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What Happened When Stephen Hawking Threw a Cocktail Party for Time Travelers (2009)

Who among us has nev­er fan­ta­sized about trav­el­ing through time? But then, who among us has­n’t trav­eled through time? Every sin­gle one of us is a time trav­el­er, tech­ni­cal­ly speak­ing, mov­ing as we do through one sec­ond per sec­ond, one hour per hour, one day per day. Though I nev­er per­son­al­ly heard the late Stephen Hawk­ing point out that fact, I feel almost cer­tain that he did, espe­cial­ly in light of one par­tic­u­lar piece of sci­en­tif­ic per­for­mance art he pulled off in 2009: throw­ing a cock­tail par­ty for time trav­el­ers — the prop­er kind, who come from the future.

“Hawking’s par­ty was actu­al­ly an exper­i­ment on the pos­si­bil­i­ty of time trav­el,” writes Atlas Obscu­ra’s Anne Ewbank. “Along with many physi­cists, Hawk­ing had mused about whether going for­ward and back in time was pos­si­ble. And what time trav­el­er could resist sip­ping cham­pagne with Stephen Hawk­ing him­self?” ”

By pub­lish­ing the par­ty invi­ta­tion in his mini-series Into the Uni­verse With Stephen Hawk­ing, Hawk­ing hoped to lure futur­is­tic time trav­el­ers. You are cor­dial­ly invit­ed to a recep­tion for Time Trav­ellers, the invi­ta­tion read, along with the the date, time, and coor­di­nates for the event. The the­o­ry, Hawk­ing explained, was that only some­one from the future would be able to attend.”

Alas, no time trav­el­ers turned up. Since some­one pos­sessed of that tech­nol­o­gy at any point in the future would the­o­ret­i­cal­ly be able to attend, does Hawk­ing’s lone­ly par­ty, which you can see in the clip above, prove that time trav­el will nev­er become pos­si­ble? Maybe — or maybe the poten­tial time-trav­el­ers of the future know some­thing about the space-time-con­tin­u­um-threat­en­ing risks of the prac­tice that we don’t. As for Dr. Hawk­ing, I have to imag­ine that he came away sat­is­fied from the shindig, even though his hoped-for Ms. Uni­verse from the future nev­er walked through the door. “I like sim­ple exper­i­ments… and cham­pagne,” he said, and this cham­pagne-laden sim­ple exper­i­ment will con­tin­ue to remind the rest of us to enjoy our time on Earth, wher­ev­er in that time we may find our­selves.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Stephen Hawking’s Inter­view with Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Record­ed 10 Days Before His Death: A Last Con­ver­sa­tion about Black Holes, Time Trav­el & More

Stephen Hawk­ing (RIP) Explains His Rev­o­lu­tion­ary The­o­ry of Black Holes with the Help of Chalk­board Ani­ma­tions

The Lighter Side of Stephen Hawk­ing: The Physi­cist Cracks Jokes and a Smile with John Oliv­er

Pro­fes­sor Ronald Mal­lett Wants to Build a Time Machine in this Cen­tu­ry … and He’s Not Kid­ding

What’s the Ori­gin of Time Trav­el Fic­tion?: New Video Essay Explains How Time Trav­el Writ­ing Got Its Start with Charles Dar­win & His Lit­er­ary Peers

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

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Pre-Flight Safety Demonstration Gets Performed as a Modern Dance: A Creative Video from a Taiwanese Airline

Tai­wanese air­line EVA Air’s pre-flight safe­ty video is a gen­uine odd­i­ty in a field lit­tered with cre­ative inter­pre­ta­tions.

Ten years ago, air­lines were straight­for­ward about com­ply­ing with the Inter­na­tion­al Civ­il Avi­a­tion Orga­ni­za­tion, the Fed­er­al Avi­a­tion Admin­is­tra­tion, and oth­er gov­ern­ing bod­ies’ require­ments.  These instruc­tions were seri­ous busi­ness. Chil­dren and oth­er first time trav­el­ers paid strict atten­tion to infor­ma­tion about tray tables, exits, and inflat­able life vests that jad­ed fre­quent fly­ers ignored, con­fi­dent that most take offs and land­ings tend to go accord­ing to plan, and the over­whelm­ing num­ber of planes tend stay in the air for the dura­tion of one’s flight.

What about the ones that don’t though? There are times when a too-cool-for-school busi­ness trav­el­er seat­ed next to an emer­gency exit could spell dis­as­ter for every­one onboard.

Vir­gin America’s 2007 ani­mat­ed safe­ty video, below, was the first to recap­ture pas­sen­gers’ atten­tion, with a blasé nar­ra­tive style that poked fun at the stan­dard tropes:

For the .0001% of you who have nev­er oper­at­ed a seat­belt before, it works like this…

The cocky tone was dialed down for more crit­i­cal infor­ma­tion, like how to assist the child in the seat next to you when the yel­low oxy­gen masks drop from the over­head com­part­ment. (Imag­ine the may­hem if indie ani­ma­tor Bill Plymp­ton had been in the pilot’s seat for this one…)

The irrev­er­ent approach was a hit. The FAA took note, encour­ag­ing cre­ativ­i­ty in a 2010 Advi­so­ry Cir­cu­lar:

Every air­line pas­sen­ger should be moti­vat­ed to focus on the safe­ty infor­ma­tion in the pas­sen­ger brief­ing; how­ev­er, moti­vat­ing peo­ple, even when their own per­son­al safe­ty is involved, is not easy. One way to increase pas­sen­ger moti­va­tion is to make the safe­ty infor­ma­tion brief­in­gs and cards as inter­est­ing and attrac­tive as pos­si­ble.

For a while EVA Air, an inno­va­tor whose fleet includes sev­er­al Hel­lo Kit­ty Jets, played it safe by stick­ing to crowd pleas­ing schtick. Its 2012 CGI safe­ty demo video, below, must’ve played par­tic­u­lar­ly well with the Hel­lo Kit­ty demo­graph­ic.

…looks a bit 2012, no?

A few months ago, EVA took things in a direc­tion few indus­try pro­fes­sion­als could’ve pre­dict­ed: mod­ern dance, per­formed with utmost sin­cer­i­ty.

Chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Bulareyaung Pagarla­va, a mem­ber of Taiwan’s indige­nous Pai­wan com­mu­ni­ty, and a small crew of dancers spent three months trans­lat­ing the famil­iar direc­tives into a vocab­u­lary of sym­bol­ic ges­tures. See the results at the top of the post.

You’ll find none of the stock char­ac­ters who pop­u­late oth­er air­lines’ videos here—no sneaky smok­ers, no con­cerned moms, no sleepy busi­ness­peo­ple. There’s bare­ly a sug­ges­tion of a cab­in.

Unfet­tered by seats or over­head bins, the bright­ly clad, bare­foot dancers leap and roll as they inter­act with 3D pro­jec­tions, behav­ior that would cer­tain­ly sum­mon a flight atten­dant if per­formed on an actu­al plane.

Does it work?

The answer may depend on whether or not the plane on which you’re trav­el­ing takes a sud­den nose dive.

In “No Jok­ing,” an essay about air­port secu­ri­ty, Uni­ver­si­ty of Ottawa pro­fes­sor Mark B. Salter writes that it is “dif­fi­cult to moti­vate pas­sen­gers to con­tem­plate their own mor­tal­i­ty.” The fash­ion for jok­i­ness in safe­ty videos “nat­u­ral­izes areas of anx­i­ety,” a men­tal trick of which Freud was well aware.

What then are we to make of the EVA Air dancer at the 4:35 minute mark, who appears to be falling back­ward through the night sky?

Would you show a jet’s worth of trav­el­ers the mod­ern dance equiv­a­lent of Air­plane 1975, Fear­less, or Snakes on a Plane before they taxi down the run­way?

Mer­ci­ful­ly, the nar­ra­tor steps in to remind pas­sen­gers that smok­ing is pro­hib­it­ed, before the dig­i­tal­ly pro­ject­ed dark waters can swal­low the writhing soloist up.

There’s also some ques­tion as to whether the video ade­quate­ly address­es the ques­tion of tray table oper­a­tion.

Read­ers, what do you think? Does this new video make you feel secure about tak­ing flight?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sta­tis­tics Explained Through Mod­ern Dance: A New Way of Teach­ing a Tough Sub­ject

Artist Nina Katchadouri­an Cre­ates Flem­ish Style Self-Por­traits in Air­plane Lava­to­ry

NASA Puts 400+ His­toric Exper­i­men­tal Flight Videos on YouTube

Col­or­ful Maps from 1914 and 2016 Show How Planes & Trains Have Made the World Small­er and Trav­el Times Quick­er

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

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When Ira Aldridge Became the First Black Actor to Perform Shakespeare in England (1824)

The ways that Oth­el­lo, Aaron the Moor from Titus Andron­i­cus, and Shy­lock from The Mer­chant of Venice—Shakespeare’s “explic­it­ly racial­ized char­ac­ters,” as George Wash­ing­ton University’s Ayan­na Thomp­son puts it—have been inter­pret­ed over the cen­turies may have less to do with the author’s inten­tions and more with con­tem­po­rary ideas about race, the actors cast in the roles, and the direc­to­r­i­al choic­es made in a pro­duc­tion. To a great degree, these char­ac­ters have been played as though their iden­ti­ties were like the cos­tumes put on by actors who dark­ened their faces or wore stereo­typ­i­cal mark­ers of eth­nic or reli­gious Judaism (includ­ing “an obnox­ious­ly large nose”).

Such por­tray­als risk turn­ing com­plex char­ac­ters into car­i­ca­tures, val­i­dat­ing much of what we might see as overt and implic­it racism in the text. But there are those, Thomp­son says, who think such roles are actu­al­ly “about racial imper­son­ation.” Oth­el­lo, for exam­ple, is “a role writ­ten by a white man, intend­ed for a white actor in black make­up.”

For cen­turies, that is what most audi­ences ful­ly expect­ed to see. The tra­di­tion con­tin­ued in Britain until the 19th cen­tu­ry, when the Shake­speare­an col­or line, so to speak, was first crossed by Ira Aldridge, an Amer­i­can actor born in New York City in 1807.

“Edu­cat­ed at the African Free School,” notes the Fol­ger Shake­speare Library, Aldridge “was able to see Shake­speare plays at the Park The­atre and the African Grove The­atre.” He took on roles like Romeo with the African Com­pa­ny, but “New York was gen­er­al­ly not a wel­com­ing place for black actors… some white the­ater­go­ers even attempt­ed to pre­vent black com­pa­nies from per­form­ing Shake­speare at all.” As Tony Howard, an Eng­lish pro­fes­sor at the Uni­ver­si­ty of War­wick, tells PRI, “he was beat­en up in the streets.” And so Aldridge left for Eng­land in 1824, where he played Oth­el­lo at the The­atre Roy­al, Covent-Gar­den, at only 17 years old, the first black actor to play a Shake­speare­an role in Britain.

He lat­er began per­form­ing under the name Keene, “a homonym,” notes the site Black His­to­ry 365, “for the then pop­u­lar British actor, Edmund Kean.” Aldridge’s big break came after he met Kean and his son Charles, also an actor, in 1831, and both became sup­port­ers of his career. When the elder Kean col­lapsed onstage in 1833, then died, Aldridge took over his role as Oth­el­lo at Lon­don’s Roy­al­ty The­atre in two per­for­mances. “Crit­ics object­ed,” the Fol­ger writes, “to his race, his youth, and his inex­pe­ri­ence.” As Howard tells it, this char­ac­ter­i­za­tion is a gross under­state­ment:

There were those who said this is a very inter­est­ing and extra­or­di­nary young actor. And the fact that he’s a black actor makes it more inter­est­ing and fas­ci­nat­ing. But for many peo­ple, it was an insult because this is still a soci­ety where there is a great deal of slav­ery in the British Empire. And in order to com­bat the idea of increas­ing abo­li­tion, per­form­ers like Ira had to be stopped. And so there was a great deal of vio­lent aggres­sion. Not phys­i­cal vio­lence this time, but vio­lence in the press.

Some of that ver­bal vio­lence includ­ed com­par­ing Aldridge to “per­form­ing hors­es” and “per­form­ing dogs.” Many Lon­don crit­ics saw his entry on the Shake­speare­an stage as an affront to Eng­lish lit­er­ary tra­di­tion. Per­form­ing the bard’s works was “a kind of vio­la­tion,” Howard sum­ma­rizes, “he has no right to do that, not even to play Oth­el­lo.”

Pho­to via the Fol­ger Library

From his begin­nings in Coven­try to his expe­ri­ence in Lon­don, Aldridge made the once-black­face role his own, per­haps increas­ing­ly draw­ing “on his own expe­ri­ence and his own feel­ing.” He also por­trayed Aaron in Titus, and as he per­se­vered through neg­a­tive press and prej­u­dice, he took on oth­er star­ring roles, includ­ing Richard III, Shy­lock, Iago, King Lear, and Mac­beth. He “toured the Eng­lish provinces exten­sive­ly,” the BBC writes, “and stayed in Coven­try for a few months, dur­ing which time he gave a num­ber of speech­es on the evils of slav­ery. When he left, peo­ple inspired by his speech­es went to the coun­ty hall and peti­tioned for its abo­li­tion.”

By the end of the 1840s, how­ev­er, Aldridge felt he had gone as far as he could go in Eng­land and left to tour the Con­ti­nent in what had become his sig­na­ture role, Oth­el­lo. While first tour­ing with an Eng­lish com­pa­ny, he “lat­er began to work with local the­ater troupes,” the Fol­ger writes, “per­form­ing in Eng­lish while the rest of the cast would per­form in Ger­man, Swedish, etc. Despite the lan­guage bar­ri­er, Aldridge’s per­for­mances in Europe were high­ly acclaimed, a tes­ta­ment to his act­ing skills.” (See a play­bill fur­ther up from a Bonn per­for­mance.) After win­ning great fame in Europe and Rus­sia, the actor returned in tri­umph to Lon­don in 1855, and this time was very well-received.

Aldridge died in 1867. And though he was the sub­ject of many por­traits of the period—like that by James North­cote at the top of the post, por­tray­ing the 19-year-old Aldridge as Oth­el­lo, and this 1830 paint­ing by Hen­ry Per­ronet Brig­gs—he was “large­ly for­got­ten by the­ater his­to­ri­ans.” (See him above in an 1858 draw­ing by Ukran­ian artist Taras Shevchenko.) But his lega­cy has been revived in recent years. Aldridge was the sub­ject of two recent plays, Black Oth­el­lo, by Cecil­ia Siden­bladh, and Red Vel­vet by Loli­ta Chakrabar­ti. And last year, he was hon­ored in Coven­try by a plaque on the site of the the­ater where he first achieved fame.

While he suc­ceed­ed in becom­ing an all-around great Shake­speare­an actor, Aldridge’s lega­cy rests espe­cial­ly in the way he helped trans­form roles per­formed as “racial imper­son­ation” for a few hun­dred years into the prove­nance of tal­ent­ed black actors who bring new depth, com­plex­i­ty, and authen­tic­i­ty to char­ac­ters often played as stock eth­nic vil­lains. While white actors like Orson Welles and Lawrence Olivi­er con­tin­ued to play Oth­el­lo well into the 20th cen­tu­ry, these days such cast­ing can be seen as “ridicu­lous,” as Hugh Muir writes at The Guardian, espe­cial­ly if that actor “blacks up” for the role.

via the British Library

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Shakespeare’s Eng­lish Sound­ed Like, and How We Know It

3,000 Illus­tra­tions of Shakespeare’s Com­plete Works from Vic­to­ri­an Eng­land, Neat­ly Pre­sent­ed in a New Dig­i­tal Archive

Young Orson Welles Directs “Voodoo Mac­beth,” the First Shake­speare Pro­duc­tion With An All-Black Cast: Footage from 1936

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

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All of the Songs Played on “WKRP in Cincinnati” in One Playlist: Stream 202 Classic Tracks

I don’t know how many peo­ple still watch WKRP in Cincin­nati , or how well the jokes have aged, but there is a small but ded­i­cat­ed fan base out there. Part of it might be nos­tal­gia not just for the sit­com itself, but for a time when radio sta­tions were idio­syn­crat­ic things, not just part of vast media con­glom­er­ates that have a song playlist you could fit onto a thumb dri­ve. Ask any boomer and they’ll recall their own favorite real-life ver­sions of rock DJ John­ny Fever (Howard Hes­se­man) and funk/soul DJ Venus Fly­trap (Tim Reid).

Recent­ly, one ded­i­cat­ed fan went through the first sea­son and iden­ti­fied every song played on the shows, and pro­duced this spread­sheet first men­tioned on Boing­Bo­ing. That then led to some­body wish­ing for a Spo­ti­fy playlist and of course the Inter­net has pro­vid­ed. Find the playlist and stream all 202 tracks below. Some­one also assem­bled a YouTube ver­sion that you can find at the bot­tom of the post.

What to make of the choic­es? DJ John­ny Fever starts off with Ted Nugent’s “Queen of the For­est” to announce the station’s switch from muzak to a rock/Top 40 for­mat in the first episode. A major­i­ty of the songs are major label selec­tions, with the Rolling Stones the favorite choice through the sea­son with five songs total. Oth­er bands are still sta­ples of clas­sic rock for­mat sta­tions to this day: Bob Seger, Boston, Styx, Van Mor­ri­son, For­eign­er, The Grate­ful Dead, Blondie, The Doors. Venus Flytrap’s selec­tions aren’t as com­mon, but they are also a famil­iar cross-sec­tion of the dis­co era: Chic, A Taste of Hon­ey, Eve­lyn Cham­pagne King, and Mar­vin Gaye.

One inter­est­ing appear­ance was Michael Des Bar­res, for­mer front­man of the rock band Detec­tive (who were signed to Led Zeppelin’s Swan Song label), and post-Robert Palmer front­man of Pow­er Sta­tion. He was cast as the lead singer of the punk band “Scum of the Earth” in one WKRP episode, where he sang three Detec­tive tunes. (The band actu­al­ly came dressed in busi­ness suits, so I’m not sure how “punk” they were). Now, the pro­duc­ers must have liked Michael Des Bar­res, because when the ill-fat­ed sequel The New WKRP in Cincin­nati pre­miered in 1991, he played one half of a morn­ing show team.

Cre­ator Hugh Wil­son explains in this video how cost­ly some of the orig­i­nal rights usages could be, where maybe “I could get 17 sec­onds of Pink Floyd for $3,000.” But as the show grew in pop­u­lar­i­ty, record com­pa­nies start­ed to treat the show “like a real sta­tion” and pro­vid­ing music and mer­chan­dise to dress the sets.

The use of actu­al radio hits (and not “sounda­likes”) became a prob­lem for the show in syn­di­ca­tion. When it was time to renew the rights, the var­i­ous media com­pa­nies want­ed 10 times as much. As Wil­son says, that was the end of WKRP in syn­di­ca­tion.

The Shout Fac­to­ry DVD box set was able to repro­duce most of Sea­son one with 80 per­cent of the orig­i­nal music intact, and it’s pos­si­bly why only one sea­son is out there.

That also may be why that $3,000 worth of Pink Floyd only exists as a very blur­ry YouTube video up at the top of the post.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the Only Instru­men­tal Ever Banned from the Radio: Link Wray’s Seduc­tive, Raunchy Song, “Rum­ble” (1958)

A His­to­ry of Rock ‘n’ Roll in 100 Riffs

Rick Wake­man Tells the Sto­ry of the Mel­lotron, the Odd­ball Pro­to-Syn­the­siz­er Pio­neered by the Bea­t­les

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. 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 Story of How David Jones Became David Bowie Gets Told in a New Graphic Novel

What, exact­ly, turned David Jones into David Bowie? Observers have been ask­ing that ques­tion ever since the artis­ti­cal­ly inclined rock star — who, we might say, made rock star­dom into a viable art form in the first place — began his high-pro­file exper­i­men­ta­tion with his own image in the ear­ly 1970s. Hav­ing put out his first big hit “Space Odd­i­ty” a few years before that, in 1969, he spent the peri­od in between liv­ing, with his then-wife Ang­ie, at a Vic­to­ri­an vil­la in South Lon­don called Had­don Hall. “The cou­ple rent­ed a ground-floor flat for £7 a week – the Spi­ders from Mars were, I think, sequestered around an upstairs land­ing – and in one of its cav­ernous rooms, their ceil­ings paint­ed sil­ver, Ang­ie cut David’s hair and stitched the first Zig­gy out­fit.”

Those words come from the Guardian’s Rachel Cooke, review­ing the bio­graph­i­cal graph­ic nov­el Had­don Hall: When David Invent­ed Bowie. “Its author, the Tunisian-born French car­toon­ist Nejib, puts Bowie’s lost house cen­tre stage, David and Ang­ie hav­ing fall­en instant­ly in love with its dis­creet decrepi­tude, its tow­ers and mould­ings and pre­pos­ter­ous­ly long cor­ri­dors,” she writes. “Nejib is won­der­ful­ly alive to the influ­ences on Bowie in this cru­cial peri­od, from the final ill­ness of his father, John, to Stan­ley Kubrick’s 1971 film adap­ta­tion of A Clock­work Orange (leav­ing the cin­e­ma after see­ing it, the still strug­gling Bowie sud­den­ly sees what he should be: a rock star ‘who’s all destruc­tion and the future’).”

A Bowie schol­ar could argue that his and Ang­ie’s Had­don Hall years pro­vid­ed the space for the most cru­cial ges­ta­tion peri­od and space in his career. In an inter­view with the Her­ald, Nejib relates his dis­sat­is­fac­tion with extant Bowie biogra­phies, and how one biog­ra­ph­er even admits that writ­ing a sat­is­fy­ing one may be “rather impos­si­ble because Bowie is a fic­tion cre­at­ed by David Jones, a very secret man. I loved that idea and I con­sid­er Bowie as one of the most pow­er­ful fic­tion­al cre­ations of this peri­od. That was very lib­er­at­ing for me to make this ‘por­trait’ of Bowie in a graph­ic nov­el,” which he describes as “not a doc­u­men­tary, but a fic­tion,” based on more than just facts and as a result “a mix of many things.”

More fas­ci­nat­ed by “fragili­ty and doubt than suc­cess and star­dom,” Nejib — whose art style brings to mind car­toons seen in mag­a­zines of the late 1960s and ear­ly 1970s — focus­es on a “gap” in Bowie’s life as its sto­ry has pre­vi­ous­ly been told: “The man is close to becom­ing the genius we know, but he is full of doubt. I was inspired by an inter­view in which he said that he felt that all his influ­ences were merg­ing and he felt that it was the moment for him to make the big jump!” And make the big jump he did, not just once but over and over again through­out the course of his life, rein­vent­ing him­self both musi­cal­ly and as a per­sona when­ev­er nec­es­sary. What­ev­er impor­tance any giv­en Bowie fan grants his time in Had­don Hall, they’ve got to admit that those years make for a tale best told visu­al­ly.

You can pick up your own copy of Nejib’s graph­ic nov­el, Had­don Hall: When David Invent­ed Bowie.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sto­ry of Zig­gy Star­dust: How David Bowie Cre­at­ed the Char­ac­ter that Made Him Famous

David Bowie & Bri­an Eno’s Col­lab­o­ra­tion on “Warsza­wa” Reimag­ined in a Com­ic Ani­ma­tion

96 Draw­ings of David Bowie by the “World’s Best Com­ic Artists”: Michel Gondry, Kate Beat­on & More

50 Years of Chang­ing David Bowie Hair Styles in One Ani­mat­ed GIF

How Leonard Cohen & David Bowie Faced Death Through Their Art: A Look at Their Final Albums

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

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Watch the Original Black Panther Animated Series Online: All Six Episodes Now Available Thanks to Marvel

Last month, I was thrilled to learn of a talk com­ing to my town called “The Writ­ers of Wakan­da.” I scored a (free) tick­et, think­ing that maybe the mas­sive block­buster movie’s director/writer Ryan Coogler might make an appear­ance (or his co-writer Joe Robert Cole), or maybe one or more of the high-pro­file writ­ers who have expand­ed the comic’s world recent­ly, like Ta-Nehisi Coates, Rox­anne Gay, or Nne­di Oko­rafor. Well, either there was some kind of bait-and-switch at work or I naive­ly failed to read the fine print. The event was a pan­el of devot­ed fans of the com­ic hav­ing a dis­cus­sion about their life­long fan­dom, the many iter­a­tions of the char­ac­ter through var­i­ous Mar­vel writer’s hands, and the film’s huge cul­tur­al impact at home and abroad. It was slight­ly dis­ap­point­ing but also quite enjoy­able and infor­ma­tive.

I learned, for exam­ple, that some of the most well-loved and high­ly-praised char­ac­ters in the film appeared very late in the series’ run (which began with the character’s cre­ation by Stan Lee and Jack Kir­by in 1966) and were intro­duced by its first black writ­ers, the “chron­i­cal­ly under­ap­pre­ci­at­ed” Christo­pher Priest and the film­mak­er Regi­nald Hudlin.

In the late 90s, Priest invent­ed the Dora Mila­je, the elite all-female fight­ing force who pro­tect Wakanda’s kings (who each take on the man­tle of super­hero Black Pan­ther once they ascend the throne). Hudlin cre­at­ed the char­ac­ter of Shuri, King T’Challa’s younger sis­ter and the sci­en­tif­ic mas­ter­mind behind his high-tech empire of vibra­ni­um-pow­ered gear and gad­getry. Which brings us, at last, to the sub­ject of this post, the Black Pan­ther ani­mat­ed series, co-pro­duced by BET and Mar­vel, who have released all six episodes on Mar­vel’s YouTube chan­nel. Stream them all above.

Tak­ing its sto­ry from Hudlin’s 2005 comics run, the series is less ani­ma­tion and more “a stop motion com­ic,” as Nerdist writes, “added to the art­work of John Romi­ta, Jr.” This is all to its cred­it, as is its star-stud­ded voice cast­ing, with Ker­ry Wash­ing­ton as Shuri, Alfre Woodard as the Queen Moth­er, Jill Scott as Storm, and Dji­mon Houn­sou as T’Challa/Black Pan­ther. How does it com­pare to the block­buster film? From its first sal­vo of Wakan­dan war­rior prowess in a cold open set in the 5th cen­tu­ry A.D., to its sev­en­ties-African-funk-inspired theme song, to a present-day scene in the White House, with a blus­tery racist army gen­er­al (played by Stan Lee) who sounds like a mem­ber of the cur­rent admin­is­tra­tion, the first episode, above, sug­gests it will live up to Hudlin’s cast­ing of the char­ac­ter as “an unapolo­getic African man,” as Todd Steven Bur­roughs writes at The Root, “open­ly opposed to white, West­ern suprema­cy.”

Hudlin wrote some of the comic’s most polit­i­cal­ly chal­leng­ing sto­ries, delv­ing into “seri­ous Euro­pean col­o­niza­tion themes.” These themes are woven through­out the ani­mat­ed series, which fea­tures such char­ac­ters now famil­iar to film­go­ers as Everett Ross and the vil­lain Klaw. Cap­tain Amer­i­ca para­chutes in—in a flashback—meets an ear­li­er Black Pan­ther dur­ing World War II, and takes a beat­ing. (“These are dan­ger­ous times,” says Cap, “you need to choose a side.” The reply: “We have, our own.”) The X‑Men’s Storm, for­mer­ly the first most-famous African super­hero, plays a sig­nif­i­cant role. Not in the series, like­ly to many people’s dis­ap­point­ment, are the Dora Mila­je, at least in star­ring roles, and the film’s pri­ma­ry antag­o­nist Erik Kill­mon­ger.

But not to wor­ry. The ass-kick­ing gen­er­al Okoye and her cadre of war­riors will soon get a spin-off com­ic writ­ten by Oko­rafor, and there’s been some spec­u­la­tion, at least, about whether Kill­mon­ger will return (res­ur­rect­ed, per­haps, as he was in the comics) in the inevitable Black Pan­ther 2. In the mean­time, both long­time and new fans of the char­ac­ter can get their fix in this six-episode series, which offers a thrilling, bloody, and his­tor­i­cal­ly fas­ci­nat­ing take not only on the Black Pan­ther him­self, but on the com­pli­cat­ed rela­tion­ship of Wakan­da to the machi­na­tions of the West­ern world through­out colo­nial his­to­ry and into the present.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load Over 22,000 Gold­en & Sil­ver Age Com­ic Books from the Com­ic Book Plus Archive

Why Mar­vel and Oth­er Hol­ly­wood Films Have Such Bland Music: Every Frame a Paint­ing Explains the Per­ils of the “Temp Score”

How to Draw in the Style of Japan­ese Man­ga: A Series of Free & Wild­ly Pop­u­lar Video Tuto­ri­als from Artist Mark Cril­ley

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

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Play a Collection of Classic Handheld Video Games at the Internet Archive: Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Tron and MC Hammer

Equipped with smart­phones that grow more pow­er­ful by the year, gamers on the go now have a seem­ing­ly unlim­it­ed vari­ety of play­ing options. A decade ago they relied on hand­held game con­soles with their thou­sands of avail­able game car­tridges and lat­er discs, whose reign began with Nin­ten­do’s intro­duc­tion of the orig­i­nal Game Boy (a device whose unwrap­ping on Christ­mas 1990 remains one of my most vivid child­hood mem­o­ries). But even before the Game Boy and its suc­ces­sors, there were stand­alone hand­held pro­to-video-games, “LCD, VFD and LED-based machines that sold, often cheap­ly, at toy stores and booths over the decades.”

Those words come from Jason Scott at the Inter­net Archive, where you can now play a range of those hand­held games again, emu­lat­ed right here in your brows­er. “They range from notably sim­plis­tic efforts to tru­ly com­pli­cat­ed, many-but­toned affairs that are tru­ly dif­fi­cult to learn, much less mas­ter,” Scott writes.

“They are, of course, enter­tain­ing in them­selves – these are attempts to put togeth­er inex­pen­sive ver­sions of video games of the time, or bring­ing new prop­er­ties whole­cloth into exis­tence.” They also “rep­re­sent the dif­fi­cul­ty ahead for many aspects of dig­i­tal enter­tain­ment, and as such are worth expe­ri­enc­ing and under­stand­ing for that rea­son alone.”

What kind of games came in this form? The Inter­net Archive’s cur­rent offer­ings include vague approx­i­ma­tions of 70s and 80s arcade hits like Pac-Man, Don­key Kong, and Q*Bert;  even vaguer approx­i­ma­tions of such major motion pic­tures of the day as Tron, Robo­cop 2 (as well as Robo­cop 3), and Apol­lo 13; and sports titles like World Cham­pi­onship Base­ball, NFL Foot­ball, and Blades of Steel. You’ll even find pop­u­lar odd­i­ties like Bandai’s Tam­agotchi, the orig­i­nal vir­tu­al pet, along with less pop­u­lar odd­i­ties like MC Ham­mer, a dual-direc­tion­al-padded sim­u­la­tion of a dance bat­tle with the auteur of “U Can’t Touch This.”

So as you play, spare a thought for the devel­op­ers of these hand­held games, not just because of the dire intel­lec­tu­al prop­er­ty they often had to work with, but the severe tech­no­log­i­cal restric­tions they invari­ably had to work under. “This sort of Her­culean effort to squeeze a major arcade machine into a hand­ful of cir­cuits and a beep­ing, boop­ing shell of what it once was is an ongo­ing sit­u­a­tion,” writes Scott. “Where once it was try­ing to make arcade machines work both on home con­soles like the 2600 and Cole­co­v­i­sion, so it was also the case of these plas­tic toy games. Work of this sort con­tin­ues, as mobile games take charge and devel­op­ers often work to bring huge immer­sive expe­ri­ences to where a phone hits all the same notes.” And the day will cer­tain­ly come when even the most impres­sive games we play now, hand­held or oth­er­wise, will seem just as hilar­i­ous­ly sim­plis­tic.

Enter the hand­held video col­lec­tion here. And find more clas­sic video games in the Relat­eds below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Play “Space War!,” One of the Ear­li­est Video Games, on Your Com­put­er (1962)

Pong, 1969: A Mile­stone in Video Game His­to­ry

The Inter­net Arcade Lets You Play 900 Vin­tage Video Games in Your Web Brows­er (Free)

Run Vin­tage Video Games (From Pac-Man to E.T.) and Soft­ware in Your Web Brows­er, Thanks to Archive.org

Free: Play 2,400 Vin­tage Com­put­er Games in Your Web Brows­er

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

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Watch “Heaven Is a Traffic Jam on The 405,” the New Oscar-Winning Portrait of an Artist

A quick fyi: IndieWire has made avail­able on its YouTube chan­nel “Heav­en Is a Traf­fic Jam on The 405,” a 40-minute doc­u­men­tary direct­ed by Frank Stiefel. A por­trait of a bril­liant 56 year old artist, the film won the Oscar for Best Doc­u­men­tary (Short Sub­ject) at the recent Acad­e­my Awards. Here’s the gist of what it’s about:

Mindy Alper is a tor­tured and bril­liant 56 year old artist who is rep­re­sent­ed by one of Los Ange­les’ top gal­leries. Acute anx­i­ety, men­tal dis­or­der and dev­as­tat­ing depres­sion have caused her to be com­mit­ted to men­tal insti­tu­tions under­go elec­tro shock ther­a­py and sur­vive a 10 year peri­od with­out the abil­i­ty to speak. Her hyper self aware­ness has allowed her to pro­duce a life­long body of work that express­es her emo­tion­al state with pow­er­ful psy­cho­log­i­cal pre­ci­sion. Through inter­views, reen­act­ments, the build­ing of an eight and a half foot papi­er-mache’ bust of her beloved psy­chi­a­trist, and exam­in­ing draw­ings made from the time she was a child, we learn how she has emerged from dark­ness and iso­la­tion to a life that includes love, trust and sup­port.

You can watch the com­plete film online. It will be added to our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

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:

Stanford’s Robert Sapol­sky Demys­ti­fies Depres­sion, Which, Like Dia­betes, Is Root­ed in Biol­o­gy

Depres­sion & Melan­choly: Ani­mat­ed Videos Explain the Cru­cial Dif­fer­ence Between Every­day Sad­ness and Clin­i­cal Depres­sion

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

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The Lighter Side of Stephen Hawking: The Physicist Cracks Jokes and a Smile with John Oliver

In our trib­ute to Stephen Hawk­ing ear­li­er today, we dis­cussed the intel­lec­tu­al lega­cy of the depart­ed physi­cist, pay­ing par­tic­u­lar atten­tion to his ground­break­ing work on black holes. The video above is a bit lighter. It just lets you watch Hawk­ing in a comedic exchange with his com­pa­tri­ot John Oliv­er. If I’m not mis­tak­en, around the 3:46 mark, you can even see him crack a smile. Enjoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen Hawk­ing (RIP) Explains His Rev­o­lu­tion­ary The­o­ry of Black Holes with the Help of Chalk­board Ani­ma­tions

Stephen Hawking’s Ph.D. The­sis, “Prop­er­ties of Expand­ing Uni­vers­es,” Now Free to Read/Download Online

Watch A Brief His­to­ry of Time, Errol Mor­ris’ Film About the Life & Work of Stephen Hawk­ing

The Big Ideas of Stephen Hawk­ing Explained with Sim­ple Ani­ma­tion

Free Online Physics Cours­es

 

 

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An Archive of 20,000 Movie Posters from Czechoslovakia (1930–1989)

We could­n’t pos­si­bly ignore, here at Open Cul­ture, the glo­ry of movie posters: from the film noir era, from Mar­tin Scors­ese’s pre­dictably siz­able col­lec­tion, and even the deeply askew inter­pre­ta­tions seen out­side the the­aters of Ghana. But some­how, the visu­al art-inclined cinephile’s atten­tion returns again and again to one region of the world: East­ern Europe, espe­cial­ly in the Cold War era. Poland’s movie posters have long since accrued a fan­dom around the world, but we should­n’t neglect the equal pro­mo­tion­al won­ders of its neigh­bor­ing Czecho­slo­va­kia.

Or rather, as the even mild­ly geo­graph­i­cal­ly astute will note, the neigh­bor­ing Czech Repub­lic and Slo­va­kia. But in this case, we real­ly do mean Czecho­slo­va­kia, the movie posters fea­tured here hav­ing hung in its movie hous­es between 1930 and 1989.

Ter­ry Posters offers a col­lec­tion of more than 20,000 such works of cap­ti­vat­ing com­mer­cial art to browse (with some avail­able to buy), most of them inter­pret­ing for­eign motion pic­tures for the pre­sumed sen­si­bil­i­ties of the local audi­ence: the films of  auteurs like Alfred Hitch­cock, Aki­ra Kuro­sawa, Andrei Tarkovsky (then, of course, a fel­low Sovi­et), Fed­eri­co Felli­ni, and many more besides.

You can also browse Ter­ry’s Czecho­slo­va­kian col­lec­tion by year, by artist, by genre, by actor, and by the film’s coun­try of ori­gin. How­ev­er you explore them, these posters offer a reminder of the way that cin­e­ma cul­ture used to vary most stark­ly from region to region, even when deal­ing with the exact same movies. The “glob­al­iza­tion” process in effect over the past thir­ty years has done much to make seri­ous cinephil­ia pos­si­ble every­where (not least by defeat­ing var­i­ous once-for­mi­da­ble forms of cen­sor­ship and sup­pres­sion) but it may have brought an end to the mul­ti­plic­i­ty and vari­ety of images on dis­play here, all espe­cial­ly vivid pieces of a fad­ed cul­ture — and of a dis­man­tled coun­try. Enter the dig­i­tal archive here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

40,000 Film Posters in a Won­der­ful­ly Eclec­tic Archive: Ital­ian Tarkovsky Posters, Japan­ese Orson Welles, Czech Woody Allen & Much More

10,000 Clas­sic Movie Posters Get­ting Dig­i­tized & Put Online by the Har­ry Ran­som Cen­ter at UT-Austin: Free to Browse & Down­load

50 Film Posters From Poland: From The Empire Strikes Back to Raiders of the Lost Ark

The Strange and Won­der­ful Movie Posters from Ghana: The Matrix, Alien & More

Design­er Reimag­ines Icon­ic Movie Posters With Min­i­mal­ist Designs: Reser­voir Dogs, The Matrix & More

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

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