required to enjoy a visu­al inti­ma­cy bor­der­ing on the gyne­co­log­i­cal with Halle Berry or Maria Bel­lo, Davis still cap­ti­vates. Watch the above excerpt and don’t feel ashamed if you spend the rest of the day try­ing to guess the iden­ti­ty of the actor who—in Cavet­t’s words—“was so repul­sive that you just could­n’t stand to do it.”

Glenn Ford? Paul Hein­reid? Pop­u­lar opin­ion points to Edward G. Robin­son.

Who­ev­er he was, she cashed her pay­check and took one for the team, just as she did in 1930, when under con­tract to Uni­ver­sal, the self-described “Yan­kee-ist, mod­est vir­gin that ever walked the earth” was pressed into ser­vice as a “test girl.” This involved lying on a couch as a suc­ces­sion of 15 audi­tion­ing actors demon­strat­ed their pas­sion­ate kiss­ing abil­i­ties.

That ses­sion was filmed, but evi­dence has yet to sur­face on the Inter­net. Fans will just have to con­tent them­selves with sneak­ing onto a three-acre pri­vate arbore­tum in Mass­a­chu­setts for a glimpse of an Anna Col­man Ladd foun­tain fea­tur­ing four frol­ic­some nudes. Word has it a cer­tain mod­est vir­gin Yan­kee served as the mod­el for one of these fig­ures while still in her teens. Or so a leg­endary actress revealed to Play­boy at the age of 74.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Woody Allen on The Dick Cavett Show Cir­ca 1970

Dick Cavett’s Wide-Rang­ing TV Inter­view with Ing­mar Bergman and Lead Actress Bibi Ander­s­son (1971)

George Har­ri­son in the Spot­light: The Dick Cavett Show (1971)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day recalls Lau­ren Bacall shilling for a lip aug­men­ta­tion pro­ce­dure in No Touch Mon­key! And Oth­er Trav­el Lessons Learned Too Late. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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