Search Results for "u"

Take a Road Trip with Cyberspace Visionary William Gibson, Watch No Maps for These Territories (2000)


“I prob­a­bly wor­ry less about the real future than the aver­age per­son,” says William Gib­son, the man who coined the term “cyber­space” and wrote books like Neu­ro­mancer, Idoru, and Pat­tern Recog­ni­tion. These have become clas­sics of a sci­ence-fic­tion sub­genre brand­ed as “cyber­punk,” a label that seems to pain Gib­son him­self. “A snap­py label and a man­i­festo would have been two of the very last things on my own career want list,” he says to David Wal­lace-Wells in a 2011 Paris Review inter­view. Yet the pop­u­lar­i­ty of the con­cept of cyberspace — and, to a great extent, its hav­ing become a real­i­ty — still aston­ish­es him. “I saw it go from the yel­low legal pad to the Oxford Eng­lish Dic­tio­nary, but cyber­space is every­where now, hav­ing evert­ed and col­o­nized the world. It starts to sound kind of ridicu­lous to speak of cyber­space as being some­where else.” A dozen years ear­li­er, in Mark Neale’s bio­graph­i­cal doc­u­men­tary No Maps for These Ter­ri­to­ries, the author tells of how he first con­ceived it as “an effec­tive buzz­word,” “evoca­tive and essen­tial­ly mean­ing­less,” and observes that, today, the pre­fix “cyber-” has very near­ly gone the way of “elec­tro-”: just as we’ve long since tak­en elec­tri­fi­ca­tion for grant­ed, so we now take con­nect­ed com­put­er­i­za­tion for grant­ed.

“Now,” of course, means the year 1999, when Neale shot the movie’s footage. He did it almost entire­ly in the back of a lim­ou­sine, tricked out for com­mu­ni­ca­tion and media pro­duc­tion, that car­ried Gib­son on a road trip across North Amer­i­ca. The long ride gives us an extend­ed look into Gib­son’s curi­ous, far-reach­ing mind as he explores issues of the inevitabil­i­ty with which we find our­selves “pen­e­trat­ed and co-opt­ed” by our tech­nol­o­gy; grow­ing up in a time when “the future with a cap­i­tal F was very much a going con­cern in North Amer­i­ca”; the loss of “the non-medi­at­ed world,” a coun­try to which we now “can­not find our way back”; the mod­ern real­i­ty’s com­bi­na­tion of “a per­va­sive sense of loss” and a Christ­mas morn­ing-like “excite­ment about what we could be gain­ing”; his ear­ly go-nowhere pas­tich­es of J.G. Bal­lard and how he then wrote Neu­ro­mancer as an approach to the “viable but essen­tial­ly derelict form” of sci­ence fic­tion; his fas­ci­na­tion with the sheer improb­a­bil­i­ty of those machines known as cities; and his mis­sion not to explain our moment, but to “make it acces­si­ble,” find­ing the vast, near-incom­pre­hen­si­ble struc­ture under­ly­ing the pound­ing waves of thought, trend, and tech­nol­o­gy through which we all move. Watch­ing No Maps for These Ter­ri­to­ries here in cyber­space, I kept for­get­ting that Gib­son said these things a tech-time eter­ni­ty ago, so per­ti­nent do they sound to this moment. And hap­pi­ness, as he puts it in one aside, “is being in the moment.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Tim­o­thy Leary Plans a Neu­ro­mancer Video Game, with Art by Kei­th Har­ing, Music by Devo & Cameos by David Byrne

William Gib­son, Father of Cyber­punk, Reads New Nov­el in Sec­ond Life

The Penul­ti­mate Truth About Philip K. Dick: Doc­u­men­tary Explores the Mys­te­ri­ous Uni­verse of PKD

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Learn the Elements of Cinema: Spielberg’s Long Takes, Scorsese’s Silence & Michael Bay’s Shots

Ever since the advent of YouTube and the release of Thom Ander­sen’s Los Ange­les Plays Itself, the video essay about film­mak­ing has blos­somed on the inter­net. When these essays are good, they force you to look at movies anew. Kog­o­na­da’s bril­liant inter­ro­ga­tion of Stan­ley Kubrick’s use of one-point per­spec­tive, Matt Zoller Seitz’s dis­sec­tion of Wes Anderson’s cin­e­mat­ic style and, in a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent tone, Red Let­ter Media’s blis­ter­ing, exhaus­tive take down of George Lucas’s regret­table Star Wars pre­quels, all argue con­vinc­ing­ly that per­haps the best way to dis­cuss the mer­its and flaws of a movie or film­mak­er is through the medi­um of film itself.

Add to this list Tony Zhou’s Every Frame a Pic­ture. An edi­tor by trade, Zhou has cre­at­ed a series of videos about how the mas­ters of cin­e­ma use the basic ele­ments of cin­e­ma – the dura­tion of a shot, the appli­ca­tion of sound, the use of a track­ing shot. In his ele­gant videos he makes argu­ments that are unex­pect­ed. Mar­tin Scors­ese, for instance, who is famous for his ground­break­ing use of music, is just as bril­liant with his judi­cious use of silence. You can watch it above.

And below, Zhou argues that Steven Spiel­berg, a film­mak­er not com­mon­ly asso­ci­at­ed with restraint, is actu­al­ly a mas­ter of the under­stat­ed long take.

And in this video, he argues that while Michael Bay might make ado­les­cent, over-stuffed, soul­less spec­ta­cles, he does know how to con­struct a shot.

You can nerd out and watch even more of Zhou’s films here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:
The Per­fect Sym­me­try of Wes Anderson’s Movies

Sig­na­ture Shots from the Films of Stan­ley Kubrick: One-Point Per­spec­tive

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.

 

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An Ivory Coast Cocoa Farmer Gets His Very First Taste of Chocolate

Here is how Metrop­o­lisTV, a glob­al col­lec­tive of young film­mak­ers and TV pro­duc­ers com­ing out of Hol­land, sets up their touch­ing video:

Farmer N’Da Alphonse grows cocoa [in the Ivory Coast] and has nev­er seen the fin­ished prod­uct. “To be hon­est I do not know what they make of my beans,” says farmer N’Da Alphonse. “I’ve heard they’re used as fla­vor­ing in cook­ing, but I’ve nev­er seen it. I do not even know if it’s true.”

It’s great — and yet, in its own way, sad — to watch his face light up as he gets his very first taste…

via Devour

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sci­ence & Cook­ing: Har­vard Profs Meet World-Class Chefs in Unique Online Course

The Recipes of Icon­ic Authors: Jane Austen, Sylvia Plath, Roald Dahl, the Mar­quis de Sade & More

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

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Watch Mad Magazine’s Edgy, Never-Aired TV Special (1974)

1974 was a cyn­i­cal time. That was the year that Nixon resigned after the gru­el­ing Water­gate scan­dal, Viet­nam War was final­ly grind­ing to a halt and, thanks to the Oil Shock of ’73, the econ­o­my was in the toi­let. It was also a time when TV execs were scram­bling to keep up with America’s rapid­ly chang­ing cul­tur­al tastes. Audi­ences want­ed some­thing with a lit­tle edge. The TV adap­ta­tion of Robert Altman’s lac­er­at­ing war com­e­dy MASH became a huge hit. As did All in the Fam­i­ly, about everyone’s favorite arm­chair big­ot Archie Bunker. Sat­ur­day Night Live was just a year away from pre­mier­ing. So it isn’t sur­pris­ing that execs from ABC approached the “usu­al gang of idiots” at Mad Mag­a­zine — that fount of anti-author­i­tar­i­an satire — about mak­ing a series. The result­ing pilot, which was lat­er rebrand­ed as a TV spe­cial, nev­er aired because it pro­vid­ed way too much edge for the net­work. You can watch it above.

The show, culled from some of the bet­ter bits from the mag­a­zine, fea­tures art from Don Mar­tin, Mort Druck­er, Al Jaf­fee and Dave Berg – names that will be very famil­iar to you if you grew up obses­sive­ly read­ing the mag­a­zine as a child, like I did – and the ani­ma­tion was super­vised by Jim­my Muraka­mi along with Chris Ishii and Gor­don Bel­lamy.

The net­work claimed that the show was shelved because it had too much “adult” humor. In this post-South Park, post-Fam­i­ly Guy world, the adult humor in this show, by com­par­i­son, seems down­right tame. What the Mad Mag­a­zine TV Spe­cial does have in abun­dance is with­er­ing barbs. Some­thing about trans­lat­ing the cyn­i­cal, ado­les­cent humor of the mag­a­zine from the page to screen made its satire feel much, much sharp­er. Dur­ing their par­o­dy of The God­fa­ther, called the Odd­fa­ther, mafia don Vito Mine­strone (groan) tells a group of mob­sters that their gang war must stop. “We must stop destroy­ing each oth­er and start destroy­ing the plain, ordi­nary cit­i­zens again. Like nor­mal Amer­i­can busi­ness­men.”

The show’s most caus­tic zingers, how­ev­er, are reserved for America’s bloat­ed, com­pla­cent auto indus­try where a Wal­ter Cronkite-like jour­nal­ist inter­views auto exec Edsel Lemon. In five or so min­utes, the bit unspar­ing­ly lays out why GM and Ford even­tu­al­ly lost out to Toy­ota and Hon­da – crap­py cars, lousy safe­ty, and an upper man­age­ment that was as men­da­cious as it was short­sight­ed. While field test­ing a new mod­el, which involved coast­ing the car down a hill, Lemon quips, “If our pro­to­type can go 500 feet with­out falling apart we’ll put it into pro­duc­tion.” This seem­ing­ly explains how the Ford Pin­to got made.

In the end, the net­works squea­mish­ness with the show was more due to its ridicule of an indus­try with deep pock­ets than with its toi­let humor. As Dick DeBa­to­lo, the MAD’s mad­dest writer, who penned much of the show not­ed, “Nobody want­ed to spon­sor a show that made fun of prod­ucts that were adver­tised on TV, like car man­u­fac­tur­ers.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Shel Sil­ver­stein Nar­rates an Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of The Giv­ing Tree (1973)

Watch 1970s Ani­ma­tions of Songs by Joni Mitchell, Jim Croce & The Kinks, Aired on The Son­ny & Cher Show

A Short His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca, Accord­ing to the Irrev­er­ent Com­ic Satirist Robert Crumb

Watch the First Ani­ma­tions of Peanuts: Com­mer­cials for the Ford Motor Com­pa­ny (1959–1961)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.

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11-Year-Old Martin Scorsese Draws Storyboards for His Imagined Roman Epic Film, The Eternal City

Mar­tin Scorsese’s mean streets are as long gone as graf­fi­ti-fes­tooned sub­way trains, the real Max’s Kansas City, and Yogi Berra’s pen­nant-win­ning Mets. But while the 1973 film that broke open his career is now over forty years old, Scors­ese hasn’t looked back, nor has he stayed trapped in the rough milieu of New York gang­ster films. He’s adapt­ed Edith Whar­ton, told sto­ries of the Dalai Lama, Howard Hugh­es, hand­fuls of rock and blues stars, and cin­e­mat­ic hero Georges Méliès (sort of).

Last year’s The Wolf of Wall Street fur­ther cement­ed Scorsese’s rep­u­ta­tion as a direc­tor with more breadth than almost any of his con­tem­po­raries. But it would per­haps be a mis­take to call Scorsese’s genre-hop­ping an evo­lu­tion­ary devel­op­ment. The series of sto­ry­boards here for an imag­ined widescreen Roman epic called The Eter­nal City— drawn by 11-year-old Scorsese—show us that his vision always exceed­ed the cramped Lit­tle Italy streets of his youth.

Young Scors­ese described his Cecil B. Demille-like pro­duc­tion as “A fic­ti­tious sto­ry of Roy­al­ty in Ancient Rome,” and though he didn’t give us char­ac­ter names, he made sure to spec­i­fy the film’s actors, cast­ing Mar­lon Bran­do, Richard Bur­ton, Vir­ginia Mayo, and Alec Guin­ness, among oth­ers. As for Scorsese’s own role, The Inde­pen­dent notes, “it is strik­ing that he has giv­en him­self a big­ger cred­it as pro­duc­er-direc­tor than any of the stars.” Repro­duced in David Thompson’s series of inter­views, Scors­ese on Scors­ese, the draw­ings’ impres­sive lev­el of detail demon­strate a pre­co­cious eye for shot com­po­si­tion and the dra­mat­ic per­spec­tives that char­ac­ter­ize his mature work.

The direc­tor of such metic­u­lous­ly com­posed films as Taxi Dri­ver and Good­fel­las has had much to say about the impor­tance of sto­ry­boards to his process. (We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured his hand-drawn sto­ry­boards for Taxi Dri­ver.) They are, he’s said, “the way to visu­al­ize the entire movie in advance,” to “show how I would imag­ine a scene and how it should move to the next.” And while many direc­tors would make sim­i­lar claims about this essen­tial pro­duc­tion tool, Scors­ese cher­ish­es the craft as well as the util­i­ty of the sto­ry­board. “Pen­cil draw­ing is my favorite,” he remarks. “The pen­cil line leaves lit­tle impres­sion on the paper, so if the sto­ry­board is pho­to­copied it los­es some­thing. I refer back to my orig­i­nal draw­ings in order for me to con­jure up the idea I had when I saw the pen­cil line made.”

Can we look for­ward to Scors­ese look­ing back, just once, to his plans for The Eter­nal City? He’d have to recast, of course, but giv­en how con­fi­dent­ly he sketch­es out each of his films on paper, the 71-year-old direc­tor might find much to work with in this youth­ful cin­e­mat­ic vision of antiq­ui­ty.

View the sto­ry­boards in a larg­er for­mat here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Revis­it Mar­tin Scorsese’s Hand-Drawn Sto­ry­boards for Taxi Dri­ver

Mar­tin Scorsese’s Very First Films: Three Imag­i­na­tive Short Works

Saul Bass’ Vivid Sto­ry­boards for Kubrick’s Spar­ta­cus (1960)

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

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Bertolt Brecht Sings “Mack the Knife” in a 1929 Recording

brecht sings

Since 2008, a record­ing has been mak­ing the rounds on YouTube of Bertolt Brecht singing ‘Die Mori­tat von Mack­ie Mess­er,’ or what’s more com­mon­ly known as “Mack the Knife” in Eng­lish, a song Kurt Weill and Brecht com­posed for The Three­pen­ny Opera, which pre­miered in Berlin in 1928. The Brecht record­ing dates back to 1929, and, accord­ing to Discogs, it was released in 1960 on a 7‑inch Ger­man album called Bertolt Brecht Singt. Below, you can hear Brecht make his way through the tune. The clip comes accom­pa­nied by a quirky, new ani­mat­ed video cre­at­ed by the stu­dio Qual­i­ty Schnal­li­ty, Inc.

“Mack the Knife” has, of course, been cov­ered by count­less artists over the years. Bob­by Darin sang per­haps the most famous, swing­ing ver­sion in 1958. There are also clas­sic ver­sions by Louis Arm­strong, Frank Sina­tra, and Ella Fitzger­ald, not to men­tion more con­tem­po­rary ones by Lyle Lovett, The Psy­che­del­ic Furs, The Young Gods, Nick Cave, and Mar­i­anne Faith­full. Did we miss one of your favorites?

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!

via WFMU

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Clean­est Record­ings of 1920s Louis Arm­strong Songs You’ll Ever Hear

Bertolt Brecht Tes­ti­fies Before the House Un-Amer­i­can Activ­i­ties Com­mit­tee (1947)

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Colorized Photos Bring Walt Whitman, Charlie Chaplin, Helen Keller & Mark Twain Back to Life

whitman color

When dis­co pio­neer Gior­gio Moro­doer released a col­orized ver­sion of Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis – fea­tur­ing a sound­track with Bil­ly Squier, Pat Benatar and Adam Ant, no less – film purists every­where howled with dis­be­lief at how the film’s moody black and white had been turned into East­er egg pinks and blues. It felt like a gim­mick and, worse, it just didn’t look real.

Col­oriza­tion has come a long way since then. In the hands of the right Pho­to­shop wiz­ard — like artist Dana Keller — a col­orized pho­to­graph of, say, the Okla­homa dust bowl or turn-of-the-cen­tu­ry Coney Island gives view­ers the chill of the uncan­ny. Peo­ple and things that have long since depart­ed this world sud­den­ly seem vital and alive. It makes that for­eign coun­try called the past feel eeri­ly famil­iar.

Above is a pic­ture of poet Walt Whit­man. His trade­mark long hair and Karl Marx beard would look right at home in cer­tain cor­ners of Port­land. Apart from that, there is both a sen­si­tiv­i­ty and fero­cious­ness about this pic­ture. Whit­man def­i­nite­ly looks like he’s capa­ble of deliv­er­ing a bar­bar­ic yawp. You can see what the pic­ture looked like in its orig­i­nal black and white here.

chaplin and keller color

This pho­to­graph of Helen Keller draw­ing a hand over Char­lie Chap­lin’s face from 1919 looks like it could be a still from an upcom­ing Oscar bait biopic. In fact the pic­ture was tak­en in Hol­ly­wood while Keller was on one of her speak­ing tours. (See orig­i­nal here.)

twain color

Like­wise with this por­trait (orig­i­nal here) of Mark Twain. You can almost hear him make some pithy com­ment like “A pho­to­graph is a most impor­tant doc­u­ment, and there is noth­ing more damn­ing to go down to pos­ter­i­ty than a sil­ly, fool­ish smile caught and fixed for­ev­er.” As you can see from the pic­ture, Twain didn’t take that risk, opt­ing for more of a whiskery scowl.

goebbels color

This pic­ture of Joseph Goebbels (orig­i­nal) star­ing down a Jew­ish pho­tog­ra­ph­er is sim­ply ter­ri­fy­ing. It’s the sort of death stare com­mon among psy­cho-killers, death row inmates and, appar­ent­ly, Nazi pro­pa­gan­da min­is­ters.

burger color

And this pic­ture of a hum­ble burg­er flip­per from 1938 is so crisp that it looks like it might have been tak­en yes­ter­day.

If you have an hour to kill, you can see many, many more col­orized pics from the past over at Inspire 52.

A big H/T to Natal­ie W. G.  for send­ing these our way.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hand-Col­ored Pho­tographs of 19th Cen­tu­ry Japan

1923 Pho­to of Claude Mon­et Col­orized: See the Painter in the Same Col­or as His Paint­ings

Mark Twain Writes a Rap­tur­ous Let­ter to Walt Whit­man on the Poet’s 70th Birth­day (1889)

Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe Reads Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass (1952)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his art blog Veep­to­pus.

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Above LA: A Top-Down Timelapse View of the Great Megacity

Chris Pritchard tells us: “Above LA show­cas­es the often unseen beau­ty of Los Ange­les from above. It was shot on hill­tops, moun­tains, and high-rise rooftops around the city and fea­tures a num­ber of day to night tran­si­tions and rare weath­er. My goal was to cap­ture the depth, beau­ty, and move­ment of a vast and bustling megac­i­ty from a new angle, and encour­age peo­ple to get out and expe­ri­ence their envi­ron­ments in new ways. I nev­er thought I’d appre­ci­ate this city so much until I spent count­less hours star­ing at it from high above.” You can learn more about Above LA over at Chris’ blog here.

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One Woman, 17 British Accents

In April, we fea­tured a tour of 14 British accents in 84 sec­onds. But as any com­menter to that video will tell you, such a selec­tion only scratch­es the sur­face of the vari­ety of ways a giv­en Briton could poten­tial­ly speak Eng­lish. “It’s impor­tant to state that there is no ‘British’ accent,” says the web site of BBC Amer­i­ca’s Anglophe­nia. “There are so many region­al dialects spread across tiny geo­graph­i­cal areas that to arrive in, say, Swansea or Leices­ter (pro­nounced “lester” — you’re wel­come), and launch into a stream of cor­blimey cock­neyisms would go down extra­or­di­nar­i­ly bad­ly.” This blog and video series, which brands itself “British Cul­ture with an Amer­i­can Accent,” has spent more than a lit­tle ener­gy help­ing its fans sort out the “infi­nite world of vari­ety in the accents of the British Isles.” At the top of the post, Anglophe­nia host Siob­han Thomp­son demon­strates no few­er than sev­en­teen British accents.

And not only can Thomp­son speak them, she can tell you who else speaks them. Oth­er users of the mid­dle-class, BBC-friend­ly “received pro­nun­ci­a­tion” include cur­rent­ly bank­able film and tele­vi­sion actors Mar­tin Free­man and Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch. And pret­ty much only on film and tele­vi­sion do you hear the more refined-sound­ing “height­ened received pro­nun­ci­a­tion,” and even then main­ly from char­ac­ters like Down­ton Abbey’s Dowa­ger Count­ess. She also does a tru­ly Lock, Stock, and Two Smok­ing Bar­rels Lon­don accent, the flat East Anglian inflec­tion that every­one los­es when they move out of East Anglia, and thir­teen more from across the rest of Eng­land as well as Wales, Scot­land, and Ire­land. Once you learn to com­pre­hend all these vari­eties of speech, though, you may still fail to grasp the mean­ing of what you hear. The Anglophe­nia episode above, “How to Speak British,” gives you a primer on a series of expres­sions — “Away with the fairies,” “Swings and round­abouts,” “Hors­es for cours­es” — you’ll only ever hear said in a British accent.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Brief Tour of British Accents: 14 Ways to Speak Eng­lish in 84 Sec­onds

Peter Sell­ers Gives a Quick Demon­stra­tion of British Accents

Peter Sell­ers Reads The Bea­t­les’ “She Loves You” in Four Dif­fer­ent Accents

Sir Patrick Stew­art Demon­strates How Cows Moo in Dif­fer­ent Eng­lish Accents

What Shake­speare Sound­ed Like to Shake­speare: Recon­struct­ing the Bard’s Orig­i­nal Pro­nun­ci­a­tion

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Read 15,000 Marvel Comics Online for 99 Cents (for a Limited Time)

marvelunlimited

Right now, Mar­vel is run­ning a pro­mo­tion where if you join Mar­vel Unlim­it­ed, using the pro­mo code SDCC14, you can pay 99 cents for your first month, dur­ing which time you can access “over 15,000 Dig­i­tal Comics, fea­tur­ing Earth­’s Might­i­est Heroes and the galaxy’s vilest vil­lains – all span­ning Mar­vel’s 75 year his­to­ry!” Yes, that includes the Incred­i­ble Hulk, Cap­tain Amer­i­ca, The Mighty Thor & many oth­er favorites.

Accord­ing to Wired, the “comics can be viewed on PC and Mac, as well as iOS and Android devices through a Mar­vel Unlim­it­ed app. Read­ers can down­load up to 12 comics at a time for offline read­ing.”

A Mar­vel Unlim­it­ed sub­scrip­tion usu­al­ly costs 69 dol­lars a year or $9.99 a month, but the terms and con­di­tions say that “Sub­scribers can can­cel their sub­scrip­tion at any time by access­ing My account or e‑mailing Mar­vel cus­tomer ser­vice.” In oth­er words, you can sub­scribe for one month, pay 99 cents, read a heck of a lot of comics, then decide if you want to con­tin­ue the sub­scrip­tion — or not — before the end of 30 days. (Just as an fyi, Audible.com offers a sim­i­lar arrange­ment with audio books. You can join their 30-day free tri­al, down­load a free audio book, then decide whether you want to stick with the pro­gram before the mon­th’s end. No mat­ter what you decide, you can keep the free audio book. Find more details here.)

If you pre­fer to just pay zero cents for comics, please see our two pri­or posts.

Down­load 15,000+ Free Gold­en Age Comics from the Dig­i­tal Com­ic Muse­um

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

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