Real Footage of Ernest Shackleton’s Endurance: Watch Clips from the First Documentary Feature Film Ever Made (1919)

Last week we fea­tured the recent dis­cov­ery of Ernest Shack­le­ton’s ship Endurance, which has spent more than a cen­tu­ry at the bot­tom of the Wed­dell Sea off Antarc­ti­ca. It sank there in 1915, after hav­ing been entrapped and slow­ly crushed by pack ice for the most of a year. That marked the end of what had start­ed as the 1914–1917 Impe­r­i­al Trans-Antarc­tic Expe­di­tion, but it cer­tain­ly was­n’t the end of the sto­ry. When it had become clear that there was no hope for Endurancewrites Rain Noe at Core77, “Shack­le­ton and five of the crew then sailed 800 miles in a lifeboat to Strom­ness, an inhab­it­ed island and whal­ing sta­tion in the South Atlantic, where they were able to orga­nize a res­cue par­ty. Shack­le­ton locat­ed and res­cued his crew four months lat­er.”

Today we can watch the Endurance’s demise on film, as shot by expe­di­tion pho­tog­ra­ph­er Frank Hur­ley. “How is it pos­si­ble that the film footage sur­vived this ordeal?” Noe writes. “After the crew aban­doned ship, food was the main thing to be car­ried away by the men, and Hur­ley had to decide which pho­to neg­a­tives and film reels to sal­vage.” Hur­ley him­self lat­er described this ago­niz­ing process, at the end of which “about 400 plates were jet­ti­soned and 120 retained. Lat­er I had to pre­serve them almost with my life; for a time came when we had to choose between heav­ing them over­board or throw­ing away our sur­plus food — and the food went over!”

Even rel­a­tive­ly ear­ly in the era of cin­e­ma, Hur­ley must have under­stood the pow­er of the image — as, it seems, did his cap­tain. The footage Hur­ley could sal­vage retained a strik­ing clar­i­ty, and it went into 1919’s South, which is now con­sid­ered to be the very first doc­u­men­tary fea­ture. “South was first exhib­it­ed by Ernest Shack­le­ton in 1919 to accom­pa­ny his lec­tures,” writes Ann Ogi­di at the BFI’s Screenon­line, “and it has some of the qual­i­ty of a lec­ture. Excerpts of the jour­ney are inter­spersed with sci­en­tif­ic and bio­log­i­cal obser­va­tions.” And “just when the dra­mat­ic ten­sion reach­es its height, there are almost 20 inex­plic­a­ble min­utes of nature footage, show­ing sea lions gam­bol­ing, pen­guins and oth­er birds.”

Crisply restored in the 1990s, South “is best thought of as that mul­ti-media doc­u­men­tary lec­ture that Shack­le­ton would have pre­sent­ed with stills, paint­ings, film and music woven togeth­er to spin the yarn, and for Hurley’s exquis­ite pho­tog­ra­phy that keeps alive the sto­ry of that group of extra­or­di­nary men.” So writes BFI cura­tor Bry­ony Dixon in a recent piece on the mirac­u­lous sur­vival of not just Shack­le­ton and his men, but of Hur­ley’s hand­i­work. And it was Hur­ley who then went right back out to the island of South Geor­gia to “take wildlife footage that the news­pa­per edi­tor Ernest Per­ris, who spon­sored the film, was con­vinced was need­ed to make the film inter­est­ing to the pub­lic.” Per­ris was dar­ing enough to fund the first doc­u­men­tary fea­ture, but also pre­scient in his con­cep­tion of the form — a con­cep­tion proven defin­i­tive­ly right, more than eighty years lat­er, by the box-office per­for­mance of March of the Pen­guins.

via Core77

Relat­ed con­tent:

See the Well-Pre­served Wreck­age of Ernest Shackleton’s Ship Endurance Found in Antarc­ti­ca

Hear Ernest Shack­le­ton Speak About His Antarc­tic Expe­di­tion in a Rare 1909 Record­ing

Google Street View Opens Up a Look at Shackleton’s Antarc­tic

The Titan­ic: Rare Footage of the Ship Before Dis­as­ter Strikes (1911–1912)

New­ly Dis­cov­ered Ship­wreck Proves Herodotus, the “Father of His­to­ry,” Cor­rect 2500 Years Lat­er

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.

Dick Van Dyke Still Dancing at 96!

Beloved com­ic actress Bet­ty White left some big shoes to fill last New Year’s Eve when she shocked the world by dying at the ten­der age of 99.

Who could pos­si­bly match her zest for life so many years into it?

Pag­ing Dick Van Dyke

The nim­ble-foot­ed 96-year-old has yet to host Sat­ur­day Night Live, but remains cul­tur­al­ly rel­e­vant nonethe­less, thanks to the endur­ing pop­u­lar­i­ty of his ear­ly work.

His ear­ly 60s sit­com, The Dick Van Dyke Show, was a sta­ple of ‘90s-era Nick at Nite.

Even Gen­er­a­tion Alpha knows who he is, thanks to his ever­green turn as Bert, the danc­ing chim­neysweep in Mary Pop­pins (1964).

The phys­i­cal grace he brought to such musi­cal fare as Bye Bye Birdie and Chit­ty Chit­ty Bang Bang is some­thing he delib­er­ate­ly strived for as a fan of silent com­e­dy’s greats, and at 96, it’s not some­thing he takes for grant­ed. He began strength train­ing many decades ago, after observ­ing Broad­way dancers’ work outs, and main­tains a dai­ly reg­i­men of crunch­es, leg lifts, and hip open­ers.

Like White, he thrives in the com­pa­ny of younger peo­ple.

He’s by far the old­est mem­ber of The Van­tastix, a bar­ber­shop quar­tet he formed in 2020.

And for those keep­ing score, he’s 46 years old­er than his bride of ten years, Arlene Sil­ver, who sings and dances with him in the above video (and directs, too.)

Yes, Van Dyke’s shoul­ders and tor­so may have stiff­ened a bit in the four years since Mary Pop­pins Returns  found him hop­ping atop a desk for a sprite­ly soft shoe, but the ease with which he pro­pels him­self from a low slung wing­back chair at the one-minute mark will strike many view­ers as noth­ing short of mirac­u­lous.

(For those admir­ing the decor, Fall­en Fruit’s recent SUPERSHOW instal­la­tion pro­vid­ed the video’s younger-than-spring­time set.)

Van Dyke’s loose limbed appeal is accom­pa­nied by a refresh­ing­ly flex­i­ble atti­tude, anoth­er way in which he mod­els health aging.

A year into his mar­riage to Sil­ver, he told Parade that they’re so well suit­ed because “she’s very mature for her age, and I’m very imma­ture for my age.”

“Imma­ture in a good way, Sil­ver clar­i­fied to Huff­Post, “with the won­der of a child”:

He’s just fun, he’s open mind­ed. He’s not stuck in his ways at all.

We take very good care of each oth­er. But, I’m very aware that I have a nation­al trea­sure on my hands.

No won­der peo­ple love him. As proof, wit­ness the twen­ty-some­thing leap­ing to their feet to give him an ova­tion, as he makes his entrance in Disneyland’s 60th-anniver­sary spe­cial six years ago.

12 sec­onds lat­er, the 90-year-old Van Dyke was also leap­ing.

“When peo­ple tell you you look good in your 90s, what they mean is you don’t look dead,” Van Dyke con­fid­ed in the late Carl Rein­er’s 2017 doc­u­men­tary, If You’re Not in the Obit, Eat Break­fast:

At 30, I exer­cised to look good. In my 50s, I exer­cised to stay fit. In my 70s, to stay ambu­la­to­ry. In my 80s, to avoid assist­ed liv­ing. Now, in my 90s, I’m just doing it out of pure defi­ance.

via Boing­Bo­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent 

The Pow­er of Pulp Fiction’s Dance Scene, Explained by Chore­o­g­ra­phers and Even John Tra­vol­ta Him­self

One of the Great­est Dances Sequences Ever Cap­tured on Film Gets Restored in Col­or by AI: Watch the Clas­sic Scene from Stormy Weath­er

The Icon­ic Dance Scene from Hel­lza­pop­pin’ Pre­sent­ed in Liv­ing Col­or with Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence (1941)

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

 

How Quentin Tarantino Remixes History: A Brief Study of Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood

For more than two hours, Quentin Taran­ti­no’s Once Upon a Time… in Hol­ly­wood builds up to the Man­son mur­ders. Or rather, it seems to be build­ing up to the Man­son mur­ders, but then takes a sharp turn on Cielo Dri­ve; when the cred­its roll, the real-life killers are dead and the real-life vic­tims alive. Such revi­sion­ist revenge is of a piece with oth­er recent Taran­ti­no pic­tures like Inglou­ri­ous Bas­ter­ds, which ends with the mas­sacre of Hitler and Goebbels, among oth­er Nazis, and Djan­go Unchained, where­in the tit­u­lar slave lays waste to the house of the mas­ter. Long well known for bor­row­ing from oth­er movies, Taran­ti­no seems to have found just as rich a source of mate­r­i­al in his­to­ry books.

Once Upon a Time… in Hol­ly­wood “cre­ates a new sto­ry using exist­ing char­ac­ters and sit­u­a­tions, and many of them just hap­pen to be real.” So says Kir­by Fer­gu­son in the video essay above, “Taran­ti­no’s Copy­ing: Then Vs. Now.” The film’s large cast of sec­ondary char­ac­ters includes such 1960s celebri­ties as Steve McQueen and Bruce Lee, as well as count­less oth­er fig­ures rec­og­niz­able main­ly to the direc­tor’s fel­low pop-cul­ture obses­sives.

Also por­trayed is Charles Man­son and the ragged young mem­bers of the “Man­son Fam­i­ly” recruit­ed to do his bid­ding, as well as are their intend­ed vic­tims of the night of August 8, 1969, most promi­nent­ly the actress Sharon Tate. It is she, Fer­gu­son argues, who ties togeth­er Once Upon a Time… in Hol­ly­wood’s var­i­ous threads of fact and fic­tion.

Leonar­do DiCapri­o’s washed-up actor Rick Dal­ton and Brad Pit­t’s black­list­ed stunt­man Cliff Booth, the film’s main char­ac­ters, are whol­ly Taran­tin­ian cre­ations. 26 years old and preg­nant with the child of her hus­band Roman Polan­s­ki (a ver­sion of whom also shows up in one scene), the ris­ing Tate shares a méti­er with Dal­ton, and when the Man­son fam­i­ly come for her in the film, they end up face-to-face with Booth (much to their mis­for­tune), “but unlike both of them, she is a real per­son, and what is depict­ed of her is, broad­ly speak­ing, true.” Using these char­ac­ters real and imag­ined, Taran­ti­no “takes a dark, fright­en­ing, and just crush­ing­ly sad real­i­ty and gives it a hap­py end­ing with bru­tal ret­ri­bu­tion.” For all the post­mod­ern bor­row­ing and shuf­fled sto­ry­telling that launched him into Hol­ly­wood, the man knows how to give audi­ences just what they want — and some­how to sur­prise them even as he does it.

Relat­ed con­tent:

A Deep Study of the Open­ing Scene of Quentin Tarantino’s Inglou­ri­ous Bas­ter­ds

How Quentin Taran­ti­no Steals from Oth­er Movies: A Video Essay

Quentin Tarantino’s Copy­cat Cin­e­ma: How the Post­mod­ern Film­mak­er Per­fect­ed the Art of the Steal

Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time… In Hol­ly­wood Exam­ined on Pret­ty Much Pop #12

Quentin Taran­ti­no Releas­es His First Nov­el: A Pulpy Nov­el­iza­tion of Once Upon a Time… in Hol­ly­wood

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.

Ivan Reitman’s First Film “Orientation” (1968)

Last night, we sad­ly learned of the pass­ing of Ivan Reit­man, direc­tor of many beloved come­dies–Meat­balls (1979), Stripes (1981), Ghost­busters (1984), and beyond.

Born in Czecho­slo­va­kia in 1946–his moth­er an Auschwitz sur­vivor and his father an under­ground resis­tance fighter–Reitman moved to Cana­da as a young child, where he even­tu­al­ly attend­ed McMas­ter Uni­ver­si­ty. And there he “pro­duced and direct­ed Ori­en­ta­tion [in 1968], the most suc­cess­ful stu­dent film ever made in Cana­da,” writes Macleans. “Pro­duced at a cost of $1,800 while Reit­man was pres­i­dent of the McMas­ter Uni­ver­si­ty Film Board, Ori­en­ta­tion — the sto­ry of a fresh­man dur­ing his first week at uni­ver­si­ty — was acquired by Twen­ti­eth Cen­tu­ry­Fox of Cana­da as a “fea­turette” to accom­pa­ny John And Mary in first-run engage­ments across the coun­try.” “It earned $15,000 in rentals and con­tin­ues to be in demand…” You can watch it above, or on McMas­ter’s web­site.

For any­one inter­est­ed in hear­ing Reit­man dis­cuss his devel­op­ment as a film­mak­er, we’d rec­om­mend lis­ten­ing to his 2014 inter­view with Marc Maron.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Watch 3,000+ Films Free Online from the Nation­al Film Board of Cana­da

Lis­ten to Bill Mur­ray Lead a Guid­ed Med­i­ta­tion on How It Feels to Be Bill Mur­ray

Bill Mur­ray Explains How a 19th-Cen­tu­ry Paint­ing Saved His Life

 

Scandinavian Film & Television: A Free Online Course from the University of Copenhagen

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

“In many ways Scan­di­na­vian film and tele­vi­sion is a glob­al cul­tur­al brand, con­nect­ed with and export­ing some of the cul­tur­al and social val­ues con­nect­ed to a lib­er­al and pro­gres­sive wel­fare soci­ety.” From the Uni­ver­si­ty of Copen­hagen, this free course deals with the social, insti­tu­tion­al and cul­tur­al back­ground of film and tele­vi­sion in Scan­di­navia and in a broad­er Euro­pean and glob­al con­text. Span­ning 5 weeks and taught by pro­fes­sor Eva Novrup Red­vall, Scan­di­na­vian Film and Tele­vi­sion cov­ers the ear­ly cin­e­mat­ic work of Dan­ish direc­tor Carl Drey­er, the films of Ing­mar Bergman and Lars von Tri­er, Scan­di­na­vian new wave cin­e­ma, and final­ly more con­tem­po­rary pro­duc­tions. You can enroll for free here.

Scan­di­na­vian Film and Tele­vi­sion will be added to our list 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Ing­mar Bergman Eval­u­ates His Fel­low Film­mak­ers — The “Affect­ed” Godard, “Infan­tile” Hitch­cock & Sub­lime Tarkovsky

Ing­mar Bergman’s Soap Com­mer­cials Wash Away the Exis­ten­tial Despair

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

Watch a Joyful Video Where 52 Renowned Choreographers Link Together to Create a Dance Chain Letter

Dance videos are hav­ing a moment, fueled in large part by Tik­Tok.

Pro­fes­sion­als and ama­teurs alike use the plat­form to show­case their work, and while the vast major­i­ty of per­form­ers seem to be in or bare­ly out of their teens, a few danc­ing grand­mas have become viral stars. (One such notable brush­es off the atten­tion, say­ing she’s just “an elder­ly lady mak­ing a fool of her­self.”)

You’ll find a hand­ful of dancers hap­py to make sim­i­lar sport of them­selves among the 52 cel­e­brat­ed, most­ly mid­dle-aged and old­er chore­o­g­ra­phers per­form­ing in And So Say All of Us, Mitchell Rose’s chain let­ter style dance film, above. Wit­ness:

John Hegin­both­am’s sprite­ly bowl­ing alley turn, com­plete with refresh­ment stand nachos (4:10)…

Doug Varone’s deter­mi­na­tion to cram a bit of break­fast in before waft­ing out of a din­er booth (5:15)…

And the respons­es David Dorf­man, who both opens and clos­es the film, elic­its aboard the 2 train and wait­ing on the plat­form at Brooklyn’s Atlantic Avenue stop … con­ve­nient­ly sit­u­at­ed near com­mis­sion­ing body BAM (Brook­lyn Acad­e­my of Music).

In the sum­mer of 2017 — the same year Tik­Tok launched in the inter­na­tion­al mar­ket — BAM asked film­mak­er and for­mer chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Rose to cre­ate a short film that would fea­ture a num­ber of chore­o­g­ra­phers whom out­go­ing Exec­u­tive Pro­duc­er Joseph V. Melil­lo had nur­tured over the course of his 35-year tenure.

The result takes the form of an Exquis­ite Corpse, in which each per­former picks up where the per­former imme­di­ate­ly before left off . Quite a feat when one con­sid­ers that the con­trib­u­tors were spread all over the globe, and Rose had bare­ly a year to ready the film for its pre­miere at a gala hon­or­ing Melil­lo.

To get an idea of the degree of coor­di­na­tion and pre­ci­sion edit­ing this entailed, check out Rose’s detailed instruc­tions for Globe Trot, a crowd-sourced “hyper match cut” work in which 50 film­mak­ers in 23 coun­tries each con­tributed 2 sec­ond clips of non-dancers per­form­ing a piece chore­o­graphed by Bebe Miller (who appears fourth in And So Say All of Us).

A great plea­sure of And So Say All of Us — and it’s a sur­pris­ing one giv­en how accus­tomed we’ve grown to peer­ing in on work record­ed in artists’ pri­vate spaces – is see­ing the loca­tions. Ter­races and inte­ri­or spaces still fas­ci­nate, though the lack of masks in pop­u­lous pub­lic set­tings iden­ti­fy this as a decid­ed­ly pre-pan­dem­ic work.

Oth­er high­lights:

The com­par­a­tive still­ness of Eiko and Koma, the only per­form­ers to be filmed togeth­er (2:19)

Mered­ith Monk singing creek­side in an excerpt of Cel­lu­lar Songs, a nature-based piece that would also pre­miere at BAM in 2018 (5:51)

Mark Mor­ris’ glo­ri­ous reveal (6:59)

As with any Exquis­ite Corpse, the whole is greater than the sum of its (excel­lent) indi­vid­ual parts. Rose ties them togeth­er with a red through line, and an orig­i­nal score by Robert Een.

Par­tic­i­pat­ing chore­o­g­ra­phers in order of appear­ance:

David Dorf­man

Reg­gie Wil­son

Trey McIn­tyre

Bebe Miller

Kate Weare

Sean Cur­ran

Faye Driscoll

David Rous­seve

Gideon Obarzanek

Jodi Mel­nick

Jawole Willa Jo Zol­lar

Rodri­go Ped­erneiras

Eiko Otake

Koma Otake

Angelin Preljo­caj

Bren­da Way

Lin Hwai-min

Bri­an Brooks

Sasha Waltz

Don­ald Byrd

Stephen Petro­n­io

William Forsythe

Nora Chipau­mire

Karole Armitage

John Hegin­both­am

Miguel Gutier­rez

Eliz­a­beth Streb

Zvi Gothein­er

Ron K. Brown

Lar­ry Keig­win

Annie‑B Par­son

Doug Varone

Bill T. Jones

Ren­nie Har­ris

Ralph Lemon

Mered­ith Monk

Lucin­da Childs

Meryl Tankard

Ohad Naharin

Daniele Finzi Pas­ca

Ivy Bald­win

Mark Mor­ris

Susan Mar­shall

John Jasperse

Solo Bado­lo

Abdel Salaam

Mar­tin Zim­mer­mann

Aurélien Bory

Ben­jamin Millepied

Bren­da Ang­iel

James Thier­rée

Ken­neth Kvarn­ström

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Awe­some Human Chore­og­ra­phy That Repro­duces the Mur­mu­ra­tions of Star­ling Flocks

The Mis­take Waltz: Watch the Hilar­i­ous Bal­let by Leg­endary Chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Jerome Rob­bins

A Dancer Pays a Grav­i­ty-Defy­ing Trib­ute to Claude Debussy

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

The Origins of the Word “Gaslighting”: Scenes from the 1944 Film Gaslight

You’re not going out of your mind. You’re slow­ly and sys­tem­at­i­cal­ly being dri­ven out of your mind. — Joseph Cot­ton to Ingrid Bergman in the 1944 film Gaslight.

Remem­ber when the word “gaslight­ing” elicit­ed know­ing nods from black and white film buffs… and blank stares from pret­ty much every­one else?

Then along came 2016, and gaslight­ing entered the lex­i­con in a big way.

Mer­ri­am-Web­ster defines it as the “psy­cho­log­i­cal manip­u­la­tion of a per­son usu­al­ly over an extend­ed peri­od of time that caus­es the vic­tim to ques­tion the valid­i­ty of their own thoughts, per­cep­tion of real­i­ty, or mem­o­ries and typ­i­cal­ly leads to con­fu­sion, loss of con­fi­dence and self-esteem, uncer­tain­ty of one’s emo­tion­al or men­tal sta­bil­i­ty, and a depen­den­cy on the per­pe­tra­tor.”

Of course, you knew that already!

“Gaslight­ing” is unavoid­able these days, five years after it was named 2016’s “most use­ful” and “like­ly to suc­ceed” word by the Amer­i­can Dialect Soci­ety.

(“Nor­mal­ize” was a run­ner up.)

As long as we’re play­ing word games, are you famil­iar with “denom­i­nal­iza­tion”?

Also known as “verb­ing” or “verb­ifi­ca­tion,” it’s the process where­by a noun is retooled as a verb.

Both fig­ure promi­nent­ly in Gaslight.

Have you seen the film?

Ingrid Bergman, play­ing oppo­site Charles Boy­er, won an Acad­e­my award for her per­for­mance. A teenaged Angela Lans­bury made her big screen debut.

In his reviewThe New York Times’ film crit­ic Bosley Crowther steered clear of spoil­ers, while mus­ing that the bulk of the the­ater-going pub­lic was prob­a­bly already hip to the cen­tral con­ceit, fol­low­ing the suc­cess­ful Broad­way run of Angel Street, the Patrick Hamil­ton thriller on which the film was based:

We can at least slip the infor­ma­tion that the study is whol­ly con­cerned with the obvi­ous endeav­ors of a hus­band to dri­ve his wife slow­ly mad. And with Mr. Boy­er doing the dri­ving in his best dead-pan hyp­not­ic style, while the flames flick­er strange­ly in the gas-jets and the mood music bongs with heavy threats, it is no won­der that Miss Bergman goes to pieces in the most dis­tress­ing way.

In the same review, Crowther sniped that Gaslight was “a no more illu­mi­nat­ing title” than Angel Street.

Maybe that was true in 1944. Not any­more!

(Cun­ning lin­guists that we are, had the film retained the play’s title, 2022 may well have found us com­plain­ing that some vil­lain tried to Angel Street us…)

In a col­umn on pro­duc­tion design for The Film Expe­ri­ence, crit­ic Daniel Wal­ber points out how Boy­er desta­bi­lizes Bergman by fool­ing with their gas-pow­ered lamps, and also how the film’s Acad­e­my Award-win­ning design team used the “con­strict­ing tem­po­ral­i­ty” of a Vic­to­ri­an Lon­don lit by gas to set a fore­bod­ing mood:

Between the street­lights out­side and the fix­tures with­in, the mood is for­ev­er dimmed. The heav­i­ness of the atmos­phere brings us even clos­er to Paula’s men­tal state, trap­ping us with her. The detail is so pre­cise, so com­mit­ted that every flick­er crawls under the skin, pro­ject­ing ter­ri­ble uncer­tain­ty and fear to the audi­ence.

Read­ers who’ve yet to see the film may want to skip the below clip, as it does con­tain some­thing close to a spoil­er.

Those who’ve been on the receiv­ing end of a vig­or­ous gaslight­ing cam­paign?

Pass the pop­corn.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ingrid Bergman Remem­bers How Ernest Hem­ing­way Helped Her Get the Part in For Whom the Bell Tolls

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound: “No, You Can’t Pour Live Ants All Over Ingrid Bergman!”

Han­nah Arendt Explains How Pro­pa­gan­da Uses Lies to Erode All Truth & Moral­i­ty: Insights from The Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism

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

How Pulp Fiction Uses the Socratic Method, the Philosophical Method from Ancient Greece

No soon­er did Pulp Fic­tion open in the­aters than its direc­tor, a young for­mer video-store clerk named Quentin Taran­ti­no, became the new auteur to beat. Draw­ing from a vari­ety of cin­e­mat­ic tra­di­tions both high and low, Taran­ti­no’s break­out film showed main­stream audi­ences things they’d nev­er seen before, or at least in com­bi­na­tions they’d nev­er seen before. Its dia­logue in par­tic­u­lar was often cit­ed as an exam­ple of Taran­ti­no’s sheer film­mak­ing vital­i­ty. And so it remains: recall how many times, over the past few decades, you’ve heard lines quot­ed just from the con­ver­sa­tion ear­ly in Pulp Fic­tion between John Tra­vol­ta and Samuel L. Jack­son’s black-suit­ed hit men Vin­cent Vega and Jules Win­n­field.

It’s thanks to this pas­sage of Taran­ti­no’s script that even Amer­i­cans know the name of the French equiv­a­lent of McDon­ald’s Quar­ter Pounder. But a bit lat­er, and with a bit more sub­tle­ty, it also demon­strat­ed to view­ers what’s known as the Socrat­ic method. Such is the premise, any­way, of the Prac­ti­ca­ble video at the top of the post.

Named for its first prac­ti­tion­er, the peri­patet­ic Greek of the fifth-cen­tu­ry B.C. who has since lived in on dia­logues com­posed by his stu­dent Pla­to, the Socrat­ic method has come to be regard­ed as an effec­tive means of get­ting to the truth through con­ver­sa­tion, either with oth­ers or with one­self — or rather, as an effec­tive means of get­ting away with false­hoods: false opin­ions, false con­vic­tions, false beliefs.

Socrates, says Prac­ti­ca­ble’s nar­ra­tor, “would start off ask­ing peo­ple for a def­i­n­i­tion of a term like wis­dom, courage, or jus­tice, and through repeat­ed­ly point­ing out con­tra­dic­tions in their def­i­n­i­tion, and then the con­tra­dic­tions in their adjust­ments to their orig­i­nal def­i­n­i­tion, they would even­tu­al­ly reach a state of admit­ted igno­rance.” Such a process occurs in Pulp Fic­tion when Vin­cent and Jules dis­cuss their gang­ster boss Marsel­lus Wal­lace’s recent killing of a man who dared to give his wife a foot mas­sage. “Jules believes Marsel­lus over­re­act­ed, and Vin­cent believes that Antoine Roc­camo­ra got what was com­ing to him. At this point, we see Vin­cent try to get to the root of why Jules thinks it was an over­re­ac­tion.”

Con­scious­ly or uncon­scious­ly, Vin­cent does so using the Socrat­ic method, which requires first estab­lish­ing an argu­ment, then rais­ing an excep­tion or con­tra­dic­tion, then re-for­mu­lat­ing the argu­ment, and repeat­ing those steps as truth is approached or false­hood escaped. At issue is the inher­ent­ly sex­u­al nature of foot mas­sages. By bring­ing out con­tra­dic­tions in Jules’ own beliefs about them — he gives them to his moth­er, he argues, though he also takes pride in his advanced tech­nique, which he’s nev­er applied to the feet of a man — Vin­cent “can final­ly estab­lish that Marsel­lus’ use of vio­lence was, in fact, jus­ti­fied.” The dia­logue could con­tin­ue, but Taran­ti­no leaves it there, with Jules in the state of inter­nal con­tra­dic­tion Socrates called apo­r­ia. After all, like most of Taran­ti­no’s talk­a­tive char­ac­ters, they’ve got a a job to do.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Philoso­phers Presents a Rock­ing Intro­duc­tion to Socrates, the Father of Greek Phi­los­o­phy

Allan Bloom’s Lec­tures on Socrates (Boston Col­lege, 1983)

Why Socrates Hat­ed Democ­ra­cies: An Ani­mat­ed Case for Why Self-Gov­ern­ment Requires Wis­dom & Edu­ca­tion

Socrates on TV, Cour­tesy of Alain de Bot­ton (2000)

What Makes The Death of Socrates a Great Work of Art?: A Thought-Pro­vok­ing Read­ing of David’s Philo­soph­i­cal & Polit­i­cal Paint­ing

44 Essen­tial Movies for the Stu­dent of Phi­los­o­phy

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

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