The Fabric of the Cosmos with Brian Greene: Watch the Complete NOVA Series Online

For­get about inclined planes and pul­leys. In this series from the PBS pro­gram NOVA, physics is pre­sent­ed as an exot­ic, mind-bend­ing realm.

The Fab­ric of the Cos­mos, first broad­cast in Novem­ber, fol­lows up on the 2003 Peabody Award-win­ning The Ele­gant Uni­verse. Both series are adapt­ed from the best-sell­ing books of host Bri­an Greene, a math­e­mati­cian and physi­cist at Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty.

Like the ear­li­er series, which was cen­tered around String The­o­ry, The Fab­ric of the Cos­mos deals with ideas that are on the cut­ting edge of sci­en­tif­ic the­o­ry. “This is a report from the fron­tier of cos­mic thought,” wrote Den­nis Over­bye last Novem­ber in The New York Times, “as fresh as last mon­th’s Nobel Prizes, uncom­pro­mis­ing in its intel­lec­tu­al ambi­tions and dis­cern­ing in its choice of com­pelling sci­en­tif­ic issues. The action ranges from Times Square to the Grand Canyon, from bowl­ing lanes and bil­liard tables to the lim­its of the imag­i­na­tion.”

The series is arranged in four parts of approx­i­mate­ly 50 min­utes each. The episodes are called “What is Space?;” ‘The Illu­sion of Time,’ ‘Quan­tum Leap,’ and ‘Uni­verse or Mul­ti­verse?’

 

Wes Anderson’s New Commercials Sell the Hyundai Azera

Many high-pro­file fea­ture film­mak­ers occa­sion­al­ly direct com­mer­cials (find spots by Felli­ni, Bergman, and David Lynch below), but few put their own stamp on them quite so bold­ly as Wes Ander­son does. Each of his for­ays into adver­tise­ment, mar­ket­ing, shilling, pro­pa­gan­diz­ing, cin­e­ma by oth­er means — call it what­ev­er you like — bears the mark of a man who sees real­i­ty in his own way, regard­less of con­text. Hence his fans’ ten­den­cy to receive and pass around his lat­est tele­vi­sion spots with almost the same urgency they would a trail­er for one of his “real movies.” Whether tak­ing on as his sub­ject Bel­gian beer or wide-range call­ing plans or Japan­ese cell­phones or self-satire by way of Amer­i­can Express, Wes Ander­son remains Wes Ander­son down to the last detail. The word “integri­ty,” I real­ize, tends to be reserved specif­i­cal­ly for artists who don’t do com­mer­cials. But if Ander­son­’s unwa­ver­ing respect for his own fas­ci­na­tions and aes­thet­ic impuls­es in every project he works on does­n’t count as integri­ty, what does?

Now that the Hyundai Motor Com­pa­ny has designed a fifth gen­er­a­tion of its Azera mod­el, they’ve engaged Ander­son to help get the word out. I can’t pre­tend to know what spe­cif­ic requests the cor­po­ra­tion made of the film­mak­er, but it would­n’t sur­prise me if they issued only two imper­a­tives: “Tell peo­ple the car’s qui­et, and tell peo­ple they can talk to it.” In “Mod­ern Life” (the first video above), a crum­pling, emas­cu­lat­ing­ly aproned hus­band tries des­per­ate­ly to pre­pare din­ner while keep­ing his anachro­nis­ti­cal­ly large brood under con­trol. As the wife gives him cook­ing instruc­tions and a descrip­tion of the traf­fic jam all around her, we fol­low a stray kid out to the dri­ve­way where — what have we here! — the lady of the house reclines in the beige leather of her Azera, parked not amidst free­way grid­lock but less than a dozen feet from the door. “Talk to My Car” presents a series of increas­ing­ly less fan­tas­ti­cal sce­nar­ios of fam­i­ly auto­mo­bile voice-con­trol, the first in a Chit­ty Chit­ty Bang Bang-style crop-dust­ing con­vert­ible; the sec­ond in an amphibi­ous yel­low sedan, com­plete with periscope; the third in a cross between the Bat­mo­bile and Knight Rid­er’s K.I.T.T., which Dad com­mands to “acti­vate rear incen­di­ary devices”; the fourth in a present-day Azera on its way to a Cos­ta Mesa Ital­ian joint.

These spots, espe­cial­ly the first, show­case a num­ber of clas­si­cal­ly Ander­son­ian qual­i­ties. Enthu­si­asts of his pic­tures’ metic­u­lous pro­duc­tion design — as near­ly every enthu­si­ast of his pic­tures must be — will find plen­ty of oppor­tu­ni­ties to pause the video and mar­vel at the ele­ments of the belea­guered father’s house: the deep red oven knobs; the cor­ner drum set; the vin­tage toy robots tucked here and there; the minia­ture heli­copter; each kid’s elab­o­rate, inex­plic­a­ble cos­tume; the cam­era move­ment straight through the front wall, reveal­ing the house­’s the­atri­cal “cut­away” con­struc­tion. The strangest ele­ment proves, iron­i­cal­ly, to be the car itself. In Rush­more, Bill Mur­ray dri­ves a Bent­ley; in The Roy­al Tenen­baums, Owen Wil­son dri­ves an Austin-Healey. What self-respect­ing Wes Ander­son char­ac­ter would be caught dead in this year’s sen­si­ble, gray, Blue­tooth-enabled four-door, no mat­ter how many lux­u­ry-car fea­tures it brings into its afford­able class? So many of us long to live in Wes Ander­son­’s world, but the Hyundai Azera seems a high­ly unsuit­able vehi­cle to take us there. You could prob­a­bly dri­ve it to a show­ing of Moon­rise King­dom, though. H/T Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Lynch’s Sur­re­al Com­mer­cials

Fellini’s Fan­tas­tic TV Com­mer­cials

1950s Soap Com­mer­cials by Ing­mar Bergman

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Neil deGrasse Tyson Remembers His First Meeting with Carl Sagan

Carl Sagan left a big void when he died in 1996. His elo­quence, his pas­sion for explain­ing sci­ence to a wider pub­lic, made him a major cul­tur­al fig­ure in late 20th cen­tu­ry Amer­i­ca. Now a new voice is emerg­ing. Neil deGrasse Tyson, like Sagan, is an astronomer and physi­cist with a remark­able gift for speak­ing about the beau­ty and impor­tance of sci­ence. Like Sagan, he hosts a PBS tele­vi­sion pro­gram (NOVA Sci­en­ceNOW) and appears fre­quent­ly on talk shows. The pass­ing of the torch will become obvi­ous next year, when Tyson hosts the sequel to Sagan’s ground-break­ing 1980 TV series, Cos­mos. Tyson’s con­nec­tion to Sagan actu­al­ly began at a very young age. In the video clip above, Tyson tells Ted Simons of the region­al PBS show Ari­zona Hori­zon the sto­ry of a remark­able act of gen­eros­i­ty by Sagan when Tyson was only a teenag­er. If it whets your appetite, be sure to watch the com­plete 25-minute inter­view below. And don’t miss our very pop­u­lar relat­ed post: Neil deGrasse Tyson Lists 8 (Free) Books Every Intel­li­gent Per­son Should Read.

 

Slavoj Žižek & Pres. Obama Give Their Take on The Wire (and More Culture Around the Web)

Although HBO’s crit­i­cal­ly-acclaimed series, The Wire, end­ed its run in 2008, the show keeps get­ting back into the head­lines. Just last week Pres­i­dent Oba­ma, an acknowl­edged fan of The Wire, was asked dur­ing an audio inter­view with ESPN to name his favorite char­ac­ter on the show, to which he replied “It’s got to be Omar, right? I mean, that guy is unbe­liev­able, right?” And then this oth­er piece of audio sur­faced online — Slavoj Žižek, your favorite Sloven­ian philosopher/cultural crit­ic, pre­sent­ed a talk at The Uni­ver­si­ty of Lon­don (2/24/2012) called The Wire or The Clash of Civil­i­sa­tions in One Coun­try. And it takes the show seri­ous­ly as a work of trag­ic, real­ist art. Lis­ten here.

More Cul­ture Around the Web:

How Do You Cite a Tweet in an Aca­d­e­m­ic Paper? The MLA Weighs In.

The Cen­tral Phi­los­o­phy of Tibet by famed Bud­dhism Schol­ar Robert Thur­man (father of Uma). Added to our col­lec­tion of Free Cours­es.

William Car­los Williams Reads His Poems at 92nd St. Y in NYC  in 1954.

Rev­e­la­tions: Mes­si­aen’s Quar­tet for the End of Time. Writ­ten & pre­miered in a Nazi prison camp, 1941.

Lawrence Lessig’s Free Cul­ture as a Free Audio book.

Louis Menand on What Dr. Seuss Real­ly Taught Us. (2002)

The Guardian Rec­om­mends Silent Films

Tougher Than Leather, 1988. Run-DMC stars in cross between blax­ploita­tion film & spaghet­ti west­ern.

– Get more Cul­ture Links on our live­ly Twit­ter stream, or catch us on Face­book.

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

In the ear­ly 1970s, Jim Hen­son was wor­ried that the Mup­pets were becom­ing type­cast as chil­dren’s enter­tain­ment. So in Decem­ber of 1974 he pro­duced a pilot episode for The Mup­pet Show and gave it a name that was about as far away from Sesame Street as you could get: “Sex and Vio­lence.”

The half-hour pilot was first broad­cast on ABC in March of 1975. It’s a fast-mov­ing series of vignettes, fea­tur­ing a mot­ley cast of characters–many of whom would become famil­iar in lat­er years–appearing and reap­pear­ing through­out. Sam the Eagle, Sgt. Floyd Pep­per, The Swedish Chef, Statler and Wal­dorf, and a wrestler named The San Fran­cis­co Earth­quake all make an appear­ance. At one point, Ker­mit the Frog propo­si­tions a female with the line, “I might be able to get you a job on an edu­ca­tion­al show for kids.” The sto­ry, to the extent there is one, cen­ters around prepa­ra­tions for a “Sev­en Dead­ly Sins Pageant.” Alas, the pageant nev­er quite gets off the ground. As Sam the Eagle sage­ly asks: “Do we real­ly want to get into a ‘dead­ly sins’ sit­u­a­tion?”

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.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Pup­pet Mak­ing with Jim Hen­son: A Primer

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

Thelonious Monk, Bill Evans and More on the Classic Jazz 625 Show

In April of 1964, the British Broad­cast­ing Cor­po­ra­tion launched BBC Two as a high­brow alter­na­tive to its main­stream TV chan­nel. One of the new chan­nel’s first pro­grams was Jazz 625, which spot­light­ed many of the great­est Jazz musi­cians of the day. Dizzy Gille­spie, Thelo­nious Monk, Dave Brubeck, Bill Evans and oth­ers per­formed on the show, which fea­tured straight-for­ward cam­era work and a min­i­mal­ist set. The focus was on the music.

The title of the show referred to the chan­nel’s 625-line UHF band­width, which offered high­er res­o­lu­tion than the 405-line VHF trans­mis­sion on BBC One. Among the sur­viv­ing episodes is Thelo­nious Monk’s March 14, 1965 per­for­mance at the Mar­quee Club in Lon­don. You can watch a 35-minute excerpt above. The quar­tet fea­tures Monk on piano, Char­lie Rouse on tenor sax­o­phone, Lar­ry Gales on bass and Ben Riley on drums. They per­form four num­bers:

  1. Straight No Chas­er
  2. Hack­en­sack
  3. Rhythm-A-Ning
  4. Epistro­phy

You can learn the sto­ry behind Jazz 625 by read­ing an arti­cle by Louis Barfe at Trans­d­if­fu­sion. And to see more from the shows, scroll down.

The Oscar Peter­son Trio:

Above is a 25-minute excerpt from the Oscar Peter­son Tri­o’s Octo­ber 1, 1964 per­for­mance. The orig­i­nal show, like oth­er episodes of Jazz 625, was over an hour long. The trio fea­tures Peter­son on piano, Ray Brown on bass and Ed Thig­pen on drums.

The Bill Evans Trio:

Above are two 35-minute episodes, shown back-to-back, fea­tur­ing the Bill Evans Trio. The two sets were record­ed on March 19, 1965 and fea­ture Evans on piano, Chuck Israels on bass and Lar­ry Bunker on drums.

The Mod­ern Jazz Quar­tet:

The Mod­ern Jazz Quar­tet per­formed for Jazz 625 on April 28, 1964. Above is a 27-minute except, fea­tur­ing the Quar­tet’s musi­cal direc­tor John Lewis on piano, Milt Jack­son on vibra­phone, Per­cy Heath on bass and Con­nie Kay on drums. Brazil­ian gui­tarist Lau­rindo Almei­da makes a spe­cial appear­ance.

The Times They Are a‑Changin’: 1964 Broadcast Gives a Rare Glimpse of the Early Bob Dylan

In ear­ly 1964, Bob Dylan was at the apex of his jour­ney as a social­ly con­scious folk singer. The fleet­ing moment is pre­served in this rare half-hour TV pro­gram, record­ed on Feb­ru­ary 1 of that year. With­in a week the Bea­t­les would land in Amer­i­ca. In a lit­tle over a month, Dylan would rent an elec­tric gui­tar.

The tele­vi­sion per­for­mance is from Quest, a Cana­di­an Broad­cast­ing Cor­po­ra­tion series that ran between 1961 and 1964 and show­cased a wide range of lit­er­ary and per­form­ing arts. It was pro­duced in Toron­to by Daryl Duke, who went on to direct Amer­i­can tele­vi­sion pro­grams and fea­ture films.

Dylan appears in his clas­sic Woody Guthrie mode on a set made to look like a west­ern bunkhouse. He plays six songs–half from The Times They Are a‑Changin’, his third album released just a few weeks before, and half from his pre­vi­ous album, The Free­wheel­in’ Bob Dylan. In order of appear­ance:

  1. The Times They Are A Changin’
  2. Talkin’ World War III Blues
  3. Lone­some Death of Hat­tie Car­roll
  4. Girl From the North Coun­try
  5. A Hard Rain’s A‑Gonna Fall
  6. Rest­less Farewell

“The Times They Are a‑Changin’,” as the pro­gram is titled, offers a unique glimpse of the ear­ly Bob Dylan, just before his music turned from social issues to per­son­al ones, just before he put away the blue jeans and work shirts and began wear­ing Bea­t­le boots and sun­glass­es. “Dylan’s appear­ance on Quest,” says writer and film­mak­er Erek Barsczews­ki, “pro­vides the clos­est approx­i­ma­tion avail­able of what his ear­ly per­for­mances in Green­wich Vil­lage would have looked and sound­ed like.”

David Foster Wallace: The Big, Uncut Interview (2003)

In 2003, an inter­view­er from Ger­man pub­lic tele­vi­sion sta­tion ZDF sat down with nov­el­ist David Fos­ter Wal­lace in a hotel room. The ensu­ing con­ver­sa­tion, whose raw, unedit­ed 84 min­utes (find links to the com­plete inter­view below) made it to the inter­net after Wal­lace’s sui­cide, remains the most direct, expan­sive, and dis­arm­ing­ly rough-hewn media treat­ment of his themes, his per­son­al­i­ty, and the fas­ci­nat­ing (if at times chill­ing) feed­back loop between them.

You can also expe­ri­ence this con­ver­sa­tion in short, the­mat­i­cal­ly orga­nized clips; above, we have “David Fos­ter Wal­lace on Polit­i­cal Think­ing in Amer­i­ca.” Wal­lace express­es his con­cerns about the strong influ­ence of tele­vi­sion ads on elec­tions, which means, he says, “we get can­di­dates who are behold­en to large donors and become, in some ways, cor­rupt, which dis­gusts the vot­ers, makes them even less inter­est­ed in pol­i­tics, less will­ing to read and do the work of cit­i­zen­ship.” This he sees cou­pled with an indi­vid­u­al­is­tic mar­ket­ing cul­ture which stokes “that feel­ing of hav­ing to obey every impulse and grat­i­fy every desire” — “a strange kind of slav­ery.”

But as his pained, self-ques­tion­ing expres­sion reveals — espe­cial­ly when it retreats into strange­ly endear­ing post-answer cringes — Wal­lace did not believe he pos­sessed the cure for, or even a pre­cise­ly accu­rate diag­no­sis of, a sick soci­ety. Offer­ing social crit­i­cism at a vast remove from the avun­cu­lar con­dem­na­tion of a Noam Chom­sky or the raised mid­dle fin­ger of a Bill Hicks, Wal­lace dis­cuss­es his fears through a nov­el­ist’s con­scious­ness that longs to, as he explains the desire else­where in the inter­view, “jump over the wall of self and inhab­it some­one else.” When the inter­view­er tells him about her peers’ frus­tra­tion at feel­ing edu­cat­ed but “not being able to do any­thing with it,” Wal­lace puts him­self in the mind of stu­dents who go from study­ing “the lib­er­al arts: phi­los­o­phy, clas­si­cal stuff, lan­guages, all very much about the nobil­i­ty of the human spir­it and broad­en­ing the mind” to “a spe­cial­ized school to learn how to sue peo­ple or to fig­ure out how to write copy that will make peo­ple buy a cer­tain kind of SUV” to “jobs that are finan­cial­ly reward­ing, but don’t have any­thing to do with what they got taught — and per­sua­sive­ly taught — was impor­tant and worth­while.”

Under­neath Wal­lace’s respons­es rush­es a cur­rent of the ques­tions his writ­ing leads read­ers to think — and think hard — about: How far has enter­tain­ment evolved toward pure anes­thet­ic? Can we still sep­a­rate our needs from our wants, if we try? Has post-Gen X irony made us not just col­lec­tive­ly inef­fec­tu­al but that much eas­i­er to sell things to? Can we ever again use terms like “cit­i­zen­ship” with­out instinc­tive­ly sneer­ing at our­selves? To the David Fos­ter Wal­lace novice, these clips make for a help­ful the­mat­ic primer, but the full record­ing (see below) will there­after become required view­ing. The inter­view brims with the kind of asides that make it feel like a page from the note­book of one of Wal­lace’s own favorite lit­er­ary crafts­men, Jorge Luis Borges. Wal­lace won­ders aloud how much of what he says will get edit­ed out, if he can dis­cuss his all-con­sum­ing sus­pi­cion that “there’s some­thing real­ly good on anoth­er chan­nel and I’m miss­ing it” while he’s actu­al­ly on tele­vi­sion, and how to talk to the media about how dif­fi­cult it is to talk to the media while pre­tend­ing you don’t know you’re talk­ing to the media. As he admits after unpack­ing one par­tic­u­lar­ly dif­fi­cult issue, “It’s all… com­pli­cat­ed.”

The com­plete inter­view can be viewed up top.

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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