Harvard Dean Lists the 5 Essential Questions to Ask In Life … Which Will Bring You Happiness & Success

And now for a dif­fer­ent kind of grad­u­a­tion speech.

Most com­mence­ment speech­es pro­vide answers of sorts–pieces of wis­dom you can car­ry with you, life strate­gies you can use down the road. Above James Ryan, Dean of Har­vard’s School of Edu­ca­tion, offers some­thing else–not answers, but ques­tions, the five essen­tial ques­tions to ask as you move through life. He elab­o­rates on each above:

1.) Wait, what?

2.) I won­der, why/if?

3.) Could­n’t we at least?

4.) How can I help?

5.) What real­ly mat­ters?

Bonus ques­tion: And did you get what you want­ed out of life, even so?

You can watch Ryan’s com­plete com­mence­ment speech here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Are the Keys to Hap­pi­ness? Lessons from a 75-Year-Long Har­vard Study

Oprah Winfrey’s Har­vard Com­mence­ment Speech: Fail­ure is Just Part of Mov­ing Through Life

The Har­vard Clas­sics: Down­load All 51 Vol­umes as Free eBooks

Harvard’s Free Com­put­er Sci­ence Course Teach­es You to Code in 12 Weeks

Har­vard Presents Two Free Online Cours­es on the Old Tes­ta­ment

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“Forbidden Images,” a Compilation of Scandalous Scenes from the Early Days of Cinema (NSFW in 1926)

Last night I caught a screen­ing of Park Chan-wook’s new movie The Hand­maid­en, whose dar­ing­ly frank love scenes — by the stan­dards of main­stream cin­e­ma, at least — have already drawn no small amount of inter­na­tion­al noto­ri­ety. That goes espe­cial­ly for a once cen­sor­ship-heavy coun­try like South Korea, where The Hand­maid­en came from and where I saw it. But it also comes just as one more push of the enve­lope in the process that has been broad­en­ing the range of “accept­able” imagery for high-pro­file pro­duc­tions ever since the birth of the medi­um. You can get a sense of just how much it has accom­plished by watch­ing “For­bid­den Images,” the four-minute com­pi­la­tion just above.

“I made this film for the 2007 edi­tion of the 72 Hour Film Fest in Fred­er­ick, MD,” writes its uploader, “These scenes come from a reel of 35mm nitrate that was dis­cov­ered in the pro­jec­tion booth of an old movie the­ater in Penn­syl­va­nia. The pro­jec­tion­ist spliced togeth­er this reel of banned, cen­sored scenes to meet local moral stan­dards or for late night, ‘per­son­al’ screen­ings.” And what does this dis­til­la­tion of pure cin­e­mat­ic scan­dal show us? Bathing beau­ties, jubi­lat­ing flap­pers, faint­ing damsels, whirling lady dervish­es, skirts fly­ing in the wind, and a whole lot of feet, most of them still shod — a far cry from what most of us, absent very spe­cif­ic desires indeed, would con­sid­er forms of tit­il­la­tion today.

Yet at the time, “For­bid­den Images” tells us, film­mak­ers and the­ater own­ers had to cut out these shots lest they face arrest. But what films did they have to cut them out of? The video’s com­menters on Youtube have iden­ti­fied scenes from Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis and Gre­ta Gar­bo in The Temptress, and a 1926 pic­ture called The Black White Sheep. We may laugh at what peo­ple in the silent era con­sid­ered unshow­able, but this com­pi­la­tion presents us with the unavoid­able ques­tion: “Will our cur­rent forms of cen­sor­ship and moral stan­dards appear just as ridicu­lous to future audi­ences?” After all, we can always push the enve­lope a lit­tle fur­ther — and thus far, we always have.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch After the Ball, the 1897 “Adult” Film by Pio­neer­ing Direc­tor Georges Méliès (Almost NSFW)

Metrop­o­lis: Watch a Restored Ver­sion of Fritz Lang’s Mas­ter­piece (1927)

Watch Scar­let Street, Fritz Lang’s Cen­sored Noir Film, Star­ring the Great Edward G. Robin­son (1945)

Watch Jean Genet’s Only Film, the Cen­sored A Song of Love (1950)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Bertrand Russell Lists His 20 Favorite Words in 1958 (and What Are Some of Yours?)

Russell_in_1938

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Is it pos­si­ble to ful­ly sep­a­rate a word’s sound from its meaning—to val­ue words sole­ly for their music? Some poets come close: Wal­lace Stevens, Sylvia Plath, John Ash­bery. Rare pho­net­ic meta­physi­cians. Sure­ly we all do this when we hear words in a lan­guage we do not know. When I first encoun­tered the Span­ish word entonces, I thought it was the most beau­ti­ful three syl­la­bles I’d ever heard.

I still thought so, despite some dis­ap­point­ment, when I learned it was a com­mon­place adverb mean­ing “then,” not the rar­i­fied name of some mag­i­cal being. My rev­er­ence for entonces will not impress a native Span­ish speak­er. Since I do not think in Span­ish and strug­gle to find the right words when I speak it—always translating—the sound and sense of the lan­guage run on two dif­fer­ent tracks in my mind.

An exam­ple from my native tongue: the word obdu­rate, which I adore, became an instant favorite for its sound the first time I said it aloud, before I’d ever used it in a sen­tence or parsed its mean­ing. It’s not a com­mon Eng­lish word, how­ev­er, and maybe that makes it spe­cial. A word like always, which has a pret­ty sound, rarely strikes me as musi­cal or inter­est­ing, though non-Eng­lish speak­ers may find it so.

Every writer has favorite words. Some of those words are ordi­nary, some of them not so much. David Fos­ter Wallace’s lists of favorite words con­sist of obscu­ri­ties and archaisms unlike­ly to ever fea­ture in the aver­age con­ver­sa­tion. “James Joyce thought cus­pi­dor the most beau­ti­ful word in the Eng­lish lan­guage,” writes the blog Futil­i­ty Clos­et,” Arnold Ben­net chose pave­ment. J.R.R. Tolkien felt the phrase cel­lar door had an espe­cial­ly beau­ti­ful sound.”

Who’s to say how much these authors could sep­a­rate sound from sense? Futil­i­ty Clos­et illus­trates the prob­lem with a humor­ous anec­dote about Max Beer­bohm, and brings us the list below of philoso­pher Bertrand Russell’s 20 favorite words, offered in response to a reader’s ques­tion in 1958. Though Rus­sell him­self had a fas­ci­nat­ing the­o­ry about how we make words mean things, he sup­pos­ed­ly made this list with­out regard for these words’ mean­ings.

  1. wind
  2. heath
  3. gold­en
  4. begrime
  5. pil­grim
  6. quag­mire
  7. dia­pa­son
  8. alabaster
  9. chryso­prase
  10. astro­labe
  11. apoc­a­lyp­tic
  12. ineluctable
  13. ter­raque­ous
  14. inspis­sat­ed
  15. incar­na­dine
  16. sub­lu­nary
  17. choras­mean
  18. alem­bic
  19. ful­mi­nate
  20. ecsta­sy

So, what about you, read­er? What are some of your favorite words in English—or what­ev­er your native lan­guage hap­pens to be? And do you, can you, choose them for their sound alone? Please let us know in the com­ments below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Fos­ter Wal­lace Cre­ates Lists of His Favorite Words: “Mau­gre,” “Taran­tism,” “Ruck,” “Prima­para” & More

“Tsun­doku,” the Japan­ese Word for the New Books That Pile Up on Our Shelves, Should Enter the Eng­lish Lan­guage

5 Won­der­ful­ly Long Lit­er­ary Sen­tences by Samuel Beck­ett, Vir­ginia Woolf, F. Scott Fitzger­ald & Oth­er Mas­ters of the Run-On

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

Bertrand Russell: “The Problem with the World Is That Fools & Fanatics Are So Certain of Themselves”

russell rules 2

Image by J. F. Horra­bin, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

“The whole prob­lem with the world is that fools and fanat­ics are always so cer­tain of them­selves, but wis­er peo­ple so full of doubts.” — Bertrand Rus­sell

Our hearts go out to the fam­i­lies and friends who lost loved ones in Orlan­do this morn­ing.

 

 

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bertrand Russell’s Ten Com­mand­ments for Liv­ing in a Healthy Democ­ra­cy

Lis­ten to ‘Why I Am Not a Chris­t­ian,’ Bertrand Russell’s Pow­er­ful Cri­tique of Reli­gion (1927)

Bertrand Rus­sell and F.C. Cople­ston Debate the Exis­tence of God, 1948

1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

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Helen Mirren Holds Her Own (and Then Some) in a Cringe-Inducingly Sexist TV Interview, 1975

Say what you will about Kim Kar­dashi­an. (Go ahead, I’ll wait.)

Yes, she may only be famous for being rich and famous—not a par­tic­u­lar­ly admirable cul­tur­al achieve­ment. But, “and this is the big word: B‑U-T-T‑,” says Helen Mir­ren, “it’s won­der­ful that you’re allowed to have a butt nowa­days… Thanks to Madame Kar­dashi­an.” Should you think Madame Kardashian’s butt-bar­ing shame­ful, you’ll have Dame Helen to deal with, and she may not deal with you kind­ly.

Though the Kar­dashi­ans are “a phe­nom­e­non I just don’t find inter­est­ing,” Mir­ren said recent­ly, she admires Kim and oth­er women in pop cul­ture for their body pos­i­tiv­i­ty: “When I was grow­ing up, it was thought to be unbe­liev­ably slut­tish to even have a bra strap show­ing. Every­thing was about women con­form­ing…. Women were con­trolled by being shamed…. I love shame­less women. Shame­less and proud.”

Mir­ren knows well of what she speaks. Though an accom­plished stage actress since the mid-six­ties, she has been pigeon­holed by crit­ics as a sex sym­bol through­out her career in the­atre and film. While per­form­ing with the Roy­al Shake­speare Com­pa­ny, one paper dubbed her “Stratford’s very own sex queen.” Mirren’s ear­ly film work includ­ed nude scenes in 1969’s Age of Con­sent and the 1979 Bob Guc­cione-pro­duced Caligu­la, and she has called the decade between those two films the most sex­ist time in recent his­to­ry, “worse than the 1940s or 50s,” she says, “It was hor­ri­ble. That decade, after the sex­u­al rev­o­lu­tion but before fem­i­nism, was per­ilous for women.”

Some evi­dence is on dis­play in the clips above from an infa­mous 1975 inter­view Mir­ren gave with a leer­ing Michael Parkin­son. The inter­view begins, at the top, with Parkin­son quot­ing sev­er­al crit­ics on Mirren’s “slut­tish eroti­cism,” among oth­er things. It quick­ly goes down­hill from there. Mir­ren shrugs off the sex­ist lin­go; Parkin­son can’t shut up about it, ask­ing if “what can best be described as your ‘equip­ment’ hin­ders you, per­haps, in that pur­suit” of being, he says, “in quotes a ‘seri­ous actress.’” Asked to clar­i­fy, he stum­bles, then says that her body “might detract from the per­for­mance, if you know what I mean.” She doesn’t.

Mir­ren doesn’t make this belit­tling sex­ism easy for Parkin­son, but he can’t seem to stop him­self. It’s hard to watch, but also inspir­ing to see her poise and con­fi­dence in the face of his boor­ish­ness. (She calls his ques­tions “bor­ing” and he final­ly vows to “leave off this sexy image thing,” though he comes back to it.) Yvonne Roberts in The Guardian calls the inter­view “far from unusu­al,” and the kind of thing that “gave Jim­my Sav­ile his cov­er.” She also says that though “Mir­ren is right on the impact of the sex­u­al rev­o­lu­tion,” she is “wrong on chronol­o­gy. The 70s was the decade when fem­i­nism took hold—and per­haps that’s why sex­ism became still more marked.” Pro­nounced back­lash always fol­lows social change, a phe­nom­e­non we’ve seen so often that it seems inevitable.

The Parkin­son inter­view was Mirren’s first talk show appear­ance, and she remem­bers being “ter­ri­fied” at the time. On re-watch­ing the inter­view in 2011, she said, “I actu­al­ly thought, bloody hell! I did real­ly well. I was so young and inex­pe­ri­enced. And he was such a f***ing sex­ist old fart. He was.” She remem­bers him as “an extreme­ly creepy inter­view­er” and told BUST mag­a­zine in 2010 she was “far more polite than I should have been.” Mir­ren got the chance to con­front Parkin­son about that creepy 1975 appear­ance when she returned as a guest on his show in 2006 to talk about her title role in The Queen.

In the clip above from that appear­ance, Parkin­son returns to the sub­ject of Mirren’s breasts in dis­cussing her lead part in the BBC police pro­ce­dur­al series Prime Sus­pect. She forth­right­ly takes him to task. “I’m glad you men­tioned that, Michael,” she says, “because you can’t resist, can you?” Of the 1975 inter­view, she says, “I hat­ed you. I thought you were a sex­ist per­son.” Parkin­son hasn’t changed, it’s clear, but Mir­ren says she’s “mel­lowed.” The exchange is a lot less awk­ward, per­haps because Parkin­son knows he can’t bul­ly Mir­ren the movie star as he did the young stage actress.

Though Mir­ren now says she’s hap­py to no longer be a sex sym­bol, she also express­es admi­ra­tion for “women who have claimed their own bod­ies…. They all raise their mid­dle fin­gers to this epi­thet of ‘slut.’ They wear what they want to wear, behave as they want to behave.” Though she did not have chil­dren, she tells BUST she would have taught her daugh­ter to “say ‘f*ck off’ in the face of sex­ism”: “It’s quite valu­able to have the courage and the con­fi­dence to say, ‘No, f*ck off, leave me alone, thank you very much.” Sad­ly, as we see again and again, in a cul­ture that still shames and deval­ues women, and enables rape and sex­u­al vio­lence, that courage and con­fi­dence, incred­i­bly valu­able as it is, isn’t enough to stop con­tin­ued ram­pant sex­ism and abuse in the enter­tain­ment indus­try and every­where else.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Helen Mir­ren Now Teach­ing Her First Online Course on Act­ing

Down­load All 239 Issues of Land­mark UK Fem­i­nist Mag­a­zine Spare Rib Free Online

1933 Arti­cle on Fri­da Kahlo: “Wife of the Mas­ter Mur­al Painter Glee­ful­ly Dab­bles in Works of Art”

Simone de Beau­voir Tells Studs Terkel How She Became an Intel­lec­tu­al and Fem­i­nist (1960)

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

Hear a BBC Radio Drama of Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov: Streaming Free for a Limited Time

Dostoyevsky - The Brothers Karamazov

A quick heads up: For the next two weeks, you can stream a BBC Radio 4 drama­ti­za­tion of Fyo­dor Dos­toyevsky’s final nov­el, The Broth­ers Kara­ma­zov. Pub­lished between Jan­u­ary 1879 and Novem­ber 1880, the philo­soph­i­cal nov­el has influ­enced gen­er­a­tions of readers–certainly me, maybe you, and then some oth­er notable fig­ures like Ein­stein, Wittgen­stein, Hei­deg­ger, Freud and more. The radio drama­ti­za­tion is trun­cat­ed, just 5 hours, where­as most com­plete ver­sions run 34 hours. (Find those in our col­lec­tion of Free Audio Books. Or get a pro­fes­sion­al­ly-read ver­sion on Audible.com, by check­ing out Audi­ble’s 30-day free tri­al pro­gram.) Below, you can find the install­ments of the BBC radio dra­ma.

  • Episode 1: Rus­sia, 1880: The unpre­dictable Fyo­dor Kara­ma­zov and his sons are reunit­ed to dis­cuss Dmit­ry’s inher­i­tance. Stars Roy Mars­den.
  • Episode 2: As Alyosha attends to dying Father Zosi­ma, rela­tions between Dmit­ry and his father turn ever more dan­ger­ous. Stars Paul Hilton.
  • Episode 3: Fol­low­ing a vio­lent encounter at the Kara­ma­zov home, Dmit­ry flees the town in search of Grushen­ka. Stars Paul Hilton.
  • Episode 4: As Dmit­ry goes on tri­al for mur­der, Alyosha des­per­ate­ly seeks proof of his inno­cence. Stars Paul Hilton and Carl Prekopp.
  • Episode 5: Fol­low­ing Ivan’s dra­mat­ic appear­ance at his broth­er’s tri­al, Kate­ri­na pre­pares to deal Dmit­ry a fatal blow. Stars Paul Hilton.

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!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices

Fyo­dor Dostoyevsky’s Life & Lit­er­a­ture Intro­duced in a Mon­ty Python-Style Ani­ma­tion

Fyo­dor Dos­to­evsky Draws Elab­o­rate Doo­dles In His Man­u­scripts

Free Online Lit­er­a­ture Cours­es

The Bizarre, Surviving Scene from the 1933 Soviet Animation Based on a Pushkin Tale and a Shostakovich Score

Hot dumplings! Mar­i­nat­ed apples! A bar­rel of cucum­bers!

Want to add some quick col­or to your per­for­mance or film? Slip in a quick non-nar­ra­tive ven­dor scene. No need for char­ac­ter or plot devel­op­ment. The audi­ence will be quite con­tent with the hawk­ers’ musi­cal recita­tion of their wares.

The Gersh­win / Hey­ward opera Por­gy and Bess’ com­ic “Ven­dor’s Trio” makes a nice break from the tragedy.

The live­ly mar­ket num­ber Who Will Buy? tem­porar­i­ly side­lines Oliv­er’s orphans to show­case the tal­ents of the adult cho­rus mem­bers.

When the Simp­sons’ 179th episode took Homer to New York City back in 1997, he was able to pur­chase such exot­ic del­i­ca­cies as Khlav Kalash and canned crab juice from a col­lec­tion of push­carts at the base of the World Trade Cen­ter.

Less well known is the above bazaar sequence from The Tale of the Priest and of His Work­man Bal­da (1933), a clas­sic of Sovi­et ani­ma­tion. This short clip is the only part of direc­tor Mikhail Tsekhanovsky’s unfin­ished fea­ture-length work to sur­vive. The rest was destroyed in a fire at the LenFilm archives in World War II, the seem­ing­ly final chap­ter in its trou­bled his­to­ry.

The film was based on Alexan­der Pushkin’s poet­ic retelling of a Russ­ian folk tale about a greedy priest, who strikes an ill-advised bar­gain with a brawny work­er. It was pub­lished posthu­mous­ly, and only after cen­sors had changed the priest into a mer­chant.

As he began work on the pro­duc­tion, Tsekhanovsky invit­ed Dim­it­ry Shostakovich to com­pose the score, an inno­va­tion at a time when musi­cal accom­pa­ni­ment was added to com­plet­ed silent films. Shostakovich start­ed, but was derailed by Prav­da’s 1936 denun­ci­a­tion of his work in an arti­cle titled “Mud­dle Instead of Music.”

Even­tu­al­ly Tsekhanovskiy threw in the tow­el, too.

It does not end there, how­ev­er.

After Shostakovich’s death, his wid­ow got his stu­dent, Vadim Biber­ga, to com­plete work on the unfin­ished score. The Russ­ian Phil­har­mon­ic Orches­tra released it in 2006, as part of a Shostakovich cen­ten­ni­al.

A com­mem­o­ra­tive live per­for­mance that same year drew fire from the local dio­cese of the Russ­ian Ortho­dox Church, who object­ed to the mock­ing por­tray­al of the priest. The the­ater bowed to pres­sure, stag­ing sev­en priest-free num­bers from the opera.

This recent his­to­ry adds an air of defi­ance to the grotes­queries of the sur­viv­ing clip, with top hon­ors going to the smut ped­dler enter­ing at the one minute mark, to extol the virtues of “a Venus with no gar­ments and fat thighs.”

You can lis­ten to Shostakovich’s full score here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Three Ani­mat­ed Shorts by the Ground­break­ing Russ­ian Ani­ma­tor Fyo­dor Khitruk

Sovi­et Ani­ma­tions of Ray Brad­bury Sto­ries: ‘Here There Be Tygers’ & ‘There Will Come Soft Rain’

Watch Sovi­et Ani­ma­tions of Win­nie the Pooh, Cre­at­ed by the Inno­v­a­tive Ani­ma­tor Fyo­dor Khitruk

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Malcolm Gladwell Has Launched a New Podcast, Revisionist History: Hear the First Episode

Mal­colm Glad­well has a pod­cast. Some of you will require no fur­ther infor­ma­tion, and in fact have already clicked over to iTunes (or anoth­er pod­cast down­load­ing appli­ca­tion of your choice), des­per­ate to down­load the first episode. Allow me to inform those cool­er heads who remain that Revi­sion­ist His­to­ry won’t begin its ten-week run, with one episode out per week, until June 16th. (Update: The first episode is now live and you can stream it below.) But you can sub­scribe right now (iTunesStitch­erRSS), and while you wait over the next few days, you can lis­ten to the pre­view that Glad­well has already post­ed.

You can also get a lit­tle a taste of Glad­well’s new project by watch­ing the trail­er at the top of the post. “Every week, I’m going to take you back into the past,” Glad­well promis­es in the video’s nar­ra­tion, “to exam­ine some­thing that I think has been over­looked and mis­un­der­stood.”

He gets into more detail on the Bri­an Lehrer Show seg­ment below, in which he describes the first episode of Revi­sion­ist His­to­ry as about the ques­tion of what it means to be “the first out­sider to enter a closed world,” start­ing from the career of British painter Eliz­a­beth Thomp­son, whose 1874 can­vas The Roll Call became, for a time, the most famous image in the coun­try. It broke its female artist into the male-dom­i­nat­ed world of paint­ing, and seemed, for an even short­er time, to her­ald a new era rich with high-pro­file female painters. “Every­one waits and waits for the rev­o­lu­tion to hap­pen,” Glad­well says, already into his char­ac­ter­is­tic sto­ry­telling mode, “and it nev­er hap­pens.”

Lehrer reacts to Glad­well’s choice of the sto­ry of “the first woman to break through in a male-dom­i­nat­ed field” with the obvi­ous ques­tion: “Is that a coin­ci­dence?” It is absolute­ly not a coin­ci­dence, Glad­well replies, going on to con­nect the phe­nom­e­non in ques­tion to not just mod­ern fig­ures like Hillary Clin­ton but Barack Oba­ma, Julia Gillard, and Mar­garet Thatch­er as well, and in the pod­cast itself sure­ly many oth­ers besides. He also hints at an episode lat­er in the sea­son that begins with an obscure Elvis Costel­lo song — and a “ter­ri­ble” one at that, he adds — and uses it “as a way of find­ing out how cre­ativ­i­ty works, and how an awful lot of what we con­sid­er works of genius had an incred­i­bly cir­cuitous path to great­ness,” end­ing up at a gallery look­ing at Cézannes.

You can sign up for episode updates at the offi­cial Revi­sion­ist His­to­ry site. The show comes as a prod­uct of Panoply, the pod­cast net­work of The Slate Group, and its first sea­son promis­es slick pro­duc­tion in addi­tion to the kind of com­pelling sto­ries and mem­o­rable social-sci­ence insights with which Glad­well has made him­self famous. And we should­n’t ignore his tal­ent for mar­ket­ing, either, ful­ly in evi­dence from noth­ing more than the tagline he speaks in the trail­er: “Because some­times the past deserves a sec­ond chance.” All this togeth­er sounds like more than a good rea­son to give his pod­cast a first one.

Revi­sion­ist His­to­ry is list­ed in our new col­lec­tion, The 150 Best Pod­casts to Enrich Your Mind.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pod­cast His­to­ry of Our World Will Take You From Cre­ation Myths to (Even­tu­al­ly) the Present Day

The His­to­ry of the World in 46 Lec­tures From Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty

Jump Into the “Pod­cast­ing Renais­sance” with These Intel­li­gent Shows (and Tell Us Your Favorites)

Mal­colm Glad­well: What We Can Learn from Spaghet­ti Sauce

Mal­colm Glad­well: Tax­es Were High and Life Was Just Fine

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Martin Scorsese Sends a Sweet Video to the Young Creator a Kubrick/Scorsese Mashup

If you’re a vet­er­an read­er of Open Cul­ture, you may remem­ber a 2010 video trib­ute called “Kubrick vs Scors­ese.” To make the video, Lean­dro Cop­per­field, a young cinephile liv­ing in Rio de Janeiro, spent 25 days re-watch­ing 35 films, select­ing more than 500 scenes, and then edit­ing them into an homage to his two favorite direc­tors. Watch it here.

No doubt, it must have come as a sur­prise when, six years lat­er, Cop­per­field received a video from Scors­ese him­self, prais­ing the mon­tage Lean­dro made so long ago. Again, if you’re an old-timer here, you’ll know that this isn’t the first time Scors­ese has shown kind­ness to younger artists. In 2014, we recount­ed the sto­ry of Col­in Levy, a teenage film­mak­er who met with Scors­ese, and came away with a list of 39 For­eign Films Essen­tial for a Young Film­mak­er. Props to Mar­ty for being a good men­tor and teacher too.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mar­tin Scors­ese Cre­ates a List of 39 Essen­tial For­eign Films for a Young Film­mak­er

Mar­tin Scors­ese Plays Vin­cent Van Gogh in a Short, Sur­re­al Film by Aki­ra Kuro­sawa

Mar­tin Scors­ese Makes a List of 85 Films Every Aspir­ing Film­mak­er Needs to See

The First Biopic of Edgar Allan Poe: 1909 Film by D.W. Griffith Shows the Horror Master Writing “The Raven”

The film indus­try knows that movie­go­ers love watch­ing genius­es at work, and they may have known it for more than a cen­tu­ry, ever since the release of 1909’s Edgar Allan Poe above. The sev­en-minute silent short, made for the cen­te­nary of the tit­u­lar lit­er­ary fig­ure’s birth (and sub­ti­tled, back in those days before the word biopic, “a Pic­ture Sto­ry Found­ed on Events in His Career”) depicts the 19th-cen­tu­ry pio­neer of psy­cho­log­i­cal hor­ror com­pos­ing his best-known work, “The Raven,” even as his wife lays dying of tuber­cu­lo­sis. In real life, the young Vir­ginia Eliza Clemm Poe passed away two years after the poem’s pub­li­ca­tion, but D.W. Grif­fith, like a true crafts­man of his medi­um, knew the poten­tial for extra dra­ma when he saw it.

Grif­fith, who did hun­dreds of such shorts in the late 1900s and ear­ly 1910s, would of course go on to direct two of the most inno­v­a­tive and influ­en­tial works in cin­e­ma his­to­ry: 1915’s The Birth of a Nation and the fol­low­ing year’s Intol­er­ance. But just before that, in 1914, he fur­ther pur­sued his inter­est in Poe with a fea­ture called The Aveng­ing Con­science: or, Thou Shalt Not Kill, mov­ing beyond a sim­ple depic­tion of the author and his work­ing process (or at least his work­ing process as inter­pret­ed through the dis­tinc­tive dra­mat­ic style of ear­ly silent film) to draw direct inspi­ra­tion from the work itself.

Even if you’ve nev­er actu­al­ly read any of Poe’s writ­ing, you’ll sure­ly have absorbed enough of “The Raven” (even if just from The Simp­sons) to quote it now and again, just as you’ll sure­ly have heard enough about his 1843 sto­ry “The Tell-Tale Heart” to know the plot has some­thing to do with a man tor­ment­ed by his guilty con­science — and so you’ll prob­a­bly know which sto­ry Grif­fith chose for this ear­ly exam­ple of adap­ta­tion even before you see its first title card. Just as the film­mak­er uses strik­ing light and shad­ow to evoke Poe’s inner world in the ear­li­er film, here he, in the words of Edgar Allan Poe author Kevin J. Hayes, “bril­liant­ly repli­cates Poe’s psy­cho­log­i­cal ten­sion in visu­al terms.”

Grif­fith’s sec­ond Poe film incor­po­rates not just the stuff of his work, but more of the stuff of his life as well: “Some aspects of the plot, in which the cen­tral char­ac­ter is an orphan as well as an author, are also rem­i­nis­cent of Poe’s life,” writes Hayes in The Cam­bridge Com­pan­ion to Edgar Allan Poe. “The sto­ry includes echoes of oth­er writ­ing includ­ing ‘Three Sun­days in a Week,’ ‘The Pit and the Pen­du­lum,’ ‘The Black Cat,’ and ‘Annabel Lee,’ ” all “spun togeth­er in a sto­ry of love, mur­der, and vengeance, which nonethe­less ends hap­pi­ly.” Which brings us to anoth­er piece of com­mon cin­e­mat­ic wis­dom, appar­ent­ly known as well by Grif­fith as by any of his Hol­ly­wood suc­ces­sors: every­body loves a hap­py end­ing — appar­ent­ly, once they get in front of the sil­ver screen, even read­ers of Edgar Allan Poe.

Both films will be added to our col­lec­tion of Silent Films, a sub­set of our meta col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load The Com­plete Works of Edgar Allan Poe: Macabre Sto­ries as Free eBooks & Audio Books

Edgar Allan Poe & The Ani­mat­ed Tell-Tale Heart

New Film Extra­or­di­nary Tales Ani­mates Edgar Poe Sto­ries, with Nar­ra­tions by Guiller­mo Del Toro, Christo­pher Lee & More

Edgar Allan Poe Ani­mat­ed: Watch Four Ani­ma­tions of Clas­sic Poe Sto­ries

The Simp­sons Present Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” and Teach­ers Now Use It to Teach Kids the Joys of Lit­er­a­ture

The Mys­tery of Edgar Allan Poe’s Death: 19 The­o­ries on What Caused the Poet’s Demise

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

1978 News Report on the Rocky Horror Craze Captures a Teenage Michael Stipe in Drag

The impact of The Rocky Hor­ror Pic­ture Show in the ‘70s came from a per­fect cock­tail of sev­er­al time-spe­cif­ic ingre­di­ents: A lib­er­at­ed, post-’60s gen­er­a­tion of young peo­ple embold­ened by glam and the sex­u­al rev­o­lu­tion find­ing their voice; the pro­lif­er­a­tion of cin­e­mas that found that mid­night screen­ings were good for busi­ness; and the need to see a film again and again in a pre-VHS Amer­i­ca.

In the above clip from a St. Louis, MO night­ly news segment–commenters place it at around 1978–TV reporter Michael Brown inter­views the crowd out­side a screen­ing at the Var­si­ty The­ater, wait­ing to see the film “that some peo­ple obvi­ous­ly think has been here too long” (accord­ing to the news­cast­er) and, instead of find­ing deviants, dis­cov­ers some of the first cos-play­ers in his­to­ry.

One of which–and why the clip was post­ed in the first place–is a teenage Michael Stipe, years before mov­ing to Geor­gia and start­ing R.E.M., in full Frank N. Furter drag, who says this is “nor­mal” dress.

The idea to sell a film (that was orig­i­nal­ly a flop) as a “mid­night movie” start­ed with a loy­al fol­low­ing at the Waver­ly The­ater in New York City, and can­ny stu­dio mar­keters. Accord­ing to a 1999 arti­cle by Patri­cia Cor­ri­g­an,

“Rocky Hor­ror” came to St. Louis in March of 1976, show­ing at the now-defunct Var­si­ty The­atre in Uni­ver­si­ty City. The movie ran every night, as the main fea­ture, for three weeks. Pete Pic­cione, who owned the Var­si­ty, brought the film back as a mid­night movie on occa­sion­al week­ends for the rest of the year and on through 1977. By May of 1978, “Rocky Hor­ror” was play­ing every week­end as the mid­night show.

In fact, Pic­cione is in the seg­ment, being asked how he’d feel if his son or daugh­ter attend­ed this film, and well, we won’t ruin the reply. You’ll just have to watch.

Not only is this a great his­tor­i­cal vignette, but a reminder that the sight of peo­ple in cos­tume gath­er­ing to cel­e­brate a pop cul­ture event was once remark­able; now it’s called Comi­con.

It’s also worth won­der­ing: apart from the open­ing night, will we ever again see peo­ple gath­er­ing in pub­lic to watch a film 30, 40, 50 times? And did those news­cast­ers ever get bet­ter fash­ion sense?

via A.V. Club/Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rare Inter­view: Tim Cur­ry Dis­cuss­es The Rocky Hor­ror Pic­ture Show, Dur­ing the Week of Its Release (1975)

http://www.openculture.com/2015/02/tim-curry-discusses-the-rocky-horror-picture-show.html

Michael Stipe Rec­om­mends 10 Books for Any­one Marooned on a Desert Island

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.


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