Hitchcock (Anthony Hopkins) Pitches Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johansson) on the Famous Shower Scene

First we have a film, the 1960 piece — some would say pin­na­cle — of psy­cho­log­i­cal hor­ror, Psy­cho. Then we have a man, Alfred Hitch­cock, Psy­cho’s direc­tor, the famous­ly man­nered but seem­ing­ly trou­bled mas­ter crafts­man of mid­cen­tu­ry cin­e­mat­ic sus­pense. Then we have a book, Stephen Rebel­lo’s Alfred Hitch­cock and the Mak­ing of Psy­cho, which Antho­ny Perkins, who played the psy­cho, called “required read­ing not only for Psy­cho-files, but for any­one inter­est­ed in the back­stage world of movie-cre­ation.” And, next week, we’ll have a new peri­od dra­ma, set dur­ing the pro­duc­tion of the film, based on the book, and cen­tered on the man. It’s impos­si­ble to imag­ine the afi­ciona­do of twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry motion pic­tures who would­n’t want to watch Antho­ny Hop­kins take on Hitch­cock’s title role. Behold the brief clip above, where­in Hop­kins-as-Hitch­cock explains to young Janet Leigh how, exact­ly, he plans to shoot the show­er scene, as his wife Alma looks ner­vous­ly on.

You’ll notice, in the roles of Janet Leigh and Alma Reville, two more well-respect­ed per­form­ers, Scar­lett Johans­son and Helen Mir­ren. Indeed, the list of actors involved in Hitchock and that of char­ac­ters they play look equal­ly inter­est­ing: A Seri­ous Man star Michael Stuhlbarg as tal­ent agent Lew Wasser­man, Karate Kid Ralph Mac­chio as screen­writer Joseph Ste­fano, Wal­lace Lang­ham as graph­ic artist and title design­er Saul Bass, and Michael Win­cott as real-life ser­i­al killer Ed Gein. In the clip just above, watch Hitch­cock explain to Alma his insis­tence upon self-financ­ing Psy­cho’s pro­duc­tion after get­ting turned down by Para­mount: “Do you remem­ber the fun we had when we start­ed out, all those years ago?” he asks. “We did­n’t have any mon­ey then, did we? We did­n’t have any time, either, but we took risks, do you remem­ber? We exper­i­ment­ed. We invent­ed new ways of mak­ing pic­tures, because we had to. I just want to feel that kind of free­dom again.” Before see­ing exact­ly how he enjoyed that free­dom again when Hitch­cock comes out on Novem­ber 23rd, be sure to revis­it our posts fea­tur­ing Psy­cho’s tan­ta­liz­ing orig­i­nal trail­er, and the film­mak­er’s own rules for watch­ing the movie.

Relat­ed con­tent:

22 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online

Mar­tin Scors­ese Brings “Lost” Hitch­cock Film to Screen in Short Faux Doc­u­men­tary

François Truffaut’s Big Inter­view with Alfred Hitch­cock (Free Audio)

Hitch­cock on Hap­pi­ness

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How to Operate Your Brain: A User Manual by Timothy Leary (1993)

Speak­ing at the Human Be-In in Jan­u­ary 1967, Tim­o­thy Leary uttered the famous phrase bor­rowed from Mar­shall McLuhan, “Turn on, tune in, drop out.” It was short­hand for say­ing exper­i­ment with psy­che­delics and achieve new lev­els of con­scious­ness.

Almost 30 years lat­er, Leary had­n’t lost his mis­sion­ary zeal. In 1993 (and only a few years before his death), the for­mer Har­vard psy­chol­o­gy pro­fes­sor record­ed “a pub­lic ser­vice video” called How to Oper­ate Your Brain. Here, Leary nar­rates an almost epilep­tic seizure-induc­ing video, pro­vid­ing what some con­sid­er “a guid­ed med­i­ta­tion” of sorts. I’d pre­fer to call it an unortho­dox “user man­u­al” that tries to impart Leary’s unique sense of enlight­en­ment:

The aim of human life is to know thy­self. Think for your­self. Ques­tion author­i­ty. Think with your friends. Cre­ate, cre­ate new real­i­ties. Phi­los­o­phy is a team sport. Phi­los­o­phy is the ulti­mate, the ulti­mate aphro­disi­ac plea­sure. Learn­ing how to oper­ate your brain, learn­ing how to oper­ate your mind, learn­ing how to redesign chaos.

As you get deep­er into the med­i­ta­tion, you’ll real­ize one thing. Three decades may have passed since Leary pop­u­lar­ized the catch­phrase of the coun­ter­cul­ture. But he’s still get­ting his ideas from McLuhan. If you fol­low the video (or tran­script) to the end, you’ll dis­cov­er that ones and zeros have basi­cal­ly tak­en the place of LSD. Leary says:

Now we have dig­i­tal com­mu­ni­ca­tion. We can cre­ate our fan­tasies. We can cre­ate our rhythms, design on screen.… Any­one in any cul­ture watch­ing this screen will get the gen­er­al pic­ture. It’s one glob­al vil­lage. It’s one glob­al human spir­it, one glob­al human race. As we link up through screens, linked by elec­trons and pho­tons, we will cre­ate for the first time a glob­al human­i­ty, not sep­a­rat­ed by words or minds or nation­al­i­ties or reli­gious bias­es.

You can find McLuhan med­i­tat­ing on the con­cept of an Elec­tron­ic Glob­al Vil­lage in anoth­er vin­tage clip.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Beyond Tim­o­thy Leary: 2002 Film Revis­its His­to­ry of LSD

This is What Oliv­er Sacks Learned on LSD and Amphet­a­mines

Aldous Huxley’s LSD Death Trip

McLuhan Said “The Medi­um Is The Mes­sage”; Two Pieces Of Media Decode the Famous Phrase

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Louis CK Plays Abraham Lincoln, America’s 16th President and (Yes) Stand-Up Comedian Too

Abra­ham Lin­coln fret­ted over the tim­ing of eman­ci­pa­tion, Gen­er­al George McClel­lan’s reluc­tance to take deci­sive action, North-South reuni­fi­ca­tion, and his wife’s men­tal insta­bil­i­ty.

Louis CK wor­ries about sex, his kids, and the decline of his flab­by, mid­dle-aged body.

The ten­den­cy to dwell on weighty mat­ters makes CK a fit­ting choice to embody our 16th pres­i­dent  on the small screen. (A dis­tinc­tion shared by such lumi­nar­ies as Lance Hen­rik­sen and Sam Water­ston, though not at the behest of Sat­ur­day Night Live). Movie star Daniel Day-Lewis’ cur­rent­ly run­ning por­tray­al may net him a Best Actor Triple Crown come awards sea­son, but CK’s the one who takes Abe to anoth­er dimen­sion, tai­lor­ing the Great Empan­ci­pa­tor to fit the estab­lished tem­plate of his own crit­i­cal­ly acclaimed sit­com.

His­to­ry comes alive in a whole new way as the stovepipe-hat­ted, pudgi­er-than-nor­mal Lin­coln trudges up from the sub­way, chok­ing down an anony­mous West Vil­lage slice to get him through a set at the Com­e­dy Cel­lar. Abe’s rou­tine on slave own­er­ship has def­i­nite echoes of Louis’ Sea­son One mus­ings on bes­tial­i­ty, a there-but-for-the-grace-of-god-go‑I flir­ta­tion res­cued by pro­fan­i­ty-laced moral out­rage.

No dis­re­spect to Day-Lewis’ First Lady Sal­ly Field, but there’s sim­i­lar fresh­ness to be found in Sat­ur­day Night Live reg­u­lar Aidy Bryant’s inter­pre­ta­tion of Mary Todd Lin­coln. Par­tic­u­lar­ly  when one fac­tors in a Direc­tor’s Cut that restores the pet­ti­coat peel­ing mate­r­i­al cut from the late night broad­cast.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Lynch Teach­es Louis C.K. How to Host The David Let­ter­man Show

How the Great George Car­lin Showed Louis CK the Way to Suc­cess (NSFW)

The Ten Best American Essays Since 1950, According to Robert Atwan

Robert Atwan’s favorite lit­er­ary genre is the essay. As edi­tor and founder of The Best Amer­i­can Essays series, Atwan has read thou­sands of exam­ples of the remark­ably flex­i­ble form.

“Essays can be lots of things, maybe too many things,” writes Atwan in his fore­ward to the 2012 install­ment in the Best Amer­i­can series, “but at the core of the genre is an unmis­tak­able recep­tiv­i­ty to the ever-shift­ing process­es of our minds and moods. If there is any essen­tial char­ac­ter­is­tic we can attribute to the essay, it may be this: that the truest exam­ples of the form enact that ever-shift­ing process, and in that enact­ment we can find the basis for the essay’s qual­i­fi­ca­tion to be regard­ed seri­ous­ly as imag­i­na­tive lit­er­a­ture and the essay­ist’s claim to be tak­en seri­ous­ly as a cre­ative writer.”

In 2001 Atwan and Joyce Car­ol Oates took on the daunt­ing task of trac­ing that ever-shift­ing process through the pre­vi­ous 100 years for The Best Amer­i­can Essays of the Cen­tu­ry. Recent­ly Atwan returned with a more focused selec­tion for Pub­lish­ers Week­ly“The Top 10 Essays Since 1950.” To pare it all down to such a small num­ber, Atwan decid­ed to reserve the “New Jour­nal­ism” cat­e­go­ry, with its many mem­o­rable works by Tom Wolfe, Gay Talese, Michael Herr and oth­ers, for some future list. He also made a point of select­ing the best essays, as opposed to exam­ples from the best essay­ists. “A list of the top ten essay­ists since 1950 would fea­ture some dif­fer­ent writ­ers.”

We were inter­est­ed to see that six of the ten best essays are avail­able for free read­ing online. Here is Atwan’s list, along with links to those essays that are on the Web:

  • James Bald­win, “Notes of a Native Son,” 1955 (Read it here.)
  • Nor­man Mail­er, “The White Negro,” 1957 (Read it here.)
  • Susan Son­tag, “Notes on ‘Camp,’ ” 1964 (Read it here.)
  • John McPhee, “The Search for Mar­vin Gar­dens,” 1972 (Read it here with a sub­scrip­tion.)
  • Joan Did­ion, “The White Album,” 1979
  • Annie Dil­lard, “Total Eclipse,” 1982
  • Phillip Lopate, “Against Joie de Vivre,” 1986 (Read it here.)
  • Edward Hoagland, “Heav­en and Nature,” 1988
  • Jo Ann Beard, “The Fourth State of Mat­ter,” 1996 (Read it here.)
  • David Fos­ter Wal­lace, “Con­sid­er the Lob­ster,” 2004 (Read it here in a ver­sion dif­fer­ent from the one pub­lished in his 2005 book of the same name.)

“To my mind,” writes Atwan in his arti­cle, “the best essays are deeply per­son­al (that does­n’t nec­es­sar­i­ly mean auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal) and deeply engaged with issues and ideas. And the best essays show that the name of the genre is also a verb, so they demon­strate a mind in process–reflecting, try­ing-out, essay­ing.”

To read more of Atwan’s com­men­tary, see his arti­cle in Pub­lish­ers Week­ly.

The pho­to above of Susan Son­tag was tak­en by Peter Hujar in 1966.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

30 Free Essays & Sto­ries by David Fos­ter Wal­lace on the Web

The History of Film — 2000 Movies Across 100 Years — Presented in One Big Zoomable Graphic

Hats off to Lar­ry Gorm­ley, who spent the bet­ter part of five years cre­at­ing a zoomable graph­ic that “chron­i­cles the his­to­ry of fea­ture films from the ori­gins in the 1910s until the present day.” 2000 films, across 20 gen­res and 100 years, all pre­sent­ed in one art­ful dis­play. Nice­ly done.

You can pur­chase a print copy, or sim­ply enjoy the visu­al dis­play online. Enjoy.

via @coudal

After a Tour of Slavoj Žižek’s Pad, You’ll Never See Interior Design in the Same Way

How to react to celebri­ty aca­d­e­m­ic Slavoj Žižek? You could see him as a wild-eyed vision­ary and grow infat­u­at­ed with his pow­er­ful-sound­ing ideas about pow­er, vio­lence, cin­e­ma, psy­cho­analy­sis, and per­ver­sion. Or you could see him as a Pied Piper for delu­sion­al grad­u­ate stu­dents and grow enraged at his per­pet­u­a­tion of fash­ion­able non­sense. But you’d do best, I would argue, to take him sim­ply as a source of enter­tain­ment. How could you do oth­er­wise, watch­ing the above clip from Astra Tay­lor’s doc­u­men­tary Žižek! (pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured on Open Cul­ture here)? In these three min­utes, the sweat­ing Sub­lime Object of Ide­ol­o­gy author gives us a tour of his pad, spend­ing much time and excite­ment on his kitchen repur­posed as a clos­et: clothes and sheets in the cup­boards, socks in the draw­ers. “I am a nar­cis­sist. I keep every­thing,” he pro­nounces, hav­ing moved onto the shelves and shelves of his own work, from the pam­phlets of his “dis­si­dent days” to his lat­est books in Japan­ese trans­la­tion.

But it’s his poster of Josef Stal­in that real­ly draws your atten­tion — just as Žižek meant it to. If he did­n’t, he would­n’t have hung it in his entry­way, mak­ing it the first sight every guest gets of his home. Here he describes it not as a procla­ma­tion of Stal­in­ism, exact­ly, but as — in line with every­thing else he does — a provo­ca­tion. “This is just for peo­ple who come to be shocked and hope­ful­ly to get out,” he explains. “My big wor­ry is not to be ignored, but to be accept­ed. Of course, it’s not that I’m sim­ply a Stal­in­ist. That would be crazy, taste­less, and so on. But obvi­ous­ly there is some­thing in it that it’s not sim­ply a joke. When I say the only change is that the left appro­pri­ates fas­cism and so on, it’s not a cheap joke. The point is to avoid the trap of stan­dard lib­er­al oppo­si­tions: free­dom ver­sus total­i­tar­i­an order, and so on, to reha­bil­i­tate notions of dis­ci­pline, col­lec­tive order, sub­or­di­na­tion, sac­ri­fice, all that. I don’t think this is inher­ent­ly fas­cist.”

via Bib­liok­lept

Relat­ed con­tent:

Žižek!: 2005 Doc­u­men­tary Reveals the “Aca­d­e­m­ic Rock Star” and “Mon­ster” of a Man

Exam­ined Life Drops Aca­d­e­m­ic Celebri­ties Into the Real World (2008)

Der­ri­da: A 2002 Doc­u­men­tary on the Abstract Philoso­pher and the Every­day Man

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Skeptic Michael Shermer Shows You How to Bend Spoons with Your Mind

Ever want to know how to bend spoons like Uri Geller? There are quite a few ways, appar­ent­ly. But accord­ing to Geller’s arch-neme­sis, skep­tic and magi­cian James Ran­di, “if Geller bends spoons with divine pow­ers, then he’s doing it the hard way.” In the video above, edi­tor-in-chief of Skep­tic mag­a­zine, Michael Sher­mer, shows us how to do it the easy way, and still make it look like mag­ic. While “psy­chics” like Geller have dined out on their sup­posed pow­ers for as long as there have been peo­ple will­ing to pick up the tab, skep­tics like Ran­di and Sher­mer have prob­a­bly been around as long, using log­ic and a healthy dose of dis­be­lief. Randi’s expo­sure of Geller on the John­ny Car­son show is the stuff of leg­end. For a less­er-known debunk­ing, check out the video below from Thames Tele­vi­sion. Geller, like so many self-pro­claimed psy­chics, can be per­sua­sive, but most phe­nom­e­na are bet­ter explained by sci­ence than by mag­i­cal think­ing.

Josh Jones is a doc­tor­al can­di­date in Eng­lish at Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty and a co-founder and for­mer man­ag­ing edi­tor of Guer­ni­ca / A Mag­a­zine of Arts and Pol­i­tics.

15,000+ Hours of Free Video & Audio Lectures from World-Class Universities

We took our col­lec­tion of 550 Free Online Cours­es from Great Uni­ver­si­ties and did a back-of-the-enve­lope esti­mate of the total num­ber of hours of free audio/video lec­tures it offers. A con­ser­v­a­tive esti­mate puts it north of 15,000 hours. Pret­ty stag­ger­ing, espe­cial­ly con­sid­er­ing that these lec­tures come from world-class insti­tu­tions like Stan­ford, MIT, Yale, UC Berke­ley, and Oxford. And, what’s more, they’re free. Yes, there is such a thing as a free lunch … and din­ner. Above, we’re fea­tur­ing the first lec­ture from Michael Sandel’s famous Har­vard course called Jus­tice: What’s the Right Thing to Do?. The remain­ing 549 Free Cours­es await you here.

And if you need a lit­tle late night snack too, then check out these oth­er col­lec­tions:

175 Free Online Cer­tifi­cate Cours­es & MOOCs from Great Uni­ver­si­ties

450 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

375 Free eBooks: Down­load to Kin­dle, iPad/iPhone & Nook

500 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, etc.

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

On Jan­u­ary 28, 1948 the British philoso­phers F.C. Cople­ston and Bertrand Rus­sell squared off on BBC radio for a debate on the exis­tence of God. Cople­ston was a Jesuit priest who believed in God. Rus­sell main­tained that while he was tech­ni­cal­ly agnos­tic on the exis­tence of the Judeo-Chris­t­ian God–just as he was tech­ni­cal­ly agnos­tic on the exis­tence of the Greek gods Zeus and Poseidon–he was for all intents and pur­pos­es an athe­ist.

The famous debate is divid­ed into two parts: meta­phys­i­cal and moral. In the meta­phys­i­cal part, which is pre­sent­ed here, Cople­ston espous­es what is known as the cos­mo­log­i­cal argu­ment for the exis­tence of God. Ele­ments of the cos­mo­log­i­cal argu­ment go back at least as far as Pla­to and Aris­to­tle, who held that the uni­verse required a “prime mover” out­side of itself. The ver­sion embraced by Cople­ston is derived from one of Thomas Aquinas’ five ways to prove the exis­tence of God. In his Sum­ma The­o­log­i­ca, Aquinas writes:

The third way is tak­en from pos­si­bil­i­ty and neces­si­ty and runs thus. We find in nature things that are pos­si­ble to be and not pos­si­ble to be, since they are found to be gen­er­at­ed and cor­rupt­ed. But it is impos­si­ble for these always to exist, for that which can not-be at some time is not. There­fore, if every­thing can not-be, then at one time there was noth­ing in exis­tence, because that which does not exist begins to exist only through some­thing already exist­ing. There­fore if at one time noth­ing was in exis­tence, it would have been impos­si­ble for any­thing to have begun to exist; and thus now noth­ing would be in existence–which is absurd. There­fore, not all beings are mere­ly pos­si­ble, but there must exist some­thing the exis­tence of which is nec­es­sary. But every nec­es­sary thing has its neces­si­ty caused by anoth­er, or not. Now it is impos­si­ble to go on to infin­i­ty in nec­es­sary things which have their neces­si­ty caused by anoth­er, as has already been proved in regard to effi­cient caus­es. There­fore, we can­not but admit the exis­tence of some being hav­ing of itself its own neces­si­ty, and not receiv­ing it from anoth­er, but rather caus­ing in oth­ers their neces­si­ty. This all men speak of as God.

Cople­ston adopts Got­tfried Wil­helm Leib­niz’s Prin­ci­ple of Suf­fi­cient Rea­son as a cor­ner­stone of his argu­ment. In his 1714 essay “The Prin­ci­ples of Nature and Grace, Based on Rea­son,” Leib­niz asserts that noth­ing can exist with­out a suf­fi­cient rea­son, includ­ing the Uni­verse. “This suf­fi­cient rea­son for the exis­tence of the Uni­verse can­not be found in the series of con­tin­gent things,” writes Leib­niz. “The suf­fi­cient rea­son, there­fore, which needs not fur­ther rea­son, must be out­side of this series of con­tin­gent things and is found in a sub­stance which…is a nec­es­sary being bear­ing the rea­son for its exis­tence with­in itself; oth­er­wise we should not yet have a suf­fi­cient rea­son with which to stop. This final rea­son for things is called God.”

Rus­sell takes excep­tion to Cople­ston’s use of Leib­niz’s con­cept of a nec­es­sary being. The term “nec­es­sary,” he argues, can only be applied to ana­lyt­ic propo­si­tions–propo­si­tions which are derived log­i­cal­ly and which would be self-con­tra­dic­to­ry to deny. An ana­lyt­ic propo­si­tion would fall under Leib­niz’s cat­e­go­ry of “truths of rea­son,” or a pri­ori truths. Yet Cople­ston admits his argu­ment is based on a pos­te­ri­ori grounds, or what Leib­niz called “truths of fact.” Rus­sell first poked holes in Leib­niz’s ver­sion of the cos­mo­log­i­cal argu­ment near­ly half a cen­tu­ry before his debate with Cople­ston. In A Crit­i­cal Expo­si­tion of the Phi­los­o­phy of Leib­niz, pub­lished in 1900, Rus­sell says of the cos­mo­log­i­cal argu­ment:

It has a for­mal vice, in that it starts from finite exis­tence as its datum, and admit­ting this to be con­tin­gent, it pro­ceeds to infer an exis­tent which is not con­tin­gent. But as the pre­miss is con­tin­gent, the con­clu­sion also must be con­tin­gent. This is only to be avoid­ed by point­ing out that the argu­ment is ana­lyt­ic, that it pro­ceeds from a com­plex propo­si­tion to one which is log­i­cal­ly pre­sup­posed in it, and that nec­es­sary truths may be involved in those that are con­tin­gent. But such a pro­ce­dure is not prop­er­ly a proof of the pre­sup­po­si­tion. If a judge­ment A pre­sup­pos­es anoth­er B, then, no doubt, if A is true, B is true. But it is impos­si­ble that there should be valid grounds for admit­ting A, which are not also grounds for admit­ting B. In Euclid, for exam­ple, if you admit the propo­si­tions, you must admit the axioms; but it would be absurd to give this as a rea­son for admit­ting the axioms.

Per­haps the most mem­o­rable moment of the debate on the cos­mo­log­i­cal argu­ment comes near the end, when Rus­sell crit­i­cizes Cople­ston’s asser­tion that because every­thing con­tained with­in the Uni­verse is con­tin­gent, the Uni­verse as a whole must also be con­tin­gent. “I can illus­trate what seems to me your fal­la­cy,” says Rus­sell. “Every man who exists has a moth­er, and it seems to me your argu­ment is that there­fore the human race must have a moth­er, but obvi­ous­ly the human race has­n’t a mother–that’s a dif­fer­ent log­i­cal sphere.” For Rus­sell it was enough to accept that the Uni­verse sim­ply exists. Or as David Hume points out in his Dia­logues Con­cern­ing Nat­ur­al Reli­gion, if there must be a nec­es­sar­i­ly exis­tent being, why can’t it be the Uni­verse as a whole?

The audio ver­sion of the debate above is abridged. To read a tran­script of the entire debate, click here to open the text in a new win­dow.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Face to Face with Bertrand Rus­sell: ‘Love is Wise, Hatred is Fool­ish’

Three Pas­sions of Bertrand Rus­sell (and a Col­lec­tion of Free Texts)

Watch Suddenly: Frank Sinatra Stars in a 1954 Noir Film

sinatra suddenly3

For Frank Sina­tra’s 100 birth­day today, we’re bring­ing back to the top a post from our archive that high­lights the 1954 noir film, “Sud­den­ly.” In this pub­lic domain flick, Sina­tra played the role of a psy­chopath. And he played the role con­vinc­ing­ly, get­ting some very fine reviews from The New York Times. Enjoy the film and our orig­i­nal post from 2012 below:

Tricky busi­ness, cast­ing a world-famous musi­cian in a movie’s star­ring role: it seems you must either craft the part to per­fect­ly match their per­sona, or to run per­fect­ly against it. Nico­las Roeg, that inim­itable employ­er of singers to his own semi-fath­omable cin­e­mat­ic ends, has rig­or­ous­ly explored this range of pos­si­bil­i­ties. David Bowie seemed the only pos­si­ble choice for the ter­mi­nal­ly lone­ly alien of The Man Who Fell to Earth, just as Art Gar­funkel seemed the last pos­si­ble choice for the psy­cho­sex­u­al tor­men­tor of Bad Tim­ing.

I per­son­al­ly regret that Roeg nev­er got to work with Frank Sina­tra, used to such strik­ing effect by John Franken­heimer in The Manchuri­an Can­di­date and Otto Pre­minger in The Man with the Gold­en Arm. To hold those pic­tures up against, say, the Rat Pack free-for-all of Ocean’s Eleven is to under­stand that cast­ing against per­sona, though on aver­age the riski­er option, pro­duces more fas­ci­nat­ing­ly con­tra­dic­to­ry per­for­mances. In the 1954 noir Sud­den­ly, avail­able free on Archive.org, you can watch an ear­ly exam­ple of this in Sina­tra’s career, when direc­tor Lewis Allen turns him into a psy­chopath bent on assas­si­nat­ing none oth­er than the Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States.

Giv­en the pro­jec­t’s unques­tioned B‑movie con­text, crit­ics regard­ed Sina­tra as hav­ing made a rea­son­ably rich meal of this vil­lain­ous part. “Mr. Sina­tra deserves a spe­cial chunk of praise,” wrote the New York Times’ Bosley Crowther. “In Sud­den­ly he proves a melo­dra­mat­ic tour de force.” Vari­ety also looked favor­ably upon him: “Thesp inserts plen­ty of men­ace into a psy­cho char­ac­ter, nev­er too heav­i­ly done, and gets good back­ing from his costar, Ster­ling Hay­den, as sher­iff, in a less showy role but just as author­i­ta­tive­ly han­dled.” Yes, you read that right: this movie pits Frank Sina­tra against Ster­ling Hay­den. Sina­tra and his crew of killers take over a small-town hill­top fam­i­ly home, the ide­al van­tage point from which to shoot the pass­ing Pres­i­dent. Then Hay­den, the town’s sher­iff, turns up to check things out. How will this clash of titan­ic per­son­al­i­ties resolve? Hit play and find out whether “the num­ber-one man in the nation,” as Sud­den­ly’s sen­sa­tion­al­is­tic poster puts it, falls vic­tim to this “kill-hun­gry hood­lum.”

You will find Sud­den­ly list­ed in our col­lec­tion of Free Noir Films and also our larg­er list 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

 

Harry Taylor Brings 150-Year-Old Craft of Tintype Photography into the Modern Day

Award-win­ning film­mak­er Matt Mor­ris appre­ci­ates craft, hard work and peo­ple who just show up for each oth­er.

His Emmy-nom­i­nat­ed film Pickin’ and Trim­min’ fol­lows the men who cut hair and play blue­grass music togeth­er at Drexel’s bar­ber­shop in North Car­oli­na. In Mr. Hap­py Man, an 88-year-old man talks about the hours he spends every morn­ing greet­ing Bermuda’s com­muters as they endure traf­fic.

The sub­ject of his most recent work came to him in a round-about way, but fea­tures the same care­ful, affec­tion­ate film­mak­ing of his oth­er films. Amer­i­can Tin­type chron­i­cles the process of pho­tog­ra­ph­er Har­ry Tay­lor, who dis­cov­ered a pas­sion for the Civ­il War-era “wet plate” pho­tog­ra­phy.

Tay­lor, based in Wilm­ing­ton, North Car­oli­na, spe­cial­izes in tin­types and ambrotypes. He makes them with the same big cam­eras and messy chem­i­cals used dur­ing the late 1800s. At that time, the process pro­duced a whole new lay­er of detail than ear­li­er tech­niques had done, and allowed for an infi­nite num­ber of prints to be made.

Time con­sum­ing, labo­ri­ous and unpre­dictable, the process requires the pho­tog­ra­ph­er to use a portable dark room when shoot­ing out­side of the stu­dio. Tin pho­to­graph­ic plates are coat­ed with col­lo­di­on emul­sion. (The tech­nique is also called col­lo­di­on process. There’s a nice tuto­r­i­al here.) The plate must be coat­ed, exposed and devel­oped with­in fif­teen min­utes, before the col­lo­di­on los­es its sen­si­tiv­i­ty. It’s an incon­ve­nient sys­tem, espe­cial­ly by today’s stan­dards, but it pleas­es Tay­lor immense­ly as it forces both him and his sub­jects to slow down. You can view some of Tay­lor’s images here.

Mor­ris allows Tay­lor to speak for him­self in the four-minute doc­u­men­tary, let­ting the cam­era linger on Taylor’s wood and met­al equip­ment, the dreami­ness of his images and on Taylor’s own obser­va­tions about how long-expo­sure pho­tog­ra­phy reveals more of the subject’s thoughts. Even the flaws are inter­est­ing.

Make a point to notice the music. Mor­ris approached com­pos­er Hanan Town­shend, known for the scores he com­posed for direc­tor Ter­rence Mal­ick. Mor­ris blogs about the process of record­ing Amer­i­can Tin­type’s sound­track at Marin County’s Sky­walk­er Sound—a fun lit­tle peek behind the scenes.

Kate Rix writes about dig­i­tal media and edu­ca­tion. Read more of her work at and thenifty.blogspot.com.


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