The Religions of Bob Dylan: From Delivering Evangelical Sermons to Singing Hava Nagila With Harry Dean Stanton

My first reac­tion upon learn­ing about Bob Dylan’s brief con­ver­sion to Evan­gel­i­cal Chris­tian­i­ty may have been some­thing like “What in the hell?” It wasn’t a reli­gious Dylan that sur­prised me; it was Dylan embrac­ing a faith that can often seem dogged­ly lit­er­al and, well, just a lit­tle inflex­i­ble. What with his love of ambi­gu­i­ty, of occult sym­bol­ism and sym­bol­ist poet­ry, and his res­olute con­tempt for con­ven­tion, Dylan has always struck me as more of an ancient Gnos­tic than a mod­ern Bible thumper. While Dylan’s immer­sion in the Chris­t­ian world may have been brief, it was deep, and it was confusing—enough so that Andy Greene in Rolling Stone com­ments that his pros­e­ly­tiz­ing from the stage “took audi­ence provo­ca­tion to the next lev­el.”

In his gospel shows of 1979/80, Dylan pre­sent­ed “a night of music devot­ed exclu­sive­ly to selec­tions from his new gospel records, often paus­ing for long, ram­bling ser­mons about Christ’s immi­nent return and the wicked­ness of man.” Hear one of those ser­mons at the top, a sev­en-minute the­o­log­i­cal dis­qui­si­tion, before Dylan and band launch into a pow­er­ful per­for­mance of “Sol­id Rock.” Just above, in anoth­er ser­mon from 1979, Dylan holds forth on the “spir­it of the Antichrist” before an unsym­pa­thet­ic crowd in Tempe, Ari­zona. That same year, he gave an inter­view to Bruce Heiman of KMGX Radio in Tuc­son on the sub­ject of his con­ver­sion (below).

In a cer­tain way, a Dylan obsessed with divine judg­ment and the book of Rev­e­la­tion jibes with his pur­suit of the arcane and the mys­ti­cal, with his con­sis­tent­ly apoc­a­lyp­tic vision, prophet­ic mum­blings, and ten­den­cy to mor­al­ize. But the preach­ing is just…. well, kin­da weird. I mean, not even Dylan’s friend, the deeply devout John­ny Cash, used his musi­cal plat­form to harangue audi­ences about the Bible. Was it a stunt or a gen­uine, if per­haps overzeal­ous, expres­sion of deeply held beliefs? That ques­tion could be asked of almost every move Dylan has ever made. This brief peri­od of very pub­lic reli­gios­i­ty may seem anom­alous, but Dylan’s inter­est in reli­gion is not. Google his name and any faith term, and you’ll see sug­ges­tions for “Dylan and Islam,” “Dylan and Bud­dhism,” “Dylan and Catholi­cism,” and, of course, “Dylan and Judaism,” the reli­gion of his birth. Some con­tend that Dylan still keeps faith with Jesus, and that it doesn’t mutu­al­ly exclude his Jew­ish­ness.


And yet, how Dylan’s Chris­t­ian preach­ing could line up with his lat­er com­mit­ment to Chabad—an Ortho­dox Hasidic move­ment that isn’t exact­ly warm to the idea of the Chris­t­ian mes­si­ah, to put it mildly—is beyond my ken. But log­i­cal con­sis­ten­cy does not rank high­ly on any list of virtues I’m famil­iar with. Dylan seemed to be recon­nect­ing with Judaism when he explic­it­ly expressed sol­i­dar­i­ty with Israel in 1983 in his Zion­ist anthem “Neigh­bor­hood Bul­ly” from Infi­dels, in oth­er respects, a whol­ly sec­u­lar record.

Three years lat­er, Dylan appeared on the Chabad telethon (above), accom­pa­ny­ing his son-in-law Peter Him­mel­man on har­mon­i­ca in a ren­di­tion of “Hava Nag­i­la,” along with, of all peo­ple, Har­ry Dean Stan­ton (whose chill­ing turn as polyg­a­mous Mor­mon sect leader in HBO’s Big Love you may well recall). By this time, at least accord­ing to Jew­ish Jour­nal, “Chabad rab­bis had helped Dylan return to Judaism after the musi­cian embraced Chris­tian­i­ty for a time.” The mid-90s saw Dylan wor­ship­ping with Brook­lyn Lubav­itch­ers, and in 2007, he was sight­ed in Atlanta at Yom Kip­pur ser­vices at the Chabad-Lubav­itch of Geor­gia, say­ing the “bless­ings in Hebrew with­out stum­bling, like a pro.”

So is Bob Dylan a fire­breath­ing Chris­t­ian or an Ortho­dox Jew? Or, some­how… both? Only Dylan knows, and frankly, only Dylan needs to. His beliefs are his busi­ness, but his pub­lic expres­sions of faith have giv­en his fans much to puz­zle over, read­ing the lyri­cal tea leaves for evi­dence of a sol­id rock cen­ter amidst the shift­ing sands of Dylanol­o­gy. Let ‘em sift. Some peo­ple obsess over Dylan’s reli­gious com­mit­ments, oth­ers over his “secret” wife and daugh­ter, his cor­po­rate sell­outs, or his some­times inscrutable per­son­al pol­i­tics. It’s all part of the busi­ness of fame. What I find fas­ci­nat­ing about the many lay­ers of Bob Dylan is not how much they tell me about the man, who has the right to change his mind, or not, as often as he likes, but how much they reveal about his strange lyri­cal themes. After all, Dylan’s seem­ing­ly con­tra­dic­to­ry alle­giances and ambiva­lent iden­ti­ties as an artist may in in fact make him all the more the arche­typ­al Amer­i­can song­writer he’s always said to be.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Intro­duc­tion to Dylanol­o­gy, or How to Under­stand Bob Dylan by Dig­ging Through His Garbage

The Times They Are a‑Changin’: 1964 Broad­cast Gives a Rare Glimpse of the Ear­ly Bob Dylan

Ani­mat­ed Video: John­ny Cash Explains Why Music Became a Reli­gious Call­ing

John­ny Cash Reads the Entire New Tes­ta­ment

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

The Story of Oedipus Retold with Vegetables in Starring Roles

Sopho­cles and Aeschy­lus may be spin­ning in their graves. Or, who knows, they may be tak­ing some delight in this bizarre twist on the Oedi­pus myth. Run­ning 8 min­utes, Jason Wish­now’s 2004 film puts veg­eta­bles in the star­ring roles. One of the first stop-motion films shot with a dig­i­tal still cam­era, Oedi­pus took two years to make with a vol­un­teer staff of 100. But the hard work paid off.

The film has since been screened at 70+ film fes­ti­vals and was even­tu­al­ly acquired by the Sun­dance Chan­nel. Sep­a­rate videos show you the behind-the-scenes mak­ing of the film (mid­dle), plus the sto­ry­boards used dur­ing pro­duc­tion (bot­tom). This video first appeared on our site in 2011, and, stel­lar as it is, we’re delight­ed to bring it back for read­ers who have joined us since. Hope you enjoy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Two Ani­ma­tions of Plato’s Alle­go­ry of the Cave: One Nar­rat­ed by Orson Welles, Anoth­er Made with Clay

The Har­vard Clas­sics: A Free, Dig­i­tal Col­lec­tion

Down­load 78 Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es: From Ancient Greece to The Mod­ern World

Ancient Greek clas­sics can be found in our twin col­lec­tions: 800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices and 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

John Lennon Writes Eric Clapton an 8‑Page Letter Asking Him to Join the Plastic Ono Band for a World Tour on a Cruise Ship

lennon-clapton2

Most every­one who com­ments on the phe­nom­e­non of the super­group will feel the need to point out that such bands rarely tran­scend the sum of their parts, and this is most­ly true. But it does seem that for a cer­tain peri­od of time in the late six­ties, many of the best bands were super­groups, or had at least two or more “super” mem­bers. Take the Yard­birds, for exam­ple, which con­tained, though not all at once, Jim­my Page, Jeff Beck, and Eric Clap­ton. Or Cream, with Clap­ton, Jack Bruce, and Gin­ger Bak­er. Or Blind Faith—with Clap­ton, Bak­er, and Steve Win­wood…. Maybe it’s fair to say that every band Clap­ton played in was “super,” includ­ing, for a brief time, John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Plas­tic Ono Band.

It start­ed with the one-off per­for­mance above in Toron­to, which led to an undat­ed eight-page let­ter Lennon wrote Clap­ton, either in 1969, accord­ing to Book­tryst, or 1971, accord­ing to Michael Schumacher’s Clap­ton bio Cross­roads. The let­ter we have–well over a thou­sand words–is a draft. Lennon’s revised copy has not sur­faced, and, writes Book­tryst, “the con­tent of the final ver­sion is unknown.” In this copy (first page at top), Lennon prais­es Clapton’s work and details his and Yoko’s plans for a “rev­o­lu­tion­ary” project quite unlike Lennon’s for­mer band. As he puts it, “we began to feel more and more like going on the road, but not the way I used to with the Beatles—night after night of tor­ture. We mean to enjoy our­selves, take it easy, and maybe even see some of the places we go to!”

Lennon explic­it­ly states that he does not want the band to be a super­group, even as he recruits super mem­bers like Clap­ton and Phil Spec­tor: “We have many ‘rev­o­lu­tion­ary’ ideas for pre­sent­ing shows that com­plete­ly involve the audience—not just as ‘Super­stars’ up there—blessing the peo­ple.” While Lennon and Ono don’t expect their recruits to “rat­i­fy every­thing we believe polit­i­cal­ly,” they do state their inten­tion for “’rev­o­lu­tion­iz­ing’ the world thru music.” “We’d love to ‘do’ Rus­sia, Chi­na, Hun­gary, Poland, etc.,” writes Lennon. Lat­er in the mis­sive, he explains his detailed plan for the Plas­tic Ono Band tour he had in mind—involving a cruise ship, film crew, and the band’s “fam­i­lies, chil­dren what­ev­er”:

How about a kind of ‘Easy Rid­er’ at sea. I mean we get EMI or some film co., to finance a big ship with 30 peo­ple aboard (includ­ing crew)—we take 8 track record­ing equip­ment with us (mine prob­a­bly) movie equipment—and we rehearse on the way over—record if we want, play any­where we fancy—say we film from L.A. to Tahi­ti […] The whole trip could take 3–4‑5–6 months, depend­ing how we all felt.

It sounds like an out­landish pro­pos­al, but if you’re John Lennon, I imag­ine noth­ing of this sort seems beyond reach—though how he expect­ed to get to East­ern Europe from the Pacif­ic Rim on his ship isn’t quite clear. The prob­lem for Clap­ton, biog­ra­ph­er Michael Schu­mach­er spec­u­lates, would have had noth­ing to do with the music and every­thing to do with his addic­tion: “after all his prob­lems with secur­ing drugs in the biggest city in the Unit­ed States, Clap­ton couldn’t begin to enter­tain the notion of spend­ing lengthy peri­ods at sea and try­ing to obtain hero­in in for­eign coun­tries.” In any case, “in the end, Lennon’s pro­pos­al, like so many of his improb­a­ble but com­pelling ideas, fell through.” This may have had some rela­tion to the fact that Lennon had a hero­in prob­lem of his own at the time.

The clip of Clap­ton per­form­ing with the band comes from Sweet Toron­to, a 1971 film made by D.A. Pen­nebak­er of the band’s per­for­mance at the 1969 Toron­to Rock and Roll Revival Fes­ti­val (see the full film above). That event had a whol­ly improb­a­ble line­up of ‘50s stars like Chuck Berry, Lit­tle Richard, Jer­ry Lee Lewis, and Bo Did­dley along­side bands like Alice Coop­er, Chica­go, and The Doors. As the title open­ing of the film states, “John could at last intro­duce Yoko to the heroes of his child­hood.” Pen­nebak­er gives us snip­pets of the per­for­mance from each of Lennon’s heroes—opening with Did­dley, then Lewis, Berry, and Lit­tle Richard—before the Plas­tic Ono Band with Clap­ton appear at 16:43. (This per­for­mance also pro­duced their first album.) The Bea­t­les Bible has a full run­down of the fes­ti­val and the band’s some­what sham­bol­ic, bluesy—and with Yoko, screechy—show.

Read the full tran­script and see more scans of Lennon’s draft let­ter to Clap­ton over at Book­tryst, who also explain the cryp­tic ref­er­ences to “Eric and,” “you both,” and “you and yours”—part of the “soap opera” affair involv­ing Clap­ton, George Harrison’s (and lat­er Clap­ton’s) wife Pat­tie Boyd, and her 17-year-old sis­ter Paula.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In 1969 Telegram, Jimi Hen­drix Invites Paul McCart­ney to Join a Super Group with Miles Davis

Eric Clap­ton and Steve Win­wood Join Forces at the His­toric Blind Faith Con­cert in Hyde Park, 1969

John Lennon Plays Bas­ket­ball with Miles Davis and Hangs Out with Allen Gins­berg & Friends

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

 

Is It Always Right to Be Right?: Orson Welles Narrates a 1970 Oscar-Winning Animation That Still Resonates Today

Is it pos­si­ble for a short film made dur­ing the Nixon admin­is­tra­tion to per­fect­ly describe America’s cur­rent, com­plete­ly screwed up polit­i­cal sit­u­a­tion? Sure, Lee Mishkin’s Oscar-win­ning ani­mat­ed short Is It Always Right to Be Right? (1970) might date itself through oblique ref­er­ences to hip­pies, the Viet­nam war and the Civ­il Rights move­ment, not to men­tion the movie’s groovy ani­ma­tion style, but the mes­sage of the movie feels sur­pris­ing­ly rel­e­vant today. You can watch the movie above.

The short, which is nar­rat­ed by none oth­er than Orson Welles, describes a land where every­one believed them­selves to be right, and where inde­ci­sive­ness and com­plex­i­ty were con­sid­ered utter­ly weak. “When dif­fer­ences arose between the peo­ple of this land,” intones Welles at one point, “they looked not for truth but for con­fir­ma­tion for what they already believed.”

Wow, that sounds just like cable news. As the divi­sions grew and deep­ened, the land even­tu­al­ly ground to a halt. “Every­one was right, of course. And they knew it. And were proud of it. And the gap grew wider until the day came when all activ­i­ty stopped. Each group stood in its soli­tary right­ness, glar­ing with proud eyes at those too blind to see their truth, deter­mined to main­tain their posi­tion at all costs. This is the respon­si­bil­i­ty of being right.” Wow, that sounds like Con­gress.

Then some­one tried to tem­per this stark black-and-white world by say­ing things like “I might be wrong,” which starts a cas­cade of intro­spec­tion and tol­er­ance. Ah, the 70s – that inno­cent time before the 24-hour news cycle. A time before net­work execs real­ized that blovi­at­ing morons preach­ing the right­ness of their own posi­tion just plain makes good TV.

A year lat­er, you might be inter­est­ed to know, Orson Welles nar­rat­ed anoth­er ani­mat­ed para­ble. Watch Free­dom Riv­er here.

Is It Always Right to Be Right? will be added to the Ani­ma­tion sec­tion of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More as well as our col­lec­tion of Free Oscar-Win­ning Films.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Lis­ten to Eight Inter­views of Orson Welles by Film­mak­er Peter Bog­danovich (1969–1972)

Watch Orson Welles’ The Stranger Free Online, Where 1940s Film Noir Meets Real Hor­rors of WWII

The Hearts of Age: Orson Welles’ Sur­re­al­ist First Film (1934)

Orson Welles Explains Why Igno­rance Was His Major “Gift” to Cit­i­zen Kane

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing one new draw­ing of a vice pres­i­dent with an octo­pus on his head dai­ly. 

Hear Michel Foucault’s Lecture “The Culture of the Self,” Presented in English at UC Berkeley (1983)

Michel Foucault’s time in the Unit­ed States in the last years of his life, par­tic­u­lar­ly his time as a lec­tur­er at UC Berke­ley, proved to be extra­or­di­nar­i­ly pro­duc­tive in the devel­op­ment of his the­o­ret­i­cal under­stand­ing of what he saw as the cen­tral ques­tion fac­ing the con­tem­po­rary West: the ques­tion of the self. In his 1983 Berke­ley lec­tures in Eng­lish on “The Cul­ture of the Self,” Fou­cault stat­ed and restat­ed the ques­tion in a vari­ety of ways—“What are we in our actu­al­i­ty?,” “What are we today?”—and his inves­ti­ga­tions amount to “an alter­na­tive to the tra­di­tion­al philo­soph­i­cal ques­tions: What is the world? What is man? What is truth? What is knowl­edge? How can we know some­thing? And so on.” So write the edi­tors of the posthu­mous­ly pub­lished 1988 essay col­lec­tion Tech­nolo­gies of the Self, titled after a lec­ture Fou­cault deliv­ered at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Ver­mont in 1982.

In that talk, Fou­cault notes that “the hermeneu­tics of the self has been con­fused with the­olo­gies of the soul—concupiscence, sin, and the fall from grace.” The tech­nique of con­fes­sion, cen­tral even to sec­u­lar psy­cho­analy­sis, informs a sub­jec­tiv­i­ty that, for Fou­cault, always devel­ops under the ever-watch­ful eyes of nor­mal­iz­ing insti­tu­tions. But in “The Cul­ture of the Self,” Fou­cault reach­es back to ancient Greek con­cep­tions of “care of the self” (epimelieia beautou) to locate a sub­jec­tiv­i­ty derived from a dif­fer­ent tradition—a coun­ter­point to reli­gious con­fes­sion­al and Freudi­an sub­jec­tiv­i­ties and one he has dis­cussed in terms of the tech­nique of “self writ­ing.” (The Care of the Self also hap­pens to be the sub­ti­tle of the third vol­ume of Foucault’s His­to­ry of Sex­u­al­i­ty, and “The Cul­ture of the Self” the title of its sec­ond chap­ter.)

The notion that one is grant­ed self­hood through the min­is­tra­tions of oth­ers comes in for ridicule in the first few min­utes of his “Cul­ture of the Self” lec­ture above. Fou­cault relates a sto­ry by sec­ond cen­tu­ry Greek satirist Lucian to illus­trate a humor­ous point about “those guys who nowa­days reg­u­lar­ly vis­it a kind of mas­ter who takes their mon­ey from them in order to teach them how to take care of them­selves.” He iden­ti­fies the ancient ver­sion of this dubi­ous author­i­ty as the philoso­pher, but it seems that he intends in mod­ern times to refer more broad­ly to psy­chi­a­trists, psy­chol­o­gists, and all man­ner of reli­gious fig­ures and self-help gurus.

Fou­cault sets up the joke to intro­duce his first entrée into the pur­suit of “the his­tor­i­cal ontol­ogy of our­selves,” a con­sid­er­a­tion of Kant’s essay “What is Enlight­en­ment?” In that work, the most promi­nent Ger­man Enlight­en­ment philoso­pher describes “man’s emer­gence from his self-imposed nonage,” a term he defines as “the inabil­i­ty to use one’s own under­stand­ing with­out another’s guid­ance.” From there, Fou­cault opens up his inves­ti­ga­tion to an analy­sis of “three sets of rela­tions: our rela­tions to truth, our rela­tions to oblig­a­tion, our rela­tions to our­selves and to the oth­ers.” You’ll have to lis­ten to the full set of lec­tures, above in all five parts, to fol­low Foucault’s inquiry through its many pas­sages and diver­gences and learn how he arrives at this con­clu­sion: “The self is not so much some­thing hid­den and there­fore some­thing to be exca­vat­ed but as a cor­re­late of the tech­nolo­gies of self that it co-evolves with over mil­len­ni­um.”

The Q&A ses­sion, above, was held on a dif­fer­ent day and is also well worth a lis­ten. Fou­cault address­es sev­er­al queries about his own method­ol­o­gy, issues of dis­ci­pli­nary bound­aries, and oth­er clar­i­fy­ing (or not) con­cerns relat­ed to his main lec­ture. See this site for a tran­script of the ques­tions from the audi­ences and Foucault’s insight­ful, and some­times quite fun­ny, answers.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Michel Fou­cault Deliv­er His Lec­ture on “Truth and Sub­jec­tiv­i­ty” at UC Berke­ley, In Eng­lish (1980)

Michel Fou­cault and Alain Badiou Dis­cuss “Phi­los­o­phy and Psy­chol­o­gy” on French TV (1965)

Watch a “Lost Inter­view” With Michel Fou­cault: Miss­ing for 30 Years But Now Recov­ered

Down­load 100 Free Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es and Start Liv­ing the Exam­ined Life

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

Dick Van Dyke, Paul Lynde & the Original Cast of Bye Bye Birdie Appear on The Ed Sullivan Show (1961)

Think back, if you will to the dawn of the 60’s, or fail­ing that, the third sea­son of Mad Men, when Broad­way musi­cals could still be con­sid­ered legit­i­mate adult enter­tain­ment and Bye Bye Birdie was the hottest tick­et in town.

Six months after the show’s 1960 open­ing, Broadway’s—soon to be television’s—latest star  Dick Van Dyke, appeared on the Ed Sul­li­van show to intro­duce the rest of the coun­try to the musi­cal their high schools and com­mu­ni­ty the­aters would be per­form­ing in per­pe­tu­ity.

The show­case also afford­ed the Amer­i­can view­ing pub­lic their first glimpse of the man who would out­last Sul­li­van as a fix­ture in their liv­ing rooms, Hol­ly­wood’s most out­ra­geous Square, Paul Lyn­de.

Lyn­de had his camp and ate it too in the role of a solid­ly Mid­west­ern father of two who, by virtue of his asso­ci­a­tion with his teenage daugh­ter, finds him­self appear­ing on none oth­er than… The Ed Sul­li­van Show! It’s a tru­ly meta moment. The stu­dio audi­ence seems to enjoy the joke, and Sul­li­van appears pleased too, when he wan­ders on after “Hymn for a Sun­day Evening” as the song is prop­er­ly called. Accord­ing to his biog­ra­phy, Always on Sun­day, his response upon first hear­ing was less enthu­si­as­tic. When the mer­ry Broad­way crowd turned to check Sul­li­van’s response to Lyn­de’s gulp­ing final admis­sion, (“I love you, Ed!”),  Sul­li­van report­ed that he want­ed the floor to open up and swal­low both him and his wife.

Way to get with the joke, Ed!

Lat­er in the episode, there’s some grace­ful Van Dyke foot­work on “Put on a Hap­py Face,” a song that even the most sea­soned the­ater­go­ers tend to for­get orig­i­nat­ed with this show, prob­a­bly because it does noth­ing to advance the plot.

Lyn­de and Van Dyke reprised their roles in the 1962 film, but in a typ­i­cal tale of stage-to-screen heart­break, Susan Wat­son, Lyn­de’s orig­i­nal Birdie daugh­ter, was replaced by 22-year-old bomb­shell, Ann-Mar­gret. (The deli­cious­ly bitchy remark Mau­reen Sta­ple­ton made about her at the wrap par­ty turns out to be apoc­ryphal, or at least intend­ed more kind­ly than it would seem.) See what she brings to “Hymn for a Sun­day Evening” below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Young Frank Zap­pa Turns the Bicy­cle into a Musi­cal Instru­ment on The Steve Allen Show (1963)

Dig­i­tal Archive of Vin­tage Tele­vi­sion Com­mer­cials

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

Saul Bass’ Rejected Poster Concepts for The Shining (and His Pretty Excellent Signature)

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Stan­ley Kubrick­’s per­fec­tion­ism extend­ed well beyond his films them­selves. He even took pains to ensure the pro­mo­tion of his projects with posters as mem­o­rable as the actu­al expe­ri­ence of watch­ing them. The poster for Bar­ry Lyn­don remains per­haps the most ele­gant of all time, and who could for­get the first time A Clock­work Orange’s promised audi­ences (or threat­ened audi­ences with the promise of) “the adven­tures of a young man whose prin­ci­pal inter­ests are rape, ultra-vio­lence, and Beethoven”? Though less often seen today, the bright yel­low orig­i­nal poster for The Shin­ing, with that uniden­ti­fied pointil­list face and its expres­sion of shock, may well unset­tle you more than even the film itself.

saul-bass-kubrick-poster-concept-1

It came from the office of famous graph­ic design­er Saul Bass, known not just for sto­ry­board­ing Kubrick­’s Spar­ta­cus but for cre­at­ing the title sequences for movies like Otto Preminger’s The Man with the Gold­en Arm and Alfred Hitch­cock­’s Ver­ti­go (whose poster Bass also designed)North by North­west, and Psy­cho (whose immor­tal “show­er scene” Bass may also have come up with). Kubrick right­ly fig­ured Bass had what it took to deliv­er the con­sid­er­able impact of his psy­cho­log­i­cal hor­ror pic­ture in graph­ic form.

saul-bass-the-shining-film-poster-2

This poster design wasn’t a ‘design and done’ deal how­ev­er,” writes Derek Kim­ball in a Design­Bud­dy post on the evo­lu­tion of the image. “Many of Bass’ con­cepts were reject­ed by Kubrick before set­tling on the final design.” You can see three of them here in this post, and the rest there. Each one includes Kubrick­’s hand­writ­ten notes of objec­tion: “hand and bike are too irrel­e­vant,” “title looks bad small,” “too much empha­sis on maze,” “looks like sci­ence fic­tion film,” “hotel looks pecu­liar.” You’ve got to admit that the man has a point in every case, although I sus­pect Bass knew in advance which design the auteur would, once through the wringer of revi­sions, have the least trou­ble with. “I am excit­ed about all of them,” Bass writes, “and I could give you many rea­sons why I think they would be strong and effec­tive iden­ti­fiers for the film,” but one in par­tic­u­lar, “provoca­tive, scary, and emo­tion­al,” “promis­es a pic­ture I haven’t seen before.”

saul-bass-the-shining-film-poster-3

You have to appre­ci­ate that kind of con­fi­dence in his team’s work when deal­ing with such a famous­ly exact­ing client — and, look­ing at the let­ter itself, you real­ly have to have to appre­ci­ate the kind of con­fi­dence it takes to sign your name with a car­i­ca­ture of your own face on the body of your name­sake fish.

mrbass_0

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Mak­ing of Stan­ley Kubrick’s The Shin­ing (As Told by Those Who Helped Him Make It)

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Anno­tat­ed Copy of Stephen King’s The Shin­ing

Saul Bass’ Vivid Sto­ry­boards for Kubrick’s Spar­ta­cus (1960)

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

A Brief Visu­al Intro­duc­tion to Saul Bass’ Cel­e­brat­ed Title Designs

Saul Bass’ Oscar-Win­ning Ani­mat­ed Short Pon­ders Why Man Cre­ates

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Director Robert Rodriguez Teaches The Basics of Filmmaking in Under 10 Minutes

Orson Welles once claimed that Gregg Toland, cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er for Cit­i­zen Kane, taught him every­thing he need­ed to know about shoot­ing movies in a half hour. Direc­tor Robert Rodriguez — who start­ed off as the poster boy for ‘90s indie cin­e­ma and is cur­rent­ly mak­ing a healthy liv­ing turn­ing out movies like Sin City: A Dame to Kill For – claims that he can reduce that time by a third. In 10 Minute Film School, which you can watch above, Rodriguez quick­ly hits on some of the key points of movie mak­ing while espous­ing the same rebel DIY spir­it that made him a suc­cess. Remem­ber, this is a guy who made a fea­ture film, El Mari­achi, for $7000.

Rodriguez’s basic phi­los­o­phy doesn’t dwell on learn­ing the fine points of Aris­totelian act struc­ture or the tech­ni­cal nuances of the Red cam­era. He just wants you to start shoot­ing stuff. “Don’t dream about being a film­mak­er,” he pro­claims in the video, which looks like it was shot some time dur­ing the Clin­ton admin­is­tra­tion. “You are a film­mak­er. Now let’s get down to busi­ness.”

He tells aspir­ing film­mak­ers to become tech­ni­cal — learn the tools of the trade. If you don’t, you might become over­ly reliant on the techies who may or may not be inter­est­ed in real­iz­ing your vision. He also doesn’t put too much stock in screen­writ­ing books like Save the Cat. “Any­one know how to write?” he asks the audi­ence. “No? Good. Every­one else writes the same way. Start writ­ing your way. That makes you unique.”

He also advis­es against sto­ry­boards. “Make a blank screen for your­self and sit there and watch your movie. Imag­ine your movie, shot for shot, cut for cut…Write down the shots you see and then go get those shots.”

The video shows its age when Rodriguez starts to talk about equip­ment. No aspir­ing film­mak­er aside from a cel­lu­loid fetishist is going to shoot a first fea­ture on 16mm when cheap­er, eas­i­er dig­i­tal cam­eras are avail­able. Yet the core of his mes­sage is still valid. “You don’t want any­thing too fan­cy,” he states over and over. Fan­cy equip­ment makes for life­less, dull films, lack­ing in that reck­less, adven­tur­ous spir­it of the new­bie moviemak­er.

Essen­tial­ly, Rodriguez wants to keep the “inde­pen­dent” in inde­pen­dent film­mak­ing. Just as he tells his charges to get tech­ni­cal, Rodriguez also tells them to keep their bud­gets low. The more mon­ey a stu­dio sinks into a pro­duc­tion, the more they can dic­tate how that mon­ey is spent. Rodriguez had a gui­tar case, a tur­tle and a small Tex­an town at his dis­pos­al when he was start­ing out, and, with that, he strung togeth­er the sto­ry of El Mari­achi. In the 20 plus years since, Rodriguez has main­tained cre­ative con­trol over just about all of his movies.

One final note. “Don’t both­er going to film school,” he says. As some­one with an over­priced MFA in film, I have to say that he’s prob­a­bly right.

via Film­mak­er IQ

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Tarkovsky’s Advice to Young Film­mak­ers: Sac­ri­fice Your­self for Cin­e­ma

Film­mak­ing Advice from Quentin Taran­ti­no and Sam Rai­mi (NSFW)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing one new pic­ture of a vice pres­i­dent with an octo­pus on his head dai­ly. 

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