The Wizard of Oz Broken Apart and Put Back Together in Alphabetical Order

WARNING: This film con­tains extreme­ly fast edit­ing, flash­es of light, abrupt changes in image and sound.

Back in 2001, Matt Bucy had the inspi­ra­tion to do some­thing tru­ly orig­i­nal — take the entire Wiz­ard of Oz, cut it up, and put it back together–this time in alpha­bet­i­cal order. And that’s pre­cise­ly what he did sev­er­al years lat­er, in 2004. A coder, Bucy cre­at­ed an app that made it easy to decon­struct the beloved 1939 film. He told Vox:

That [app] spit out a big text file with all the words and their loca­tions in the film, which I then import­ed into a spread­sheet, sort­ed in alpha­bet­i­cal and then chrono­log­i­cal order, and fed into anoth­er lit­tle pro­gram that took the sort­ed list and pro­duced the edit. So basi­cal­ly, it was edit­ed in Excel.…

All told, I think it took about sev­en days spread out over a cou­ple of months. Dis­as­sem­bly was mind-bend­ing in itself. It was lit­er­al­ly hard to talk after mov­ing word by word, or syl­la­ble by syl­la­ble, through the film. Eng­lish stopped sound­ing like lan­guage, and at times I had to stop because I could not fig­ure out what a word was — I just could­n’t hear it right.

When final­ly alpha­bet­ized, the film, says Bucy, had a sur­pris­ing ener­gy to it. A cer­tain je ne sais quoi. Yes it’s hard to describe. Maybe you can put your own words to it.

In 2016, Bucy final­ly made the alpha­bet­ized Wiz­ard of Oz avail­able to the rest of world. You can watch it here. And do heed the warn­ing above.

via Vox

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Com­plete Wiz­ard of Oz Series, Avail­able as Free eBooks and Free Audio Books

Watch the Ear­li­est Sur­viv­ing Filmed Ver­sion of The Wiz­ard of Oz (1910)

Dark Side of the Rain­bow: Pink Floyd Meets The Wiz­ard of Ozin One of the Ear­li­est Mash-Ups

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170 Renowned Academics Talk About Why They Disbelieve, or Believe, in God

Whether we choose to affil­i­ate with any sort of athe­ist move­ment or not, many peo­ple raised in the­is­tic reli­gions came over time to see God as a lit­er­ary char­ac­ter in ancient mytholo­gies and his­tor­i­cal fic­tions, as a place­hold­er for human igno­rance, or as a per­son­i­fi­ca­tion of humanity’s great­est fears and desires. The notion that such a per­son­al super-being actu­al­ly exists has become for many of us, in William James’ terms, a “dead hypoth­e­sis.” As physi­cist Lawrence Krauss puts it in the video above, “there’s absolute­ly no evi­dence that we need the super­nat­ur­al hand of God” to explain the uni­verse. Reli­gions give us fan­ci­ful sto­ries, illus­trate eth­i­cal (and uneth­i­cal) prin­ci­ples, and enforce trib­al loy­al­ties, but they do not describe real­i­ty as it is.

We all come to hold our beliefs, or lack there­of, about reli­gious claims for an irre­ducibly com­plex vari­ety of rea­sons that are intel­lec­tu­al as well as moral, polit­i­cal, and emo­tion­al. Can we demon­strate, how­ev­er, that “the more sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly lit­er­ate, intel­lec­tu­al­ly hon­est and objec­tive­ly scep­ti­cal a per­son is, the more like­ly they are to dis­be­lieve in any­thing super­nat­ur­al, includ­ing god”? Such is the the­sis of Dr. Jonathan Pararajasignham’s doc­u­men­tary 50 Renowned Aca­d­e­mics Speak­ing About God, which con­sists of edit­ed clips from inter­views with “elite aca­d­e­mics and pro­fes­sors at top insti­tu­tions, many of whom are also Nobel Lau­re­ates.” The claim appears on the screen in each of the three videos above and below, fram­ing the inter­view clips as mount­ing evi­dence for the con­vinc­ing case that dis­be­lief is strong­ly cor­re­lat­ed with, if not nec­es­sar­i­ly caused by, sci­en­tif­ic lit­er­a­cy, intel­lec­tu­al hon­esty, and skep­ti­cism.

Since his first video, Parara­jas­ing­ham has expand­ed his series to include 100 more “Renowned Aca­d­e­mics Speak­ing About God.” (See Parts Two and Three of the series above.) On the videos’ Youtube pages, he antic­i­pates a ready objec­tion, writ­ing, “I do not claim that this video demon­strates there is no God. It is not an argu­ment against God in itself, so there is no argu­ment from pop­u­lar­i­ty and author­i­ty.” If you’ve already arrived at the con­clu­sion, you’ll find it con­firmed many times over by a cast that includes physi­cists like Krauss, Richard Feyn­man, and Steven Wein­berg, philoso­phers like A.C. Gray­ing, Bertrand Rus­sell, and John Sear­le, and far too many more illus­tri­ous thinkers to name. (See a com­plete list on the Youtube pages of each video.) In addi­tion to well-known athe­ist writ­ers like Daniel Den­nett, the series also fea­tures aca­d­e­mics like anthro­pol­o­gist Pas­cal Boy­er, whose book Reli­gion Explained makes a nov­el and very per­sua­sive nat­u­ral­is­tic argu­ment for why humans have believed in the super­nat­ur­al for thou­sands of years.

Believ­ers may counter with their own list of smart peo­ple who do believe in God, and who also work in the hard sci­ences and aca­d­e­m­ic phi­los­o­phy, includ­ing renowned fig­ures like Human Genome Project direc­tor Fran­cis Collins and physi­cist Free­man Dyson. Whether or not they’d wish to claim failed pres­i­den­tial can­di­date Ben Car­son or reli­gious apol­o­gists Dinesh D’Souza and Ravi Zacharias as exam­ples of “intel­lec­tu­al hon­esty and sci­en­tif­ic lit­er­a­cy” I couldn’t say, but all of those peo­ple and more are includ­ed in the video above, 20 Chris­t­ian Aca­d­e­mics Speak­ing About God, which Parara­jas­ing­ham pro­duced as a coun­ter­point to his 50 Aca­d­e­mics series. Find the com­plete list of names for this video, along with links to com­plete inter­views, on Youtube.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Reli­gion Cours­es

Robert Sapol­sky Explains the Bio­log­i­cal Basis of Reli­gios­i­ty, and What It Shares in Com­mon with OCD, Schiz­o­phre­nia & Epilep­sy

Richard Feyn­man on Reli­gion, Sci­ence, the Search for Truth & Our Will­ing­ness to Live with Doubt

Neil deGrasse Tyson Explains Why He’s Uncom­fort­able Being Labeled an ‘Athe­ist’

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

What Are the Most Beautifully & Creatively Shot Films of All Time? Cinematographers Pick Their Favorites

To deter­mine the all-around great­est films of all time, the well-known Sight and Sound Direc­tors Poll sur­veys film­mak­ers them­selves. By that same log­ic, then, if you want to know which movies most excel in one par­tic­u­lar aspect, you’ll want to poll the peo­ple who work on that aspect of cin­e­ma: the actors will know which have the best act­ing, the edi­tors which have the best edit­ing, the sound design­ers which have the best sound design, the rig­ging grips which have the best-gripped rig­ging. And if you want to know the best-shot films of all time, you have only to ask the cin­e­matog­ra­phers.

In 1998, Amer­i­can Cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er polled the Amer­i­can Soci­ety of Cin­e­matog­ra­phers mem­ber­ship for the best-shot films of all time. Kristo­pher Tap­ley at Hit­flix writes that the “cin­e­matog­ra­phers were asked for their top picks in two eras: films from 1894–1949 (or the dawn of cin­e­ma through the clas­sic era), and then 1950–1997, for a top 50 in each case. Then they fol­lowed up 10 years lat­er with anoth­er poll focused on the films between 1998 and 2008.”

Here are the 1894–1949 top-ten results and their cin­e­matog­ra­phers:

  1. Cit­i­zen Kane (Gregg Toland, 1941)
  2. Gone with the Wind (Ernest Haller, Ray Ren­na­han, 1939)
  3. Sun­rise (Charles Rosh­er, Karl Struss, 1927)
  4. Metrop­o­lis (Karl Fre­und, Gün­ther Rit­tau, 1927)
  5. The Wiz­ard of Oz (Harold Rosson, 1939)
  6. The Mag­nif­i­cent Amber­sons (Stan­ley Cortez, 1942)
  7. Casablan­ca (Arthur Edes­on, 1942)
  8. Bat­tle­ship Potemkin (Eduard Tisse, 1926)
  9. The Third Man (Robert Krasker, 1950)
  10. The Birth of a Nation (G.W. Bitzer, 1915)

“The choice of Gregg Toland’s cin­e­matog­ra­phy for Cit­i­zen Kane as the best in the first 45 years of motion pic­tures comes as no sur­prise,” writes Amer­i­can Cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er’s George Turn­er. “No oth­er movie has been more praised, stud­ied and writ­ten about — or more panned, damned and black­list­ed.” At the time, “audi­ences in gen­er­al were put off by the ‘arty’ pho­tog­ra­phy, over­lap­ping dia­logue, unusu­al cut­ting and Welles’s pen­chant for inject­ing star­tling and often irri­tat­ing sound effects. It was years before the ‘new­ness’ of the Kane style wore off and gained wide­spread accep­tance,” and even absorbed into the main­stream.

And those from 1950–1997:

  1. Lawrence of Ara­bia (Fred­die Young, 1962)
  2. The God­fa­ther (Gor­don Willis, 1971)
  3. 2001: A Space Odyssey (Geof­frey Unworth, 1969)
  4. Days of Heav­en (Nés­tor Almen­dros, 1978)
  5. Schindler’s List (Janusz Kamin­s­ki, 1993)
  6. Apoc­a­lypse Now (Vit­to­rio Storaro, 1979)
  7. The Con­formist (Vit­to­rio Storaro, 1970)
  8. Rag­ing Bull (Michael Chap­man, 1980)
  9. Blade Run­ner (Jor­dan Cro­nen­weth, 1982)
  10. Touch of Evil (Rus­sell Met­ty, 1958)

Turn­er calls Lawrence of Ara­bia “per­haps the crown­ing achieve­ment in the long and illus­tri­ous career of direc­tor of pho­tog­ra­phy Fred­er­ick A. Young,” nam­ing as its most famous sin­gle image “the lin­ger­ing scene in which Omar Sharif, rid­ing a camel, is first seen as a tiny spot in a mirage on the hori­zon. In the fore­ground, Lawrence (Peter O’Toole) and an Arab youth are draw­ing water from a well when they notice the wob­bly, dis­tort­ed shape com­ing toward them. Shim­mer­ing in waves of heat and strange­ly liq­uid col­ors, the rid­er steadi­ly approach­es the well. As he gets clos­er, he is still indis­tinct, but the omi­nous thump­ing of the camel’s feet can be heard. Sharif final­ly emerges from the mirage, rais­es his rifle and shoots the Arab. The long scene car­ries a strong ele­ment of dread and sus­pense.”

Final­ly, here are the results from 1998–2008:

  1. Amélie (Bruno Del­bon­nel, 2001)
  2. Chil­dren of Men (Emmanuel Lubez­ki, 2006)
  3. Sav­ing Pri­vate Ryan (Janusz Kamin­s­ki, 1998)
  4. There Will Be Blood (Robert Elswit, 2007)
  5. No Coun­try for Old Men (Roger Deakins, 2007)
  6. Fight Club (Jeff Cro­nen­weth, 1999)
  7. The Dark Knight (Wal­ly Pfis­ter, 2008)
  8. Road to Perdi­tion (Con­rad L. Hall, 2002)
  9. City of God (Cidade de Deus) (César Char­lone, 2003)
  10. Amer­i­can Beau­ty (Con­rad L. Hall, 1999)

The Amer­i­can Soci­ety of Cin­e­matog­ra­phers quotes Del­bon­nel on Amélie’s visu­al vic­to­ry: “This is real hon­or for me, espe­cial­ly con­sid­er­ing the oth­er movies in this list. These are some of the finest cin­e­matog­ra­phers, and I’m not sure I deserve to be among them, but I am very hap­py to be. They are all explor­ers.” And in that, he sums up why, when we want to know what movies to watch, we should ask the peo­ple who make movies: their real com­pe­ti­tion lies not in sim­ply gen­er­at­ing beau­ty, but in lead­ing the art form into ter­ri­to­ry unknown.

You can watch sev­er­al films on the lists–Bat­tle­ship Potemkin, Sun­rise and Metrop­o­lis–above. Find more great films in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

via Hit­flix

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The 100 Most Mem­o­rable Shots in Cin­e­ma Over the Past 100 Years

A Mes­mer­iz­ing Super­cut of the First and Final Frames of 55 Movies, Played Side by Side

Free: F. W. Murnau’s Sun­rise, the 1927 Mas­ter­piece Vot­ed the 5th Best Movie of All Time

Metrop­o­lis: Watch a Restored Ver­sion of Fritz Lang’s Mas­ter­piece (1927)

Watch Bat­tle­ship Potemkin and Oth­er Free Sergei Eisen­stein Films

The 10 Great­est Films of All Time Accord­ing to 358 Film­mak­ers

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Monty Python’s Philosopher’s Football Match: The Epic Showdown Between the Greeks & Germans (1972)

Last year, we wit­nessed a very tense, unpleas­ant show­down between Ger­many and Greece as the top­most nation in the Euro­pean Union drove its most indebt­ed coun­try to make painful, per­haps pun­ish­ing com­pro­mis­es. In one analy­sis of this hard-to-watch eco­nom­ic humiliation—for Greece, that is—The Wash­ing­ton Post made use of a much more light­heart­ed con­test between the two coun­tries, one in which Greece emerged the vic­tor after scor­ing the only goal of the match.

The soc­cer match, that is, or, if you must, football—played between Ger­man and Greek philoso­phers in 1972 and staged by Mon­ty Python. On one side, Hegel, Leib­niz, Kant, Marx, Niet­zsche, Wittgen­stein, and more (includ­ing actu­al foot­baller Franz Beck­en­bauer, a “sur­prise inclu­sion”)… on the oth­er, Socrates, Archimedes, Her­a­cli­tus, Pla­to, Dem­ocri­tus, Epicte­tus, etc…. On the side­lines of this show­down between West­ern schools of thought, Con­fu­cius served as the ref­er­ee. Even after that sin­gle goal, scored after two full halves of mean­der­ing, the two teams came into conflict—in heat­ed argu­ments about the nature of exis­tence….

I won’t con­tin­ue to bore you by explain­ing the gags—watch the sketch above. It’s great fun, if by some chance you haven’t seen it, and great fun to watch again if you have.

Filmed at the Grün­walder Sta­dion in Munich (pre­sum­ably giv­ing the Ger­mans home field advan­tage), the sketch, Ter­ry Jones recalled many years lat­er, is about the “clash of oppo­sites.” No, not the two Euro­pean coun­tries, but the oppo­sites of sports and intel­lec­tu­al exer­cise. “You can’t think about foot­ball too much,” said Jones, “you just have to do it.” This proves chal­leng­ing for our deep thinkers.

Why foot­ball? Because it’s “a team activ­i­ty,” Jones answered, “which phi­los­o­phy, as a gen­er­al rule, isn’t.” Well, most­ly. The Pythons weren’t the first to make the “incon­gru­ous” con­nec­tion. Albert Camus played the game, as a goal­keep­er, and played it quite well by all accounts. He once wrote, “all I know most sure­ly about moral­i­ty and oblig­a­tions, I owe to foot­ball.”

The injunc­tion to “just do it” wouldn’t present too much of a chal­lenge for an exis­ten­tial­ist, one would think. Philoso­pher Julian Bag­gi­ni puts the Pythons firm­ly in that school of thought, their take on it a “coher­ent, Anglo-Sax­on” one. Indeed, like Camus, the British come­di­ans rec­og­nized the absur­di­ty of life, and showed us that “the right response is to laugh at it.” They also showed us that phi­los­o­phy could be hilar­i­ous, and made a clas­sic sketch aca­d­e­mics could use to refute charges they’re a dour, humor­less lot.

It should come as no sur­prise that the Python “most inter­est­ed in the sub­ject” of phi­los­o­phy and com­e­dy was John Cleese—whom we’ve fea­tured here many times for his tal­ents in com­bin­ing the two. Cleese, writes Bag­gi­ni, is “on record as say­ing that com­e­dy and deep thought can go hand in hand. ‘You and I could talk about the mean­ing of life, or edu­ca­tion, or mar­riage,’ Cleese once told a jour­nal­ist, ‘and we could be laugh­ing a lot, and it doesn’t mean that what we’re talk­ing about isn’t seri­ous.’”

Inspired by the Pythons’ serio-com­ic love of learn­ing, Bag­gi­ni, and oth­er philoso­phers like A.C. Grayling and Nigel War­bur­ton, along with come­di­ans, his­to­ri­ans, and jour­nal­ists, decid­ed to restage the Ger­many-Greek match in 2010. Where the Pythons indi­rect­ly boost­ed intel­lec­tu­al pur­suits in the course of mock­ing them, the par­tic­i­pants in this “game”—such as it was—explicitly sought to pro­mote “Rea­son­ing,” the “fourth R” in “Read­ing, W®iting, and A®ithmetic.”

See them bum­ble around on the pitch here and gen­er­al­ly have a good time mak­ing philo­soph­i­cal fools of them­selves to the strains of Mon­ty Python’s row­dy anthem “The Philoso­pher’s Song.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mon­ty Python Sings “The Philosopher’s Song,” Reveal­ing the Drink­ing Habits of Great Euro­pean Thinkers

John Cleese Touts the Val­ue of Phi­los­o­phy in 22 Pub­lic Ser­vice Announce­ments for the Amer­i­can Philo­soph­i­cal Asso­ci­a­tion

Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Re-Imag­ined as an Epic, Main­stream Hol­ly­wood Film

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

A Clever Supercut of Writers Struggling with Writer’s Block in 53 Films: From Barton Fink to The Royal Tenenbaums

Quite patient­ly, Ben Watts cut apart and stitched togeth­er scenes from 53 films (find a com­plete list here) show­ing char­ac­ters suf­fer­ing through writer’s block. Adap­ta­tion, Bar­ton Fink, Shake­speare in Love, The Roy­al Tenen­baums, and, yes, Throw Mom­ma From the Train–they’re among the films fea­tured in the 4‑minute super­cut above. If you give the clip a lit­tle time, you’ll see that the super­cut has an arc to it. It tells a tale, and has an end­ing that Hol­ly­wood would love.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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 AV Club

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch a 44-Minute Super­cut of Every Woody Allen Stam­mer, From Every Woody Allen Film

A Mes­mer­iz­ing Super­cut of the First and Final Frames of 55 Movies, Played Side by Side

Books in the Films of Wes Ander­son: A Super­cut for Bib­lio­philes

A Great Com­pi­la­tion of “The Lick” Found in Music Every­where: From Coltrane & Stravin­sky, to Christi­na Aguil­era

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Hear 90+ Episodes of Suspense, the Iconic Golden Age Radio Show Launched by Alfred Hitchcock

Amer­i­ca’s “Gold­en Age of Radio” last­ed from the wide house­hold adop­tion of wire­less sets in the 1920s until the onset of the tele­vi­sion era in the 1950s, pro­duc­ing a host of long-run­ning dra­mas, come­dies, and sci­ence-fic­tion shows still beloved by radio enthu­si­asts today. But few had a pres­ence in the zeit­geist like Sus­pense, which from 1942 to 1962 offered not just guar­an­teed thrills but high pro­duc­tion val­ues as well. In the show’s hey­day, that also meant hir­ing straight from Hol­ly­wood, for not just char­ac­ter voic­es but also high direc­to­r­i­al tal­ent.

Sus­pense’s very first episode came steered by the hand of no less a mas­ter of unease than Alfred Hitch­cock. “The con­di­tion agreed upon for Hitch­cock­’s appear­ance,” writes Mar­tin Grams, Jr. in Sus­pense: Twen­ty Years of Thrills and Chills, “was that CBS make a pitch to the lis­ten­ing audi­ence about his and [pro­duc­er Wal­ter] Wanger’s lat­est film, For­eign Cor­re­spon­dent. To add fla­vor to the deal, Wanger threw in Edmund Gwenn and Her­bert Mar­shall as part of the pack­age. All three men (includ­ing Hitch) would be seen in the upcom­ing film, which was due for a the­atri­cal release the next month.” Hitch­cock want­ed to adapt for Sus­pense’s pre­miere Marie Bel­loc Lown­des’ The Lodger, a sto­ry he’d pre­vi­ous­ly filmed silent in 1926.

Even if they’ve nev­er heard a sin­gle old-time radio broad­cast, most peo­ple who know of Orson Welles know that the man who made Cit­i­zen Kane also made a sig­nif­i­cant mark on the air­waves. He defined the tit­u­lar role of the mind-cloud­ing crime-fight­er The Shad­ow when that series pre­miered in 1937, and the very next year he aired his infa­mous­ly to0-believ­able Hal­loween adap­ta­tion of H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds. But Welles’ radio work con­tin­ued even after he launched the film career through which we’ve come to know him today, with pro­duc­tions such as a Sus­pense ver­sion of the play The Hitch-Hik­er in 1942.

Welles did­n’t just direct the adap­ta­tion but also starred in it, which he would do four times on the radio in total. “The Hitch-Hik­er was writ­ten for Orson Welles in the days when he was one of the mas­ter pro­duc­ers and actors in radio,” writes its author Lucille Fletch­er. “It was designed to pro­vide a vehi­cle not only for his famous voice, but for the orig­i­nal tech­niques of sound which became asso­ci­at­ed with his radio pre­sen­ta­tions.” Welles and his Mer­cury Play­ers “made of this script a haunt­ing study of the super­nat­ur­al, which can still raise hack­les along my own spine.” Both The Hitch-Hik­er and The Lodger count as high points in the two-decade run of Sus­pense, but if you lis­ten to the 90 oth­er episodes free at the Inter­net Archive (or by stream­ing the thin playlist above), you’ll feel hack­les raised along your own spine in plen­ty of oth­er ways as well.

Sus­pense will be added to our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear 22-Year-Old Orson Welles Star in The Shad­ow, the Icon­ic 1930s Super Crime­fight­er Radio Show

Stream 61 Hours of Orson Welles’ Clas­sic 1930s Radio Plays: War of the Worlds,Heart of Dark­ness & More

The War of the Worlds: Orson Welles’ 1938 Radio Dra­ma That Pet­ri­fied a Nation

Hear Aldous Hux­ley Read Brave New World. Plus 84 Clas­sic Radio Dra­mas from CBS Radio Work­shop (1956–57)

Dimen­sion X: The 1950s Sci­Fi Radio Show That Dra­ma­tized Sto­ries by Asi­mov, Brad­bury, Von­negut & More

X Minus One: More Clas­sic 1950s Sci-Fi Radio from Asi­mov, Hein­lein, Brad­bury & Dick

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

4 Hours of Charles Bukowski’s Riotous Readings and Rants

bukowski readings

Draw­ing by Graziano Ori­ga, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

An old man sits alone, rant­i­ng in a nasal­ly monot­o­nous drone. He breaks into rue­ful laugh­ter, threats of vio­lence, mock­ery, maudlin lament…. An angry drunk­en uncle cry­ing out into the wilder­ness of a Tues­day night ben­der? A tough guy left behind in the world, unable to stom­ach its restric­tions and blithe hypocrisies? A mad poet on his way to the grave? An every­man ram­bler whose seen-it-all can­dor and hardass sense of humor com­mand the com­mon people’s ear?

All of the above was beloved nov­el­ist, racon­teur, poet, and tren­chant essay­ist Charles Bukows­ki. It’s easy to car­i­ca­ture Bukows­ki for his life­long romance with booze, a dom­i­nant theme in near­ly all of his auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal­ly-inspired poems and sto­ries. But in writ­ing of the life an alco­holic artist, him­self, he also uncov­ered in extrem­is gen­er­al truths about human exis­tence that many peo­ple spend their lives try­ing to avoid. The pain, and solace, of lone­li­ness, rejec­tion, and self-doubt, the des­per­ate need for for­ti­tude in the face of seem­ing hope­less­ness.

Bukows­ki is not only a hero to so many would-be writ­ers because of his epic bar­room tales and rock-star-cal­iber drink­ing bouts. If that were so, his sto­ries might quick­ly grow tedious. What Bukows­ki had over the run-of-the-mill pub reg­u­lars was a sur­pris­ing amount of emo­tion­al vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty and self-aware­ness, and a desire to com­mu­ni­cate his expe­ri­ences with the same raw hon­esty as his lit­er­ary hero, Dos­to­evsky. Put sim­ply, Bukows­ki pos­sessed an abun­dance of what Keats called “neg­a­tive capa­bil­i­ty.”

He also had a good deal of luck. If even a hand­ful of the sto­ries he tells about his life are true, it’s a won­der he didn’t die sev­er­al times over. Take his recount­ing below of a live 1979 Van­cou­ver per­for­mance, footage of which became the doc­u­men­tary film There’s Gonna Be a God Damn Riot in Here. In a let­ter that year to a friend, he wrote:

Back from Cana­di­an read­ing. Took Lin­da. Have video tapes of the thing in col­or, runs about two hours. Saw it a cou­ple nights back. Not bad. Much fight­ing with the audi­ence. New poems. Dirty stuff and the oth­er kind. Drank before the read­ing and 3 bot­tles of red wine dur­ing but read the poems out. Dumb par­ty after­wards. I fell down sev­er­al times while danc­ing. They got me back on the ele­va­tor back at the hotel and I kept hol­ler­ing for anoth­er bot­tle. Poor Lin­da. After­wards in hotel room, kept falling. Final­ly fell against the radi­a­tor and cracked a 6 inch gash in skull. Blood every­where. Hell of a trip…Nice Cana­di­an peo­ple who set up read­ing, though. Not poet types at all. All in all, a good show…

The video tapes were Bukowski’s idea—he insist­ed on the record­ing as a con­di­tion for mak­ing the trip. And you can hear audio of the entire per­for­mance at the top on Spo­ti­fy (get Spo­ti­fy’s soft­ware here; or lis­ten on Youtube here). Also on the playlist are two oth­er Bukows­ki spo­ken-word albums, Charles Bukows­ki Mas­ter Col­lec­tion, and Hostage. The lat­ter, writes Ama­zon, “has to be one of the row­di­est poet­ry records ever released, which makes sense con­sid­er­ing how drunk Bukows­ki plain­ly is.” But “the drink nev­er gets in the way of his deliv­ery,” and his tough-but-ten­der verse comes through plain­ly, even if it seems like there might be a riot any minute. Only Bukows­ki could have pulled this off and lived to tell the tale.

Find these Bukows­ki read­ings added to our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lis­ten to Charles Bukows­ki Poems Being Read by Bukows­ki Him­self & the Great Tom Waits

Watch “Beer,” a Mind-Warp­ing Ani­ma­tion of Charles Bukowski’s 1971 Poem Hon­or­ing His Favorite Drink

Four Charles Bukows­ki Poems Ani­mat­ed

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

Al Jaffee, the Longest Working Cartoonist in History, Shows How He Invented the Iconic “Folds-Ins” for Mad Magazine

Keep copy­ing those Sun­day fun­nies, kids, and one day you may beat Al Jaf­fee’s record to become the Longest Work­ing Car­toon­ist in His­to­ry.

You’ll need to take extra good care of your health, giv­en that the Guin­ness Book of World Records noti­fied Jaf­fee, above, of his hon­orif­ic on his 95th birth­day.

Much of his leg­endary career has been spent at Mad Mag­a­zine, where he is best known as the father of Fold-ins.

Con­ceived of as the satir­i­cal inverse of the expen­sive-to-pro­duce, 4‑color cen­ter­folds that were a sta­ple of glossier mags, the first Fold-In spoofed pub­lic per­cep­tion of actress Eliz­a­beth Tay­lor as a man-eater. Jaffe had fig­ured it as a one-issue gag, but edi­tor Al Feld­stein had oth­er ideas, demand­ing an imme­di­ate fol­low up for the June 1964 issue.

Jaffe oblig­ed with the Richard Nixon Fold-in, which set the tone for the oth­er 450 he has hand ren­dered in sub­se­quent issues.

Al Jaffee Mad

For those who made it to adult­hood with­out the sin­gu­lar plea­sure of creas­ing Mad’s back cov­er, you can dig­i­tal­ly fold-in a few sam­ples using this nifty inter­ac­tive fea­ture, cour­tesy of The New York Times.

With all due respect, it’s not the same, just enough to give a feel for the thrill of draw­ing the out­er­most pan­el in to reveal the visu­al punch­line lurk­ing with­in the larg­er pic­ture. The print edi­tion demands pre­ci­sion fold­ing on the reader’s part, if one is to get a sat­is­fac­to­ry answer to the rhetor­i­cal text posed at the out­set.

Jaffe must be even more pre­cise in his cal­cu­la­tions. In an inter­view with Sean Edgar of Paste Mag­a­zine, he described how he turned a Repub­li­can pri­ma­ry stage shared by Nel­son Rock­e­feller and Bar­ry Gold­wa­ter into a sur­prise por­trait of the man who would become pres­i­dent five years hence:

The first thing I did was draw Richard Nixon’s face, not in great detail, just a very rough estab­lish­ment of where the eyes, nose and mouth would be, and the gen­er­al shape. I did an exag­ger­at­ed car­i­ca­ture of Nixon and then I cut it in half, and moved it apart. Once the face was cut in half, it didn’t have the integri­ty of a face any­more — it was sort of a half of face. Then I looked at what the eyes were like, and I said, ‘what can I make out of the eyes?’ He had these heavy eye­brows. I played around with many things, but I had to keep in mind all the time what the big pic­ture was. So there they (Gold­wa­ter and Rock­e­feller) were up on a stage some­where, doing a debate, and I thought, ‘What kind of stage prop can I put along­side these guys that would seem nat­ur­al there?’ I decid­ed that I could make eyes out of the lamps, and as far as the nose was con­cerned, that could come out of the fig­ures — their cloth­ing. Then I fig­ured the mouth; I could use some sort of table that could give me those two sides. That’s how it all came about. You have to have some kind of visu­al imag­i­na­tion to see the pos­si­bil­i­ties. I had to con­cen­trate on stuff that looked nat­ur­al on a stage.

Each Fold-In is a reflec­tion of the zeit­geist. Past pre­oc­cu­pa­tions have includ­ed Viet­nam, fem­i­nism, ille­gal drug use and, more recent­ly, the Jer­sey Shore.

via Gothamist

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Gallery of Mad Magazine’s Rol­lick­ing Fake Adver­tise­ments from the 1960s

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

A Look Inside Char­lie Heb­do, Their Cre­ative Process & the Mak­ing of a Fate­ful Car­toon

Chuck Jones’ 9 Rules For Draw­ing Road Run­ner Car­toons, or How to Cre­ate a Min­i­mal­ist Mas­ter­piece

Car­toon­ists Draw Their Famous Car­toon Char­ac­ters While Blind­fold­ed (1947)

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

The Thomas Pynchon Crossword Puzzle

pynchon crossword

Fun. For Thomas Pyn­chon’s birth­day, the New York Pub­lic Library cre­at­ed a Pyn­chon cross­word puz­zle. You can fill out the cross­word online, or down­load the PDF to print.  Look for the answers on the NYPL web site today.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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!

Learn Calligraphy from Lloyd Reynolds, the Teacher of Steve Jobs’ Own Famously Inspiring Calligraphy Teacher

The sto­ry has, over time, solid­i­fied into one of the columns of Steve Jobs lore: in the ear­ly 1970s, the man who would found Apple left for Reed Col­lege. But before long, not want­i­ng to spend any more of his par­ents’ mon­ey on tuition (and per­haps not tem­pera­men­tal­ly com­pat­i­ble with the struc­ture of high­er edu­ca­tion any­way), he offi­cial­ly dropped out, couch-surfed through friends’ pads, lived on free meals ladled out by Hare Krish­nas, con­tin­ued to audit a vari­ety of class­es, and gen­er­al­ly lived the pro­to­type tech­no-neo-hip­pie lifestyle Sil­i­con Val­ley has con­tin­ued relent­less­ly to refine.

Per­haps the least like­ly of those class­es was one on cal­lig­ra­phy, taught by Trap­pist monk and cal­lig­ra­ph­er Robert Pal­ladi­no. More than thir­ty years lat­er, deliv­er­ing a now-famous Stan­ford com­mence­ment speech, Jobs recalled his time in the cal­lig­ra­phy class: “None of this had even a hope of any prac­ti­cal appli­ca­tion in my life. But 10 years lat­er, when we were design­ing the first Mac­in­tosh com­put­er, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first com­put­er with beau­ti­ful typog­ra­phy.”

And what of the cal­lig­ra­phy teacher who made that pos­si­ble? “Pal­ladi­no, who died in late Feb­ru­ary at 83, joined the Trap­pist order of monks in New Mex­i­co in 1950, accord­ing to a 2003 pro­file in Reed Mag­a­zine,” writes the Wash­ing­ton Post’s Niraj Chok­shi. “Just 17 at the time, his hand­writ­ing attract­ed the atten­tion of the monastery scribe, who worked with him on his art. Five years lat­er, Pal­ladi­no moved to Lafayette, Ore., where local artists brought news of a skilled ama­teur to Lloyd Reynolds, an icon in the field and the cre­ator of Reed’s cal­lig­ra­phy pro­gram.”

Now you, too, can receive instruc­tion from Reynolds, who in 1968 starred in a series on the Ore­gon Edu­ca­tion Tele­vi­sion Ser­vice’s pro­gram Men Who Teach, shoot­ing twen­ty half-hour broad­casts on ital­ic cal­lig­ra­phy and hand­writ­ing. Eight years lat­er — about the time Jobs co-found­ed Apple with Steve Woz­ni­ak — he re-shot the series in col­or, and you can watch that ver­sion almost in its entire­ty with the playlist at the top of the post. (Reed has also made some relat­ed instruc­tion­al mate­ri­als avail­able.) You may feel the temp­ta­tion to turn all of Reynolds’ lessons on the art of writ­ing toward your goal of becom­ing the next Steve Jobs. But try to resist that impulse and appre­ci­ate it for its own nature, which Jobs him­self described as “beau­ti­ful, his­tor­i­cal, artis­ti­cal­ly sub­tle in a way that sci­ence can’t cap­ture.”

We’ll add these vin­tage lessons to our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Steve Jobs on Life: “Stay Hun­gry, Stay Fool­ish”

Steve Jobs Nar­rates the First “Think Dif­fer­ent” Ad (Nev­er Aired)

Steve Jobs Mus­es on What’s Wrong with Amer­i­can Edu­ca­tion, 1995

The Art of Hand­writ­ing as Prac­ticed by Famous Artists: Geor­gia O’Keeffe, Jack­son Pol­lock, Mar­cel Duchamp, Willem de Koon­ing & More

Font Based on Sig­mund Freud’s Hand­writ­ing Com­ing Cour­tesy of Suc­cess­ful Kick­starter Cam­paign

One of World’s Old­est Books Print­ed in Mul­ti-Col­or Now Opened & Dig­i­tized for the First Time

Dis­cov­er What Shakespeare’s Hand­writ­ing Looked Like, and How It Solved a Mys­tery of Author­ship

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hear Dante’s Inferno Read Aloud by Influential Poet & Translator John Ciardi (1954)

the-inferno-canto-6-1

On the 750th birth­day of Dante Alighieri—com­pos­er of the dizzy­ing­ly epic medieval poem the Divine Com­e­dyEng­lish pro­fes­sor John Klein­er point­ed to one way of help­ing under­grad­u­ate stu­dents under­stand the Ital­ian poet’s impor­tance: an “obvi­ous com­par­i­son” with Shake­speare. They both occu­py sin­gu­lar­ly defin­i­tive places in their respec­tive lan­guages and lit­er­a­tures as well as in world lit­er­a­ture, Klein­er sug­gest­ed, and indeed no less a crit­i­cal per­son­age than T.S. Eliot once wrote, “Dante and Shake­speare divide the world between them. There is no third.”

And yet, those who know the epic Eng­lish poems Par­adise Lost and Par­adise Regained—heav­i­ly influ­enced by Dante’s work—may find John Mil­ton a more apt com­par­i­son. Mil­ton also made com­plex uses of the­ol­o­gy as polit­i­cal alle­go­ry, and wrote polit­i­cal tracts as pas­sion­ate and res­olute as his poet­ry. Both Mil­ton and Dante were intense­ly par­ti­san writ­ers who expand­ed their world­ly con­flicts into the eter­nal realms of heav­en and hell.

Like Mil­ton, Dante’s for­ma­tive polit­i­cal expe­ri­ence involved a civ­il war—in his case between two fac­tions known as the Guelphs and the Ghi­bellines (then fur­ther between the “White Guelphs” and the “Black Guelphs.”) And like Mil­ton, Dante had spe­cial access to the pow­er­ful of his day. Unlike the Eng­lish poet and defend­er of regi­cide, how­ev­er, Dante was a strict monar­chist who even went so far as to pro­pose a glob­al monar­chy under Holy Roman Emper­or Hen­ry VII. And while Mil­ton veiled his polit­i­cal ref­er­ences in alle­gor­i­cal sym­bol­ism, Dante bold­ly named his adver­saries in his poem, and sub­ject­ed them to gris­ly, inven­tive tor­tures in his vivid depic­tion of hell.

Indeed, Dante’s lit­er­ary per­se­cu­tion of his oppo­nents presents one of the fore­most dif­fi­cul­ties for mod­ern read­ers of the Infer­no. In addi­tion to cat­a­logu­ing the num­ber of clas­si­cal and mytho­log­i­cal char­ac­ters Dante encoun­ters in his infer­nal sojourn, we must wade through pages of con­tex­tu­al notes to find out who var­i­ous con­tem­po­rary char­ac­ters were, and why they have been con­demned to their respec­tive lev­els and tor­ments. Most of his named his­tor­i­cal sufferers—including Pope Boni­face VII—had died by the time of his writ­ing, but some still lived. Of two such cas­es, one online guide notes humor­ous­ly, “Dante explains their pres­ence in Hell by say­ing that they were so sin­ful that the dev­il did not wait for them to die before snatch­ing their souls…. Obvi­ous­ly libel laws were not that strict in Medieval Italy.”

The Infer­no treats the exis­tence of hell and the griev­ous sins that con­sign its inhab­i­tants there with the utmost seri­ous­ness. And yet, the pres­ence of Dante’s many per­son­al and polit­i­cal ene­mies injects no small amount of dark humor into the poem, such that one can read it as polit­i­cal satire as well as an inge­nious mar­riage of medieval Catholic the­ol­o­gy and phi­los­o­phy with the poet­ry of court­ly love. The rich­ness of the Divine Com­e­dy’s rhetor­i­cal world invites a great many inter­pre­ta­tions, but it also demands much of its read­er. To meet its chal­lenge, we might lean on excel­lent ref­er­ence guides like the online World of Dante, which offers a ful­ly anno­tat­ed text in Eng­lish and Ital­ian, as well as maps, charts, and dia­grams of the hell­ish world, and visu­al inter­pre­ta­tions like Gus­tave Doré’s illus­tra­tion from Can­to 6 at the top.

And we might lis­ten to the poem read aloud. Here, we have one read­ing of Can­tos I‑VIII of the Infer­no by poet John Cia­r­di, from his trans­la­tion of the poem for a Signet Clas­sics Edi­tion. Cia­r­di (known as “Mr. Poet” dur­ing his day) made his record­ing in 1954 for Smith­son­ian Folk­ways records, and the lin­er notes of the LP, which you can down­load here, con­tain the excerpt­ed “verse ren­der­ing for the mod­ern read­er.” The trans­la­tion pre­serves Dante’s terza rima in very elo­quent, yet acces­si­ble lan­guage, fit­ting giv­en Dan­te’s own use and defense of the ver­nac­u­lar. You can hear the com­plete read­ing on Spo­ti­fy (down­load the soft­ware here) or on Youtube just above.

Cia­rdi’s read­ing will be added to our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

You can also find a course on Dante (from Yale) in our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Free Course on Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

Mœbius Illus­trates Dante’s Par­adiso

Artists Illus­trate Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy Through the Ages: Doré, Blake, Bot­ti­cel­li, Mœbius & More

William Blake’s Last Work: Illus­tra­tions for Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy (1827)

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


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