Google Revisits the Fall of the Iron Curtain in New Online Exhibition

I like to col­lect sounds while trav­el­ing. A few favorites that come to mind include the whine of scoot­ers buzzing down the streets of Paris, the calm female voice announc­ing the next stop on the Prague Metro and the clink clink of peo­ple chip­ping away chunks of the Berlin Wall.

That was 1990, just a few months after mil­lions of Germans—from both sides of the wall—succeeded in end­ing the East Ger­man regime through street protests.

The Google Cul­tur­al Insti­tute cap­tures this amaz­ing peri­od of recent his­to­ry with The Fall of the Iron Cur­tain, a new col­lec­tion of his­tor­i­cal doc­u­mentsvideos and pho­tos curat­ed by Niall Fer­gu­son, an emi­nent Har­vard his­to­ri­an.

The 1980s saw the Cold War come to an end with a wave of cit­i­zen protests that swept across Europe. Google’s col­lec­tion includes 13 exhibits that begin with Poland’s Sol­i­dar­i­ty Move­ment but then con­sid­ers the his­to­ry and sig­nif­i­cance of the Berlin Wall.

Google part­nered with major Ger­man and Pol­ish muse­ums to cre­ate the exhibits so the expe­ri­ence is rich with con­text, includ­ing inter­views with his­to­ri­ans and images from the pop­u­lar cul­ture of the time.

Fol­low the riv­et­ing events of Decem­ber 14, 1989 as Roman­ian cit­i­zens crowd­ed Maria Plaza in Timisoara call­ing for lead­ers Nico­lae and Ele­na Ceauces­cu to step down. By evening the crowd filled all of the roads off the plaza and the mil­i­tary opened fire, killing 62 peo­ple. The peri­od of the Ceauces­cu tri­al and exe­cu­tion is brought to life in anoth­er exhib­it with images and inter­views.

The exhibits con­clude with the rapid accel­er­a­tion of events that led to the fall of the Berlin Wall itself.

Each exhib­it is rich and com­plete with anec­dotes, includ­ing a diary of life dur­ing Ger­man reuni­fi­ca­tion.

Speak­ing of col­lect­ing sounds while trav­el­ing, check out the Pink Floyd’s live per­for­mance we brought you of The Wall in east­ern Berlin, a mere eight months after the Wall had come down.

Kate Rix writes about dig­i­tal media and edu­ca­tion. You can con­tact her and find more of her work at and thenifty.blogspot.com.

The Creators Project Presents the Future of Art and Design, Brought to You by Intel and Vice Magazine

The Cre­ators Project, a col­lab­o­ra­tion between Intel and Vice Mag­a­zine, pro­duces behind-the-scenes short films with con­tem­po­rary artists, musi­cians, and film­mak­ers. Call­ing itself “a glob­al cel­e­bra­tion of art and tech­nol­o­gy,” the three-year-old project offers per­haps the best way to keep up with incred­i­ble advances in visu­al and audio tech­nol­o­gy in the arts. The project also spon­sors new work (from, for exam­ple, visu­al artists Mick Rock and Bar­ney Clay and musi­cians J. Space­man and Karen O) and hosts glob­al events and meet-ups.

I per­son­al­ly check in with the project’s YouTube chan­nel on a semi-dai­ly basis, and I nev­er fail to find some­thing cap­ti­vat­ing, whether an intro­duc­tion to a new artist or new work from an old favorite (if you pre­fer Vimeo, they’ve got you cov­ered there too). Most recent­ly I’ve dis­cov­ered the aston­ish­ing work of a per­for­mance artist/photographer from Bei­jing, Li Wei, whose work involves Buster Keaton-style stunts—or, more pre­cise­ly, Kung Fu-film high-wire action—captured on cam­era in ver­ti­go-induc­ing images of impos­si­bil­i­ty. In the short film above, Li Wei walks us through his process and his phi­los­o­phy, which begins with the unset­tling notion, “We are all con­trolled by some­one else. Our thoughts and actions are con­trolled by unseen forces.” His work is a high-tech attempt to out­wit one of those forces for brief moments, ren­dered time­less by pho­tog­ra­phy and the mag­ic of Pho­to­shop.

In the video below, a for­mer aero­space engi­neer for NASA, James Pow­der­ly, now occu­pies strange ter­ri­to­ry between design and engi­neer­ing. Inspired by anoth­er cor­po­rate engi­neer­ing dropout, Pow­der­ley left aero­space engi­neer­ing for a res­i­den­cy at New York art and tech­nol­o­gy cen­ter Eye­beam to refine his visu­al aes­thet­ic, which he’s tak­en all over the world.

Final­ly, in the short video below, The Cre­ators Project vis­it­ed Min­Suk Cho, founder of futur­is­tic Seoul archi­tec­ture firm Mass Stud­ies. Cho describes the vision and pur­pose of Mass Stud­ies over a mind-blow­ing series of images of archi­tec­tur­al designs from worlds you’ve nev­er seen before but (if you’re like me) always hoped exist­ed some­where.

http://vimeo.com/44749711

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.

Reefer Madness, 1936’s Most Unintentionally Hilarious “Anti-Drug” Exploitation Film, Free Online

reefermadness

The motion pic­ture you are about to wit­ness may star­tle you. It would not have been pos­si­ble, oth­er­wise, to suf­fi­cient­ly empha­size the fright­ful toll of the new drug men­ace which is destroy­ing the youth of Amer­i­ca in alarm­ing­ly increas­ing num­bers. Mar­i­hua­na is that drug — a vio­lent nar­cot­ic — an unspeak­able scourge — The Real Pub­lic Ene­my Num­ber One! Or at least that’s how the open­ing crawl of Reefer Mad­ness tells it.

Also known, in oth­er forms, as Tell Your Chil­dren, The Burn­ing Ques­tion, Dope Addict, Doped Youth and Love Mad­ness, the film has spent the past forty years accru­ing cult cred­i­bil­i­ty on the (high­ly over­lap­ping) mid­night-movie and cannabis-cul­ture cir­cuits. That pecu­liar spelling of what we know as mar­i­jua­na reveals only a whiff of its dis­tinc­tive blend of hand-wring­ing sala­cious­ness, aggres­sive square­ness, and sheer igno­rance. Kei­th Stroup, founder of the Nation­al Orga­ni­za­tion for the Reform of Mar­i­jua­na Laws, spot­ted the movie’s unin­tend­ed comedic poten­tial back in 1971, when he bought a print and began col­lege-cam­pus screen­ings. It today draws more pro­longed, dis­be­liev­ing guf­faws and chor­tles than ever before.

Since Reefer Mad­ness has fall­en into the pub­lic domain, you can hold your own mid­night screen­ing near­ly with­out effort by watch­ing it online. Behold the deeply askew motion pic­ture that began as a church-fund­ed moral­i­ty play, got into the hands of ear­ly exploita­tion-film icon Dwain Esper (he of 1934’s Mani­ac, 1937’s How to Undress in Front of Your Hus­band, and 1938’s Sex Mad­ness), and wound up as an uproar­i­ous main­stay of hazy uni­ver­si­ty audi­to­ria. While the film clear­ly knows noth­ing of mar­i­jua­na or its real effects — or, seem­ing­ly, of the real effects of any nar­cot­ic — that does­n’t stop its script from yield­ing a host of res­o­nant lines. These run from the “straight­for­ward ques­tion” of whether “you have, per­haps unwill­ing­ly, acquired a cer­tain habit through asso­ci­a­tion with cer­tain unde­sir­able peo­ple” to the rec­ol­lec­tion of hav­ing been “high enough to take over the marines and the navy” to that immor­tal imper­a­tive, â€śBring me some reefers!” Laugh if you must, but bear in mind the final words from the solemn Dr. Car­roll: “The next tragedy may be that of your daugh­ter’s… or your son’s… or yours… or yours… or yours!”

You can always find Reefer Mad­ness in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed con­tent:

This is What Oliv­er Sacks Learned on LSD and Amphet­a­mines

Bela Lugosi Dis­cuss­es His Drug Habit as He Leaves the Hos­pi­tal in 1955

Beyond Tim­o­thy Leary: 2002 Film Revis­its His­to­ry of LSD

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

Monsterpiece Theater Presents Waiting for Elmo, Calls BS on Samuel Beckett

Through­out the years, Sesame Street aired 37 episodes of Mon­ster­piece The­ater, a fun-lov­ing par­o­dy of PBS’s long-run­ning dra­ma series Mas­ter­piece The­atre. In this par­tic­u­lar episode, the host Alis­tair Cook­ie (aka Cook­ie Mon­ster) intro­duces “a mod­ern mas­ter­piece, a play so mod­ern and so bril­liant that it makes absolute­ly no sense to any­body.” Yes, we’re talk­ing about Wait­ing for Elmo, a two-minute clip that lam­poons — or dare I say polite­ly calls bull$hit on — Samuel Beck­et­t’s absur­dist 1953 play, Wait­ing for Godot. If you’ve nev­er expe­ri­enced the orig­i­nal play, you can watch a stag­ing that Beck­ett direct­ed in 1985 or read the orig­i­nal play here.

In the mean­time, it unfor­tu­nate­ly looks like we’re all going to be wait­ing for Elmo a bit longer â€¦ or, then again, maybe not.

via Bib­liok­lept

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Venice is Way Under Water…

Venice is made up of 124 islands, 183 canals and 438 bridges, with water con­stant­ly flow­ing in and around it. As the video below explains, the city has his­tor­i­cal­ly devel­oped an elab­o­rate way of defend­ing itself against the seas. But occa­sion­al­ly moth­er nature wins out, and floods take their toll on the city. This year it’s par­tic­u­lar­ly bad. Heavy rains and strong winds have left Venice 70% sub­merged, with water lev­els reach­ing 60 inch­es. It marks the sixth worst flood record­ed in the past 150 years. You can find footage above, and a pret­ty remark­able pho­to gallery over at The Atlantic. And then anoth­er  com­pelling set at Boston.com.

via @eugenephoto

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Meryl Streep Shrooms Her Way Through Modern Alice in Wonderland

Beware the Jub­jub bird…

Beware post-70s the­atri­cal exper­i­men­ta­tion…

Beware a chil­dren’s clas­sic — Alice in Won­der­land, in a mod­ern musi­cal update …

Beware a grown woman cast as a lit­tle girl…

On the oth­er hand, what if we’re talk­ing about Meryl Streep? Specif­i­cal­ly the Deer Hunter / Kramer vs. Kramer-era Streep, star­ring in Alice in Con­certplay­wright Eliz­a­beth Swa­dos and direc­tor Joe Pap­p’s 1981 adap­ta­tion of Lewis Car­rol­l’s orig­i­nal trip­py tale. If Alice at the Palace, a slight­ly restaged for tele­vi­sion ver­sion, is any evi­dence, Amer­i­ca’s Most Seri­ous Actress had a blast, bound­ing around in bag­gy over­alls, doing every­thing in her con­sid­er­able pow­er to upend the pris­sy pinafore-sport­ing Dis­ney stan­dard. She jigged. She pout­ed. She slew the Jab­ber­wock and almost imme­di­ate­ly regret­ted it.

Not sur­pris­ing­ly, giv­en the con­text, she also got to play stoned. Her spacey mean­der­ings ush­ered in the most fan­tas­ti­cal­ly para­noid inter­pre­ta­tion of the Jab­ber­wocky you’re ever like­ly to hear, cour­tesy of a sup­port­ing ensem­ble that includ­ed Mark Linn-Bak­er and the late Michael Jeter. Sud­den­ly, that which has long proved mad­den­ing starts to make sense.

It’s  a feat all around.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Pho­to: The Real Alice in Won­der­land Cir­ca 1862

Alice in Won­der­land: The 1903 Orig­i­nal Film

Lewis Car­rol­l’s Alice in Won­der­land avail­able in our Free Audio Books and Free eBooks col­lec­tions.

Watch Night of the Living Dead, the Seminal Zombie Movie, Free Online

Hal­loween has long since passed, grant­ed. But giv­en the over­abun­dance of Christ­mas dec­o­ra­tions even now aris­ing all around us, a brac­ing splash of hor­ror won’t go amiss. This goes dou­ble when the splash comes from George A. Romero’s Night of the Liv­ing Dead, urtext of the mod­ern zom­bie movie. It goes triple when you can watch it free online. (It’s been uploaded in high-def­i­n­i­tion video, no less, an absolute essen­tial for lo-fi, low-bud­get gorefests.) Though only released in 1968, the movie appears on the inter­net legal­ly due to its dis­trib­u­tor not indi­cat­ing their copy­right on the film prints. They removed the orig­i­nal title cards, which dis­played the con­sid­er­ably less catchy orig­i­nal title Night of the Flesh Eaters, but for­got to put the copy­right state­ment back in with the new ones.

If Night of the Liv­ing Dead strikes you as some­what dĂ©classĂ© for a site like Open Cul­ture, ask your­self whether you’ve actu­al­ly seen the movie. If you haven’t, then it seems you suf­fer from a vast gap — a vast, zom­bie filled gap — in your aware­ness of twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry cin­e­ma cul­ture. The film has even won insti­tu­tion­al val­i­da­tion. Just read the titles of these real arti­cles: “Rewrit­ing the Dead: The Ten­sion between Nos­tal­gia and Per­ver­sion in George A. Romero’s Night of the Liv­ing Dead,” “Inner-City Exhi­bi­tion and the Genre Film: Dis­trib­ut­ing Night of the Liv­ing Dead,” â€śGreek Gifts: Vision and Revi­sion in Two Ver­sions of Night of the Liv­ing Dead,” â€śA Mod­ern Med­i­ta­tion on Death: Iden­ti­fy­ing Bud­dhist Teach­ings in George A. Romero’s Night of the Liv­ing Dead.” If you’re look­ing for a PhD. the­sis top­ic, you may have turned up too late to this par­tic­u­lar movie. But it’ll cer­tain­ly take your mind off gift shop­ping.

You can always find Night of the Liv­ing Dead in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More. Look in the Noir, Thriller, Hor­ror and Hitch­cock sec­tion.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed con­tent:

Watch the Quin­tes­sen­tial Vam­pire Film Nos­fer­atu Free Online as Hal­loween Approach­es

Where Hor­ror Film Began: The Cab­i­net of Dr. Cali­gari

The First Unin­tend­ed Hor­ror Film (1895)?

Tro­ma Enter­tain­ment, the Mak­er of Acclaimed B‑Movies, Puts 150 Free Films on YouTube

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

Alfred Molina Plays Merciless Children’s Theatre Critic, Comedy Ensues

In 1997 David Sedaris pub­lished a fun­ny sto­ry called “Front Row Cen­ter with Thad­deus Bris­tol,” nar­rat­ed by a mer­ci­less dra­ma crit­ic who takes it upon him­self to expose the appalling­ly low the­atri­cal stan­dards of ele­men­tary and mid­dle school Christ­mas plays. The sto­ry is sub­ti­tled “Trite Christ­mas: Scotts­field­’s young hams offer the bland­est of hol­i­day fare,” and it goes like this:

In the role of Mary, six-year-old Shan­non Burke just bare­ly man­ages to pass her­self off as a vir­gin. A cloy­ing, preen­ing stage pres­ence, her per­for­mance seemed based on noth­ing but an annoy­ing pro­cliv­i­ty toward lift­ing her skirt and, on rare occa­sions, open­ing her eyes. As Joseph, sec­ond-grade stu­dent Dou­glas Traz­zare need­ed to be remind­ed that, although his char­ac­ter did not tech­ni­cal­ly impreg­nate the vir­gin moth­er, he should behave as though he were capa­ble of doing so. Thrown into the mix were a hand­ful of inat­ten­tive shep­herds and a trio of gift-bear­ing sev­en-year-olds who could prob­a­bly give the Three Stooges a run for their mon­ey. As for the light­ing, Sacred Heart Ele­men­tary chose to rely on noth­ing more than the flash­bulbs ignit­ed by the obnox­ious stage moth­ers and fathers who had cre­at­ed those zom­bies stag­ger­ing back and forth across the linoleum-floored din­ing hall. Under cer­tain cir­cum­stances parental pride is under­stand­able but it has no place in the the­ater, where it tends to encour­age a child to believe in a tal­ent that, more often than not, sim­ply fails to exist.

In the same spir­it of uncom­pro­mis­ing ser­vice to the sanc­ti­ty of the dra­mat­ic arts, Fun­ny Or Die intro­duces Arthur H. Cartwright, Chil­dren’s The­atre Crit­ic. (See above.) Alfred Moli­na plays the per­pet­u­al­ly scowl­ing Cartwright, who bul­lies a cast of pre­pu­bes­cent medi­oc­ri­ties. “The direc­tion was staid, the sets ram­shackle and the cos­tumes unremarkable–hardly worth the free admis­sion,” he says. “But we tried hard,” says a cute lit­tle girl. “Try telling that to the spir­its of Ibsen and Brecht,” says Cartwright, “because you’ve just tram­pled all over them!”

Speak­ing of Brecht, don’t miss our post from ear­li­er today: Bertolt Brecht Tes­ti­fies Before the House Un-Amer­i­can Activ­i­ties Com­mit­tee (1947)

via Gal­l­ey­Cat

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.