Among mil­lions and mil­lions impris­oned in the Holo­caust, one man in par­tic­u­lar stands out — and stood out even to his Nazi cap­tors. “At the Mau­thausen garage yard, a black point stood about amidst the dust-col­ored mul­ti­tude,” writes nov­el­ist Joaquim Amat-Piniel­la. “It’s a black boy from Barcelona, born in Span­ish Africa. The offi­cer who had spot­ted him from the bal­cony ordered that he be brought up to him. His robust and mus­cu­lar body sur­prised the Nazis,” as did his cul­ti­va­tion: that he respond­ed to their ques­tions in Ger­man may well have kept him from being sent imme­di­ate­ly to the gas cham­ber. His name was Car­los José Grey Molay, also known as Car­los Greykey, and his remark­able life sto­ry is the sub­ject of 5124.GREYKEY, Enric Ribes’ short doc­u­men­tary film above.

Nar­rat­ed by Greykey’s daugh­ter Muriel Grey Molay, “5124.GREYKEY uses retro tech­niques, recre­at­ed home movies and personal/archival pho­tog­ra­phy to visu­alise a daughter’s mem­o­ries of an enig­mat­ic father.” So writes Rob Mun­day at Short of the Week, going on to describe the film as “con­sist­ing of painstak­ing­ly recre­at­ed home movies (reshot on Super 8 and 16mm — as Muriel couldn’t retrieve them), pho­tos (both from Muriel’s archive and his­toric archives) and stop-motion (cre­at­ed by S/W alums I+G Stop Motion).”

Through these mate­ri­als, “much like how the daugh­ter builds a sol­id under­stand­ing of her Dad’s past, bit-by-bit, a pic­ture of Jose only starts to form after we are giv­en the pieces of the puz­zle to put togeth­er our­selves.”

The Barcelona-born son of par­ents from mod­ern-day Equa­to­r­i­al Guinea, Greykey was study­ing med­i­cine at uni­ver­si­ty when the Span­ish Civ­il War broke out. Con­script­ed, he fought against the rebels, and lat­er moved on to France, where he fought against the Ger­mans. It was the Nazi vic­to­ry there that put him in the Mau­thausen con­cen­tra­tion camp along with Amat-Piniel­la. Like every­one else interned there, he received a num­ber — the tit­u­lar 5124 — but his refine­ment and for­mi­da­ble lan­guage skills (in addi­tion to his native Span­ish, he com­mand­ed not just Ger­man, but also French, Eng­lish, and Catalán) secured him the spe­cial posi­tion of serv­ing at the table of the cam­p’s com­man­der. What­ev­er priv­i­leges attend­ed this posi­tion, Greykey’s wartime expe­ri­ence haunt­ed him for the rest of his life: a life swept up in enough cur­rents of his­to­ry to be more than over­due for a fea­ture film-treat­ment.

via Aeon

Relat­ed con­tent:

Holo­caust Sur­vivor Vik­tor Fran­kl Explains Why If We Have True Mean­ing in Our Lives, We Can Make It Through the Dark­est of Times

How Alice Herz-Som­mer, the Old­est Holo­caust Sur­vivor, Sur­vived the Hor­rif­ic Ordeal with Music

96-Year-Old Holo­caust Sur­vivor Fronts a Death Met­al Band

100-Year-Old Holo­caust Sur­vivor Helen Fagin Reads Her Let­ter About How Books Save Lives

Meet Yasuke, Japan’s First Black Samu­rai War­rior

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Rid­ley Scot­t’s 1977 film The Duel­lists stars Har­vey Kei­t­el and Kei­th Car­ra­dine as French­men in the ear­ly nine­teenth cen­tu­ry. Both of their char­ac­ters are mil­i­tary offi­cers, Keit­el’s a Bona­partist and Car­radine’s an anti-Bona­partist, and their rela­tion­ship plays out over a duel-punc­tu­at­ed six­teen-year peri­od dur­ing and just after the Napoleon­ic Wars. The Duel­lists is required view­ing for any stu­dent of Scott-as-auteur, not just due to its being his debut fea­ture, but also to its pre­sump­tive con­nec­tions to his lat­est work. Even work­ing on a low bud­get 45 years ago, Scott and his col­lab­o­ra­tors man­aged to per­form an acclaimed re-cre­ation of Napoleon’s France. What has he accom­plished on the far grander can­vas of Napoleon, which comes out on Novem­ber 22nd?

Napoleon, as pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, is also the title of the great­est movie Stan­ley Kubrick nev­er made. Judg­ing by its new­ly released trail­er, Rid­ley Scot­t’s film isn’t exact­ly a styl­is­tic homage to Kubrick, though one doubts that Kubrick­’s work was all too far from Scot­t’s mind dur­ing the project — as indeed it was­n’t in the mak­ing of The Duel­lists, which was heav­i­ly influ­enced by Bar­ry Lyn­don.

But as a his­tor­i­cal dra­ma, Napoleon seems to have more obvi­ous­ly in com­mon with Scot­t’s own swords-and-san­dals block­buster Glad­i­a­tor, which includ­ed a mem­o­rable per­for­mance by Joaquin Phoenix as Mar­cus Aure­lius’ pow­er-mad son Com­modus, who kills his father in order to make him­self emper­or.

Phoenix plays anoth­er impe­r­i­al role in Napoleon: that of the tit­u­lar mil­i­tary com­man­der who rose to rule the French Empire for more than a decade. Bring­ing Napoleon’s sto­ry to the screen afford­ed Scott the chance to stage no few­er than six bat­tle sequences — includ­ing, as Smithsonian.com’s Tere­sa Nowakows­ki notes, “the Bat­tle of Auster­litz, a mil­i­tary engage­ment that went down in his­to­ry as one of Napoleon’s great­est suc­cess­es. The trail­er depicts the piv­otal moment when Napoleon’s forces fired artillery into the ice on which ene­my troops were retreat­ing,” an episode well-suit­ed to Scot­t’s instinct for spec­ta­cle. How­ev­er much his par­tic­u­lar sen­si­bil­i­ties may dif­fer from Kubrick­’s, it’s easy to under­stand why both direc­tors would be drawn to the sub­ject of Napoleon­ic ambi­tion.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Napoleon: The Great­est Movie Stan­ley Kubrick Nev­er Made

Napoleon’s Eng­lish Lessons: How the Mil­i­tary Leader Stud­ied Eng­lish to Escape the Bore­dom of Life in Exile

Napoleon’s Dis­as­trous Inva­sion of Rus­sia Detailed in an 1869 Data Visu­al­iza­tion: It’s Been Called “the Best Sta­tis­ti­cal Graph­ic Ever Drawn”

The Col­or That May Have Killed Napoleon: Scheele’s Green

Philoso­pher Bertrand Rus­sell Talks About the Time When His Grand­fa­ther Met Napoleon

Why Is Napoleon’s Hand Always in His Waist­coat?: The Ori­gins of This Dis­tinc­tive Pose Explained

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The fore­cast­ed rain held off, the poor air qual­i­ty caused by Cana­di­an wild­fires had abat­ed, and the world’s largest Pride parade stepped off with­out inci­dent in New York City on the final Sun­day in June.

It’s grown quite a bit since the last Sun­day of June 1970, when Christo­pher Street Lib­er­a­tion Day March par­tic­i­pants parad­ed from Sheri­dan Square to Cen­tral Park’s Sheep Mead­ow.

Seek­ing to com­mem­o­rate the one year anniver­sary of the Stonewall Upris­ing, when a police raid touched off a riot at the Green­wich Vil­lage gay bar, the even­t’s plan­ners took inspi­ra­tion from the orga­nized resis­tance to the Viet­nam War and Annu­al Reminders, a year­ly call for equal­i­ty from the Philadel­phia-based East­ern Region­al Con­fer­ence of Homophile Orga­ni­za­tions.

Parade co-orga­niz­er Craig Rod­well imag­ined a more free­wheel­ing pub­lic event involv­ing larg­er num­bers than Annu­al Reminders, some­thing that could  “encom­pass the ideas and ideals of the larg­er strug­gle in which we are engaged—that of our fun­da­men­tal human rights.”

In the lead up to the parade, Gay Lib­er­a­tion Front News report­ed that soci­ety stacked the deck against open­ly gay indi­vid­u­als, an obser­va­tion echoed by a marcher in les­bian activist Lil­li M. Vin­cenz’s doc­u­men­tary footage, above:

At first I was very guilty, and then I real­ized that all the things that are taught you, not only by soci­ety but by psy­chi­a­trists are just to fit you in a mold and I’ve just reject­ed the mold. And when I reject­ed the mold, I was hap­pi­er.

Look care­ful­ly for plac­ards from var­i­ous par­tic­i­pat­ing groups, includ­ing the Mat­ta­chine Soci­eties of Wash­ing­ton and New York, Laven­der Men­ace, the Gay Activists Alliance, a church, and gay stu­dent groups at Rut­gers and Yale.

Esti­mates place the crowd at any­where from 3,000 to 20,000. In addi­tion to marchers, the parade drew plen­ty of onlook­ers, some voic­ing sup­port like a uni­formed sol­dier sta­tioned at Fort Dix who says “Great, man, do your thing!”. Oth­ers came pre­pared to voice their vig­or­ous oppo­si­tion.

“He’s a clos­et queen and you can find him in Howard Johnson’s any night,” a marcher cracks when asked his opin­ion of a counter demon­stra­tor bran­dish­ing a sign invok­ing Sodom and Gomor­rah.

Pre­sum­ably the sec­ond part of this marcher’s com­ment was not intend­ed to sig­ni­fy that the gent in ques­tion had a pow­er­ful attrac­tion to the ven­er­a­ble Times Square diner’s fried clams, but rather its upstairs neigh­bor, the all-male Gai­ety strip club.

Com­pared to the flashy fes­tive cos­tumes and boom­ing club music that have become a sta­ple of this millennia’s Pride March­es, 1970’s pro­ceed­ings were a com­par­a­tive­ly mod­est affair. Marchers chant­ed in uni­son, pro­cess­ing uptown in street clothes — hip­pie-style duds of the peri­od with a cou­ple of square suits and fedo­ras in the mix.

A clean cut young man in a wind­break­er and nat­ty star-span­gled tie expressed frank dis­ap­point­ment that May­or John Lind­say and oth­er polit­i­cal fig­ures had kept their dis­tance.

Younger read­ers may be tak­en aback to hear Vin­cenz ask­ing him how long he had been gay, but grat­i­fied when he responds, “I was born homo­sex­u­al, it’s beau­ti­ful.”

By the time the marchers reached the Sheep Mead­ow, a num­ber of men had shed their shirts. The parade mor­phed into a pas­toral cel­e­bra­tion in which rev­el­ers can be seen play­ing Ring Around the Rosie, pluck­ing weeds to dec­o­rate each other’s hair, and attempt­ing to break the record for longest kiss.

A man whose bib over­alls have been cus­tomized with iron-on let­ters arranged to spell out Stud Farm express­es regret that he spent so many years in the clos­et.

Co-orga­niz­er Fos­ter Gun­ni­son Jr.’s wish was for every queer par­tic­i­pant to leave the parade with “a new feel­ing of pride and self-con­fi­dence … to raise the con­sciences of par­tic­i­pat­ing homo­sex­u­als-to devel­op courage, and feel­ings of dig­ni­ty and self-worth.”

That first parade’s mar­shal, Mark Segal, cofounder of Gay Lib­er­a­tion Front, summed it up on the 50th anniver­sary of the orig­i­nal event:

The march was a reflec­tion of us: out, loud and proud.

Enjoy a glimpse of 2023’s New York City Pride March here.

Via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent 

The Untold Sto­ry of Dis­co and Its Black, Lati­no & LGBTQ Roots

Dif­fer­ent From the Oth­ers (1919): The First Gay Rights Movie Ever … Lat­er Destroyed by the Nazis

Sig­mund Freud Writes to Con­cerned Moth­er: “Homo­sex­u­al­i­ty is Noth­ing to Be Ashamed Of” (1935)

– Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo and Cre­ative, Not Famous Activ­i­ty Book. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

No Amer­i­can who came of age in the nine­teen-eight­ies — or in most of the sev­en­ties or nineties, for that mat­ter — could pre­tend not to under­stand the impor­tance of the mall. Edi­na, Min­neso­ta’s South­dale Cen­ter, which defined the mod­ern shop­ping mal­l’s enclosed, depart­ment store-anchored form, opened in 1956. Over the decades that fol­lowed, liv­ing pat­terns sub­ur­ban­ized and devel­op­ers respond­ed by plung­ing into a long and prof­itable orgy of mall-build­ing, with the result that gen­er­a­tions of ado­les­cents lived in rea­son­ably easy reach of such a com­mer­cial insti­tu­tion. Some came to shop and oth­ers came to work, but if Hugh Kin­niburgh’s doc­u­men­tary Mall City is to be believed, most came just to “hang out.”

Intro­duced as “A SAFARI TO STUDY MALL CULTURE,” Mall City con­sists of inter­views con­duct­ed by Kin­niburgh and his NYU Film School col­lab­o­ra­tors dur­ing one day in 1983 at the Roo­sevelt Field Mall on Long Island. Unsur­pris­ing­ly, their inter­vie­wees tend to be young, stren­u­ous­ly coiffed, and dressed with stud­ied non­cha­lance in striped T‑shirts and Mem­bers Only-style wind­break­ers.

A trip to the mall could offer them a chance to expand their wardrobe, or at the very least to cal­i­brate their fash­ion sense. You go to the mall, says one styl­ish young lady, “to see what’s in, what’s out,” and thus to devel­op your own style. “You look for ideas,” as the inter­view­er sum­ma­rizes it, “and then recom­bine them in your own way, try to be orig­i­nal.”

One part of the val­ue propo­si­tion of the mall was its shops; anoth­er, larg­er part was the pres­ence of so many oth­er mem­bers of your demo­graph­ic. In explain­ing why they come to the mall, some teenagers dis­sim­u­late less than oth­ers: “It’s like, where the cool peo­ple are at,” says one girl, with notable forth­right­ness. “You’re fakin’ this all. I mean, you’re just tryin’ to meet peo­ple.” Kin­niburgh and his crew chat with a group of bare­ly ado­les­cent-look­ing boys — each and every one smok­ing a cig­a­rette — about what encoun­ter­ing girls has to do with the time they spend hang­ing out at the mall. One answers with­out hes­i­ta­tion: “That’s the main rea­son.” (Yet these labors seem often to have borne bit­ter fruit: as one for­mer employ­ee and cur­rent hang­er-out puts it, “Mall rela­tion­ships don’t last.”)

Opened just two months after South­dale Cen­ter, Roo­sevelt Field is actu­al­ly one of Amer­i­ca’s most ven­er­a­ble shop­ping malls. (It also pos­sess­es unusu­al archi­tec­tur­al cred­i­bil­i­ty, hav­ing been designed by none oth­er than I. M. Pei.) By all appear­ances, it also man­aged to recon­sti­tute cer­tain func­tions of a gen­uine urban social space — or at least it did forty years ago, at the height of “mall cul­ture.” Asked for his thoughts on that phe­nom­e­non, one post-hip­pie type describes it as “prob­a­bly the wave of the future. Maybe the end of the future, the way things are going.” Here in that future, we speak of shop­ping malls as decrepit, even van­ish­ing relics of a lost era, one with its own pri­or­i­ties, its own folk­ways, even its own accents. Could such a vari­ety of pro­nun­ci­a­tions of the very word “mall” still be heard on Long Island? Clear­ly, fur­ther field­work is required.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Col­or Footage of America’s First Shop­ping Mall Open­ing in 1956: The Birth of a Beloved and Reviled Insti­tu­tion

Feel Strange­ly Nos­tal­gic as You Hear Clas­sic Songs Reworked to Sound as If They’re Play­ing in an Emp­ty Shop­ping Mall: David Bowie, Toto, Ah-ha & More

Watch Heavy Met­al Park­ing Lot, the Cult Clas­sic Film That Ranks as One of the “Great Rock Doc­u­men­taries” of All Time

Punks, Goths, and Mods on TV (1983)

Atten­tion K‑Mart Shop­pers: Hear 90 Hours of Back­ground Music & Ads from the Retail Giant’s 1980s and 90s Hey­day

The Walk­man Turns 40: See Every Gen­er­a­tion of Sony’s Icon­ic Per­son­al Stereo in One Minute

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.