Time Out London Presents The 100 Best Horror Films: Start by Watching Four Horror Classics Free Online

NosferatuShadow

Though no more rife with for­mu­la and cliché than any oth­er genre, hor­ror movies gen­er­al­ly don’t fare well with crit­ics. Or as Time Out Lon­don’s Tom Hud­dle­ston puts it: “Hor­ror cin­e­ma is a mon­ster. Mis­treat­ed, mis­un­der­stood and sub­ject­ed to vicious crit­i­cal attacks.” This has nev­er slowed the fan­base for a moment, and as Hud­dle­ston also acknowl­edges, the genre offers “film­mak­ers out­side the main­stream” the chance to make “a big cul­tur­al splash.” Some of the most fas­ci­nat­ing and famous out­sider direc­tors in recent his­to­ry honed their craft in hor­ror: David Cro­nen­berg, John Car­pen­ter, arguably David Lynch. Then there are the vet­er­an cin­e­ma auteurs who made hor­ror films now and then, every one an instant clas­sic (Kubrick, Hitch­cock) and those rare fig­ures, the crit­i­cal­ly beloved hor­ror-auteurs like Guiller­mo del Toro, who has re-invig­o­rat­ed the genre with his fairy tale sen­si­bil­i­ties.

All of these direc­tors and sev­er­al dozen more turn up on Time Out Lon­don’s “The 100 best hor­ror films,” cho­sen by “hor­ror enthu­si­asts” and prac­ti­tion­ers like del Toro, Roger Cor­man, Simon Pegg, Alice Coop­er, and over 100 more. Near the end of the list at num­ber 96 is del Toro’s first Mex­i­can fea­ture Cronos. Near the top at num­ber 5 is Rid­ley Scott’s per­pet­u­al­ly ter­ri­fy­ing space hor­ror Alien. Every pos­si­ble vari­a­tion on the genre, from its silent begin­nings to its cur­rent gris­ly incar­na­tions, from hor­ri­fy­ing non-hor­ror films like Pasolini’s Salo to mod­el mas­ter­pieces like Inva­sion of the Body Snatch­ers, gets a nod. The list may sur­prise, infu­ri­ate, or intrigue you, but if you have any inter­est in hor­ror, it will undoubt­ed­ly keep you read­ing for some time, and prob­a­bly also track­ing down some of the obscure, for­got­ten clas­sics to see them for your­self. You’ll find the four below free online. They’re also list­ed in the “Noir, Thriller, Hor­ror and Hitch­cock” sec­tion of our list of 635 Free Movies Online:

Car­ni­val of Souls (1962)

Num­ber 40 in the rank­ings, Time Out Lon­don describes this film, “shot in three weeks for a pal­try $33,000,” as made up of “the mono­chrome weird­ness of David Lynch’s first fea­ture, ‘Eraser­head’, or the ghoul­ish zom­bie night­mare that is George Romero’s ‘The Night of the Liv­ing Dead’” with its “eerie atmos­pher­ics, off-kil­ter images and dis­ori­en­tat­ing dream sequences.”

Nos­fer­atu (1922)

Per­haps unfair­ly placed at num­ber 22, Murnau’s unof­fi­cial, expres­sion­ist take on Bram Stoker’s nov­el fea­tures a crea­ture named Count Orlock, a mon­strous­ly ugly vil­lain alien to audi­ences who learned to be seduced by dash­ing Drac­u­las. Despite its rel­a­tive­ly low rank­ing, giv­en its pedi­gree, Nos­fer­atu is still laud­ed as “cer­tain­ly the most influ­en­tial” hor­ror movie by Time Out: “So many keynotes of the genre emerge ful­ly formed here: the use of light and shad­ow, threat and ten­sion, beau­ty and ugli­ness, a man in grotesque make-up threat­en­ing an inno­cent girl.” The film, remark­ably, “remains a deeply unset­tling piece of work.”

Freaks  (1932)

Com­ing just before Nos­fer­atu at num­ber 21, Tod Browning’s Freaks is the oppo­site of an exploita­tion flick. Instead of turn­ing its unusu­al sub­jects into objects of fear and pity, Brown­ing cre­at­ed “a ten­der, humane tale of love and betray­al” that hap­pened to fea­ture a cast of “sideshow freaks,” most of them ama­teurs, and most “fine actors.” “What makes ‘Freaks’ a hor­ror film,” writes Time Out, “is its dis­turb­ing macabre end­ing […] though of course the real hor­ror here is the cru­el­ty of the so-called ‘nor­mals.’”

Night of the Liv­ing Dead (1968)

Ranked 13, George Romero’s 1968 film has earned a place high in the esti­ma­tion of any hor­ror fan. As the Time Out edi­tors write, “mod­ern hor­ror cin­e­ma start­ed here.” The low-bud­get zom­bie movie “blazed a trail for all those to fol­low […] with its rad­i­cal­ly sub­ver­sive approach to genre con­ven­tions, uncom­pro­mis­ing­ly nihilis­tic social vision and Viet­nam War-inspired polit­i­cal anger.”

Spend some time perus­ing the rest of Time Out Lon­don’s list. It’s sure to gen­er­ate some epic online squab­bles, and sev­er­al hun­dred sug­ges­tions from fans for films that didn’t make the cut.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Where Hor­ror Film Began: The Cab­i­net of Dr. Cali­gari

The 10 Great­est Films of All Time Accord­ing to 846 Film Crit­ics

21 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online 

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

How Ridley Scott Turned Footage From the Beginning of The Shining Into the End of Blade Runner

Flop­ping in 1982 but ulti­mate­ly accru­ing more crit­i­cal acclaim and cinephile esteem than per­haps any oth­er sci­ence-fic­tion film, Blade Run­ner, star­ring Har­ri­son Ford and Sean Young, has become the quin­tes­sen­tial mod­ern exam­ple of a work of art before its time. Direc­tor Rid­ley Scott, a true cin­e­mat­ic prag­ma­tist, had his sus­pi­cions about the film’s box-office fate even dur­ing pro­duc­tion: “The fact is, if you are ahead of your time, that’s as bad as being behind the times, near­ly.” “You’ve still got the same prob­lem. I’m all about try­ing to fix the prob­lem.” He and his team decid­ed they could fix one “prob­lem” in par­tic­u­lar: the film’s ambigu­ous end­ing, which appar­ent­ly left cold those who saw it. So cast and crew went to Big Bear Lake, where they shot a new sequence of Ford and Young escap­ing into the moun­tains. “I did­n’t know how long we’d have togeth­er,” says Ford’s pro­tag­o­nist Rick Deck­er, in the final words of his faux-hard boiled explana­to­ry voice-over. “Who does?”

The tight shots inside Deck­er’s fly­ing car, built to soar across a dark, dense, neon-lined post-Japan­i­fi­ca­tion Los Ange­les but now cruis­ing incon­gru­ous­ly through a lush for­est, came out okay. Alas, cloudy weath­er ruined all the wide-angle footage cap­tured at greater dis­tances. Scott remem­bered that Stan­ley Kubrick­’s The Shin­ing, a cou­ple years before, had opened with just the sort of over­head moun­tain dri­ving imagery he need­ed.

This gave him an idea: Kubrick “must’ve done a blan­ket shoot of every peak in Mon­tana for The Shin­ing using the best heli­copter crew. I’ll bet you he’s got weeks of heli­copter footage.” He did indeed have plen­ti­ful out­takes and a will­ing­ness to hand them over, which meant the first ver­sion of Blade Run­ner in wide release end­ed with shots from the very same pho­tog­ra­phy ses­sions that pro­duced the begin­ning of The Shin­ing. For all the inge­nu­ity that went into it, this rel­a­tive­ly hap­py end­ing still, in a sense, wound up on the cut­ting room floor. Excised along with that wide­ly dis­liked voice-over as new cuts and releas­es restored the pic­ture to its orig­i­nal form, it gave way to the orig­i­nal­ly script­ed end­ing, with its much more suit­able (and mem­o­rable) final line deliv­ered by Edward James Olmos as Deckard’s col­league Gaff: “It’s too bad she won’t live, but then again, who does?”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Mak­ing of Blade Run­ner

Blade Run­ner is a Waste of Time: Siskel & Ebert in 1982

Philip K. Dick Pre­views Blade Run­ner: “The Impact of the Film is Going to be Over­whelm­ing” (1981)

The Blade Run­ner Sketch­book: The Orig­i­nal Art of Syd Mead and Rid­ley Scott Online

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Stunning Time-lapse of Lasers at the Mauna Kea Observatories in Hawaii

Sean Goebel, a grad­u­ate stu­dent in astron­o­my at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Hawaii, has made this beau­ti­ful and fas­ci­nat­ing time-lapse film of the obser­va­to­ries on Mau­na Kea shoot­ing laser beams into the night sky over the Big Island of Hawaii.

The lasers are part of the obser­va­to­ries’ adap­tive optics sys­tems, which com­pen­sate for dis­tor­tions in light trav­el­ing through the Earth­’s atmos­phere. “Just as waves of heat com­ing off pave­ment blur out the detail of far­away objects,” explains Goebel on his Web site, “winds in the atmos­phere blur out fine detail in the stars/galaxies/whatever is being observed. This is the rea­son that stars twin­kle. The laser is used to track this atmos­pher­ic tur­bu­lence, and one of the mir­rors in the tele­scope bends hun­dreds of times per sec­ond in order to can­cel out the blur­ring.”

Adap­tive optics make use of a guide star in the area of the sky near the object being observed. As light arriv­ing from the guide star shifts, elec­tron­ic cir­cuits in the sys­tem auto­mat­i­cal­ly com­pute the minute adjust­ments to the deformable tele­scope mir­ror that are need­ed to can­cel out the dis­tor­tion.

There are, how­ev­er, places in the sky where a nat­ur­al guide star does­n’t exist close enough to the object astronomers want to observe. To solve this prob­lem, the sci­en­tists cre­ate arti­fi­cial guide stars using laser beams. For exam­ple, sev­er­al of the obser­va­to­ries on Mau­na Kea shine sodi­um laser beams into the upper atmos­phere, where they inter­act with a nat­u­ral­ly occur­ring lay­er of sodi­um atoms. The excit­ed atoms give off light, cre­at­ing a point source for the adap­tive optics sys­tem to focus on. The pow­er­ful lasers must be used very care­ful­ly, says Goebel:

A typ­i­cal laser point­er that you might use to point at stuff/exercise your cat is about 5 mW. That’s five one-thou­sandths of a watt. Not a whole lot of pow­er. And yet it’s enough to blind air­plane pilots. The lasers on the tele­scopes are in the range of 15–40 watts. The FAA calls a no-fly zone over the area when a laser is in use, and two peo­ple have to stand around out­side in the freez­ing tem­per­a­tures and watch for air­planes. Each of them has a kill switch to turn off the laser in case an air­plane comes near. Addi­tion­al­ly, the tele­scope has to send its tar­get list to Space Com­mand ahead of time. Space Com­mand then tells them not to use the laser at spe­cif­ic times, osten­si­bly to avoid blind­ing spy satel­lites. How­ev­er, you could cal­cu­late the spy satel­lite orbits if you knew where they were at spe­cif­ic times, so Space Com­mand also tells the tele­scope to not use the laser at ran­dom times when no satel­lites are over­head.

Goebel cap­tured the images for his time-lapse mon­tage over a peri­od of sev­en nights this past spring and sum­mer. Con­di­tions atop Mau­na Kea, which ris­es to an alti­tude of over 13,000 feet above sea lev­el, pre­sent­ed a chal­lenge. Goebel had to con­tend with high winds, freez­ing tem­per­a­tures and low oxy­gen. “Essen­tial­ly every­one suf­fers from alti­tude sick­ness” on Mau­na Kea, he says. “It’s not uncom­mon for tourists to step out of their vehi­cles and imme­di­ate­ly pass out. Going from sea lev­el to 14,000 feet in the span of a cou­ple of hours will do that to you.”

For more on Goebel and his work, includ­ing tech­ni­cal spec­i­fi­ca­tions and exam­ples of oth­er work, vis­it his Web site.

Interact with The New York Times Four-Part Documentary, “A Short History of the Highrise”

A Short His­to­ry of the High­rise,” a four-part inter­ac­tive New York Times “Op-Doc” reminds me of a pop-up book. The very first lever I pulled (actu­al­ly it was a wood­en buck­et) added a cou­ple of sto­ries to a medieval tow­er! I even snagged a cou­ple of com­pli­men­ta­ry fac­toids about the Tow­er of Babel! Bonus!

The kids are gonna love it!

There are doors to push, scenic post­cards to flip, a lit­tle Roman guy to drag to the right… what a cre­ative use of the Times’ mas­sive pho­to morgue. Direc­tor Kate­ri­na Cizek skit­ters through­out his­to­ry and all over the globe, swing­ing by ancient Rome, Mon­tezu­ma’s Cas­tle cliff dwelling, Chi­na’s Fujian province, 18th cen­tu­ry Europe, and Jacob Riis’ New York. Appar­ent­ly, ver­ti­cal hous­ing is noth­ing new.

( I did find myself won­der­ing what direc­tor Cizek might be angling for at the Dako­ta. The sto­ried apart­ment build­ing was long ago dwarfed by taller addi­tions to New York City’s urban land­scape, but its mul­ti­ple appear­ances in the series indi­cate that it’s still its most desir­able. Mer­ci­ful­ly, none of the inter­ac­tive fea­tures involve John Lennon.)

Would that a sim­i­lar restraint had been exer­cised with regard to nar­ra­tion. I would have glad­ly lis­tened to Pro­fes­sor Miles Glendin­ning, the mass hous­ing schol­ar who lends his exper­tise to the pro­jec­t’s sub­ter­ranean lev­el. Alas, the non-inter­ac­tive por­tion is marred by a bizarre rhyme scheme meant to “evoke a sto­ry­book.” If so, it’s the sort of sto­ry­book no adult (with the pos­si­ble excep­tion of the singer Feist, who was hope­ful­ly paid for her par­tic­i­pa­tion) wants to read aloud. A sam­ple:

Pub­licly spon­sored hous­ing isn’t every­where the diet

Beyond Europe, North Amer­i­ca and the Sovi­et Union, high rise devel­op­ment is ram­pant­ly pri­vate.

Seri­ous­ly?

Giv­en the lev­el of dis­course, I see no rea­son we were deprived of a rhyme for “phal­lic sym­bol.” Those ani­mat­ed build­ings do reach for the sky.

If it all gets a bit much you can head straight for “Home.” The final install­ment jet­ti­sons the cutesy-boot­sy rhymes in favor of a love­ly tune by Patrick Wat­son, which makes a pleas­ant sound­track to read­er-sup­plied pho­tos of their bal­conies. The images have been arranged the­mat­i­cal­ly — pets, storms, night — and the cumu­la­tive effect is charm­ing. Click “More read­ers’ sto­ries of life in high-ris­es” to read the first-hand accounts that go with these views. If your perch is high enough, you can sub­mit one of your own.

You can watch a video trail­er for “A Short His­to­ry of the High­rise” up top and Part 1 of Cizek’s film below that. But to get the full inter­ac­tive expe­ri­ence you’ll want to head over to the New York Times web site.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Ten Build­ings That Changed Amer­i­ca: Watch the Debut Episode from the New PBS Series

The ABC of Archi­tects: An Ani­mat­ed Flip­book of Famous Archi­tects and Their Best-Known Build­ings

The His­to­ry of West­ern Archi­tec­ture: From Ancient Greece to Roco­co (A Free Online Course)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day has tem­porar­i­ly relo­cat­ed to the ground floor, but she still can bust a rhyme. Fol­low her@AyunHalliday

Deconstructing Led Zeppelin’s Classic Song ‘Ramble On’ Track by Track: Guitars, Bass, Drums & Vocals

Jim­my Page’s acoustic gui­tar:

The beau­ty of iso­lat­ed tracks is that they allow us to hear an old piece of music in a com­plete­ly new way. They give us a fresh per­spec­tive on some­thing we thought we already knew. Today we bring you a series of iso­lat­ed tracks show­ing how Led Zep­pelin pieced togeth­er one of its clas­sic ear­ly songs: “Ram­ble On.”

The song was writ­ten by Jim­my Page and Robert Plant and record­ed in New York in the spring of 1969. Led Zep­pelin was on its sec­ond tour of North Amer­i­ca. Along the way, the band popped into var­i­ous stu­dios to lay down tracks for Led Zep­pelin II. The remain­der of the album was record­ed in the same fash­ion, between shows in Europe. “We were tour­ing a lot,” bassist John Paul Jones wrote in the lin­er notes to the Led Zep­pelin boxed set. “Jim­my’s riffs were com­ing fast and furi­ous. A lot of them came from onstage espe­cial­ly dur­ing the long impro­vised sec­tion of ‘Dazed and Con­fused.’ We’d remem­ber the good stuff and dart into a stu­dio along the way.”

John Paul Jones’s bass gui­tar:

“Ram­ble On” is an ear­ly exam­ple of the Zep­pelin hall­mark of using a wide dynam­ic range with­in a sin­gle song. As the band goes back and forth between soft and loud, acoustic and elec­tric, bassist John Paul Jones lays down a crisp out­line of the song’s struc­ture.

John Bon­ham’s drums:

The pit­ter-pat­ter drum­beat by John Bon­ham dur­ing the qui­et parts of “Ram­ble On” has sparked con­sid­er­able debate among drum­mers. Some have the­o­rized that Bon­ham was hit­ting the sole of his shoe with drum sticks. Oth­ers say it was a plas­tic garbage can lid. Accord­ing to Chris Welch and Geoff Nicholls in John Bon­ham: A Thun­der of Drums, Bon­zo used his bare hands to tap out those 16th notes on an emp­ty gui­tar case.

Robert Plan­t’s main vocals:

The lyrics of “Ram­ble On” reflect Robert Plan­t’s fas­ci­na­tion with char­ac­ters and events in The Lord of the Rings tril­o­gy by J.R.R. Tolkien: “ ‘Twas in the dark­est depths of Mordor/I met a girl so fair./But Gol­lum and the evil one crept up/And slipped away with her.” Led Zep­pelin would include more ref­er­ences to Tolkien lat­er, in songs like “Misty Moun­tain Hop” and “Stair­way to Heav­en.”

Jim­my Page’s elec­tric rhythm gui­tar:

Jim­my Page’s explo­sive elec­tric gui­tar play­ing kicks in at about the 1:14 mark. The exact gui­tar used by Page on the record­ing is a mat­ter of con­tro­ver­sy. He report­ed­ly switched to his trade­mark Gib­son Les Paul while record­ing Led Zep­pelin II, but this track may have been played on the thin­ner-sound­ing Fend­er Tele­cast­er he had been using since his days with the Yard­birds.

Jim­my Page’s elec­tric lead gui­tar:

Like all the band’s albums, Led Zep­pelin II was pro­duced by Page. Although he even­tu­al­ly became known for build­ing up com­plex lay­ers of gui­tar tracks, Page kept the lead gui­tar over­dubs for “Ram­ble On” fair­ly sim­ple.

Robert Plan­t’s back­up vocals:

Plan­t’s sup­ple­men­tary vocals begin at about the 1:14 mark. Plant would lat­er say that the record­ing of the sec­ond album was when he began to feel sure of him­self with­in the band. “Led Zep­pelin II was very vir­ile,” Plant told Nigel Williamson, author of The Rough Guide to Led Zep­pelin. “That was the album that was going to dic­tate whether or not we had the stay­ing pow­er and the capac­i­ty to stim­u­late.”

Led Zep­pelin II was released in Octo­ber of 1969 and rose to num­ber one in Great Britain and Amer­i­ca. In the four decades since, the album has sold over 12 mil­lion copies. Though it was nev­er released as a sin­gle, “Ram­ble On” was ranked #444 on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Great­est Songs of All Time.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Led Zep­pelin Plays One of Its Ear­li­est Con­certs (Dan­ish TV, 1969)

Jim­my Page, 13, Plays Gui­tar on BBC Tal­ent Show (1957)

‘Stair­way to Heav­en’: Watch a Mov­ing Trib­ute to Led Zep­pelin at The Kennedy Cen­ter

John Bonham’s Iso­lat­ed Drum Track For Led Zeppelin’s ‘Fool in the Rain’

Jim­my Page Tells the Sto­ry of Kash­mir

Take a Free Course on the Financial Markets with Robert Shiller, Winner of the Nobel Prize in Economics

This morn­ing, the Nobel Prize in Eco­nom­ic Sci­ence went to three Amer­i­can pro­fes­sors — Eugene F. Fama (U. Chica­go), Lars Peter Hansen (U. Chica­go) and Robert J. Shiller (Yale) — “for their empir­i­cal analy­sis of asset prices.” In his own way, each econ­o­mist has demon­strat­ed that “stock and bond prices move unpre­dictably in the short term but with greater pre­dictabil­i­ty over longer peri­ods,” and that mar­kets are “moved by a mix of ratio­nal cal­cu­lus and human behav­ior,” writes The New York Times.

Of the three econ­o­mists, Robert Shiller is per­haps the most house­hold name. In March 2000, Shiller pub­lished Irra­tional Exu­ber­ance, a book that warned that the long-run­ning bull mar­ket was a bub­ble, that stock prices were being dri­ven by human psy­chol­o­gy, not real val­ues. Weeks lat­er, the mar­ket cracked and peo­ple began to pay atten­tion to what Shiller had to say. Fast for­ward a few years, and Shiller released a sec­ond edi­tion of the same book, this time argu­ing that the hous­ing mar­ket was the lat­est and great­est bub­ble. We all know how that pre­dic­tion played out.

Shiller’s think­ing about the finan­cial mar­kets isn’t a mys­tery. It’s all on dis­play in his Yale course sim­ply called Finan­cial Mar­kets. Avail­able for free on YouTubeiTunes Video, and  Yale’s web site, the 23 lec­ture-course pro­vides an intro­duc­tion to “behav­ioral finance prin­ci­ples” nec­es­sary to under­stand the func­tion­ing of the secu­ri­ties, insur­ance, and bank­ing indus­tries. Record­ed in 2011, the course is oth­er­wise list­ed in the Eco­nom­ics sec­tion of our col­lec­tion of 1200 Free Online Cours­es. You can watch all of the lec­tures above, start­ing with Lec­ture 1. By fol­low­ing these links, you can find the course syl­labus, an out­line of the week­ly ses­sions, and a book list.

Per­son­al Note: About 10 years ago, I worked with Prof. Shiller on devel­op­ing an online course. Two things I recall about him. First, he struck me as being a very down-to-earth and unas­sum­ing guy. A plea­sure to work with. Sec­ond, we had some time to kill one day, and so I asked him (cir­ca 2005) whether it was crazy to buy a house. I mean, I had the guru sit­ting in front of me, in a chat­ty mood. What did I get? Bup­kis: “You know, it just depends…”  It was­n’t a bull­ish sign. So I took it to mean “Stay on the side­lines, kid.” In 2007, it seemed like sound advice.

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:

Mar­gin­al Rev­o­lu­tion Uni­ver­si­ty Launch­es, Bring­ing Free Cours­es in Eco­nom­ics to the Web

John May­nard Keynes Explains Cure to High Unem­ploy­ment in His Own Voice (1939)

Hayek vs. Keynes Rap

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Who Created the Famous Shower Scene in Psycho? Alfred Hitchcock or the Legendary Designer Saul Bass?

OC Hitchcock Bass 2

Who killed Mar­i­on Crane? If you’ve watched Psy­cho, the best-known film by British mas­ter of cin­e­mat­ic sus­pense Alfred Hitch­cock, you have the answer. And giv­en that the pic­ture came out in 1960, even if you haven’t seen it, you prob­a­bly know the answer any­way. But today’s Hitch­cock-lov­ing cinéastes and enthu­si­asts of design have anoth­er impor­tant ques­tion to con­sid­er: who direct­ed Mar­i­on Crane get­ting killed? We pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured some­thing of a mas­ter class in edit­ing from Hitch­cock him­self in which he explains the mechan­ics of cut­ting togeth­er the “show­er scene” of the unsus­pect­ing sec­re­tary’s death. But that part of the process obvi­ous­ly began with all its com­po­nents — Janet Leigh, the raised knife, the cur­tain pulled off of its rings, the choco­late syrup cir­cling the drain — already cap­tured on cel­lu­loid. To know the ori­gins of this most famous sequence in Hitch­cock­’s oeu­vre, and one of the most famous sequences in 20th cen­tu­ry cin­e­ma, you have to begin with its sto­ry­boards, straight from the hand of graph­ic-design leg­end Saul Bass, who also put togeth­er the film’s title sequence.

OC Hitchcock Bass 1

“After Hitch­cock­’s death, Bass assert­ed that he had direct­ed the scene at Hitch­cock­’s invi­ta­tion — a claim defin­i­tive­ly con­tra­dict­ed by both Janet Leigh and Assis­tant Direc­tor Hilton Green,” writes Catholic Uni­ver­si­ty of Amer­i­ca Eng­lish pro­fes­sor Glen John­son on the com­pan­ion page to his Hitch­cock course. “Bass’s par­ti­sans have sub­se­quent­ly held that Hitch­cock mere­ly mechan­i­cal­ly filmed shots already laid out by Bass. Com­par­ing the sto­ry­boards to the filmed scene shows that to be untrue. On the oth­er hand, the most cru­cial ele­ments of the scene, such as the drain-eye match­cut and the track­ing shot that fol­lows it, are in the sto­ry­boards. That proves noth­ing about the author of the scene, how­ev­er, since Bass drew the sto­ry­boards after exten­sive dis­cus­sions with Hitch­cock about the design of the scene.” Though it appears that no sin­gle cre­ator “made” the show­er scene — or made any giv­en ele­ment of most motion pic­tures — its place in the endur­ing lega­cy of mid-20th-cen­tu­ry cul­ture goes undis­put­ed. Below, you can watch this so often quot­ed, imi­tat­ed, and par­o­died sequence play out in anoth­er form, com­bin­ing sto­ry­boards, clips, and mak­ing-of drama­ti­za­tion, in last year’s fea­ture film Hitch­cock:

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Alfred Hitchcock’s Sev­en-Minute Edit­ing Mas­ter Class

Alfred Hitchcock’s Rules for Watch­ing Psy­cho (1960)

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

A Brief Visu­al Intro­duc­tion to Saul Bass’ Cel­e­brat­ed Title Designs

21 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Jack Kerouac Lists 9 Essentials for Writing Spontaneous Prose

Image by  Tom Palum­bo, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Jack Ker­ouac wants you to turn writ­ing into “free devi­a­tion (asso­ci­a­tion) of mind into lim­it­less blow-on-sub­ject seas of thought, swim­ming in sea of Eng­lish with no dis­ci­pline, oth­er than rhythms of rhetor­i­cal exha­la­tion and expos­tu­lat­ed state­ment….” Think you can do that? Find out by fol­low­ing Kerouac’s “Essen­tials of Spon­ta­neous Prose.” He pub­lished this doc­u­ment in Black Moun­tain Review in 1957 and wrote it in response to a request from Allen Gins­berg and William S. Bur­roughs that he explain his method for writ­ing The Sub­ter­raneans in three days time.

And for a the­o­ry of Kerouac’s not quite the­o­ry, vis­it the site of Maris­sa M. Juarez, pro­fes­sor of Rhetoric, Com­po­si­tion, and the Teach­ing of Eng­lish at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Ari­zona. Juarez rais­es some salient points about why Kerouac’s “Essen­tials” bemuse the Eng­lish teacher: His method “dis­cour­ages revi­sion… chas­tis­es gram­mat­i­cal cor­rect­ness, and encour­ages writer­ly flex­i­bil­i­ty.” Read Kerouac’s full “Essen­tials of Spon­ta­neous Prose” here or below. [Note: If you see what looks like typos, they are not errors. They are part of Ker­ouac’s orig­i­nal, spon­ta­neous text.]

SET-UP: The object is set before the mind, either in real­i­ty. as in sketch­ing (before a land­scape or teacup or old face) or is set in the mem­o­ry where­in it becomes the sketch­ing from mem­o­ry of a def­i­nite image-object.

PROCEDURE: Time being of the essence in the puri­ty of speech, sketch­ing lan­guage is undis­turbed flow from the mind of per­son­al secret idea-words, blow­ing (as per jazz musi­cian) on sub­ject of image.

METHOD: No peri­ods sep­a­rat­ing sen­tence-struc­tures already arbi­trar­i­ly rid­dled by false colons and timid usu­al­ly need­less com­mas-but the vig­or­ous space dash sep­a­rat­ing rhetor­i­cal breath­ing (as jazz musi­cian draw­ing breath between out­blown phras­es)– “mea­sured paus­es which are the essen­tials of
our speech”– “divi­sions of the sounds we hear”- “time and how to note it down.” (William Car­los Williams)

SCOPING: Not “selec­tiv­i­ty” of expres­sion but fol­low­ing free devi­a­tion (asso­ci­a­tion) of mind into lim­it­less blow-on-sub­ject seas of thought,
swim­ming in sea of Eng­lish with no dis­ci­pline oth­er than rhythms of rhetor­i­cal exha­la­tion and expos­tu­lat­ed state­ment, like a fist com­ing down on a table with each com­plete utter­ance, bang! (the space dash)- Blow as deep as you want-write as deeply, fish as far down as you want, sat­is­fy your­self first, then read­er can­not fail to receive tele­path­ic shock and mean­ing-excite­ment by same laws oper­at­ing in his own human mind.

LAG IN PROCEDURE: No pause to think of prop­er word but the infan­tile pile­up of scat­o­log­i­cal buildup words till sat­is­fac­tion is gained, which will turn out to be a great append­ing rhythm to a thought and be in accor­dance with Great Law of tim­ing.

TIMING: Noth­ing is mud­dy that runs in time and to laws of time-Shake­spear­i­an stress of dra­mat­ic need to speak now in own unal­ter­able way or for­ev­er hold tongue-no revi­sions (except obvi­ous ratio­nal mis­takes, such as names or cal­cu­lat­ed inser­tions in act of not writ­ing but insert­ing).

CENTER OF INTEREST: Begin not from pre­con­ceived idea of what to say about image but from jew­el cen­ter of inter­est in sub­ject of image at moment of writ­ing, and write out­wards swim­ming in sea of lan­guage to periph­er­al release and exhaus­tion-Do not after­think except for poet­ic or P. S. rea­sons. Nev­er after­think to “improve” or defray impres­sions, as, the best writ­ing is always the most painful per­son­al wrung-out tossed from cra­dle warm pro­tec­tive mind-tap from your­self the song of your­self, blow!-now!-your way is your only way- “good”-or “bad”-always hon­est (“ludi- crous”), spon­ta­neous, “con­fes­sion­als’ inter­est­ing, because not “craft­ed.” Craft is craft.

STRUCTURE OF WORK: Mod­ern bizarre struc­tures (sci­ence fic­tion, etc.) arise from lan­guage being dead, “dif­fer­ent” themes give illu­sion of “new” life. Fol­low rough­ly out­lines in out­fan­ning move­ment over sub­ject, as riv­er rock, so mind­flow over jew­el-cen­ter need (run your mind over it, once) arriv­ing at piv­ot, where what was dim-formed “begin­ning” becomes sharp-neces­si­tat­ing “end­ing” and lan­guage short­ens in race to wire of time-race of work, fol­low­ing laws of Deep Form, to con­clu­sion, last words, last trick­le-Night is The End.

MENTAL STATE: If pos­si­ble write “with­out con­scious­ness” in semi-trance (as Yeats’ lat­er “trance writ­ing”) allow­ing sub­con­scious to admit in own unin­hib­it­ed inter­est­ing nec­es­sary and so “mod­ern” lan­guage what con­scious art would cen­sor, and write excit­ed­ly, swift­ly, with writ­ing-or-typ­ingcramps, in accor­dance (as from cen­ter to periph­ery) with laws of orgasm, Reich’s “becloud­ing of con­scious­ness.” Come from with­in, out-to relaxed and said.

Oh, and for authenticity’s sake, you should try Kerouac’s “Essen­tials” on a type­writer. It’s all he had when he wrote The Sub­ter­raneans. No gram­mar robots to dis­tract him.

via Al Fil­ries

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jack Kerouac’s 30 Beliefs and Tech­niques For Writ­ing Mod­ern Prose

Cor­mac McCarthy’s Three Punc­tu­a­tion Rules, and How They All Go Back to James Joyce

William S. Bur­roughs’ Short Class on Cre­ative Read­ing

“Expan­sive Poet­ics” by Allen Gins­berg: A Free Course from 1981

Allen Ginsberg’s “Celes­tial Home­work”: A Read­ing List for His Class “Lit­er­ary His­to­ry of the Beats”

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

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