Search Results for "u"

Watch Fantasmagorie, the World’s First Animated Cartoon (1908)

Try­ing to describe the plot of Fan­tas­magorie, the world’s first ani­mat­ed car­toon, is a fol­ly akin to putting last night’s dream into words:

I was dressed as a clown and then I was in a the­ater, except I was also hid­ing under this lady’s hat, and the guy behind us was pluck­ing out the feath­ers, and I was maybe also a jack in the box? And I had a fish­ing pole that turned into a plant that ripped my head off, but only for a few sec­onds. And then there was a giant cham­pagne bot­tle and an ele­phant, and then, sud­den­ly I was on an oper­at­ing table, and you know how some­times in a dream, it’s like you’re being crushed to death? Except I escaped by blow­ing myself up like a bal­loon and then I hopped onto the back of this horse and then I woke up.

The brain­child of ani­ma­tion pio­neer Émile Cohl (1857 – 1938), the trip­py silent short from 1908 is com­posed of 700 draw­ings, pho­tographed onto neg­a­tive film and dou­ble-exposed.

Clock­ing in at under two min­utes, it’s def­i­nite­ly more divert­ing than lis­ten­ing to your bed mate bum­ble through their sub­con­scious’ lat­est inco­her­ent nar­ra­tive.

The film’s title is an homage to a mid-19th cen­tu­ry vari­ant of the mag­ic lantern, known as the fan­tas­mo­graph, while its play­ful, non­sen­si­cal con­tent is in the spir­it of the Inco­her­ent Move­ment of the 1880s.

Cohl, who cut his teeth on polit­i­cal car­i­ca­ture and Guig­nol pup­pet the­atre, went on to cre­ate over 250 films over the next 15 years, expand­ing his explo­rations to include the realms of live action and stop motion ani­ma­tion.

Above, you can watch a some­what restored ver­sion of the film, fea­tur­ing music by Fabio Napo­dano. To get a feel for the orig­i­nal grainier silent film, watch here.

For the defin­i­tive biog­ra­phy of Emile Cohl, read Emile Cohl, Car­i­ca­ture, and Film by Don­ald Crafton (Notre Dame).

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ear­ly Japan­ese Ani­ma­tions: The Ori­gins of Ani­me (1917 to 1931)

Watch Dzi­ga Vertov’s Sovi­et Toys: The First Sovi­et Ani­mat­ed Movie Ever (1924)

Ear­ly Japan­ese Ani­ma­tions: The Ori­gins of Ani­me (1917 to 1931)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in New York City tonight, May 13, for the next install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

 

 

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20 Mesmerizing Videos of Japanese Artisans Creating Traditional Handicrafts

In Japan­ese “tewaza” means “hand tech­nique” or “hand­craft” and, in this YouTube playlist of 20 short films, var­i­ous arti­sanal tech­niques are explored and demon­strat­ed by Japan­ese mas­ters in the field. For those who are both obsessed with Japan­ese art and watch­ing things get made, these videos are cat­nip. There’s very lit­tle spo­ken, except a few quotes from the mak­ers them­selves, and gen­tle music plays over shots of del­i­cate, intri­cate, and con­fi­dent hand­i­work.

Watch the video up top, a look at how a small group of men forge a Sakai knife. (Yes, we keep expect­ing the music to turn into the Lau­ra Palmer’s Theme too.) No words are nec­es­sary in this exact­ing demon­stra­tion, and just check out the wood-like grain in the met­al.

And the names of these goods denote the towns of origin–Sakai is just out­side Osa­ka, and is one of Japan’s main sea­ports and, yes, known for its knives.

Oth­er videos show the mak­ing of hand­made washi paper from Mino; stun­ning gold leaf pro­duc­tion from Kanaza­wa; paper lantern making from Gifu; dec­o­rat­ed wall­pa­per from Ueno; a Kumano writ­ing brush, and very del­i­cate bam­boo weav­ing from Bep­pu that looks so pre­cise it’s like it’s made by machine, but no, this is all in the eye.

The YouTube chan­nel that has pro­duced these videos, Aoya­ma Square, is a lit­er­al one-stop shop in Tokyo for all the kinds of crafts seen in the videos, and is a mem­ber of the Japan­ese nation­al asso­ci­a­tion that pro­motes and keeps these skills and mini-indus­tries alive. So is this one long ad for a large crafts empo­ri­um? Well, could be. Do we still want to buy some of that beau­ti­ful lac­quer­ware from Echizen? Oh yes, very much so.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Japan­ese Things Are Made in 309 Videos: Bam­boo Tea Whisks, Hina Dolls, Steel Balls & More

The Beau­ti­ful Art of Mak­ing Japan­ese Cal­lig­ra­phy Ink Out of Soot & Glue

Watch a Japan­ese Crafts­man Lov­ing­ly Bring a Tat­tered Old Book Back to Near Mint Con­di­tion

Watch a Japan­ese Arti­san Make a Noh Mask, Cre­at­ing an Aston­ish­ing Char­ac­ter From a Sin­gle Block of Wood

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the 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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The World’s First Mobile Phone Shown in 1922 Vintage Film

A num­ber of years ago, British Pathé uncov­ered some strik­ing footage from 1922 show­ing two women exper­i­ment­ing with the first mobile phone. A spokesman for the archive said: ”It’s amaz­ing that 90 years ago mobile phone tech­nol­o­gy and music … was not only being thought of but being tri­alled.” “The phone even has a lid which makes it the first flip-phone [that] we are aware of, although it is prob­a­bly not going to win any design awards.” He added, ”We would be delight­ed to hear from any­one who can tell us any­thing about the film, from where it is shot to who the women might be or even about the phone itself.” In the Relat­eds below, you can find more ear­ly visions of 21st-cen­tu­ry tech­nol­o­gy. Enjoy.

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

Fritz Lang Invents the Video Phone in Metrop­o­lis (1927)

Did Stan­ley Kubrick Invent the iPad in 2001: A Space Odyssey?

A 1947 French Film Accu­rate­ly Pre­dict­ed Our 21st-Cen­tu­ry Addic­tion to Smart­phones

Niko­la Tes­la Accu­rate­ly Pre­dict­ed the Rise of the Inter­net & Smart Phone in 1926

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George Orwell Reviews Mein Kampf: “He Envisages a Horrible Brainless Empire” (1940)

Christo­pher Hitchens once wrote that there were three major issues of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry — impe­ri­al­ism, fas­cism, and Stal­in­ism — and George Orwell proved to be right about all of them.

Orwell dis­plays his remark­able fore­sight in a fas­ci­nat­ing book review, pub­lished in March 1940, of Adolf Hitler’s noto­ri­ous auto­bi­og­ra­phy Mein Kampf. In the review, the author deft­ly cuts to the root of Hitler’s tox­ic charis­ma, and, along the way, antic­i­pates themes to appear in his future mas­ter­pieces, Ani­mal Farm and 1984.

The fact is that there is some­thing deeply appeal­ing about him. […] Hitler … knows that human beings don’t only want com­fort, safe­ty, short work­ing-hours, hygiene, birth-con­trol and, in gen­er­al, com­mon sense; they also, at least inter­mit­tent­ly, want strug­gle and self-sac­ri­fice, not to men­tion drums, flags and loy­al­ty-parades. How­ev­er they may be as eco­nom­ic the­o­ries, Fas­cism and Nazism are psy­cho­log­i­cal­ly far sounder than any hedo­nis­tic con­cep­tion of life.

Yet Orwell was cer­tain­ly no fan of Hitler. At one point in the review, he imag­ines what a world where the Third Reich suc­ceeds might look like:

What [Hitler] envis­ages, a hun­dred years hence, is a con­tin­u­ous state of 250 mil­lion Ger­mans with plen­ty of “liv­ing room” (i.e. stretch­ing to Afghanistan or there- abouts), a hor­ri­ble brain­less empire in which, essen­tial­ly, noth­ing ever hap­pens except the train­ing of young men for war and the end­less breed­ing of fresh can­non-fod­der.

The arti­cle was writ­ten at a moment when, as Orwell notes, the upper class was backpedal­ing hard against their pre­vi­ous sup­port of the Third Reich. In fact, a pre­vi­ous edi­tion of Mein Kampf — pub­lished in 1939 in Eng­land — had a dis­tinct­ly favor­able view of the FĂĽhrer.

“The obvi­ous inten­tion of the translator’s pref­ace and notes [was] to tone down the book’s feroc­i­ty and present Hitler in as kind­ly a light as pos­si­ble. For at that date Hitler was still respectable. He had crushed the Ger­man labour move­ment, and for that the prop­er­ty-own­ing class­es were will­ing to for­give him almost any­thing. Then sud­den­ly it turned out that Hitler was not respectable after all.”

By March 1940, every­thing had changed, and a new edi­tion of Mein Kampf, reflect­ing chang­ing views of Hitler, was pub­lished in Eng­land. Britain and France had declared war on Ger­many after its inva­sion of Poland but real fight­ing had yet to start in West­ern Europe. With­in months, France would fall and Britain would teeter on the brink. But, in the ear­ly spring of that year, all was pret­ty qui­et. The world was col­lec­tive­ly hold­ing its breath. And in this moment of ter­ri­fy­ing sus­pense, Orwell pre­dicts much of the future war.

When one com­pares his utter­ances of a year or so ago with those made fif­teen years ear­li­er, a thing that strikes one is the rigid­i­ty of his mind, the way in which his world-view doesn’t devel­op. It is the fixed vision of a mono­ma­ni­ac and not like­ly to be much affect­ed by the tem­po­rary manoeu­vres of pow­er pol­i­tics. Prob­a­bly, in Hitler’s own mind, the Rus­so-Ger­man Pact rep­re­sents no more than an alter­ation of timetable. The plan laid down in Mein Kampf was to smash Rus­sia first, with the implied inten­tion of smash­ing Eng­land after­wards. Now, as it has turned out, Eng­land has got to be dealt with first, because Rus­sia was the more eas­i­ly bribed of the two. But Russia’s turn will come when Eng­land is out of the pic­ture — that, no doubt, is how Hitler sees it. Whether it will turn out that way is of course a dif­fer­ent ques­tion.

In June of 1941, Hitler invad­ed Rus­sia, in one of the great­est strate­gic blun­ders in the his­to­ry of mod­ern war­fare. Stal­in was com­plete­ly blind­sided by the inva­sion and news of Hitler’s betray­al report­ed­ly caused Stal­in to have a ner­vous break­down. Clear­ly, he didn’t read Mein Kampf as close­ly as Orwell had.

You can read Orwell’s full book review here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

George Orwell’s Polit­i­cal Views, Explained in His Own Words

T.S. Eliot, as Faber & Faber Edi­tor, Rejects George Orwell’s “Trot­skyite” Nov­el Ani­mal Farm (1944)

Aldous Hux­ley to George Orwell: My Hell­ish Vision of the Future is Bet­ter Than Yours (1949)

Hear the Very First Adap­ta­tion of George Orwell’s 1984 in a Radio Play Star­ring David Niv­en (1949)

Jonathan Crow is a writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. 

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The Alphabet Explained: The Origin of Every Letter

Think back, if you will, to the cli­mac­tic scenes of Indi­ana Jones and the Last Cru­sade, which take place in the hid­den tem­ple that con­tains the Holy Grail. His father hav­ing been shot by the das­tard­ly Nazi-sym­pa­thiz­ing immor­tal­i­ty-seek­er Wal­ter Dono­van, Indy has no choice but to retrieve the leg­endary cup to make use of its reput­ed heal­ing pow­ers. This entails pass­ing through three dead­ly cham­bers, one of which has a floor cov­ered in stones, each one labeled with a let­ter of the alpha­bet. The way through, accord­ing to Jones père’s research, is the name of God. But when Indy steps on “J” for Jeho­vah, it crum­bles away, and he near­ly plunges into the enor­mous pit below.

Of course, true fans will have already quot­ed the rel­e­vant line: “But in the Latin alpha­bet, Jeho­va begins with an I!” Those of us who first watched the movie as kids — and, for that mat­ter, many of us who first watched it as adults — sim­ply took that fact as giv­en. But if we watch the Rob­Words video above, we can learn how and when that “I” became a “J”.

To the ancient Romans, explains host Rob Watts, these let­ters were one and the same, serv­ing both vow­el and con­so­nant duty depend­ing on the con­text (as in “Iulius” Cae­sar). Both of them date back to a “rather more com­pli­cat­ed char­ac­ter” that looks like a bad­ly con­tort­ed F, and which orig­i­nat­ed as a pic­togram rep­re­sent­ing a human hand and fore­arm.

The let­ter J only emerged lat­er, “when scribes want­ed to dif­fer­en­ti­ate between these two usages.” (As we’ve seen, it also offered the descen­dants of the Knights Tem­plar a way to trick inter­lop­ers in their cav­erns.) Through­out the course of the video, Watts cov­ers this and oth­er curi­ous steps in the evo­lu­tion of the alpha­bet we use to write Eng­lish and many oth­er lan­guages today. These pro­duced such fea­tures as the plur­al of knife and wolf being knives and wolves, the seem­ing super­fluity of Q, and — for an Eng­lish­man like Watts, an unig­nor­able sub­ject — the transat­lantic “zed”/“zee” divid­ing line. Exam­ined close­ly, the forms of our let­ters tells a mil­len­nia-span­ning sto­ry whose cast includes Egyp­tians, Phoeni­cians, Canaan­ites, Etr­uscans, Greeks, Romans, and oth­ers besides. And as the expe­ri­ence of Indi­ana Jones illus­trates, you nev­er know when you’ll need its lessons.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Evo­lu­tion of the Alpha­bet: A Col­or­ful Flow­chart, Cov­er­ing 3,800 Years, Takes You From Ancient Egypt to Today

How Writ­ing Has Spread Across the World, from 3000 BC to This Year: An Ani­mat­ed Map

The Writ­ing Sys­tems of the World Explained, from the Latin Alpha­bet to the Abugi­das of India

How to Write in Cuneiform, the Old­est Writ­ing Sys­tem in the World: A Short, Charm­ing Intro­duc­tion

The Old­est Known Sen­tence Writ­ten in an Alpha­bet Has Been Found on a Head-Lice Comb (Cir­ca 1700 BC)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Hear the Very First Adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 in a Radio Play Starring David Niven (1949)

Since George Orwell pub­lished his land­mark polit­i­cal fable 1984, each gen­er­a­tion has found ample rea­son to make ref­er­ence to the grim near-future envi­sioned by the nov­el. Whether Orwell had some prophet­ic vision or was sim­ply a very astute read­er of the insti­tu­tions of his day—all still with us in mutat­ed form—hardly mat­ters. His book set the tone for the next 70-plus years of dystopi­an fic­tion and film.

Orwell’s own polit­i­cal activities—his stint as a colo­nial police­man or his denun­ci­a­tion of sev­er­al col­leagues and friends to British intel­li­gence—may ren­der him sus­pect in some quar­ters. But his night­mar­ish fic­tion­al pro­jec­tions of total­i­tar­i­an rule strike a nerve with near­ly every­one on the polit­i­cal spec­trum because, like the spec­u­la­tive future Aldous Hux­ley cre­at­ed, no one wants to live in such a world. Or at least no one will admit it if they do.


Even the insti­tu­tions most like­ly to thrive in Orwell’s vision have co-opt­ed his work for their own pur­pos­es. The C.I.A. rewrote the ani­mat­ed film ver­sion of Ani­mal Farm. And if you’re of a cer­tain vin­tage, you’ll recall Apple’s appro­pri­a­tion of 1984 in Rid­ley Scott’s Super Bowl ad that very year for the Mac­in­tosh com­put­er. But of course not every Orwell adap­ta­tion has been made in the ser­vice of polit­i­cal or com­mer­cial oppor­tunism. Long before the Apple ad, and Michael Radford’s 1984 film ver­sion of Nine­teen Eighty-Four, there was the 1949 radio dra­ma above. Star­ring British great David Niv­en, with inter­mis­sion com­men­tary by author James Hilton, the show aired on the edu­ca­tion­al radio series NBC Uni­ver­si­ty The­ater.

This radio dra­ma, the “first audio pro­duc­tion of the most chal­leng­ing nov­el of 1949,” opens with a trig­ger warn­ing, of sorts, that pre­pares us for a “dis­turb­ing broad­cast.” To audi­ences just on the oth­er side of the Nazi atroc­i­ties and the nuclear bomb­ings of Japan, then deal­ing with the threat of Sovi­et Com­mu­nism, Orwell’s dystopi­an fic­tion must have seemed dire and dis­turb­ing indeed.

Every adap­ta­tion of a lit­er­ary work is unavoid­ably also an inter­pre­ta­tion, bound by the ideas and ide­olo­gies of its time. The Niv­en broad­cast shares the same his­tor­i­cal con­cerns as Orwell’s nov­el. More recent­ly, this 70-year-old audio has itself been co-opt­ed by a pod­cast called “Great Speech­es and Inter­views,” which edit­ed the broad­cast togeth­er with a per­plex­ing selec­tion of pop­u­lar songs and an inter­view between jour­nal­ists Glenn Green­wald and Dylan Rati­gan. What­ev­er we make of these devel­op­ments, one thing seems cer­tain. We won’t be done with Orwell’s 1984 for some time, and it won’t be done with us.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

George Orwell Explains in a Reveal­ing 1944 Let­ter Why He’d Write 1984

The Cov­er of George Orwell’s 1984 Becomes Less Cen­sored with Wear & Tear

Hear George Orwell’s 1984 Adapt­ed as a Radio Play at the Height of McCarthy­ism & The Red Scare (1953)

Free Down­load: A Knit­ting Pat­tern for a Sweater Depict­ing an Icon­ic Cov­er of George Orwell’s 1984

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

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What It Takes to Pass “the Knowledge,” the “Insanely Hard” Exam to Become a London Taxicab Driver

Any­one who’s fol­lowed the late Michael Apt­ed’s Up doc­u­men­taries knows that becom­ing a Lon­don cab dri­ver is no mean feat. Tony Walk­er, one of the series’ most mem­o­rable par­tic­i­pants, was select­ed at the age of sev­en from an East End pri­ma­ry school, already dis­tin­guished as a char­ac­ter by his ener­getic man­ner, clas­sic cock­ney accent, and enthu­si­as­ti­cal­ly expressed ambi­tion to become a jock­ey. By 21 Up, how­ev­er, he’d got off the horse and into a taxi­cab — or was aim­ing to do so, hav­ing immersed him­self in the stud­ies required for the nec­es­sary licens­ing exams. For many non-British view­ers, this con­sti­tut­ed an intro­duc­tion to what’s known as “the Knowl­edge,” the for­mi­da­ble test­ing process licensed Lon­don taxi­cab dri­vers have under­gone since 1865.

The Great Big Sto­ry video at the top of the post pro­vides an intro­duc­tion to this “insane­ly hard test,” which demands the mem­o­riza­tion of 320 routes around Lon­don, involv­ing 25,000 streets and roads, with­in a six-mile radius of Trafal­gar Square. “Its rig­ors have been likened to those required to earn a degree in law or med­i­cine,” writes Jody Rosen in a 2014 New York Time Style Mag­a­zine piece on the Knowl­edge.

“It is with­out ques­tion a unique intel­lec­tu­al, psy­cho­log­i­cal and phys­i­cal ordeal, demand­ing unnum­bered thou­sands of hours of immer­sive study.” For the Tony Walk­ers of the world, it has also long offered a route to sta­ble, well-com­pen­sat­ed, and even pres­ti­gious work: every­one, regard­less of social class, acknowl­edges the exper­tise of Lon­don that the black-taxi­cab dri­ver pos­sess­es.

In recent years, those clas­sic black cabs have faced great­ly inten­si­fied com­pe­ti­tion from rideshare and “mini­cab” ser­vices, whose dri­vers aren’t required to pass the Knowl­edge. Instead, they rely on the same thing the rest of us do: GPS-enabled devices that auto­mat­i­cal­ly com­pute the route between point A and point B. Though one would imag­ine this tech­nol­o­gy hav­ing long since ren­dered the Knowl­edge redun­dant, the flow of aspi­rants to the sta­tus of black-cab dri­ver has­n’t dried up entire­ly. Take Tom the Taxi Dri­ver, a full-fledged Lon­don cab­bie who’s also mil­len­ni­al enough to have elab­o­rate tat­toos and his own Youtube chan­nel, on which he explains not just the expe­ri­ence of dri­ving a taxi in Lon­don, but also of tak­ing the tests to do so, which involve plot­ting Point-A-to-Point‑B routes ver­bal­ly, on the spot.

The ques­tion of whether the Knowl­edge beats the GPS is set­tled on the chan­nel of anoth­er, sim­i­lar­ly named Eng­lish Youtu­ber: Tom Scott, who in the video above, dri­ves one route through Lon­don using his mobile phone while Tom the Taxi Dri­ver does anoth­er of the same length while con­sult­ing only his own men­tal map of the city. This mod­ern-day John Hen­ry show­down is less inter­est­ing for its out­come than for what we see along the way: Tom the Taxi Dri­ver’s per­cep­tion and expe­ri­ence of Lon­don dif­fer con­sid­er­ably from that of Tom the non-taxi dri­ver, and as neu­ro­sci­en­tif­ic research has sug­gest­ed, that dif­fer­ence is prob­a­bly reflect­ed in the phys­i­cal nature of his brain.

“The pos­te­ri­or hip­pocam­pus, the area of the brain known to be impor­tant for mem­o­ry, is big­ger in Lon­don taxi dri­vers than in most peo­ple, and that a suc­cess­ful Knowl­edge candidate’s pos­te­ri­or hip­pocam­pus enlarges as he pro­gress­es through the test,” writes Rosen. The appli­cants’ hav­ing to mas­ter fine-grained detail both geo­graph­ic and his­tor­i­cal (over a peri­od of near­ly three years on aver­age) also under­scores that “the Knowl­edge stands for, well, knowl­edge — for the Enlight­en­ment ide­al of ency­clo­pe­dic learn­ing, for the human­ist notion that dili­gent intel­lec­tu­al endeav­or is ennobling, an end in itself.” For any of us, habit­u­al­ly offload­ing the men­tal work of not just wayfind­ing but remem­ber­ing, cal­cu­lat­ing, and much else besides onto apps may well induce a kind of men­tal obe­si­ty, one we can only fight off by mas­ter­ing the Knowl­edge of our own pur­suits, what­ev­er those pur­suits may be.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Growth of Lon­don, from the Romans to the 21st Cen­tu­ry, Visu­al­ized in a Time-Lapse Ani­mat­ed Map

The Old­est Known Footage of Lon­don (1890–1920) Fea­tures the City’s Great Land­marks

“The Won­der­ground Map of Lon­don Town,” the Icon­ic 1914 Map That Saved the World’s First Sub­way Sys­tem

Take a Vir­tu­al Dri­ve through Lon­don, Tokyo, Los Ange­les & 45 Oth­er World Cities

Robert De Niro’s Taxi Cab License Used to Pre­pare for Taxi Dri­ver (1976)

Meet Madame Inès Decour­celle, One of the Very First Female Taxi Dri­vers in Paris (Cir­ca 1908)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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An Oscar-Winning Animation of Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea” Painted on 29,000 Frames of Glass

Ernest Hemingway’s roman­tic adven­ture of man and mar­lin, The Old Man and the Sea, has per­haps spent more time on high school fresh­man Eng­lish read­ing lists than any oth­er work of fic­tion, which might lead one to think of the nov­el as young adult fic­tion. But beyond the book’s abil­i­ty to com­mu­ni­cate broad themes of per­se­ver­ance, courage, and loss, it has an appeal that also reach­es old, wiz­ened men like Hemingway’s San­ti­a­go and young, imag­i­na­tive boy­ish appren­tices like his Mano­lin. The 1952 novel­la rein­vig­o­rat­ed Hemingway’s career, won him a Pulitzer Prize, and even­tu­al­ly con­tributed to his Nobel win in 1954. And luck­i­ly for all those high school Eng­lish stu­dents, Hemingway’s sto­ry has lent itself to some wor­thy screen adap­ta­tions, includ­ing the 1958 film star­ring Spencer Tra­cy as the inde­fati­ga­ble Span­ish-Cuban fish­er­man and a 1990 ver­sion with the mighty Antho­ny Quinn in the role.

One adap­ta­tion that read­ers of Hem­ing­way might miss is the ani­ma­tion above, a co-pro­duc­tion with Cana­di­an, Russ­ian, and Japan­ese stu­dios cre­at­ed by Russ­ian ani­ma­tor Alek­sander Petrov. Win­ner of a 2000 Acad­e­my Award for ani­mat­ed short, the film has as much appeal to a range of view­ers young and old as Hemingway’s book, and for some of the same reasons—it’s cap­ti­vat­ing­ly vivid depic­tion of life on the sea, with its long peri­ods of inac­tiv­i­ty and short bursts of extreme phys­i­cal exer­tion and con­sid­er­able risk.

Both states pro­vide ample oppor­tu­ni­ties for com­plex char­ac­ter devel­op­ment and rich sto­ry­telling as well as excit­ing white-knuck­le sus­pense. Petro­v’s film illus­trates them all, open­ing with images of San­ti­ago’s sto­ries of his sea­far­ing boy­hood off the coast of Africa and stag­ing the dra­mat­ic con­tests between San­ti­a­go, his “broth­er” the mar­lin, and the sharks who devour his prize.

But the pro­duc­tion here, unlike Hemingway’s spare prose, makes a daz­zling dis­play of its tech­nique. For his The Old Man and the Sea, Petrov—only one of a hand­ful of ani­ma­tors skilled in this art—handpainted over 29,000 frames on glass (with help from his son, Dmitri) using slow-dry­ing oils. Petrov moved the paint with his fin­gers to cap­ture the move­ment in the next shot, and while the mag­i­cal effect resem­bles a mov­ing paint­ing, the shoot­ing itself was very tech­no­log­i­cal­ly advanced, involv­ing a spe­cial­ly con­struct­ed motion-cap­ture cam­era. Petrov and son began their paint­ing in 1997 and fin­ished two years lat­er, tak­ing to heart some of the lessons of the book, it seems. The film’s cre­ators, how­ev­er, fared bet­ter than The Old Man’s pro­tag­o­nist, rich­ly reward­ed for their strug­gle. In addi­tion to an Oscar, the short won awards from BAFTA, the San Diego Film Fes­ti­val, and a hand­ful of oth­er pres­ti­gious inter­na­tion­al bod­ies.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

William Faulkner’s Review of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea (1952)

Watch a Hand-Paint­ed Ani­ma­tion of Dostoevsky’s “The Dream of a Ridicu­lous Man”

Hem­ing­way, Fitzger­ald, Faulkn­er: A Free Yale Course

The Great Gats­by Is Now in the Pub­lic Domain and There’s a New Graph­ic Nov­el

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

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37 Hitchcock Cameo Appearances Over 50 Years: All in One Video

Ear­ly in his career, Alfred Hitch­cock began mak­ing small appear­ances in his own films. The cameos some­times last­ed just a few brief sec­onds, and some­times a lit­tle while longer. Either way, they became a sig­na­ture of Hitch­cock­’s film­mak­ing, and fans made a sport of see­ing whether they could spot the elu­sive direc­tor. From 1927 to 1976, Hitch­cock made 37 appear­ances in total, and they’re all nice­ly cat­a­logued in the clip above. Enjoy!

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 

Alfred Hitchcock’s Strict Rules for Watch­ing Psy­cho in The­aters (1960)

Alfred Hitch­cock Explains the Dif­fer­ence Between Sus­pense & Sur­prise: Give the Audi­ence Some Infor­ma­tion & Leave the Rest to Their Imag­i­na­tion

How Edward Hopper’s Paint­ings Inspired the Creepy Sus­pense of Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Win­dow

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound

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How Rome Began: The History As Told by Ancient Historians

Much atten­tion has been paid to the fall of the Roman Empire, by every­one from august his­to­ri­ans like Edward Gib­bon to mod­ern-day observers wring­ing their hands over the fate of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca. But as every Rome enthu­si­ast knows, that long col­lapse con­sti­tutes just one chap­ter — or rather, a series of chap­ters at the very least — of a sto­ry with much more to it. And as with any sto­ry, nobody can hope to under­stand how it ends unless they under­stand how it begins: hence the new Voic­es of the Past video above, “How Did Rome Begin?”

If you’re at all famil­iar with Roman mythol­o­gy (or if you, like me, played Cen­tu­ri­on: Defend­er of Rome grow­ing up), you’ll have seen the image of the twins broth­ers Romu­lus and Remus being nursed by a giant she-wolf, la Lupa Capi­toli­na, on the banks of the Tiber riv­er. Accord­ing to one ver­sion of events, Rome was found­ed by Romu­lus on April 21st in 753 BCE, after he killed Remus and named the Eter­nal City-to-be after him­self.

What rela­tion­ship this dra­mat­ic tale has to his­tor­i­cal events is a mat­ter of schol­ar­ly inter­est, but Voic­es of the Past’s inves­ti­ga­tion has a wider scope, begin­ning four and a half cen­turies ear­li­er with the fall of Troy as told by Homer, one of the many sources cit­ed along the video’s two-hour his­tor­i­cal jour­ney.

To make vivid the con­di­tions under which Rome arose, the video close­ly exam­ines the ruins of the ancient world while quot­ing the words of his­to­ri­ans who lived under the actu­al Roman Empire, like Livy and Diony­sius of Hali­car­nas­sus. While they may come with cer­tain embell­ish­ments, and even fab­ri­ca­tions, these texts togeth­er offer a coher­ent nar­ra­tive of Rome’s rise, which in this video stretch­es to eight tur­bu­lent cen­turies. Its final chap­ter opens in 387 BC, with the storm of Rome’s sack by the Gauls quick­ly gath­er­ing. For Roman cit­i­zens at the time, it would have seemed that their long-estab­lished city had met its end. Lit­tle did they know, it still had — if not an eter­ni­ty — cen­turies and cen­turies still to go.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Hear an Ancient Chi­nese His­to­ri­an Describe The Roman Empire (and Oth­er Voic­es of the Past)

What the Romans Saw When They Reached New Parts of the World: Hear First-Hand Accounts by Appi­an, Pliny, Tac­i­tus & Oth­er Ancient His­to­ri­ans

The His­to­ry of Ancient Japan: The Sto­ry of How Japan Began, Told by Those Who Wit­nessed It (297‑1274)

The His­to­ry of Ancient Rome in 20 Quick Min­utes: A Primer Nar­rat­ed by Bri­an Cox

Do You Think About Ancient Rome Every Day? Then Browse a Wealth of Videos, Maps & Pho­tos That Explore the Roman Empire

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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