Wes Anderson’s Breakthrough Film, Rushmore, Revisited in Five Video Essays: It Came Out 20 Years Ago Today

“I gen­uine­ly don’t know what to make of this movie.” So said emi­nent New York­er film crit­ic Pauline Kael about Rush­more, Wes Ander­son­’s sec­ond film. But hav­ing spent the bet­ter part of a decade in retire­ment by that point, she did­n’t pub­lish that judg­ment; rather, she spoke it straight to Ander­son him­self, who had rent­ed out a the­ater to give her a per­son­al screen­ing. “I was a lit­tle dis­ap­point­ed by Ms. Kael’s reac­tion to the movie,” Ander­son writes in his rec­ol­lec­tion of the event. Upon its release on Decem­ber 11, 1998 — twen­ty years ago today — a fair few of its view­ers would echo Kael’s bewil­der­ment. But just as many would feel they’d seen the ear­ly work of a mas­ter, and time would soon vin­di­cate that feel­ing: whether you love his movies or can’t stand them, Wes Ander­son became Wes Ander­son because of Rush­more.

“There are few per­fect movies,” says crit­ic and Wes Ander­son spe­cial­ist Matt Zoller-Seitz. “This is one of them.” His video essay on Rush­more, part of a series adapt­ed from his book The Wes Ander­son Col­lec­tion, breaks down just a few of the ele­ments that have made the film so beloved. “At once arch and earnest, know­ing and inno­cent,” Ander­son­’s sto­ry of a flak­i­ly ambi­tious teenage prep-school boy Max Fis­cher’s friend­ship with a mid­dle-aged steel mag­nate Her­man Blume — and the affec­tions for a wid­owed first-grade teacher that turn that friend­ship into a rival­ry — “feels unique and furi­ous­ly alive.”

Draw­ing deeply from the per­son­al­i­ty and expe­ri­ence of Ander­son him­self (and those of his co-writer and fre­quent col­lab­o­ra­tor Owen Wil­son) as well as The 400 BlowsThe Grad­u­ate, and oth­er clas­sic pic­tures, it nev­er does so in an obvi­ous or pre­dictable man­ner.

Of all the strokes of luck required for the then-twen­tysome­thing Ander­son even to get the chance to make a movie like Rush­more (espe­cial­ly after his debut fea­ture Bot­tle Rock­et seemed to have van­ished with­out a trace), no coup was greater than the cast­ing of Bill Mur­ray as Blume. It “res­onates back­ward through film his­to­ry,” says Zoller-Seitz, “because Max is a geeky teenage ver­sion of a cer­tain kind of 80s and 90s hero. Rush­more’s mas­ter­stroke is how it takes the piss out of those char­ac­ters: it implies that maybe the brava­do that those 80s and 90s char­ac­ters had was just a cov­er for fear and depres­sion.” Quite a depth of insight for a young film­mak­er to pos­sess — but then, many once under­es­ti­mat­ed the young Ander­son, whose sen­si­bil­i­ties get fur­ther exam­ined in the Screen­Prism video essay Rush­more: Por­trait of Wes Ander­son as a Young Man,” and they did so at their per­il.

“The charms of this movie are abun­dant,” says the New York Times’ A.O. Scott in his Crit­ic’s Pick video on Rush­more. “It has whim­si­cal pro­duc­tion design; clever and sharp writ­ing; ten­der, com­i­cal per­for­mances; a bril­liant use of pop music to under­score and slight­ly ironize the emo­tions being expressed on the screen.” Scott sin­gles out the strength of its visu­al com­po­si­tions, which Ander­son uses to, for exam­ple, “arrange peo­ple in the frame in such a way as to show every­thing about their rela­tion­ship — a kind of psy­cho­log­i­cal dimen­sion to the space that almost makes the dia­logue sec­ondary.” It all comes in ser­vice of telling two sto­ries in coun­ter­point, one “about an ado­les­cent com­ing to terms with his lim­i­ta­tions” and anoth­er about “an artist com­ing into pos­ses­sion of his pow­ers.”

Over the past twen­ty years, the crit­i­cal con­sen­sus on Rush­more has shift­ed almost uni­ver­sal­ly away from assess­ments like Kael’s and toward those like Scot­t’s. In the video above, a more mature Ander­son reflects on mak­ing the movie — and mak­ing it, in fact, at the very same high school he went to him­self. “The strongest asso­ci­a­tion for me is being back in class,” he says. “In the end, the thing that strikes me most force­ful­ly when I think back on it is just that I went home.” He also adds that “I don’t even know how we man­aged to get Rush­more made, or why,” giv­en the appar­ent fail­ure of Bot­tle Rock­et, a pic­ture on which he and Wil­son had labored for years. “Rush­more was more expen­sive, maybe even a bit stranger, and yet it seemed just to hap­pen. I think it was just lucky.” Espe­cial­ly lucky for us view­ers over the past two decades, as well as the gen­er­a­tions of Rush­more fans still to come.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Com­plete Col­lec­tion of Wes Ander­son Video Essays

What’s the Big Deal About Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel? Matt Zoller Seitz’s Video Essay Explains

A Glimpse Into How Wes Ander­son Cre­ative­ly Remixes/Recycles Scenes in His Dif­fer­ent Films

Wes Anderson’s Cin­e­mat­ic Debt to Stan­ley Kubrick Revealed in a Side-By-Side Com­par­i­son

Wes Ander­son Names 12 of His Favorite Art Films

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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.

Take Animated Virtual Reality Tours of Ancient Rome at Its Architectural Peak (Circa 320 AD)

Maybe you, too, were a Latin geek who loved sword and san­dal flicks from the gold­en age of the Hol­ly­wood epic? Quo Vadis, The Fall of the Roman Empire, The Robe, Demetrius and the Glad­i­a­tors, and, of course, Spar­ta­cus…. Nev­er mind all the heavy reli­gious pre­text, con­text, sub­text, or ham­mer over the head that suf­fused these films, or any pre­tense toward his­tor­i­cal accu­ra­cy. What thrilled me was see­ing ancient Rome come alive, bustling with togas and tunics, cen­tu­ri­ons and char­i­ots. The cen­ter of the ancient world for hun­dreds of years, the city, nat­u­ral­ly, retains only traces of what it once was—enormous mon­u­ments that might as well be tombs.

The incred­i­bly detailed 3D ani­ma­tions here don’t quite have the same rous­ing effect, grant­ed, as the “I am Spar­ta­cus!” scene. They don’t star Charl­ton Hes­ton, Sophia Loren, or Kirk Dou­glas. They appeal to dif­fer­ent sen­si­bil­i­ties, it’s true. But if you love the idea of vis­it­ing Rome dur­ing one of its peak peri­ods, you might find them as sat­is­fy­ing, in their way, as Peter Ustinov’s Nero speech­es.

Dat­ing not from the time of Mark Antony or even Jesus, the painstak­ing­ly-ren­dered tours of ancient Rome depict the city as it would have looked—sans humans and their activity—during its “archi­tec­tur­al peak,” as Realm of His­to­ry notes, under Con­stan­tine, “cir­ca 320 AD.”

The VR trail­er at the top from His­to­ry in 3D, devel­oped by Dani­la Logi­nov and Lasha Tskhon­dia, depicts, in Loginov’s words, “the Forums area, and also Pala­tine and Capi­toli­um hills.” The two addi­tion­al trail­ers for the project show the “baths of Tra­jan and Titus, the stat­ue of Colos­sus Solis, arch­es of Titus and Con­stan­tine, Ludus Mag­nus, the tem­ple of Divine Claudius. Our team spent some time and recre­at­ed this area along with all minor build­ings as a com­plex and added it to the mod­el which has been already done.” This means, he says, “we have now almost the entire cen­ter of ancient impe­r­i­al Rome already recre­at­ed!”

We glide gen­tly over the city with a low-flying-bird’s eye view, tak­ing in its real­is­tic sky­line, tree-lined streets, and gur­gling foun­tains. The lack of any human pres­ence makes the expe­ri­ence a lit­tle chilly, but if you’re moved by clas­si­cal archi­tec­ture, it also presents a refresh­ing lack of distraction—an impos­si­ble request in a vis­it to mod­ern Rome. Anoth­er project, Rome Reborn, which we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here, takes a dif­fer­ent approach to the same impe­r­i­al city of 320 AD. The trail­ers for their VR app don’t pro­vide the seam­less flight expe­ri­ence, but they do con­tain equal­ly epic music. (They also have a few peo­ple in them, block­i­ly-ren­dered gawk­ing tourists rather than ancient Romans.)

Instead, these clips give us fas­ci­nat­ing glimpses of the inte­ri­ors of such splen­did struc­tures as the Basil­i­ca of Maxentius—tiled floors, domed ceil­ings, columned walls—from a num­ber of dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives. We also get to fly above the city, drone-style, or hot air bal­loon-style, as it were. In the clip below, we cruise over Rome in that vehi­cle, with ****************@***il.com”>Bernard Frisch­er, pro­fes­sor emer­i­tus at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Vir­ginia, serv­ing as the app’s “vir­tu­al archae­ol­o­gist” in an audio tour.

“The ambi­tious under­tak­ing,” of the Rome Reborn app, writes Meilan Sol­ly at Smith­son­ian, “painstak­ing­ly built by a team of 50 aca­d­e­mics and com­put­er experts over a 22-year peri­od, recre­ates 7,000 build­ings and mon­u­ments scat­tered across a 5.5 square mile stretch of the famed Ital­ian city.” The three mod­ules of the Rome Reborn app demoed here are all avail­able at their web­site. Geeks—and his­to­ri­ans of ancient Roman archi­tec­ture and city planning—rejoice.

via Smith­son­ian

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Huge Scale Mod­el Show­ing Ancient Rome at Its Archi­tec­tur­al Peak (Built Between 1933 and 1937)

An Inter­ac­tive Map Shows Just How Many Roads Actu­al­ly Lead to Rome

The Ups & Downs of Ancient Rome’s Economy–All 1,900 Years of It–Get Doc­u­ment­ed by Pol­lu­tion Traces Found in Greenland’s Ice

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

Historic Console Used to Record “Stairway to Heaven” and Other Rock Classics Goes Up for Auction Today

The amount of mon­ey one is will­ing to spend—should one have amounts of money—for a vin­tage record­ing con­sole will vary great­ly depend­ing on who one is. The aver­age per­son will see an enor­mous, heavy, wonky, wood and met­al space hog with no appar­ent pur­pose. The musi­cian, engi­neer, pro­duc­er, or stu­dio own­er, on the oth­er hand, will see a fine­ly-tuned instru­ment, whose pre­amps, EQs, com­pres­sors, meters, and cir­cuit­ry promise worlds of son­ic warmth and depth.

In the case of one par­tic­u­lar record­ing con­sole, the so-called “Helio­cen­tric Helios Con­sole,” every­one will see a piece of music his­to­ry, one that right­ly belongs in a muse­um on pub­lic view. Such a fate is unlike­ly for this arti­fact, which goes on sale today at auc­tion house Bon­hams in Lon­don. It will end up in some well-heeled pri­vate hands, fetch­ing a hefty sum for rea­sons far beyond its clas­sic engi­neer­ing.

“Songs and albums record­ed on this bespoke con­sole and its orig­i­nal parts rank among some of the most rec­og­niz­able and best-loved pieces of music in exis­tence, and have result­ed in Gram­mys, Brit Awards and mul­ti­ple num­ber one spots,” says Bonham’s Claire Tole-Mole. “This con­sole is a piece of Britain’s mod­ern cul­tur­al his­to­ry.” Actu­al­ly an amal­gam of two dif­fer­ent his­toric con­soles, com­bined in 1996, the Island Record sec­tion of the mix­ing desk was used by Led Zep­pelin to record IV, the album fea­tur­ing their most famous song, “Stair­way to Heav­en.”

This tan­ta­liz­ing bit is only a taste of the HeliosCen­tric console’s exten­sive prove­nance. Bob Mar­ley record­ed Catch a Fire and Burnin’ on the machine, Jim­my Cliff record­ed “Many Rivers to Cross”; Eric Clapton’s “After Mid­night” emerged from the con­sole, as did songs and albums made by George Har­ri­son, Steve Win­wood, Mick Fleet­wood, Steven Stills, Jimi Hen­drix, Ron­nie Wood, David Bowie, Free, The Rolling Stones, Sly Stone, Har­ry Nils­son, Cat Stevens, Jeff Beck, Mott the Hoople, Hum­ble Pie, Paul Weller, Super­grass, Sia, KT Tun­stall, Squeeze, the Pet Shop Boys, Keane, and Dido… among many more.

The num­ber of top-notch artists who have used one or both parts of the con­sole is aston­ish­ing, and its com­bin­ing also pro­vides devo­tees of rock his­to­ry with a great sto­ry: the founder of Helios Elec­tron­ics him­self, Dick Swet­ten­ham, who for­mer­ly worked at Abbey Road, per­son­al­ly con­sult­ed on the con­struc­tion of the new con­sole, which was put togeth­er by Elvis Costel­lo and Squeeze’s Chris Dif­ford. You can read the machine’s full his­to­ry at Bon­hams, as great a sto­ry as you’re ever like­ly to hear about a piece of spe­cial­ized stu­dio equip­ment the size of a small car. The Helio­Cen­tric Con­sole is expect­ed to fetch six fig­ures, but as Rolling Stone points out, the auc­tion house recent­ly sold the con­sole used to record Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon for $1.8 mil­lion. What’s anoth­er few dozen clas­sic albums and sin­gles worth?

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jim­my Page Tells the Sto­ry of “Stair­way to Heav­en”: How the Most Played Rock Song Came To Be

Pro­duc­er Tony Vis­con­ti Breaks Down the Mak­ing of David Bowie’s Clas­sic “Heroes,” Track by Track

Bri­an Eno Presents a Crash Course on How the Record­ing Stu­dio Rad­i­cal­ly Changed Music: Hear His Influ­en­tial Lec­ture “The Record­ing Stu­dio as a Com­po­si­tion­al Tool” (1979)

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

How Music Can Awaken Patients with Alzheimer’s and Dementia

In the late 1950’s, pio­neer­ing free jazz band­leader Sun Ra played a gig at a Chica­go men­tal hos­pi­tal, booked there by his man­ag­er Alton Abra­ham, who had an inter­est in alter­na­tive med­i­cine. The exper­i­ment in musi­cal ther­a­py worked won­ders. One patient who had not moved or spo­ken in years report­ed­ly got up, walked over to the piano, and yelled out, “you call that music!”

The anec­dote illus­trates just one expe­ri­ence among untold mil­lions in which a per­son suf­fer­ing from a debil­i­tat­ing neu­ro­log­i­cal con­di­tion responds pos­i­tive­ly, even mirac­u­lous­ly, it seems, to music.

As famed neu­rol­o­gist and writer Oliv­er Sacks puts it in his book Musi­cophil­ia, “musi­cal per­cep­tion, musi­cal sen­si­bil­i­ty, musi­cal emo­tion and musi­cal mem­o­ry can sur­vive long after oth­er forms of mem­o­ry have dis­ap­peared.”

This med­ical fact makes musi­cal ther­a­py an ide­al inter­ven­tion for patients suf­fer­ing from Alzheimer’s dis­ease and demen­tia. In the short video above, Sacks describes his vis­its to patients in var­i­ous old age homes. “Some of them are con­fused, some are agi­tat­ed, some are lethar­gic, some have almost lost lan­guage,” he says, “but all of them, with­out excep­tion, respond to music.”

We can see just such a response in the clip at the top, in which the bare­ly respon­sive Hen­ry Dry­er, a 92-year-old nurs­ing home res­i­dent with demen­tia, trans­forms when he hears music. “The philoso­pher Kant called music ‘the quick­en­ing art,’ and Henry’s being quick­ened,” says Sacks says of the dra­mat­ic change, “he’s being brought to life.” Sud­den­ly lucid and hap­py, Hen­ry looks up and says, “I’m crazy about music. Beau­ti­ful sounds.”

The clip comes from a doc­u­men­tary called Alive Inside, win­ner of a 2014 Sun­dance Audi­ence Award (see the trail­er above), a film that shows us sev­er­al musi­cal “quick­en­ings” like Henry’s. “Before Dry­er start­ed using his iPod,” notes The Week, “he could only answer yes-or-no questions—and some­times he sat silent­ly and still for hours at a time.” Now, he sings, car­ries on con­ver­sa­tions and can “even recall things from years ago.”

Sacks com­ments that “music imprints itself on the brain deep­er than any oth­er human expe­ri­ence,” evok­ing emo­tions in ways that noth­ing else can. A 2010 Boston Uni­ver­si­ty study showed that Alzheimer’s patients “learned more lyrics when they were set to music rather than just spo­ken.” Like­wise, researchers at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Utah found music to be “an alter­na­tive route for com­mu­ni­cat­ing with patients.”

As senior author of the Utah study, Dr. Nor­man Fos­ter, says, “lan­guage and visu­al mem­o­ry path­ways are dam­aged ear­ly as the dis­ease pro­gress­es, but per­son­al­ized music pro­grams can acti­vate the brain, espe­cial­ly for patients who are los­ing con­tact with their envi­ron­ment.” See the effects for your­self in this extra­or­di­nary film, and learn more about Sacks’ adven­tures with music and the brain in the 2007 dis­cus­sion of Musi­cophil­ia, just above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sun Ra Plays a Music Ther­a­py Gig at a Men­tal Hos­pi­tal; Inspires Patient to Talk for the First Time in Years

Dis­cov­er the Retire­ment Home for Elder­ly Musi­cians Cre­at­ed by Giuseppe Ver­di: Cre­at­ed in 1899, It Still Lives On Today

The French Vil­lage Designed to Pro­mote the Well-Being of Alzheimer’s Patients: A Visu­al Intro­duc­tion to the Pio­neer­ing Exper­i­ment

In Touch­ing Video, Peo­ple with Alzheimer’s Tell Us Which Mem­o­ries They Nev­er Want to For­get

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

John Lennon’s Report Card at Age 15: “He Has Too Many Wrong Ambitions and His Energy Is Too Often Misplaced”

In Sep­tem­ber 1956, a young John Lennon took home a dis­mal report card–the kind that many smart, way­ward kids can prob­a­bly relate to.

French teacher: “An intel­li­gent boy who could be very much bet­ter with a lit­tle con­cen­tra­tion in class.”

Math teacher: “He is cer­tain­ly on the road to fail­ure if this goes on.”

Physics teacher: “His work always lacks effort. He is con­tent to ‘drift’ instead of using his abil­i­ties.”

Reli­gion teacher: “Atti­tude in class most unsat­is­fac­to­ry.”

Head mas­ter: “He has too many wrong ambi­tions and his ener­gy is too often mis­placed.”

Guess they had him all fig­ured out…

via @Michael Beschloss

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

9‑Year-Old Edward Hop­per Draws a Pic­ture on the Back of His 3rd Grade Report Card

Hip 1960s Latin Teacher Trans­lat­ed Bea­t­les Songs into Latin for His Stu­dents: Read Lyrics for “O Teneum Manum,” “Diei Duri Nox” & More

Famous Writ­ers’ Report Cards: Ernest Hem­ing­way, William Faulkn­er, Nor­man Mail­er, E.E. Cum­mings & Anne Sex­ton

The John Lennon Sketch­book, a Short Ani­ma­tion Made of Lennon’s Draw­ings, Pre­mieres on YouTube

John Lennon Sums Up Elvis, Yoko & Howard Cosell in One Word

 

Celebrate Emily Dickinson’s 188th Birthday with Her Own Cake Recipes: Coconut Cake, Gingerbread, Doughnuts & More

Hap­py Emi­ly Dick­in­son Day!

What are you doing to cel­e­brate the poet’s 188th birth­day?

The Emi­ly Dick­in­son Muse­um took advan­tage of the week­end to cel­e­brate the occa­sion a cou­ple of days ear­ly with Vic­to­ri­an crafts, read­ings, fes­tive piano music, a dis­play explor­ing the Dick­in­son fam­i­ly’s gift-giv­ing tra­di­tion, and slices of coconut cake, baked from the birth­day girl’s own recipe.

Giv­en the Belle’s pen­chant for home-baked good­ies, we’re dis­pens­ing with the more high-mind­ed endeav­ors to con­cen­trate on the sweet side of this lit­er­ary hol­i­day.

LitHub reports that

…when­ev­er Dick­in­son saw chil­dren play­ing in her fam­i­ly gar­dens, “she head­ed for the pantry, filled a bas­ket with cook­ies or slices of cake—often gingerbread—carried it upstairs to a win­dow in the rear of the house (so their moth­ers wouldn’t see), and attached the bas­ket to a rope to slow­ly low­er it to the “storm-tossed, starv­ing pirates” or the “lost, roam­ing cir­cus per­form­ers” eager­ly wait­ing below.

Tru­ly, we owe it to her to return the favor.

Shall we start with some Emi­ly Dick­in­son dough­nuts?

Like many expe­ri­enced home cooks of the peri­od, Dickinson’s instruc­tions are a bit vague. She seems to have got­ten the recipe from an acquain­tance named Kate, jot­ting down mea­sure­ments and ingre­di­ents, after which, she knew what to do.

If you’ve nev­er worked with yeast before, you might want to pro­ceed straight to her Black Cake recipe…

Or not. You may have 5 pounds of raisins on hand, but this is no spur-of-the-moment recipe.

As librar­i­ans Heather Cole, Emi­lie Hard­man, and Emi­ly Wal­hout demon­strate below, this whop­per needs to spend 3 weeks wrapped in a brandy-soaked cheese­cloth after it comes out of the oven.

Onward then to Miss Dickinson’s gin­ger­bread.

As if those with Decem­ber birth­days aren’t over­shad­owed enough by the tyran­ny of Christ­mas! Must their spe­cial day’s cake fla­vor be dic­tat­ed by that big goril­la too? (For those who say yes, Rosa Lil­lo of Pem­ber­ley Cup and Cakes breaks the recipe down 21st-cen­tu­ry style, adding a sim­ple icing sug­ar glaze and an embossed flo­ral pat­tern.)

Per­haps that famous coconut cake real­ly is the best choice for observ­ing Emi­ly Dick­in­son Day.

See if you can detect a note of inspi­ra­tion in that but­tery fla­vor. As was her habit, Dick­in­son flipped the scrap of paper on which she’d list­ed the ingre­di­ents, and pen­cilled in the begin­nings of a poem:

The Things that nev­er can come back, are sev­er­al —

Child­hood — some forms of Hope — the Dead —

Though Joys — like Men — may some­times make a Jour­ney —

And still abide —

We do not mourn for Trav­el­er, or Sailor,

Their Routes are fair —

But think enlarged of all that they will tell us

Return­ing here —

“Here!” There are typ­ic “Heres” —

Fore­told Loca­tions —

The Spir­it does not stand —

Him­self — at what­so­ev­er Fath­om

His Native Land —

Those whose Emi­ly Dick­in­son Day gift giv­ing list includes a poet­ry lover / ama­teur cook may wish to stuff their stock­ings with a copy of the 1976 book Emi­ly Dick­in­son: Pro­file of the Poet as Cook with Select­ed Recipes.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Emi­ly Dickinson’s Hand­writ­ten Coconut Cake Recipe Hints at How Bak­ing Fig­ured Into Her Cre­ative Process

The Online Emi­ly Dick­in­son Archive Makes Thou­sands of the Poet’s Man­u­scripts Freely Avail­able

An 8‑Hour Marathon Read­ing of 500 Emi­ly Dick­in­son Poems

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  See her onstage in New York City through Decem­ber 20th in the 10th anniver­sary pro­duc­tion of Greg Kotis’ apoc­a­lyp­tic hol­i­day tale, The Truth About San­ta, and tonight, as the host of the book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Hear the Very First Sounds Ever Recorded on Mars, Courtesy of NASA

Pre­dict­ing the state of the world in 2014 after a vis­it to the 1964 World’s Fair, Isaac Asi­mov wrote that “only unmanned ships will have land­ed on Mars, though a manned expe­di­tion will be in the works and in the 2014 Futu­ra­ma will show a mod­el of an elab­o­rate Mar­t­ian colony.” While we haven’t seen a Futu­ra­ma show in some time (oth­er than the one cre­at­ed by Matt Groen­ing), he was cer­tain­ly right about those unmanned ships, the lat­est of which, four years after the one about which he proph­e­sied, has just picked up the first sounds ever record­ed on the Red Plan­et. You can hear it, prefer­ably with the use of a sub­woofer or a pair of capa­bly bass-repro­duc­ing head­phones, in the video above.

“That’s the sound of winds blow­ing across NASA’s InSight lan­der on Mars, the first sounds record­ed from the red plan­et,” writes the New York Times’ Ken­neth Chang. “It’s all the more remark­able because InSight — which land­ed last week — does not have a micro­phone.”

Instead it picked up this rum­ble, which NASA describes as “caused by vibra­tions from the wind, esti­mat­ed to be blow­ing between 10 to 15 mph (5 to 7 meters a sec­ond),” with its seis­mome­ter and air pres­sure sen­sor right there on Mars’ Ely­si­um Plani­tia where it land­ed. “The winds were con­sis­tent with the direc­tion of dust dev­il streaks in the land­ing area, which were observed from orbit.”

Sci­ence fic­tion enthu­si­asts will note that InSight’s record­ing of Mar­t­ian wind, espe­cial­ly in the more eas­i­ly audi­ble pitched-up ver­sions includ­ed in the video, sounds not unlike the way cer­tain films and tele­vi­sion shows have long imag­ined the son­ic ambi­ence of Mars. NASA did­n’t launch InSight to test the the­o­ries implic­it­ly pre­sent­ed by Hol­ly­wood sound design­ers — rather, to col­lect data on the for­ma­tion of Mars and oth­er rocky plan­ets, as well as to check for the pres­ence of liq­uid water — but they will equip the next Mar­t­ian lan­ders they send out in 2020 with prop­er micro­phones, and not just one but two of them. Among oth­er sci­en­tif­ic tasks, writes Big Think’s Stephen John­son, those micro­phones will be equipped to “lis­ten to what hap­pens when the craft fires a laser at rocks on the sur­face.” Back here on Earth, one ques­tion looms above all oth­ers: which musi­cian will be the first to sam­ple all this?

via Big Think

Relat­ed Con­tent:

NASA Puts Online a Big Col­lec­tion of Space Sounds, and They’re Free to Down­load and Use

NASA Dig­i­tizes 20,000 Hours of Audio from the His­toric Apol­lo 11 Mis­sion: Stream Them Free Online

Hear the Declas­si­fied, Eerie “Space Music” Heard Dur­ing the Apol­lo 10 Mis­sion (1969)

Video: The Min­utes Before & After the Land­ing of the Mars Curios­i­ty Rover

Ray Brad­bury Reads Mov­ing Poem on the Eve of NASA’s 1971 Mars Mis­sion

NASA Releas­es a Mas­sive Online Archive: 140,000 Pho­tos, Videos & Audio Files Free to Search and Down­load

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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.

How J.R.R. Tolkien Influenced Classic Rock & Metal: A Video Introduction

The influ­ence of J.R.R. Tolkien on met­al is so wide and deep it has become almost cliché. There are count­less Tolkien-themed songs, albums, band names, and an entire sub­genre of Tolkien met­al in which the fan­ta­sy mas­ter’s work has become “the foun­da­tion,” as Loud­wire writes, that such bands “have built their per­sona upon.” After all, “the doomy hellscape of Mor­dor is a set­ting that rivals hell itself, mak­ing it the per­fect fod­der for lyri­cal bru­tal­i­ty.”

Of course, there’s more to the fas­ci­na­tion than doomy hellscape. Mys­ti­cism, mag­ic, and mythol­o­gy; “themes of friend­ship, adven­ture, betray­al, greed, and mor­tal­i­ty.” The Hob­bit and Lord of the Rings tril­o­gy fold lit­er­ary rich­ness and depth into a ful­ly real­ized alter­nate real­i­ty full of swords and sor­cery, gob­lins, orcs, and walk­ing trees. What met­al­head can resist? Even those who might want to have a hard time get­ting away from Tolkien.

He’s in the source code of the genre, in its clas­sic rock chro­mo­somes. The most promi­nent pre­cur­sor of Tolkien met­al, Led Zep­pelin, real­ly loved Tolkien. As Robert Plant put it in a lat­er inter­view, “when I read those books, they kind of dis­solved into me.” In the short video above from Poly­phon­ic, we get a sur­vey of the num­ber of Tolkien ref­er­ences not only in Zep­pelin, but in Gen­e­sis, Rush, and oth­er pro­to-met­al prog-rock bands.

One key fea­ture of Tolkien that makes his work such great mate­r­i­al for epic songs is that the nov­els are already full of epic songs (and poems, in Elvish and oth­er lan­guages). “Music plays an inte­gral role in the very found­ing of Mid­dle Earth.” Tolkien ref­er­ences crop up in Black Sab­bath, Uri­ah Heep, and dozens of 70s pro­gres­sive rock bands whose influ­ence exceeds their fame.

One band the Poly­phon­ic video doesn’t men­tion, The Bea­t­les, aren’t often thought of as Tolkienesque, or as hav­ing much influ­ence on heavy met­al. But they were mas­sive Tolkien fans and even approached the author in the 60s about mak­ing a Lord of the Rings film, with John as Gol­lum, Paul as Fro­do, Ringo as Sam, and George as Gan­dalf. McCart­ney even approached Stan­ley Kubrick to direct.

Report­ed­ly, when McCart­ney told Peter Jack­son the sto­ry, the direc­tor replied, “It’s the songs I feel bad­ly about. You guys could have banged out a few good tunes for this.” Tolkien him­self didn’t think so and turned them down imme­di­ate­ly. We don’t have any record of his thoughts on the 70s rock bands who enthu­si­as­ti­cal­ly adopt­ed him, if he even knew of their exis­tence. But we do know that he didn’t like The Bea­t­les.

Does this mean he wouldn’t care for any of the clas­sic rock and met­al to whom he has inad­ver­tent­ly giv­en so much? Prob­a­bly. But one com­menter in a dis­cus­sion thread on this very ques­tion imag­ines anoth­er reac­tion Tolkien might have to hear­ing “Ram­ble On,” etc.: “I believe he raised a fist into the air and extend­ed the index and lit­tle fin­gers in imi­ta­tion of a horned crea­ture, while vig­or­ous­ly, emphat­i­cal­ly nod­ding his head back and forth, toss­ing his hair to and fro like a fish­ing boat caught in a rag­ing storm.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Lord of the Rings Mythol­o­gy Explained in 10 Min­utes, in Two Illus­trat­ed Videos

Map of Mid­dle-Earth Anno­tat­ed by Tolkien Found in a Copy of Lord of the Rings

The Ori­gins of the Death Growl in Met­al Music

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

The Strange History of Smooth Jazz: The Music We All Know and Love … to Hate

It’s the most unloved and derid­ed of music gen­res, but the his­to­ry of Smooth Jazz is not as bad as you might think. In anoth­er chap­ter of Vox’s excel­lent Ear­worm series (see Chap­ter 1 here and Chap­ter 2 here), Estelle Caswell explores the rise and fall of this mod­ern day ele­va­tor music and asks if it’s worth recon­sid­er­ing.

The undis­put­ed star of smooth jazz has to be the “Song­bird” him­self, the frizzy-hair be-coifed Ken­ny G. (The only part of the video I took issue with is when one fan is quot­ed say­ing “he was the cool white boy.” Ma’am, all due respect, but Ken­ny G was nev­er cool.) The man played along­side Clinton’s inau­gu­ra­tion and once broke a world record by hold­ing a note for 45 min­utes. The smoothest of smooth jazz issued forth from his sopra­no sax and like it or not, his was a read­i­ly iden­ti­fi­able sound in a genre where noth­ing is sup­posed to stand out.

Ear­worm first traces the his­to­ry of the form back to Grover Wash­ing­ton Jr., CTI Records, and oth­er artists like Wes Mont­gomery. While Miles Davis was explor­ing dif­fi­cult son­ic tex­tures, jazz head­ed into free improv ter­ri­to­ry, split­ting from tonal­i­ty in much the same split as befell clas­si­cal music. What emerged was some­thing clos­er to r’n’b and soul with impro­vised melodies over the top, or cov­ers of pop­u­lar pop hits from the ‘60s. This also could be seen as an evo­lu­tion of jazz’s raid­ing of the Great Amer­i­can Song­book along with Broad­way hits. If Coltrane could break “My Favorite Things” into cubism, sure­ly there was a place for Wes Mont­gomery to riff over the groove of “Goin’ Out of My Head” by Lit­tle Antho­ny and the Impe­ri­als.

And from Mont­gomery we get to George Ben­son, silky smooth and unde­ni­ably funky. He even scat sang his solos at the same time as he played them on the gui­tar. His records went plat­inum which meant some­thing in the days of rock’s ascen­dan­cy and jazz’s fall.

But as Ear­worm points out, Smooth Jazz only became a thing when mar­ket­ing stepped in. As freeform sta­tions were bought out by cor­po­ra­tions, mar­ket research firms tar­get­ed audi­ences with focus groups. It was in one of those groups that a woman described the music like Ben­son and Bob James as “smooth jazz,” and the name stuck. 
It’s fit­ting that the west coast was the birth­place in 1987 of the first “smooth jazz” sta­tion, KTWV in Los Ange­les, 94.7 THE WAVE, home of all sorts of laid-back grooves since the very begin­ning of jazz and pop. Oth­er sta­tions would soon fol­low suit, reach­ing a height of pop­u­lar­i­ty in 1994, when Ken­ny G won Best Adult Con­tem­po­rary Artist at the Amer­i­can Music Awards. It was “smooth sounds for a rough world,” as one adman called it, but what it real­ly was com­fort music for office drones.

Iron­i­cal­ly, the forces that put smooth jazz at the top were respon­si­ble for its fall, as new tech­nol­o­gy to mea­sure radio rat­ings found it couldn’t pick out the music from the back­ground sounds. By 2008 and the finan­cial implo­sion, smooth jazz radios sta­tions were on the decline and the great reces­sion killed it off.

It’s fit­ting because smooth jazz was the sound­track to a dream of cap­i­tal­ism, all the rough edges bur­nished away, blink­ered aspi­ra­tions made into melody. But when the dream melt­ed for every­body, smooth jazz evap­o­rat­ed. At least with soft rock you got songs and tales of heartache.

How­ev­er, it would not sur­prise me to see Smooth Jazz make a nos­tal­gic, iron­ic-but-not come­back. If Japan’s City Pop, which trades in sim­i­lar smooth tex­tures, can speak to the dis­af­fect­ed youth about a deep, afflu­ent wish that nev­er came true, Chuck Man­gione can’t be too far behind. And it just feels. so. good.

P.S. If you have a han­kerin’ to hear some smooth­ness right now, Vox has a Spo­ti­fy playlist for what ails you.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Youtube’s Algo­rithm Turned an Obscure 1980s Japan­ese Song Into an Enor­mous­ly Pop­u­lar Hit: Dis­cov­er Mariya Takeuchi’s “Plas­tic Love”

The His­to­ry of Spir­i­tu­al Jazz: Hear a Tran­scen­dent 12-Hour Mix Fea­tur­ing John Coltrane, Sun Ra, Her­bie Han­cock & More

Jazz Decon­struct­ed: What Makes John Coltrane’s “Giant Steps” So Ground­break­ing and Rad­i­cal?

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.

Movie Accent Expert Analyzes 31 Actors Playing Other Famous People: Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles, Natalie Portman as Jackie Kennedy, Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan, and More

Well-known fig­ures’ voic­es are often as dis­tinc­tive as their thou­sand-watt smiles and influ­en­tial hair­dos.

While there is some evi­dence as to the accents and idio­syn­crat­ic speech pat­terns of such his­tor­i­cal heavy hit­ters as Thomas Edi­son, Flo­rence Nightin­gale, and Har­ry Hou­di­ni, tech­no­log­i­cal improve­ments have real­ly upped the ante for those charged with imper­son­at­ing real life peo­ple from the mid 20th-cen­tu­ry onward.

Natal­ie Port­man had to sus­tain her Jack­ie Kennedy imper­son­ation for an entire fea­ture-length biopic, a per­for­mance dialect coach Erik Singer gives high marks, above. Port­man, he explains, has tru­ly inter­nal­ized Jackie’s idi­olect, the indi­vid­ual quirks that add yet anoth­er lay­er to such sig­ni­fiers as class and region.

As evi­dence, he sub­mits a side-by-side com­par­i­son of the First Lady’s famous 1962 tele­vised tour of the White House ren­o­va­tions she had spear­head­ed, and Portman’s recre­ation there­of.

Port­man has done her home­work with regard to breath pat­tern, pitch, and the refine­ment that strikes most 21st cen­tu­ry ears as a bit stilt­ed and strange. Most impres­sive to Singer is the way Port­man trans­fers Kennedy’s odd­ly musi­cal elon­ga­tion of cer­tain syl­la­bles to oth­er words in the script. Tis no mere par­rot job.

Jamie Foxx’s Oscar-win­ning turn as Ray Charles suc­ceeds on copi­ous research and his abil­i­ty to inhab­it Charles’ habit­u­al smile. Obvi­ous­ly, the pos­ture in which an indi­vid­ual holds their mouth has a lot to do with the sound of their voice, and Foxx was blessed with plen­ty of source mate­r­i­al.

The 1982 epic Gand­hi pro­vid­ed the ver­sa­tile Ben Kings­ley with the oppor­tu­ni­ty to show­case not one, but two, idi­olects. The adult Gand­hi under­went a dra­mat­ic and well doc­u­ment­ed evo­lu­tion from the British accent he adopt­ed as a young law stu­dent in Lon­don to a proud­ly Indi­an voice bet­ter suit­ed to inspir­ing a nation to uni­fy against its British col­o­niz­ers.

It’s like­ly that many of us have nev­er con­sid­ered the speech-relat­ed build­ing blocks Singer scru­ti­nizes while ana­lyz­ing 29 oth­er per­for­mances for the WIRED video, above—epenthesis, tongue posi­tions, rel­a­tive degrees of emphat­ic mus­cu­lar­i­ty, and retroflex consonants—but it’s easy to see how they play a part.

Singer invites you to expand his research and teach­ing library by record­ing your­self speak­ing extem­po­ra­ne­ous­ly and read­ing from two sam­ple texts here. Pray that who­ev­er plays you in the biopic gets it right.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Peter Sell­ers Gives a Quick Demon­stra­tion of British Accents

Why Do Peo­ple Talk Fun­ny in Old Movies?, or The Ori­gin of the Mid-Atlantic Accent

Watch Meryl Streep Have Fun with Accents: Bronx, Pol­ish, Irish, Aus­tralian, Yid­dish & More

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  See her onstage in New York City through Decem­ber 20th in the 10th anniver­sary pro­duc­tion of Greg Kotis’ apoc­a­lyp­tic hol­i­day tale, The Truth About San­ta, and the book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

In 1964, Isaac Asimov Predicts What the World Will Look Like Today: Self-Driving Cars, Video Calls, Fake Meats & More

Rochester Insti­tute of Tech­nol­o­gy, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Isaac Asi­mov’s read­ers have long found some­thing prophet­ic in his work, but where did Asi­mov him­self look when he want­ed to catch a glimpse of the future? In 1964 he found one at the New York World’s Fair, the vast exhi­bi­tion ded­i­cat­ed to “Man’s Achieve­ment on a Shrink­ing Globe in an Expand­ing Uni­verse” that his­to­ry now remem­bers as the most elab­o­rate expres­sion of the indus­tri­al and tech­no­log­i­cal opti­mism of Space Age Amer­i­ca. Despite the fan­ci­ful nature of some of the prod­ucts on dis­play, vis­i­tors first saw things there — com­put­ers, for instance — that would become essen­tial in a mat­ter of decades.

“What is to come, through the fair’s eyes at least, is won­der­ful,” Asi­mov writes in a piece on his expe­ri­ence at the fair for the New York TimesBut it all makes him won­der: “What will life be like, say, in 2014 A.D., 50 years from now? What will the World’s Fair of 2014 be like?” His spec­u­la­tions begin with the notion that “men will con­tin­ue to with­draw from nature in order to cre­ate an envi­ron­ment that will suit them bet­ter,” which they cer­tain­ly have, though not so much through the use of “elec­tro­lu­mi­nes­cent pan­els” that will make “ceil­ings and walls will glow soft­ly, and in a vari­ety of col­ors that will change at the touch of a push but­ton.” Still, all the oth­er screens near-con­stant­ly in use seem to pro­vide all the glow we need for the moment.

“Gad­getry will con­tin­ue to relieve mankind of tedious jobs,” Asi­mov pre­dicts, and so it has, though our kitchens have yet to evolve to the point of prepar­ing “ ‘automeals,’ heat­ing water and con­vert­ing it to cof­fee; toast­ing bread; fry­ing, poach­ing or scram­bling eggs, grilling bacon, and so on.” He hits clos­er to the mark when declar­ing that “robots will nei­ther be com­mon nor very good in 2014, but they will be in exis­tence.” He notes that IBM’s exhib­it at the World’s Fair had noth­ing about robots to show, but plen­ty about com­put­ers, “which are shown in all their amaz­ing com­plex­i­ty, notably in the task of trans­lat­ing Russ­ian into Eng­lish. If machines are that smart today, what may not be in the works 50 years hence? It will be such com­put­ers, much minia­tur­ized, that will serve as the ‘brains’ of robots.”

“The appli­ances of 2014 will have no elec­tric cords,” Asi­mov writes, and in the case of our all-impor­tant mobile phones, that has turned out to be at least half-true. But we still lack the “long-lived bat­ter­ies run­ning on radioiso­topes” pro­duced by “fis­sion-pow­er plants which, by 2014, will be sup­ply­ing well over half the pow­er needs of human­i­ty.” The real decade of the 2010s turned out to be more attached to the old ways, not least by cords and cables, than Asi­mov imag­ined. Even the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca has­n’t quite mas­tered the art of design­ing high­ways so that “long bus­es move on spe­cial cen­tral lanes” along them, let alone forms of ground trav­el that “take to the air a foot or two off the ground.”

But one advance in trans­porta­tion Asi­mov describes will sound famil­iar to those of us liv­ing in the 2010s: “Much effort will be put into the design­ing of vehi­cles with ‘Robot-brains,’ vehi­cles that can be set for par­tic­u­lar des­ti­na­tions and that will then pro­ceed there with­out inter­fer­ence by the slow reflex­es of a human dri­ver.” Indeed, we hear about few report­ed­ly immi­nent tech­nolo­gies these days as much as we hear about self-dri­ving cars and their poten­tial to get us where we’re going while we do oth­er things, such as engage in com­mu­ni­ca­tions that “will become sight-sound and you will see as well as hear the per­son you tele­phone,” on a screen used “not only to see the peo­ple you call but also for study­ing doc­u­ments and pho­tographs and read­ing pas­sages from books.”

Con­ver­sa­tions with the moon colonies, Asi­mov need­less­ly warns us, “will be a tri­fle uncom­fort­able” because of the 2.5‑second delay. But imme­di­ate­ly there­after comes the much more real­is­tic pre­dic­tion that “as for tele­vi­sion, wall screens will have replaced the ordi­nary set.” Still, “all is not rosy” in the world of 2014, whose pop­u­la­tion will have swelled to 6,500,000,000 — or 7,298,453,033, as it hap­pened. This has many impli­ca­tions for devel­op­ment, hous­ing, and even agri­cul­ture, though the “mock-turkey” and “pseu­dosteak” eat­en today has more to do with lifestyle than neces­si­ty. (“It won’t be bad at all,” Asi­mov adds, “if you can dig up those pre­mi­um prices.”)

Final­ly, and per­haps most impor­tant­ly, “the world of A.D. 2014 will have few rou­tine jobs that can­not be done bet­ter by some machine than by any human being. Mankind will there­fore have become large­ly a race of machine ten­ders.” Asi­mov fore­sees the need for a change in edu­ca­tion to accom­mo­date that, one hint­ed at even in Gen­er­al Elec­tric’s exhib­it in 1964, which “con­sists of a school of the future in which such present real­i­ties as closed-cir­cuit TV and pro­grammed tapes aid the teach­ing process.” His envi­sioned high-school cur­ricu­lum would have stu­dents mas­ter “the fun­da­men­tals of com­put­er tech­nol­o­gy” and get them “trained to per­fec­tion in the use of the com­put­er lan­guage.”

But even with all these devel­op­ments, “mankind will suf­fer bad­ly from the dis­ease of bore­dom, a dis­ease spread­ing more wide­ly each year and grow­ing in inten­si­ty.” The “seri­ous men­tal, emo­tion­al and soci­o­log­i­cal con­se­quences” of that will make psy­chi­a­try an impor­tant med­ical spe­cial­ty, and “the lucky few who can be involved in cre­ative work of any sort will be the true elite of mankind, for they alone will do more than serve a machine.” Though Asi­mov may have been sur­prised by what we’ve come up with in the quar­ter-cen­tu­ry since his death, as well as what we haven’t come up with, he would sure­ly have under­stood the sorts of anx­i­eties that now beset us in the future-turned-present in which we live. But even giv­en all the ways in which his pre­dic­tions in 1964 have proven more or less cor­rect, he did miss one big thing: there was no World’s Fair in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Isaac Asi­mov Laments the “Cult of Igno­rance” in the Unit­ed States: A Short, Scathing Essay from 1980

Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dicts in 2001 What the World Will Look By Decem­ber 31, 2100

Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dicts the Future in 1964 … And Kind of Nails It

Wal­ter Cronkite Imag­ines the Home of the 21st Cen­tu­ry … Back in 1967

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, 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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