When the Nazis Declared War on Expressionist Art (1937)


The 1937 Nazi Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion dis­played the art of Paul Klee, Wass­i­ly Kandin­sky, Georg Grosz, and many more inter­na­tion­al­ly famous mod­ernists with max­i­mum prej­u­dice. Ripped from the walls of Ger­man muse­ums, the 740 paint­ings and sculp­tures were thrown togeth­er in dis­ar­ray and sur­round­ed by deroga­to­ry graf­fi­ti and hell-house effects. Right down the street was the respectable Great Ger­man Art Exhi­bi­tion, designed as coun­ter­pro­gram­ming “to show the works that Hitler approved of—depicting stat­uesque blonde nudes along with ide­al­ized sol­diers and land­scapes,” writes Lucy Burns at the BBC.

View­ers were sup­posed to sneer and recoil at the mod­ern art, and most did, but whether they were gawk­ers, Nazi sym­pa­thiz­ers, or art fans in mourn­ing, the exhib­it drew mas­sive crowds. Over a mil­lion peo­ple first attend­ed, three times more than saw the exhi­bi­tion of state-sanc­tioned art—or more specif­i­cal­ly, art sanc­tioned by Hitler the failed artist, who had endured watch­ing “the real­is­tic paint­ings of build­ings and land­scapes,” of stur­dy peas­ants and suf­fer­ing poets, “dis­missed by the art estab­lish­ment in favour of abstract and mod­ern styles.” The Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion “was his moment to get his revenge,” and he had it. Over a hun­dred artists were denounced as Bol­she­viks and Jews bent on cor­rupt­ing Ger­man puri­ty.

After­wards, thou­sands of works of art were destroyed or dis­ap­peared, as did many of their cre­ators. Many artists fled, many could not. Enraged by the eclipse of sen­ti­men­tal aca­d­e­m­ic styles and by his own igno­rance, Hitler railed against “works of art which can­not be under­stood in them­selves,” as he put it in a speech that sum­mer. These “will nev­er again find their way to the Ger­man peo­ple.” Many such quo­ta­tions sur­round­ed the offend­ing art. The 1993 doc­u­men­tary above, writ­ten, pro­duced, and direct­ed by David Gru­bin, tells the sto­ry of the exhi­bi­tion, which has in time proven Hitler’s great­est cul­ture war fol­ly. It accom­plished its imme­di­ate pur­pose, but as Jonathan Petropou­los, pro­fes­sor of Euro­pean His­to­ry at Clare­mont McKen­na Col­lege points out, “this art­work became more attrac­tive abroad…. I think that over the longer run it was good for mod­ern art to be viewed as some­thing that the Nazis detest­ed and hat­ed.”

Not every anti-Nazi crit­ic saw mod­ern art as sub­vert­ing fas­cism. Ten years after the Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion, philoso­pher Theodor Adorno, him­self a refugee from Nazism, called Expres­sion­ism “a naïve aspect of lib­er­al trust­ful­ness,” on a con­tin­u­um between fas­cist tools like Futur­ism and “the ide­ol­o­gy of the cin­e­ma.” Nonethe­less, it was Hitler who most bore out Adorno’s gen­er­al obser­va­tion: “Taste is the most accu­rate seis­mo­graph of his­tor­i­cal expe­ri­ence…. React­ing against itself, it rec­og­nizes its own lack of taste.” The hys­ter­i­cal per­for­mance of dis­gust sur­round­ing so-called “degen­er­ate art” turned the exhib­it into a sen­sa­tion, a block­buster that, if it did not prove the virtues of mod­ernism, showed many around the world that the Nazis were as crude, dim, and vicious as they alleged their sup­posed ene­mies to be.

In the doc­u­men­tary, you’ll see actu­al footage of the the­atri­cal exhi­bi­tion, jux­ta­posed with film of a 1992 Berlin exhi­bi­tion of much of that for­mer­ly degen­er­ate art. Restaged Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tions have become very pop­u­lar in the art word, bring­ing togeth­er artists who need no fur­ther expo­sure, in order to his­tor­i­cal­ly reen­act, in some fash­ion, the expe­ri­ence of see­ing them all togeth­er for the first time. From a recent his­tor­i­cal review at New York’s Neue Gal­lerie to the dig­i­tal exhib­it at MoMA.org, degen­er­ate art ret­ro­spec­tives show, as Adorno wrote, that indeed “taste is the most accu­rate seis­mo­graph of his­tor­i­cal expe­ri­ence.”

The orig­i­nal exhi­bi­tion “went on tour all over Ger­many,” writes Burns, “where it was seen by a mil­lion more peo­ple.” Thou­sands of ordi­nary Ger­mans who went to jeer at it were exposed to mod­ern art for the first time. Mil­lions more peo­ple have learned the names and styles of these artists by learn­ing about the his­to­ry of Nazism and its cult of pet­ti­ness and per­son­al revenge. Learn much more in the excel­lent doc­u­men­tary above and at our pre­vi­ous post on the Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion.

Degen­er­ate Art — 1993, The Nazis vs. Expres­sion­ism will be added to our list of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Nazi’s Philis­tine Grudge Against Abstract Art and The “Degen­er­ate Art Exhi­bi­tion” of 1937

Titan­ic: The Nazis Cre­ate a Mega-Bud­get Pro­pa­gan­da Film About the Ill-Fat­ed Ship … and Then Banned It (1943)

When Ger­man Per­for­mance Artist Ulay Stole Hitler’s Favorite Paint­ing & Hung it in the Liv­ing Room of a Turk­ish Immi­grant Fam­i­ly (1976)

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

Watch the Trailer for Echo in the Canyon, the New Documentary on the 1960s Laurel Canyon Music Scene

Next month will mark the release of Echo in the Canyon. Direct­ed by Andrew Slater, the new doc­u­men­tary revis­its the 60s music scene that emerged in L.A.‘s Lau­rel Canyon–a fer­tile peri­od when folk went bril­liant­ly elec­tric. Find the brand new trail­er above, and a short sum­ma­ry below:

Echo In The Canyon cel­e­brates the explo­sion of pop­u­lar music that came out of LA’s Lau­rel Canyon in the mid-60s as folk went elec­tric and The Byrds, The Beach Boys, Buf­fa­lo Spring­field and The Mamas and the Papas gave birth to the Cal­i­for­nia Sound. It was a moment (1965 to 1967) when bands came to LA to emu­late The Bea­t­les and Lau­rel Canyon emerged as a hotbed of cre­ativ­i­ty and col­lab­o­ra­tion for a new gen­er­a­tion of musi­cians who would soon put an indeli­ble stamp on the his­to­ry of Amer­i­can pop­u­lar music.

Fea­tur­ing Jakob Dylan, the film explores the begin­nings of the Lau­rel Canyon music scene. Dylan uncov­ers nev­er-before-heard per­son­al details behind the bands and their songs and how that music con­tin­ues to inspire today. Echo in the Canyon con­tains can­did con­ver­sa­tions and per­for­mances with Bri­an Wil­son, Ringo Starr, Michelle Phillips, Eric Clap­ton, Stephen Stills, David Cros­by, Gra­ham Nash, Roger McGuinn and Jack­son Browne as well as con­tem­po­rary musi­cians they influ­enced such as Tom Pet­ty (in his very last film inter­view), Beck, Fiona Apple, Cat Pow­er, Regi­na Spek­tor and Norah Jones.

The film will be released in LA on May 24th and in NYC on May 31st.

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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Cinema Lovers Rejoice, the New Criterion Channel Launches Today: Get a 14-Day Free Trial

If you lament­ed the demise of Film­struck last year, you’ll sure­ly wel­come the rise of the new Cri­te­ri­on Channel. It launch­es today. Accord­ing to Cri­te­ri­on, the “new ser­vice will host the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion and Janus Films’ ever-grow­ing library of more than 1,000 fea­ture films, 350 shorts, and 3,500 sup­ple­men­tary fea­tures, includ­ing trail­ers, intro­duc­tions, behind-the-scenes doc­u­men­taries, inter­views, video essays, com­men­tary tracks, and rare archival footage.” In addi­tion, you will get access to a “con­stant­ly refreshed selec­tions of Hol­ly­wood, inter­na­tion­al, art-house, and inde­pen­dent movies.”

The Cri­te­ri­on Chan­nel will launch in the U.S. and Cana­da. It can be accessed on desk­top browsers and also apps for Apple TV, Ama­zon Fire, Roku, iOS, and Android and Android TV devices. If you sign up now, you can get a 14 day free tri­al. Find more infor­ma­tion on the chan­nel 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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Watch Great Directors, a Documentary That Explores the Minds of 10 Great Auteurs: David Lynch, Agnès Varda, Richard Linklater & More

When we first start watch­ing movies, often we decide what to watch by set­tling on a favorite genre, divi­sions first solid­i­fied by video-store shelves: action, com­e­dy, dra­ma, sci­ence fic­tion, and so on. When we’ve watched more movies, many of us move on to fol­low­ing the work of a par­tic­u­lar actor, which takes us across not just gen­res but eras as well. And prac­ti­cal­ly all cinephiles will remem­ber when it dawned on us that no fig­ure could bet­ter guide our view­ing than the direc­tor — about the same time we usu­al­ly learn the term auteur, which iden­ti­fies cer­tain direc­tors as the pri­ma­ry “authors” of their films. From that point on, we had only to mas­ter the knowl­edge of as many direc­tors’ fil­mo­gra­phies as pos­si­ble, then deter­mine those too whom we would pledge our alle­giance — thus forg­ing bonds with (or draw­ing bat­tle lines against) all oth­er film fans.

If the best movies come pri­mar­i­ly from the minds of their direc­tors, then there must be a great deal else of inter­est in those direc­to­r­i­al minds. Or so implic­it­ly argues Angela Ismai­los’ 2010 doc­u­men­tary Great Direc­tors, which con­sists of inter­views with ten auteurs of the late 20th and ear­ly 21st cen­tu­ry whose work has not only drawn crit­i­cal acclaim but also pro­voked the full range of audi­ence opin­ion, even inspir­ing some view­ers to ded­i­cate them­selves to cin­e­ma.

“I want­ed to cov­er the French cin­e­ma and I love the con­tro­ver­sial cin­e­ma of Cather­ine Breil­li­at and how she por­trays the emo­tion­al and phys­i­cal tra­vails of women in her cin­e­ma,” Ismai­los says of the pro­jec­t’s ori­gin in an inter­view with Film­mak­er mag­a­zine. Then came Agnès Var­da, and after her a line­up includ­ing Bernar­do Bertoluc­ci, Lil­iana Cavani, Todd Haynes, Richard Lin­klater, John Sayles, Ken Loach, and Stephen Frears. “The last direc­tor I added to the film was David Lynch. He was the most dif­fi­cult to get.”

Put togeth­er, these ten fil­mo­gra­phies — con­tain­ing pic­tures from Mate­wan to My Beau­ti­ful Laun­drette, The Last Emper­or to Vel­vet Gold­mine, Poor Cow to Eraser­head, Fat Girl to Slack­er — con­tain an impres­sive­ly wide range of cin­e­mat­ic sen­si­bil­i­ties. But what do the ten direc­tors, com­ing as they do from sev­er­al dif­fer­ent coun­tries and cul­tures, have in com­mon? “In their films they’re try­ing… to break moral stan­dards,” says Ismai­los. “They are not sur­ren­der­ing to pre­con­ceived notions of com­merce or audi­ence pop­u­lar­i­ty or pre­con­cep­tion of what cin­e­ma should be. I believe through the years they are con­stant­ly ask­ing their audi­ence to grow and face the uncer­tain­ties and unpre­dictabil­i­ty of adult life. This is the cin­e­ma I per­son­al­ly love.” She’s cer­tain­ly not the only one, and all the rest of us with an inter­est in films of that kind — and thus an inter­est in direc­tors of this kind — will cer­tain­ly be glad that she’s made Great Direc­tors free to view online.

Great Direc­tors will be added to our list of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

via Wel­come to Twin Peaks

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“The Direc­tors Series” Presents Free Immer­sive Stud­ies of Stan­ley Kubrick, the Coen Broth­ers, David Finch­er, Paul Thomas Ander­son & Christo­pher Nolan

Great Film­mak­ers Offer Advice to Young Direc­tors: Taran­ti­no, Her­zog, Cop­po­la, Scors­ese, Ander­son, Felli­ni & More

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Rare 1965 Inter­view with The New York­er

Lis­ten to Eight Inter­views of Orson Welles by Film­mak­er Peter Bog­danovich (1969–1972)

5 Hours of Free Alfred Hitch­cock Inter­views: Dis­cov­er His The­o­ries of Film Edit­ing, Cre­at­ing Sus­pense & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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.

High School Kids Stage Alien: The Play, Get Kudos from Ridley Scott and Sigourney Weaver

High school dra­ma depart­ments tend to work from a pret­ty stan­dard­ized reper­toire, which makes sense giv­en the strict lim­i­ta­tions they work under: short time frames, school-sized bud­gets, teenage actors. The elab­o­rate, Hol­ly­wood film-like pro­duc­tions staged by Max Fis­ch­er in Wes Ander­son­’s Rush­more speak to frus­trat­ed high-school the­ater direc­tors and their fan­tasies about what they could put on stage with a bit more in the way of resources. But just this month, a real high-school dra­ma club put on a show that out-Max Fis­chered Max Fis­ch­er, draw­ing not just the aston­ish­ment of the inter­net but the respect of one of the most emi­nent film­mak­ers alive.

“A New Jer­sey high school has found itself the unex­pect­ed recip­i­ent of online acclaim and viral atten­tion for its recent stage pro­duc­tion of Alien, the 1979 sci­ence-fic­tion thriller,” writes the New York Times’ Dave Itzkoff. “Alien: The Play, pre­sent­ed last week­end by the dra­ma club of North Bergen High School, starred a cast of eight stu­dents in the film roles orig­i­nal­ly played by Sigour­ney Weaver, Tom Sker­ritt, John Hurt and Ian Holm. Where­as the movie had a bud­get in the range of about $10 mil­lion, Alien: The Play had cos­tumes, props and set designs made most­ly from donat­ed and recy­cled mate­ri­als.” Or as North Bergen stu­dent Justin Pier­son put it in NJ.com’s video on the sur­prise hit: “This is going to sound real­ly fun­ny but (the set crew) used garbage essen­tial­ly.”

With that “garbage” — “just any­thing that was lying around, like card­board and met­al” — they built not only a set that con­vinc­ing­ly evokes the dark claus­tro­pho­bia of the space ship Nos­tro­mo, but a shock­ing­ly accu­rate-look­ing alien, the ter­ri­fy­ing crea­ture orig­i­nal­ly born from the mind of Swiss illus­tra­tor H.R. Giger.

The young cast and crew get into detail about how they did it on Syfy’s Fan­dom File pod­cast: “Much of the atten­tion has high­light­ed and embraced their DIY approach,” writes host Jor­dan Zakarin, and “they were end­less­ly cre­ative in build­ing the sets, with hand-pup­pet aliens, egg crate walls, a stuffed cat (the stand-in for Jones was a par­tic­u­lar­ly inge­nious idea), and oth­er swed­ed props.”

Respons­es to the video clips of Alien: The Play that have cir­cu­lat­ed on the inter­net include a per­son­al con­grat­u­la­to­ry mes­sage from the orig­i­nal film’s star Sigour­ney Weaver as well as a let­ter from its direc­tor Rid­ley Scott, which Alien: The Play’s direc­tor, North Bergen Eng­lish-teacher-by-day Per­fec­to Cuer­vo, post­ed on Twit­ter. “Lim­i­ta­tions often pro­duce the best results because imag­i­na­tion and deter­mi­na­tion can sur­pass any short­falls and deter­mine the way for­ward — ALWAYS,” writes Scott, who has built his rep­u­ta­tion in the film indus­try on tak­ing firm and deci­sive action in the face of any and all pro­duc­tion dif­fi­cul­ties. He also offers both the funds for an encore pro­duc­tion as well as a sug­ges­tion: “How about your next TEAM pro­duc­tion being Glad­i­a­tor.” No doubt Cuer­vo and his enter­pris­ing play­ers are feel­ing pret­ty vin­di­cat­ed in their deci­sion not to do Our Town right about now.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rid­ley Scott Demys­ti­fies the Art of Sto­ry­board­ing (and How to Jump­start Your Cre­ative Project)

Rid­ley Scott Walks You Through His Favorite Scene from Blade Run­ner

Ele­men­tary School Stu­dents Per­form in a Play Inspired by David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

Orson Welles Presents Thorn­ton Wilder’s Our Town, the Most Pop­u­lar High School Play of All Time (1939)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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.

Salvador Dalí & the Marx Brothers’ 1930s Film Script Gets Released as a Graphic Novel

His­to­ry remem­bers Sal­vador Dalí as one of the most indi­vid­u­al­is­tic artists ever to live, but he also had a knack for col­lab­o­ra­tion: with Luis BuñuelAlfred Hitch­cock, Walt Dis­ney, even, in a sense, with Lewis Car­roll and William Shake­speare. But would you believe the list also includes one of the Marx Broth­ers? Though the film on which they col­lab­o­rat­ed in the 1930s nev­er entered pro­duc­tion, its sto­ry has been told by Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad, a hybrid of illus­trat­ed text and graph­ic nov­el pub­lished just this month, itself a col­lab­o­ra­tion between pop-cul­ture schol­ar Josh Frank, artist Manuela Perte­ga, and come­di­an Tim Hei­deck­er.

When Dalí went to Hol­ly­wood, he wrote the fol­low­ing to fel­low Sur­re­al­ist André Bre­ton: “I’ve made con­tact with the three Amer­i­can sur­re­al­ists: Har­po Marx, Dis­ney and Cecil B. DeMille.” He seems to have been espe­cial­ly tak­en with Marx.

“They paint­ed each oth­er, and Dalí sent his new friend a full-size harp strung with barbed wire,” writes NPR’s Etel­ka Lehoczky. “So over­come was Dalí with Har­po’s genius that he wrote a treat­ment, and lat­er an abbre­vi­at­ed screen­play, for a Marx Broth­ers movie to be called Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad.” (It also had at least one alter­nate title, The Sur­re­al­ist Woman.)

The project made it as far as a meet­ing with MGM head Louis B. May­er, to whom Frank describes Dalí and Marx as pitch­ing such scenes as “Har­po opens an umbrel­la and a chick­en explodes on all the onlook­ers. He … puts each piece [of chick­en] care­ful­ly on a sad­dle that he uses as a plate, a sad­dle not for a horse, but for a giraffe!” Unsur­pris­ing­ly, the busi­ness-mind­ed May­er did­n’t go for it, but Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad has had a long after­life as one of the most intrigu­ing films nev­er made. In the ear­ly 1990s, the New York the­ater col­lec­tive Ele­va­tor Repair Ser­vice put on a pro­duc­tion based on the sparse mate­ri­als then known, just a few years before the entire screen­play turned up among Dalí’s per­son­al papers.

“Har­po will be Jim­my, a young Span­ish aris­to­crat who lives in the U.S. as a con­se­quence of polit­i­cal cir­cum­stances in his coun­try,” Dalí wrote. Jim­my was to encounter a “beau­ti­ful sur­re­al­ist woman, whose face is nev­er seen by the audi­ence” in a sto­ry dra­ma­tiz­ing “the con­tin­u­ous strug­gle between the imag­i­na­tive life as depict­ed in the old myths and the prac­ti­cal and ratio­nal life of con­tem­po­rary soci­ety.” Dalí prob­a­bly used the term “sto­ry” loose­ly: “Even jazzed up with jokes by Tim Hei­deck­er (a mod­ern Marx Broth­er if there ever was one), Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad — the movie, not the book — is a baf­fling mess,” writes Lehoczky. “Nei­ther Dalí nor Har­po seems to have real­ized that their approach­es to humor were vast­ly dif­fer­ent.”

The Marx Broth­ers, as every one of their fans knows, were “acute­ly con­scious of, and respon­sive to, estab­lished struc­tures: They sub­vert­ed the social order using its own rules.” Dalí, in film and every oth­er medi­um in which he tried his hand (and mus­tache) besides, usu­al­ly head­ed off “in a direc­tion orthog­o­nal to accept­ed real­i­ty.” To what extent Dalí and Marx were aware of that clash — and to what extent they delib­er­ate­ly empha­sized it — dur­ing their work on Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad remains a mys­tery, but you can read more about that work, and the work Frank, Perte­ga, and Hei­deck­er put in to bring it to graph­ic fruition more than eighty years lat­er, at NPR, Indiewire, and Hyper­al­ler­gic. The more you learn, the more you’ll won­der how even Dalí and Marx could real­ly imag­ine their project pro­duced by a stu­dio in the Gold­en Age of Hol­ly­wood. But as Tate Mod­ern cura­tor Matthew Gale plau­si­bly the­o­rizes, actu­al­ly mak­ing the film may have been beside the point.

Pick up a copy of Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad here.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Two Vin­tage Films by Sal­vador Dalí and Luis Buñuel: Un Chien Andalou and L’Age d’Or

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound

Sal­vador Dalí & Walt Disney’s Short Ani­mat­ed Film, Des­ti­no, Set to the Music of Pink Floyd

The 14-Hour Epic Film, Dune, That Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky, Pink Floyd, Sal­vador Dalí, Moe­bius, Orson Welles & Mick Jag­ger Nev­er Made

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

Grou­cho Marx and T.S. Eliot Become Unex­pect­ed Pen Pals, Exchang­ing Por­traits & Com­pli­ments (1961)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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.

David Lynch Teaches an Online Course on Film & Creativity

How many of us became David Lynch fans while first watch­ing one of his films? And how many of those fans also left filled with the desire to make a film them­selves? Though the long-cir­cu­lat­ing term “Lynchi­an” puts a name to Lynch’s dis­tinc­tive­ly stim­u­lat­ing and dis­turb­ing cin­e­mat­ic style, it increas­ing­ly seems that no film­mak­er, no mat­ter how skilled, can quite pull off that style but Lynch him­self. But even if you can nev­er be the man who direct­ed the likes of Eraser­head, Blue Vel­vet, and Mul­hol­land Dri­ve (and co-cre­at­ed the sim­i­lar­ly inim­itable tele­vi­sion series Twin Peaks), you can still learn a great deal about film­mak­ing from him that you can’t learn from any­one else.

Now online edu­ca­tion com­pa­ny Mas­ter­Class has made some of his knowl­edge eas­i­ly acces­si­ble in the form of their new course “David Lynch Teach­es Cre­ativ­i­ty and Film.” In Lynch’s world — unlike Hol­ly­wood in gen­er­al — you can’t make a film with­out cre­ativ­i­ty. But of what does cre­ativ­i­ty con­sist? “Ideas are every­thing,” says Lynch in the trail­er for his Mas­ter­Class above. “We’re noth­ing with­out an idea. So I go where the ideas lead.” He has long liked to make an anal­o­gy with fish­ing: you put a piece of bait on a hook, cast your line out into the world, and wait for an idea to bite. Dif­fer­ent idea-fish­ing meth­ods work for dif­fer­ent peo­ple, and Lynch has spo­ken of his suc­cess with drink­ing a milk­shake at Bob’s Big Boy every day for sev­en years, and even more so with decade after decade of twice-dai­ly med­i­ta­tion.


How­ev­er you fish for ideas, “you don’t know when they’re going to come or what will trig­ger them. Lo and behold, on a lucky day, bin­go, you’ll catch an idea, and… par­ty time.” Lynch also drops an unex­pect­ed­ly prac­ti­cal piece of advice to do with all this in the trail­er: “If you want to make a fea­ture-length film, all you need to do is get 70 ideas.” Then you take those 70 ideas, write them on cards, and put the cards in order — and not nec­es­sar­i­ly in a nar­ra­tive­ly con­ven­tion­al order. “In cin­e­ma, I don’t like rules,” Lynch says, a state­ment that will sur­prise nei­ther his boost­ers nor his detrac­tors. He cov­ers that ter­ri­to­ry in the eleventh les­son of his Mas­ter­Class, which explains the dif­fer­ence between “restric­tions that sti­fle cre­ativ­i­ty from those that actu­al­ly help you to think out­side the box.” Oth­er lessons get into “how to approach a blank page,” “how to iden­ti­fy and rec­og­nize the right per­former for a part,” and “how David han­dles the pres­sures of the set while pro­tect­ing a cre­ative space for the cast and crew.”

A final “bonus chap­ter” offers Lynch’s views on tran­scen­den­tal med­i­ta­tion, a prac­tice that has taught him “to approach life and work with deep­er aware­ness” and “enjoy the ‘doing’ of almost any activ­i­ty.” That sets “David Lynch Teach­es Cre­ativ­i­ty and Film” apart from the oth­er film­mak­ing cours­es Mas­ter­class offers, taught by such an intel­lec­tu­al­ly and aes­thet­i­cal­ly var­ied set of lumi­nar­ies as Mar­tin Scors­ese, Ken Burns, Jodie Fos­ter, Spike Lee, and Wern­er Her­zog. You can take all of those, and any oth­er Mas­ter­class besides, with the site’s “all-access pass,” or just this one course for $90. And even if you don’t, you’d do pret­ty well to take with you into your film­mak­ing career the words by which Lynch him­self has clear­ly lived: “Nev­er give up final cut and total cre­ative free­dom.” For a com­plete list of Mas­ter­class cours­es, click here.

FYI: If you sign up for a Mas­ter­Class course by click­ing on the affil­i­ate links in this post, Open Cul­ture will receive a small fee that helps sup­port our oper­a­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Ani­mat­ed David Lynch Explains Where He Gets His Ideas

David Lynch Explains How Med­i­ta­tion Boosts Our Cre­ativ­i­ty (Plus Free Resources to Help You Start Med­i­tat­ing)

How David Lynch Got Cre­ative Inspi­ra­tion? By Drink­ing a Milk­shake at Bob’s Big Boy, Every Sin­gle Day, for Sev­en Straight Years

The Sur­re­al Film­mak­ing of David Lynch Explained in 9 Video Essays

David Lynch Presents the His­to­ry of Sur­re­al­ist Film (1987)

David Lynch Teach­es Typ­ing: A New Inter­ac­tive Com­e­dy Game

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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.

Bohemian Rhapsody’s Bad Editing: A Breakdown

Bohemi­an Rhap­sody may have won the Oscar for Best Edit­ing. But video essay­ist Thomas Flight isn’t per­suad­ed. In a 13-minute video, Flight decon­structs a 104-sec­ond clip from the biopic, reveal­ing the exces­sive 60 cuts that make up the scene. That trans­lates into a dizzy­ing cut every 1.8 sec­onds on aver­age.

For Thomas Flight, Bohemi­an Rhap­sody is noth­ing short of a “mas­ter­class in bad edit­ing.” For you, Flight’s video offers a nice short crash course in film edit­ing.

Accord­ing to The Wash­ing­ton Post, the pub scene decon­struct­ed in Flight’s video was actu­al­ly edit­ed by Dex­ter Fletcher–and not John Ottman, the film edi­tor who helped sal­vage the film and then won top hon­ors at the Oscars. Asked about the botched scene, Ottman told WaPo: “When­ev­er I see it, I want to put a bag over my head. Because that’s not my aes­thet­ic. If there’s ever an extend­ed ver­sion of the film where I can put a cou­ple scenes back, I will recut that scene!”

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

How to Film Thought: A Close Look at the Mas­ter­ful Edit­ing of Sher­lock, Star­ring Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch

The Alche­my of Film Edit­ing, Explored in a New Video Essay That Breaks Down Han­nah and Her Sis­ters, The Empire Strikes Back & Oth­er Films

Scenes from Bohemi­an Rhap­sody Com­pared to Real Life: A 21-Minute Com­pi­la­tion

Hear How Queen’s “Bohemi­an Rhap­sody” Would Sound If Sung by John­ny Cash, David Bowie, Janis Joplin, Frank Sina­tra & 38 Oth­er Artists

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