What Made Better Call Saul a Master Class in Visual Storytelling: A Video Essay

A decade ago, nobody inter­est­ed in pres­tige dra­mat­ic tele­vi­sion could have ignored Break­ing Bad, Vince Gilli­gan’s AMC series about a down­trod­den high-school chem­istry teacher who becomes a cal­cu­lat­ing and sav­age crys­tal-meth deal­er. Such was the crit­i­cal and pop­u­lar suc­cess of the show that, less than two years after it end­ed, it was resumed in the form of Bet­ter Call Saul. The title char­ac­ter Saul Good­man had been the afore­men­tioned teacher-turned-deal­er’s lawyer in Break­ing Bad, and the lat­er series, a pre­quel, traces the half-decade jour­ney that brought him to that point: a jour­ney that began when he was a Chica­go con man named Jim­my McGill.

Bet­ter Call Saul’s six-sea­son run (one episode longer than Break­ing Bad) came to an end this week. Dur­ing that time, the show has received even stronger acco­lades than the one that spun it off. To get a sense of what makes it such an achieve­ment in a field crowd­ed with some of the most ambi­tious cre­ators of pop­u­lar cul­ture today, watch the video essay above by Youtu­ber Thomas Flight.

Here on Open Cul­ture, we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured his visu­al analy­ses of auteurs like Wes Ander­son and Bong Joon-ho as well as shows like The Wire and Cher­nobyl. Five years ago, he uploaded a video explain­ing “why Bet­ter Call Saul is bril­liant”; now he argues that it’s a “mas­ter class in visu­al sto­ry­telling.”

“ ‘Show, don’t tell’ is such com­mon advice in film­mak­ing and screen­writ­ing that it’s basi­cal­ly a cliché at this point,” says Flight, “but it’s also much eas­i­er said than done.” He goes on to draw from Bet­ter Call Saul a host of prime exam­ples of show­ing-not-telling, orga­nized into four cat­e­gories of its spe­cial strengths: “props as sym­bol­ic objects,” “visu­al per­for­mances,” “char­ac­ters in process,” and “sto­ry­telling with cin­e­matog­ra­phy.” Bet­ter Call Saul’s cre­ators make rich use of objects, ges­tures, expres­sions, places, angles, and much else besides to tell — or rather, show — the sto­ry of Jimmy/Saul’s trans­for­ma­tion, as well as the trans­for­ma­tions of those around him. But which of those char­ac­ters will star in Gilli­gan’s next, sure­ly even more ambi­tious series?

Relat­ed con­tent:

How Break­ing Bad Craft­ed the Per­fect TV Pilot: A Video Essay

Watch the Pilot of Break­ing Bad with a Chem­istry Pro­fes­sor: How Sound Was the Sci­ence?

The Sci­ence of Break­ing Bad: Pro­fes­sor Don­na Nel­son Explains How the Show Gets it Right

Watch the Orig­i­nal Audi­tion Tapes for Break­ing Bad Before the Final Sea­son Debuts

Break­ing Bad Illus­trat­ed by Gonzo Artist Ralph Stead­man

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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

All the Music Played on MTV’s 120 Minutes: A 2,500-Video Youtube Playlist

The mid-nine­teen-nineties was not a time with­out irony. You may recall that, back then, “alter­na­tive” rock had not only gone main­stream, but, in cer­tain regions, had even become the most pop­u­lar genre of music on the radio. That was cer­tain­ly true in the Seat­tle area, where I grew up. And if you want­ed to start a rock band there, as writer Adam Cadre remem­bers, you knew what steps you had to take: “get a record deal, make a video, get it on 120 Min­utes, have it become a Buzz Clip, won­der why mas­sive suc­cess does­n’t ease the aching void inside.”

If you got into bands like 10,000 Mani­acs, Smash­ing Pump­kins, R.E.M., The Replace­ments, the Pix­ies, the Off­spring, or Son­ic Youth in the mid-nineties (to say noth­ing of a cer­tain trio called Nir­vana), chances are — sta­tis­ti­cal­ly speak­ing, at least — that you first saw them on 120 Min­utes.

At the peak of its pop­u­lar­i­ty on MTV, the show defined the alter­na­tive-rock zeit­geist, intro­duc­ing new bands as well as bring­ing new waves of lis­ten­ers to exist­ing ones. Though most strong­ly asso­ci­at­ed with the nineties, it pre­miered in 1986, host­ed by three of the first MTV VJs, J. J. Jack­son, Martha Quinn, and Alan Hunter. 36 years lat­er, you can relive the entire­ty of 120 Min­utes’ sev­en­teen-year run (with a brief revival in the twen­ty-tens) on Youtube.

A user named Chris Reynolds has cre­at­ed a playlist that appears to con­tain every song ever aired on 120 Min­utes. (Those have been doc­u­ment­ed by The 120 Min­utes Archive, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture.) Among the playlist’s more than 2,500 videos are songs — Vio­lent Femmes’ “Kiss Off,” The Psy­che­del­ic Furs’ “Love My Way,” Pearl Jam’s “Alive,” Fish­bone’s “Every­day Sun­shine,” R.E.M.‘s “Stand” — that will take you back to the pop-cul­tur­al eras 120 Min­utes spanned. But there are even more — Man­u­fac­ture’s “As the End Draws Near,” Lloyd Cole and the Com­mo­tions’ “Jen­nifer She Said,” Hel­met’s “Mil­que­toast,” Cause and Effec­t’s “You Think You Know Her” — that you may well have missed, even if you rocked your way through the eight­ies and nineties.

via Brook­lyn Veg­an

Relat­ed con­tent:

The 120 Min­utes Archive Com­piles Clips & Playlists from 956 Episodes of MTV’s Alter­na­tive Music Show (1986–2013)

Watch the First Two Hours of MTV’s Inau­gur­al Broad­cast (August 1, 1981)

Watch Nir­vana Go Through Rehearsals for Their Famous MTV Unplugged Ses­sions: “Pol­ly,” “The Man Who Sold the World” & More (1993)

Nir­vana Refus­es to Mime Along to “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” on Top of the Pops (1991)

William S. Bur­roughs — Alter­na­tive Rock Star — Sings with Kurt Cobain, Tom Waits, REM & More

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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

The Last Cigarette Commercial Ever Aired on American TV (1971)

The slo­gan “You’ve come a long way, baby” still has some pop-cul­tur­al cur­ren­cy. But how many Amer­i­cans under the age of six­ty remem­ber what it adver­tised? The line was first rolled out in 1968 to pro­mote Vir­ginia Slims, the then-new brand of cig­a­rettes mar­ket­ed explic­it­ly to women. “Every ad in the cam­paign put a woman front and cen­ter, equat­ing smok­ing Vir­ginia Slims with being inde­pen­dent, styl­ish, con­fi­dent and lib­er­at­ed,” says the Amer­i­can Asso­ci­a­tion of Adver­tis­ing Agen­cies. “The slo­gan itself spoke direct­ly about the progress women all over Amer­i­ca were fight­ing for.”

Such was the zeit­geist pow­er of Vir­ginia Slims that they became the very last cig­a­rette brand ever adver­tised on Amer­i­can TV, at 11:59 p.m on Jan­u­ary 2, 1971, dur­ing The Tonight Show Star­ring John­ny Car­son. Richard Nixon had signed the Pub­lic Health Cig­a­rette Smok­ing Act, which banned cig­a­rette adver­tise­ments on broad­cast media, on April 1, 1970. But it did­n’t take effect imme­di­ate­ly, the tobac­co indus­try hav­ing man­aged to nego­ti­ate for itself one last chance to air com­mer­cials dur­ing the col­lege foot­ball games of New Year’s Day 1971.

“The Philip Mor­ris com­pa­ny has bought all com­mer­cial time on the first half hour of all the net­work talk shows tonight,” says ABC’s Har­ry Rea­son­er on a news­cast from that same day. “That is, the last half hour on which it is legal to sell cig­a­rettes on radio or tele­vi­sion in the Unit­ed States. This marks, as we like to say, the end of an era.” In trib­ute, ABC put togeth­er an assem­blage of past cig­a­rette com­mer­cials. That some will feel odd­ly famil­iar even to those of us who would­n’t be born for a decade or two speaks to the pow­er of mass media in post­war Amer­i­ca. More than half a cen­tu­ry lat­er, now that cig­a­rettes are sel­dom glimpsed even on dra­mat­ic tele­vi­sion, all this feels almost sur­re­al­is­ti­cal­ly dis­tant in his­to­ry.

Equal­ly strik­ing, cer­tain­ly by con­trast to the man­ner of news anchors in the twen­ty-twen­ties, is the poet­ry of Rea­son­er’s reflec­tion on the just-closed chap­ter of tele­vi­sion his­to­ry. “It isn’t like say­ing good­bye to an old friend, I guess, because the doc­tors have con­vinced us they aren’t old friends,” he admits. “But we may be par­doned, I think, on dim win­ter nights in the future, sit­ting by the fire and nod­ding and say­ing, ‘Remem­ber L.S./M.F.T.? Remem­ber Glen Gray play­ing smoke rings for the Camel car­a­van? Remem­ber ‘Nature in the raw is sel­dom mild’? Remem­ber all those girls who who had it all togeth­er?’ ”

Relat­ed con­tent:

When the Flint­stones Ped­dled Cig­a­rettes

Cig­a­rette Com­mer­cials from David Lynch, the Coen Broth­ers and Jean Luc Godard

Two Short Films on Cof­fee and Cig­a­rettes from Jim Jar­musch & Paul Thomas Ander­son

Glo­ri­ous Ear­ly 20th-Cen­tu­ry Japan­ese Ads for Beer, Smokes & Sake (1902–1954)

How Edward Munch Sig­naled His Bohemi­an Rebel­lion with Cig­a­rettes (1895): A Video Essay

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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

As Star Trek’s Lieutenant Uhura, Nichelle Nichols (RIP) Starred in “TV’s First Interracial Kiss” in 1968

The orig­i­nal Star Trek ran for only three sea­sons, but in that short time it had, to put it mild­ly, an out­sized cul­tur­al impact. That part­ly had to do with the series hav­ing aired in the late nine­teen-six­ties, an era when a host of long-stand­ing norms in Amer­i­can soci­ety (as well as in oth­er soci­eties across the world) seemed to have come up for re-nego­ti­a­tion. Through its sci­ence-fic­tion­al premis­es and twen­ty-third-cen­tu­ry set­ting, Star Trek could deal with the present in ways that would have been dif­fi­cult for oth­er, osten­si­bly more real­is­tic pro­grams.

In “Pla­to’s Stepchil­dren,” an episode from 1968, sev­er­al mem­bers of the Enter­prise’s crew find them­selves cap­tive on a plan­et of tele­ki­net­ic, ancient-Greece-wor­ship­ping sadists. It was there that Star Trek staged one of its most mem­o­rable moments, a kiss between William Shat­ner’s Cap­tain Kirk and the late Nichelle Nichols’ Lieu­tenant Uhu­ra. It aris­es not out of a rela­tion­ship that has devel­oped organ­i­cal­ly between the char­ac­ters, but out of com­pul­sion by the pow­ers of their “Pla­ton­ian” cap­tors, who force the humans to per­form for their enter­tain­ment.

Despite that nar­ra­tive loop­hole, the scene nev­er­the­less wor­ried the man­age­ment at NBC. They imag­ined that, giv­en that Shat­ner was white and Nichols black, to show them kiss­ing would pro­voke a neg­a­tive reac­tion among view­ers in parts of the coun­try his­tor­i­cal­ly hos­tile to the idea of roman­tic rela­tions between those races. Ensur­ing that the scene made it to the air as writ­ten (Nichols lat­er remem­bered in her auto­bi­og­ra­phy) neces­si­tat­ed such tac­tics as sab­o­tag­ing the alter­nate takes shot with­out the kiss: “Bill shook me and hissed men­ac­ing­ly in his best ham-fist­ed Kirkian stac­ca­to deliv­ery, ‘I! WON’T! KISS! YOU! I! WON’T! KISS! YOU!’ ”

The Kirk-Uhu­ra kiss did occa­sion a great many respons­es, prac­ti­cal­ly all of them pos­i­tive. That Nichols and Shat­ner — not to men­tion Star Trek cre­ator Gene Rod­den­ber­ry, and all their oth­er col­lab­o­ra­tors – pulled it off in the right way at the right moment is evi­denced by its being remem­bered more than 50 years lat­er as “TV’s First Inter­ra­cial Kiss.” In fact there had been inter­ra­cial kiss­es on tele­vi­sion for at least a decade (one, on a 1958 Ed Sul­li­van Show, involved Shat­ner him­self), but none had made quite such a con­vinc­ing state­ment, even to skep­tics. “I am total­ly opposed to the mix­ing of the races,” as Nichols remem­bered one view­er writ­ing in. “How­ev­er, any time a red-blood­ed Amer­i­can boy like Cap­tain Kirk gets a beau­ti­ful dame in his arms that looks like Uhu­ra, he ain’t gonna fight it.”

Relat­ed con­tent:

Nichelle Nichols Explains How Mar­tin Luther King Con­vinced Her to Stay on Star Trek

Star Trek‘s Nichelle Nichols Cre­ates a Short Film for NASA to Recruit New Astro­nauts (1977)

Watch the First-Ever Kiss on Film Between Two Black Actors, Just Hon­ored by the Library of Con­gress (1898)

Watch Edith+Eddie, an Intense, Oscar-Nom­i­nat­ed Short Film About America’s Old­est Inter­ra­cial New­ly­weds

William Shat­ner in Tears After Becom­ing the Old­est Per­son in Space: ‘I’m So Filled with Emo­tion … I Hope I Nev­er Recov­er from This”

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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

“Downton Abbey” and the Allure of Historical Drama — Pretty Much Pop: A Culture Podcast #127

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We dis­cuss the appeal of this Julian-Fel­lowes-penned British his­tor­i­cal dra­ma in light of the new film. Is this real­ly “a new era” or just more of the same, and is that bad?

Your Pret­ty Much Pop host Mark Lin­sen­may­er is joined by return­ing guest Jon Lam­ore­aux (host of The Hus­tle music pod­cast), plus a cou­ple: for­mer news­cast­er Cor­rinne MacLeod (whom Mark SCANDOLOUSLY went on one date with at age 12) and her hus­band, the pho­tog­ra­ph­er Michael MacLeod.

We talk about the excel­lent cast­ing and how such a big cast gets jug­gled, the appeal of this par­tic­u­lar his­tor­i­cal set­ting, rev­o­lu­tions against the class sys­tem in the show, and the soapy plots. How can a film give us enough of such a big cast? We also touch on The Gild­ed Age, Bridger­ton, Howard’s End, Gos­ford Park, The Great, Poldark, and more.

A few rel­e­vant arti­cles we looked at include:

Hear more Pret­ty Much Pop, includ­ing recent episodes on Jack­ass, This Is Us, and The Expanse. Sup­port the show at patreon.com/prettymuchpop or by choos­ing a paid sub­scrip­tion through Apple Pod­casts. This pod­cast is part of the Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life pod­cast net­work.

Pret­ty Much Pop: A Cul­ture Pod­cast is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts.

Julia Child Shows Fred Rogers How to Make a Quick & Delicious Pasta Dish (1974)

Julia Child and Fred Rogers were titans of pub­lic tele­vi­sion, cel­e­brat­ed for their nat­ur­al warmth, the ease with which they deliv­ered impor­tant lessons to home view­ers, and, for a cer­tain sec­tor of the view­ing pub­lic, how read­i­ly their per­son­al­i­ties lent them­self to par­o­dy.

Child’s cook­ing pro­gram, The French Chef, debuted in 1963, and Roger’s much beloved children’s show, Mis­ter Rogers Neigh­bor­hood, fol­lowed five years lat­er.

Rogers occa­sion­al­ly invit­ed accom­plished celebri­ties to join him for seg­ments where­in they demon­strat­ed their par­tic­u­lar tal­ents:

With our guest’s help, I have been able to show a wide diver­si­ty of self-expres­sion, the extra­or­di­nary range of human poten­tial. I want chil­dren and their fam­i­lies to know that there are many con­struc­tive ways to express who they are and how they feel. 

In 1974, Child paid a call to the neigh­bor­hood bak­ery presided over by “Chef” Don Brock­ett  (whose lat­er cred­its includ­ed a cameo as a “Friend­ly Psy­chopath” in Silence of the Lambs…)

The easy-to-pre­pare pas­ta dish she teach­es Rogers — and, by exten­sion, his “tele­vi­sion friend” — to make takes a sur­pris­ing­ly opti­mistic view of the aver­age pre-school palate.

Red sauce gets a hard pass, in favor of a more sophis­ti­cat­ed blend of fla­vors stem­ming from tuna, black olives, and pimen­tos.

Brock­ett pro­vides an assist with both the cook­ing and, more impor­tant­ly, the child safe­ty rules that aren’t always front and cen­ter with this celebri­ty guest.

Child, who had no off­spring, comes off as a high-spir­it­ed, loosey-goosey, fun aunt, encour­ag­ing child view­ers to toss the cooked spaghet­ti “fair­ly high” after adding but­ter and oil “because it’s dra­mat­ic” and talk­ing as if they’ll be hit­ting the super­mar­ket solo, a flat­ter­ing notion to any tot whose refrain is “I do it mySELF!”

She wise­ly reframes tasks assigned to big­ger, more expe­ri­enced hand — boil­ing water, knife work — as less excit­ing than “the fan­cy busi­ness at the end”, and makes it stick by sug­gest­ing that the kids “order the grown ups to do what you want done,” a verb choice the ever-respect­ful Rogers like­ly would have avoid­ed.

As with The French Chef, her off-the-cuff remarks are a major source of delight.

Watch­ing his guest wipe a wood­en cut­ting board with olive oil, Rogers observes that some of his friends “could do this very well,” to which she replies:

It’s also good for your hands ‘coz it keeps ‘em nice and soft, so rub any excess into your hands.

She shares a bit of stage set scut­tle­butt regard­ing a let­ter from “some woman” who com­plained that the off-cam­era waste­bas­ket made it appear that Child was dis­card­ing peels and stems onto the floor.

She said, “Do you think this is a nice way to show young peo­ple how to cook, to throw things on the floor!?” And I said, “Well, I have a self clean­ing floor! …The self clean­ing is me.”

(Rogers appears both amused and relieved when the ulti­mate punch­line steers things back to the realm of good man­ners and per­son­al respon­si­bil­i­ty.)

Trans­fer­ring the slip­pery pre-cooked noo­dles from pot to serv­ing bowl, Child rem­i­nisces about a won­der­ful old movie in which some­one — “Char­lie Chap­lin or was it, I guess it was, uh, it wasn’t Mick­ey Rooney, maybe it was…” — eats spaghet­ti through a fun­nel.

If only the Inter­net had exist­ed in 1974 so intrigued par­ents could have Googled their way to the Noo­dle Break at the Bull Pup Cafe sequence from 1918’s The Cook, star­ring Roscoe “Fat­ty” Arbuck­le and Buster Keaton!

The fun­nel is but one of many inspired silent spaghet­ti gags in this sure­fire don’t‑try-this-at-home kid-pleas­er.

We learn that Child named her dish Spaghet­ti Mar­co Polo in a nod to a wide­ly cir­cu­lat­ed the­o­ry that pas­ta orig­i­nat­ed in Chi­na and was intro­duced to Italy by the explor­er, a bit of lore food writer Tori Avey of The His­to­ry Kitchen finds dif­fi­cult to swal­low:

A com­mon belief about pas­ta is that it was brought to Italy from Chi­na by Mar­co Polo dur­ing the 13th cen­tu­ry. In his book, The Trav­els of Mar­co Polo, there is a pas­sage that briefly men­tions his intro­duc­tion to a plant that pro­duced flour (pos­si­bly a bread­fruit tree). The Chi­nese used this plant to cre­ate a meal sim­i­lar to bar­ley flour. The bar­ley-like meal Polo men­tioned was used to make sev­er­al pas­ta-like dish­es, includ­ing one described as lagana (lasagna). Since Polo’s orig­i­nal text no longer exists, the book relies heav­i­ly on retellings by var­i­ous authors and experts. This, com­bined with the fact that pas­ta was already gain­ing pop­u­lar­i­ty in oth­er areas of Italy dur­ing the 13th-cen­tu­ry, makes it very unlike­ly that Mar­co Polo was the first to intro­duce pas­ta to Italy.

Ah well.

We’re glad Child went with the Chi­na the­o­ry as it pro­vides an excuse to eat spaghet­ti with chop­sticks.

Noth­ing is more day-mak­ing than see­ing Julia Child pop a small bun­dle of spaghet­ti direct­ly into Fred Rogers’ mouth from the tips of her chopsticks…though after using the same imple­ments to feed some to Chef Brock­ett too, she real­izes that this wasn’t the best les­son in food hygiene.

In 2021, this sort of boo-boo would result in an auto­mat­ic reshoot.

In the wilder, wooli­er 70s, a more press­ing con­cern, at least as far as pub­lic tele­vi­sion was con­cerned, was expand­ing lit­tle Amer­i­cans’ world­view, in part by show­ing them how to get a com­mand­ing grip on their chop­sticks. It’s nev­er too late to learn.

Bon appétit!

JULIA CHILD’S SPAGHETTI MARCO POLO

There are a num­ber of vari­a­tions online, but this recipe, from Food.com, hews close­ly to Child’s orig­i­nal, while pro­vid­ing mea­sure­ments for her eye­balled amounts.

Serves 4–6

INGREDIENTS 

1 lb spaghet­ti 

2 table­spoons but­ter 

2 table­spoons olive oil 

1 tea­spoon salt black pep­per 

1 6‑ounce can tuna packed in oil, flaked, undrained 

2 table­spoons pimien­to, diced or 2 table­spoons roast­ed red pep­pers, sliced into strips 

2 table­spoons green onions with tops, sliced 

2 table­spoons black olives, sliced 

2 table­spoons wal­nuts, chopped

1 cup Swiss cheese, shred­ded 

2 table­spoons fresh pars­ley or 2 table­spoons cilantro, chopped

Cook pas­ta accord­ing to pack­age direc­tions. 

Drain pas­ta and return to pot, stir­ring in but­ter, olive oil, and salt and pep­per. 

Toss with remain­ing ingre­di­ents and serve, gar­nished with pars­ley or cilantro.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Julia Child Shows David Let­ter­man How to Cook Meat with a Blow Torch

Watch Antho­ny Bourdain’s First Food-and-Trav­el Series A Cook’s Tour Free Online (2002–03)

Tast­ing His­to­ry: A Hit YouTube Series Shows How to Cook the Foods of Ancient Greece & Rome, Medieval Europe, and Oth­er Places & Peri­ods

Sci­ence & Cook­ing: Harvard’s Free Course on Mak­ing Cakes, Pael­la & Oth­er Deli­cious Food

MIT Teach­es You How to Speak Ital­ian & Cook Ital­ian Food All at Once (Free Online Course)

 

- 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.

Kate Bush Enjoys a (Long-Overdue) Revival, Sparked by Season 4 of Stranger Things

There’s nev­er been a bad time for a Kate Bush revival. Those who lived through the 1980s may always asso­ciate her biggest songs with their mem­o­ries. Fans who only know the 80s by way of Net­flix know it by proxy and don’t suf­fer from nos­tal­gia. But what­ev­er Kate’s big, reverb-soaked drums, big Fairlight synths, big hair, and enor­mous vocals evoke for audi­ences now, one thing is cer­tain: Kate Bush’s music is time­less.

Rebec­ca Nichol­son sums up the sen­ti­ment in a Guardian post on the renais­sance Bush is now enjoy­ing, thanks to the use of her 1985 hit, “Run­ning Up That Hill (Deal With God)” in the new sea­son of Net­flix hit series, Stranger Things: “If any song can steel itself against over famil­iar­i­ty, it’s ‘Run­ning Up That Hill.’ Whether it is for the first time or the 500th time, you still hear it now and think, what the hell was that? And then you play it again.”

Not to spoil, but the love of a per­fect pop song after innu­mer­able rep­e­ti­tions plays a sig­nif­i­cant role in the plot of Stranger Things’ Sea­son 4, just one of the wink­ing crit­i­cal touch­es in the show’s use of 80s cul­ture as com­men­tary on the present. (If you haven’t seen the show yet, maybe skip the clip below.) Can we find the same com­forts in our dis­pos­able pop cul­ture, the show seems to ask? Maybe we need musi­cal guid­ance from an icon like Kate Bush now more than ever.

When the show’s pro­duc­ers approached Bush about using the song, she dis­played her usu­al ret­i­cence. Since her break­out debut sin­gle, “Wuther­ing Heights” and the result­ing album and tour, she has shunned the press and stage, pre­fer­ring to com­mu­ni­cate with videos and tak­ing sev­er­al years off, only to return onstage recent­ly after 35 years, to the delight of stal­wart fans world­wide. Now, since Stranger Things’ new release, “a new gen­er­a­tion is tap­ping ‘who is Kate Bush?’ into the search bar,” Nichol­son writes.

The song is already back in the UK top 10 (where it hit no. 3 orig­i­nal­ly), and it should “at least give its orig­i­nal chart peak a run for its mon­ey” in the US, where it only reached no. 30, Bill­board com­ments. For those who need an intro­duc­tion, the Trash The­o­ry video at the top, “Run­ning Up That Hill: How Kate Bush Became the Queen of Alt-Pop,” will get you caught up on one of the most bril­liant — and under­rat­ed, in the US — pop stars of the past forty years.

Despite show­ing her usu­al cau­tion, how­ev­er, when the show’s pro­duc­ers sent Bush a script and an expla­na­tion of how “Run­ning Up That Hill” would be used, she revealed that she was already a fan of the show and agreed to the song’s licens­ing, some­thing the 63-year-old singer almost nev­er does. Then, she made a rare pub­lic state­ment on her web­site:

  You might’ve heard that the first part of the fan­tas­tic, grip­ping new series of  ‘Stranger Things’  has recent­ly been released on Net­flix. It fea­tures the song, ‘Run­ning Up That Hill’  which is being giv­en a whole new lease of life by the young fans who love the show — I love it too! Because of this, Run­ning Up That Hill is chart­ing around the world and has entered the UK chart at No. 8. It’s all real­ly excit­ing! Thanks very much to every­one who has sup­port­ed the song.
    I wait with bat­ed breath for the rest of the series in July.  
         Best wish­es,
            Kate

Fans of the show all wait, with Kate, for its return, but not near­ly as eager­ly as fans of Kate Bush await­ed a sign from their idol for decades, a self-made artist who defined her era by nev­er bow­ing to its dic­tates. Now, we hope, she’s come back to stay for a while.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Revis­it Kate Bush’s Pecu­liar Christ­mas Spe­cial, Fea­tur­ing Peter Gabriel (1979)

Watch a Tow­er­ing Orches­tral Trib­ute to Kate Bush: A 40th Anniver­sary Cel­e­bra­tion of Her First Sin­gle, “Wuther­ing Heights”

The Largest Ever Trib­ute to Kate Bush’s “Wuther­ing Heights” Chore­o­graphed by a Flash­mob in Berlin

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

Watch Hannah Arendt’s Final Interview (1973)

Even before the elec­tion of Don­ald Trump, as some crit­ics began to see the pos­si­bil­i­ty of a win, talk turned to his­tor­i­cal names of anti-fas­cism: George Orwell, Sin­clair Lewis, and, espe­cial­ly, Han­nah Arendt, author of The Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism, On Rev­o­lu­tion, and Eich­mann in Jerusalem, her series of arti­cles for The New York­er about the tri­al of the Naz­i’s chief bureau­crat. Arendt close­ly observed author­i­tar­i­an regimes and their after­math, detail­ing the way ide­ol­o­gy seeps in through banal polit­i­cal careerism.

Since 2016, her warn­ings have seemed all-too-pre­scient, espe­cial­ly after a coup attempt last Jan­u­ary that has been all-but hand-waved out of polit­i­cal mem­o­ry by the GOP and its media appa­ra­tus, while can­di­dates who deny the legit­i­ma­cy of elec­tion out­comes they don’t like increas­ing­ly get their names on bal­lots. The degree to which Arendt saw the polit­i­cal con­di­tions of her time, and maybe ours, with clar­i­ty has less to do with fore­knowl­edge and more with a deep knowl­edge of the past. Cor­rup­tion, tyran­ny, deceit, in all their many forms, have not changed much in their essen­tial char­ac­ter since the records of antiq­ui­ty were set down.

“Dark times,” she wrote in the 1968 pref­ace to her col­lec­tion of essays Men in Dark Times, “are not only not new, they are no rar­i­ty in his­to­ry, although,” she adds, “they were per­haps unknown in Amer­i­can his­to­ry, which oth­er­wise has its fair share, past and present, of crime and dis­as­ter.” Had her assess­ment changed a few years lat­er, in what would be her final inter­view, above, in 1973 (aired on French TV in 1974)? Had dark times come for the U.S.? The Yom Kip­pur War had just begun, the seem­ing­ly-end­less Viet­nam War dragged on, and the Water­gate scan­dal had hit its crescen­do.

Still, Arendt con­tin­ued to feel a cer­tain guard­ed opti­mism about her adopt­ed coun­try, which, she says, is “not a nation-state” like Ger­many or France:

This coun­try is unit­ed nei­ther by her­itage, nor by mem­o­ry, nor by soil, nor by lan­guage, nor by ori­gin from the same. There are no natives here. The natives were the Indi­ans. Every­one else are cit­i­zens. And these cit­i­zens are unit­ed only by one thing and this is true: That is, you become a cit­i­zen in the Unit­ed States by a sim­ple con­sent to the Con­sti­tu­tion. The con­sti­tu­tion – that is a scrap of paper accord­ing to the French as well as the Ger­man com­mon opin­ion, & you can change it. No, here it is a sacred doc­u­ment. It is the con­stant remem­brance of one sacred act. And that is the act of foun­da­tion. And the foun­da­tion is to make a union out of whol­ly dis­parate eth­nic minori­ties and reli­gions, and (a) still have a union, and (b) do not assim­i­late or lev­el down these dif­fer­ences. And all of this is very dif­fi­cult to under­stand for a for­eign­er. It’s what a for­eign­er nev­er under­stands.

Whether or not Amer­i­cans under­stood them­selves that way in 1973, or under­stand our­selves this way today, Arendt points to an ide­al that makes the demo­c­ra­t­ic process in the U.S. unique; when, that is, it is allowed to func­tion as osten­si­bly designed, by the con­sent of the gov­erned rather than the tyran­ny of an oli­garchy. Arendt died two years lat­er, as the war in Viet­nam final­ly came to an inglo­ri­ous end. You can watched her full tele­vised inter­view — with Eng­lish trans­la­tions by the uploader, Phi­los­o­phy Over­dose — above, or find it pub­lished in the book, Han­nah Arendt: The Last Inter­view and Oth­er Con­ver­sa­tions.

What would Arendt have had to say to our time of MAGA, COVID-19 and elec­tion denial­ism, mass polit­i­cal racism, misog­y­ny, homo­pho­bia, and xeno­pho­bia? Per­haps her most suc­cinct state­ment on how to rec­og­nize the dark times comes from that same 1968 pref­ace:

I bor­row the term from Brecht’s famous poem ‘To Pos­ter­i­ty,’ which men­tions the dis­or­der and the hunger, the mas­sacres and the slaugh­ter­ers, the out­rage over injus­tice and the despair ‘when there was only wrong and no out­rage,’ the legit­i­mate hatred that makes you ugly nev­er­the­less, the well-found­ed wrath that makes the voice grow hoarse. All this was real enough as it took place in pub­lic; there was noth­ing secret or mys­te­ri­ous about it. And still, it was by no means vis­i­ble to all, nor was it at all easy to per­ceive it; for, until the very moment when cat­a­stro­phe over­took every­thing and every­body, it was cov­ered up not by real­i­ties but by the high­ly effi­cient talk and dou­ble-talk of near­ly all offi­cial rep­re­sen­ta­tives who, with­out inter­rup­tion and in many inge­nious vari­a­tions, explained away unpleas­ant facts and jus­ti­fied con­cerns. When we think of dark times and of peo­ple liv­ing and mov­ing in them, we have to take this cam­ou­flage, ema­nat­ing from and spread by ‘the estab­lish­ment’ – or ‘the sys­tem,’ as it was then called – also into account. If it is the func­tion of the pub­lic realm to throw light on the affairs of men by pro­vid­ing a space of appear­ances in which they can show in deed and word, for bet­ter or worse, who they are and what they can do, then dark­ness has come when this light is extin­guished by ‘cred­i­bil­i­ty gaps’ and ‘invis­i­ble gov­ern­ment,’ by speech that does not dis­close what is but sweeps it under the car­pet, by exhor­ta­tions, moral and oth­er­wise, that, under the pre­text of uphold­ing old truths, degrade all truth to mean­ing­less triv­i­al­i­ty.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Large Archive of Han­nah Arendt’s Papers Dig­i­tized by the Library of Con­gress: Read Her Lec­tures, Drafts of Arti­cles, Notes & Cor­re­spon­dence

Han­nah Arendt Explains Why Democ­ra­cies Need to Safe­guard the Free Press & Truth … to Defend Them­selves Against Dic­ta­tors and Their Lies

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

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