5 Musical Guests Banned From Saturday Night Live: From Elvis Costello to Frank Zappa

A defin­ing tele­vi­sion moment of my generation—Sinead O’Connor’s infa­mous rip­ping up of a pic­ture of Pope John Paul II on live tele­vi­sion after an a cap­pel­la per­for­mance of Bob Marley’s “War”—was as baf­fling to most as it was offen­sive to many. (O’Connor offered many elo­quent expla­na­tions for the act—most­ly ignored.) Not only did this strange form of protest effec­tive­ly send O’Connor into semi-obscu­ri­ty for the next twen­ty years, but it got her per­ma­nent­ly banned from Sat­ur­day Night Live by pro­duc­er Lorne Michaels. Michaels, it seems, didn’t so much object to her des­e­crat­ing the pope’s pic­ture. In fact, he has said he would have been fine with it… if only he’d known it was com­ing. He has called the moment both “a seri­ous expres­sion of belief” and “on a cer­tain lev­el, a betray­al.”

Michaels has banned many a per­former from the show, for many a rea­son. But most of all, it seems, Lorne Michaels hates sur­pris­es. As we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly not­ed, 23-year-old Elvis Costel­lo pissed Michaels off when he stopped his band dur­ing the intro to “Less Than Zero” and launched into “Radio, Radio” instead (above), a song he’d explic­it­ly been told not to play for its crit­i­cal take on mass media. Unlike O’Connor, Costel­lo would return to SNL when Michaels cooled down, 12 years lat­er, in 1989.

Leg­en­dar­i­ly bril­liant mess The Replace­ments hit the SNL stage in 1986 after the release of their first major-label album, Tim. They put on a respectably drunk­en, out-of-tune per­for­mance for their first song on the show, “Bas­tards of Young” (intro­duced by host Har­ry Dean Stan­ton).

So far, so clas­sic ‘Mats. But between this song and the next, “Kiss Me on the Bus” (above), it’s said they drank close to their weight in cham­pagne, and by the time they took the stage again—wearing each other’s clothes and stum­bling wildly—they were a com­plete­ly soused par­o­dy of them­selves. Fun­ny, right? Lorne Michaels was not amused. Singer Paul West­er­berg returned to the show as a solo artist, but the band nev­er received anoth­er invi­ta­tion.

Long before ston­er-rap­pers Cypress Hill got the SNL boot for smok­ing a joint onstage and trash­ing their equip­ment in 1993, abra­sive punk band Fear was said to have sparked a riot and caused $200,000 worth of dam­age to the set dur­ing their 1981 Hal­loween show appear­ance (above—introduced by host Don­ald Pleas­ance). Guests of John Belushi, who agreed to make a return cameo on the show on the con­di­tion that Fear come with him, their per­for­mances fea­tured typ­i­cal punk show antics, with row­dy audi­ence mem­bers smash­ing into each oth­er and storm­ing the stage. The N.Y. Post pub­lished an absurd­ly sen­sa­tion­al descrip­tion of the band’s appear­ance, cit­ing the $200,000 fig­ure and quot­ing an unnamed “NBC tech­ni­cian” as say­ing, “this was a life threat­en­ing sit­u­a­tion. They went crazy. It’s amaz­ing that no one was killed.” Bill­board lat­er set the record straight, how­ev­er. Appar­ent­ly, the extent of the offense con­sist­ed of “some­body… yelling obscen­i­ties close to an open mike.” Pro­duc­er Dick Eber­sol cut the per­for­mance short, and the show received “all of 12 com­plaints from view­ers.” As for all the sup­posed may­hem, Fear singer Lee Ving said, “all that hap­pened was that a plug got pulled out and a Hal­loween pump­kin was destroyed.” Nev­er­the­less, Fear would not be invit­ed back. Read more about that Fear appear­ance and Belushi’s love of punk rock here.


Belushi fig­ures in the per­for­mance of anoth­er musi­cian banned from the show—Frank Zappa—who served as both musi­cal guest and the show’s host. Zap­pa’s pompous atti­tude alien­at­ed most of the cast and crew in his first, and last, SNL appear­ance in 1978. Nerve names Zap­pa the sec­ond worst host in the show’s his­to­ry, cit­ing his “suf­fo­cat­ing air of smug­ness and uncon­cealed con­tempt for what he’d agreed to do.” Dur­ing the usu­al­ly chum­my clos­ing cred­its, “the cast mem­bers, oblig­ed to join him onstage, clus­tered near the edge as if fear­ing his per­son­al­i­ty might be con­ta­gious.” All but Belushi, who also joined Zap­pa and band onstage as Samu­rai Futa­ba dur­ing their third num­ber. As the clips above demon­strate, even SNL’s sec­ond worst host could still inject a good bit of wit and ener­gy into a show that’s often want­ed for both, not to men­tion the most well-rehearsed band in both avant-rock per­for­mance art and live tele­vised sketch com­e­dy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Stunt That Got Elvis Costel­lo Banned From Sat­ur­day Night Live

William S. Bur­roughs on Sat­ur­day Night Live, 1981

Lorne Michaels Intro­duces Sat­ur­day Night Live and Its Bril­liant First Cast for the Very First Time (1975)

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

The Lodger: Alfred Hitchcock’s First Truly ‘Hitchcockian’ Movie (1927)


Before Alfred Hitch­cock freaked out audi­ences every­where by killing off the pro­tag­o­nist halfway through Psy­cho, before he was praised as a great mas­ter of cin­e­ma by a bunch of French crit­ics who would them­selves go on to become cin­e­mat­ic mas­ters, before the adjec­tive “Hitch­cock­ian” entered the lan­guage, Hitch­cock was sim­ply a guy strug­gling to make a go of it as a direc­tor.

He start­ed his career in film when he was bare­ly out of his teens in 1919. Hitch­cock soon found him­self work­ing in the largest and most influ­en­tial stu­dio in Europe, Germany’s Uni­ver­sum Film AG (UFA). There he not only watched Fritz Lang and F. W. Mur­nau direct, but he also worked as a writer, art direc­tor, assis­tant direc­tor on a num­ber of silent films includ­ing The White Shad­ow (1924) and The Black­guard (1925). Though Hitch­cock got his first director’s cred­it with the 1926 movie The Plea­sure Gar­den, the first movie to tru­ly feel Hitch­cock­ian was The Lodger: A Sto­ry of Lon­don Fog (1927). You can watch it above.

Based on a nov­el by Marie Bel­loc Lown­des, The Lodger opens with a blonde woman scream­ing in ter­ror. She is the vic­tim of a shad­owy Jack the Rip­per-like ser­i­al killer who leaves a call­ing card announc­ing him­self as ‘The Avenger.’ Cut to Daisy, a blonde mod­el whose par­ents are jubi­lant over final­ly find­ing a board­er for their spare room. The guy is hand­some, mys­te­ri­ous and has a weird thing for blondes. You think he might have some­thing to do with the mur­ders?

For a film that came out decades before Ver­ti­go and Rear Win­dow, The Lodger has just about all of Hitchcock’s cin­e­mat­ic ticks. A fetishis­tic obses­sion with blondes? Check. An unset­tling min­gling of sex and death? Check. A man wrong­ly accused? Check. The only thing it real­ly lacks is a nation­al land­mark as the back­drop of a showy action set piece.

On the oth­er hand, The Lodger feels decid­ed­ly Ger­man. The claus­tro­pho­bic light­ing, the grotesque shad­ows and the gen­er­al­ly mor­bid sto­ry­line all would be per­fect­ly at home at Uni­ver­sum Film AG. In fact, The Lodger, in terms of sto­ry, tone and looks, feels like a cin­e­mat­ic cousin to Fritz Lang’s 1931 ear­ly sound mas­ter­piece M.

Of course, Hitch­cock was just a young direc­tor in 1927. And like many young film­mak­ers, he had a hard time with his pro­duc­ers. While the book leaves it ambigu­ous whether or not the lodger is the killer, the han­dlers of the movie’s star Ivor Nov­el­lo couldn’t pos­si­bly have the actor play a vil­lain and demand­ed a change to the end­ing. When Hitch turned in the final movie, Michael Bal­con, the movie’s main pro­duc­er, was unim­pressed and almost shelved the flick, and, with it, Hitchcock’s career. But after a lit­tle bit of tin­ker­ing, the movie was final­ly released. And when The Lodger became a huge box office hit, Hitchcock’s career was assured.

You can find The Lodger on our list of 23 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online, as well as in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch The White Shad­ow, the Recent­ly-Dis­cov­ered and Ear­li­est-Sur­viv­ing Hitch­cock Film

23 Free Hitch­cock Movies Online

The 39 Steps: Hitchcock’s 1935 Clas­sic Online

37 Hitch­cock Cameo Appear­ances Over 50 Years: All in One Video

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.

45 Massive Open Online Courses Getting Started in July: Enroll in a MOOC Today

MOOCs on the beach? Why not. New MOOCs are get­ting start­ed, even dur­ing the dog days of sum­mer. You can find 45 cours­es get­ting going this month. They’re all cap­tured on our com­plete and fre­quent­ly-updat­ed list of Mas­sive Open Online Cours­es. As for me, I think I will be final­ly check­ing out this Uni­ver­si­ty of Rochester course on The Music of the Bea­t­les. It starts on July 6 and runs 6 weeks.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Audio: The Bea­t­les Play Their Final Con­cert at Can­dle­stick Park, 1966

Gui­tarist Randy Bach­man Demys­ti­fies the Open­ing Chord of ‘A Hard Day’s Night’

MOOCs from Great Uni­ver­si­ties (Many With Cer­tifi­cates)

Take Free Online Cours­es at Hog­warts: Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts & More

The Art of Mapping Music: Mike Hamad’s 200 Schematics of Songs by Phish, Pink Floyd & The Dead

Mike Hamad, a music writer for The Hart­ford Courant, has a deep and abid­ing love for Phish. He also has a tal­ent for draw­ing “schemat­ics” or maps that turn the expe­ri­ence of lis­ten­ing to music into some­thing visu­al. Over at his tum­blr SetlistSchemat­ics, you can find near­ly 200 schemat­ics of songs (usu­al­ly per­formed live) by The Grate­ful Dead, The Dave Matthews Band, Pink Floyd, and most­ly Phish. Accord­ing to a short pro­file in The New York Times, Hamad “has a master’s degree in music the­o­ry and a Ph.D. in musi­col­o­gy” — his dis­ser­ta­tion focused on the tonal rela­tion­ships in Franz Liszt’s songs — and, some­where along the way, he devel­oped a ten­den­cy to trans­late music into schemat­ics, a flur­ry of “arrows, descrip­tive notes, roman numer­als and wavy lines.”

phish map 3

If you’re inter­est­ed in giv­ing Hamad’s method a try, we sug­gest lin­ing up some col­or­ful pens and  big sheets of paper, and then tun­ing into these clas­sic Phish con­certs found in our archive: Phish Plays the Entire­ty of the Talk­ing Heads’ Remain in Light (1996) or Phish Plays All of The Rolling Stones’ Clas­sic Album, Exile on Main Street, Live in Con­cert.

via @NYTimes and h/t Eric

Watch 1970s Animations of Songs by Joni Mitchell, Jim Croce & The Kinks, Aired on The Sonny & Cher Show

The Son­ny and Cher Show aired in the years right before I was born. Not only do I have no mem­o­ry of it, of course, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an entire episode, either in re-runs or on the inter­net. Nev­er­the­less, I imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­nized the style of the show’s ani­ma­tor, Eng­lish artist John David Wil­son, when I encoun­tered these music videos Wil­son made for the singing com­e­dy duo’s vari­ety hour. Though a much less famous name, Wilson’s work seems to have ani­mat­ed the 70s in the way that R. Crumb’s illus­trat­ed the 60s. The open­ing sequences to icon­ic pro­duc­tions Grease and The Car­ol Bur­nett Show are Wilson’s, as are ani­ma­tions for Laugh In and cheesy Sat­ur­day morn­ing kids’ show The Hud­son Broth­ers Raz­zle Daz­zle Show (best known now, per­haps, because of Hud­son broth­er prog­e­ny Kate Hud­son). Though Wilson’s career stretch­es back to the 50s—with work on Mr. Magoo, Peter Pan, and Lady and the Tramp—and into the 90s, with Fer­n­Gul­ly: The Last Rain­for­est, he seems to belong to the decade of “I Got You Babe” more so than any oth­er.

Drawn “in a sim­plis­tic, funky-look­ing style” and with goofy sound effects added (prob­a­bly by the Son­ny and Cher pro­duc­ers), Wilson’s ani­mat­ed films for Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yel­low Taxi” (top), Jim Croce’s “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” (above), and The Kinks “Demon Alco­hol” (below, sung by Wayne Car­pen­ter) enhance songs already rich with nar­ra­tive. This, the blog Media Fun­house points out, was by design: “Wil­son was wise to con­cen­trate on the ‘sto­ry songs’ of the time, in order to cre­ate repeat­ing char­ac­ters and have the view­er ‘con­nect’ with the piece in a very short span of time.”

In most cas­es, Son­ny and Cher’s vocals were dubbed over the orig­i­nal tracks, but in many of the ani­ma­tions that sur­faced on VHS in the eight­ies and now appear on Youtube, the orig­i­nal songs have been restored, as in the two above. If you grew up with the show, you’ve sure­ly seen at least a cou­ple of these ear­ly music videos, a form Wil­son is wide­ly cred­it­ed with pio­neer­ing. Begin­ning in the sec­ond sea­son, Wilson’s com­pa­ny, Fine Arts Films, pro­duced a total of four­teen ani­mat­ed shorts for the show.

The sto­ry-songs above of envi­ron­men­tal degra­da­tion, tough street char­ac­ters, and the depths of addic­tion seem so very char­ac­ter­is­tic of the peri­od, though Wil­son cer­tain­ly ani­mat­ed more light­heart­ed pop fare, such as Melanie’s “Brand New Key” (sung here by Cher). For more of Wilson’s ani­mat­ed music videos, see Dan­ger­ous Minds or Media Fun­house, and for the full range of Wilson’s long career in ani­ma­tion, check out the web­site of the pro­duc­tion com­pa­ny he found­ed, Fine Arts Films.

via Dan­ger­ous Minds

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Joni Mitchell Per­form “Both Sides Now” on the First Episode of The John­ny Cash Show (1969)

Watch the Funky, Oscar-Win­ning Ani­mat­ed Film Fea­tur­ing the Music of Herb Alpert & the Tijua­na Brass (1966)

A Short His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca, Accord­ing to the Irrev­er­ent Com­ic Satirist Robert Crumb

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

Wim Wenders Reveals His Rules of Cinema Perfection

Does Wim Wen­ders, one of my favorite direc­tors, make per­fect films? Hard­ly — and there­in, at least for me, lies the appeal. Per­fec­tion strikes me as a sin­gu­lar­ly unin­ter­est­ing goal for art, and Wen­ders has made some of the most inter­est­ing pieces of motion pic­ture art going for the past thir­ty years: Wings of DesireParis, Texas; Note­book on Cities and Clothes; Tokyo-Ga. Per­haps, it occurs to me, he has achieved his own kind of very spe­cif­ic, inim­itable per­fec­tion. But if you seek to imi­tate it nev­er­the­less, have a look at “Wim Wen­ders’ Rules of Cin­e­ma Per­fec­tion” above. In this video (actu­al­ly a kind of spot for Stel­la Artois, a brand with which the auteur has worked before), we see humor­ous­ly revealed sev­er­al of Wen­ders’ best film­mak­ing prac­tices: “You need a good title from the begin­ning,” “Con­ti­nu­ity is clear­ly over­rat­ed,” “Try to wel­come and incor­po­rate” the unex­pect­ed, and “If you like foot­ball, don’t shoot dur­ing the world cham­pi­onship.”

If you’ve done your read­ing on Wen­ders, you can prob­a­bly tell that the clip draws from a pub­lished list of the direc­tor’s “50 Gold­en Rules of Film­mak­ing.” Oth­er help­ful rec­om­men­da­tions include “Before you say ‘cut,’ wait five more sec­onds,” “A ‘beau­ti­ful image’ can very well be the worst thing that can hap­pen to a scene,” and “There are no rules.” Will fol­low­ing these if-n0t-rules-then-guide­lines turn you into the next Wim Wen­ders? Unlike­ly. Will drink­ing Stel­la Artois do it? Cer­tain­ly not. But it could hurt none of us, what­ev­er our cre­ative endeav­or of choice, to emu­late his will­ing­ness on dis­play here to learn from his mis­takes (based on his list, I’d say he’s tak­en his share of hard knocks hir­ing cou­ples, adapt­ing nov­els, and work­ing with ani­mals); to share his wis­dom; and (maybe most impor­tant­ly of all) to learn not to take our­selves too seri­ous­ly. Sure, his detrac­tors tend to accuse him of pre­ten­tious­ness, but we true fans (who pay close atten­tion even to his com­mer­cial act­ing gigs) know the truth.

via No Film School

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wim Wen­ders Cre­ates Ads to Sell Beer (Stel­la Artois), Pas­ta (Bar­il­la), and More Beer (Car­ling)

Wim Wen­ders and Cel­e­brat­ed Direc­tors Talk About the Future of Cin­e­ma (1982)

Wim Wen­ders Vis­its, Mar­vels at a Japan­ese Fake Food Work­shop

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.

Coudal’s Kubrick Collection: An Online Treasure Trove of Kubrick Ephemera

Last year, the Los Ange­les Coun­ty Muse­um of Art wrapped up a bril­liant, exhaus­tive exhi­bi­tion about Stan­ley Kubrick. It was a ver­i­ta­ble cor­nu­copia of Kubrick mem­o­ra­bil­ia, rang­ing from grainy black and white pho­tographs he took for Look mag­a­zine as a youth, to a creepy plas­tic Star Child from 2001: A Space Odyssey, to the blood soaked dress­es of those hol­low-eyed twins in The Shin­ing. The exhib­it was a mas­sive suc­cess. It’s hard to imag­ine any oth­er direc­tor, with the pos­si­ble excep­tion of Alfred Hitch­cock, who would not only get an exhib­it in a major art muse­um but also be able to pack the hall week after week.

Part of his allure, no doubt, is Kubrick’s care­ful­ly-honed pub­lic per­sona – a reclu­sive genius who con­trolled every ele­ment of his movies, from the font on the open­ing titles to the design of the poster. His movies, espe­cial­ly his lat­er ones, are dense, deeply-lay­ered works of such com­plex­i­ty that they con­tin­ue to unpack them­selves after mul­ti­ple view­ings. Heck, there’s an entire doc­u­men­tary, Room 237, that presents nine stark­ly dif­fer­ent inter­pre­ta­tions of The Shin­ing.

Kubrick’s movies seem designed to appeal to a cer­tain breed of obses­sive film geek. So if you count your­self a mem­ber of this tribe (as I do) and you didn’t hap­pen to catch LACMA’s exhib­it, you’re in luck. The Chica­go design firm Coudal Part­ners has cre­at­ed a whole online trea­sure trove of Kubrick ephemera. We’ve culled a few cool things from their site.

Above is a cheesy, behind-the-scenes movie for 2001. The 20-minute pro­mo sets up the movie as if it were an episode of The Out­er Lim­its. “It is the year 2001, you’re on your way to a space sta­tion for busi­ness,” intones the nar­ra­tor. “This is but one exam­ple of what life would be like in 2001.” What fol­lows is a series of inter­views with the sci­en­tists, experts, and crafts­men involved in cre­at­ing Kubrick’s vision of the future with only fleet­ing footage of the film­mak­er him­self at around the 18-minute mark­er. Though it does give you a lot more infor­ma­tion on the nuts and bolts of the astro­nauts’ space­suits, the short movie, one can’t help but think, is set­ting up the audi­ence for dis­ap­point­ment. It does lit­tle to help view­ers under­stand that the first half of 2001 is about the strug­gles of ape men on the plains of Africa and does even less to address the psy­che­del­ic freak­out of the movie’s last reel.

clockwork-orange-poster-title

shining-poster-title

Also found in Coudal’s col­lec­tion is a site that has com­piled all the fonts that Kubrick, a not­ed typog­ra­phy enthu­si­ast, used in his movies. We’ve post­ed a cou­ple. He liked Futu­ra and Goth­ic a lot, appar­ent­ly. The title card for The Shin­ing was designed by Saul Bass.

237_Cardigan_emma1

And on this site, some genius has cre­at­ed sweaters, ski masks, and door­mats from that odd, geo­met­ric car­pet pat­tern from The Shin­ing. Pre-orders have sad­ly closed, but hope­ful­ly they’ll start sell­ing them again. I want the cardi­gan.

kubrick set

And then there’s this behind-the-scenes shot of the direc­tor and Sue Lyon on the set of Loli­ta accom­pa­nied by a quote from Kubrick about the actress.

“From the first, she was inter­est­ing to watch—even in the way she walked in for her inter­view, casu­al­ly sat down, walked out. She was cool and non-gig­gly. She was enig­mat­ic with­out being dull. She could keep peo­ple guess­ing about how much Loli­ta knew about life.”

kubrick subway

And speak­ing of pho­tos, here’s a few pic­tures Kubrick took of the New York sub­way sys­tem back in 1946 for Look mag­a­zine. Com­pare these pho­tos to his ear­li­est movies like Fear and Desire and Killer’s Kiss. Both his ear­ly flicks and these pic­tures have the same grit­ty imme­di­a­cy.

There is much, much more there at the Coudal Part­ners to keep any film nerd and Kubrick maven occu­pied. Check it out.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Fear and Desire: Stan­ley Kubrick’s First and Least-Seen Fea­ture Film (1953)

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Daugh­ter Shares Pho­tos of Her­self Grow­ing Up on Her Father’s Film Sets

Stan­ley Kubrick’s List of Top 10 Films (The First and Only List He Ever Cre­at­ed)

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

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.

How J.K. Rowling Plotted Harry Potter with a Hand-Drawn Spreadsheet

JK-Rowlings-Phoenix-Plot-Outline

At the height of the Har­ry Pot­ter nov­els’ pop­u­lar­i­ty, I asked a num­ber of peo­ple why those books in par­tic­u­lar enjoyed such a devot­ed read­er­ship. Every­one gave almost the same answer: that author J.K. Rowl­ing “tells a good sto­ry.” The response at once clar­i­fied every­thing and noth­ing; of course a “good sto­ry” can draw a large, enthu­si­as­tic (and, at that time, impa­tient) read­er­ship, but what does it take to actu­al­ly tell a good sto­ry? Peo­ple have prob­a­bly made more mon­ey attempt­ing, ques­tion­ably, to pin down, define, and teach the best prac­tices of sto­ry­telling, but at the top of this post, we have a reveal­ing scrap of Rowl­ing’s own process. And I do, almost lit­er­al­ly, mean a scrap: this piece of lined paper con­tains part of the hand­writ­ten plot spread­sheet she used to write the fifth Har­ry Pot­ter nov­el, Har­ry Pot­ter and the Order of the Phoenix.

This par­tic­u­lar page (click to view it in a larg­er for­mat) cov­ers chap­ters 13 through 24, dur­ing which even more hap­pens than you may now remem­ber. It may have amount­ed to more than Rowl­ing, too, could remem­ber, hence the spread­sheet itself. End­pa­per explains some of her sto­ry notes as fol­lows:

  • “Prophe­cy”: A sub­plot about the prophe­cy Har­ry finds him­self con­cerned about all through the book
  • “Cho/Ginny”: The book’s roman­tic sub­plot
  • “D.A.”: What’s hap­pen­ing with the resis­tance army, or “Dumbledore’s Army”
  • “O of P”: What’s hap­pen­ing with the “Order of the Phoenix” group
  • “Snape/Harry”: What’s hap­pen­ing with Snape and Har­ry
  • “Hagrid and Grawp”: What’s hap­pen­ing with Hagrid and Grawp

If you think about Har­ry Pot­ter and the Order of the Phoenix, that’s it,” writes /Film’s Ger­main Lussier. “Those columns pret­ty much encom­pass the whole sto­ry.” Rowl­ing, of course, hard­ly counts as the only nov­el­ist to write with such tech­niques, and based on this exam­ple, hers don’t get near­ly as elab­o­rate as some. (I recall once read­ing that Vikram Chan­dra had to bust out Microsoft Project to keep track of the com­pli­ca­tions of Sacred Games, his 900-page nov­el about the Mum­bai under­world.) But Rowl­ing must cer­tain­ly rank as the most famous nov­el­ist to, quite lit­er­al­ly, draw up spread­sheets like this. I sup­pose it does leave her books even more exposed to accu­sa­tions of over­plot­ting than before, but some­thing tells me it won’t both­er her.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load Two Har­ry Pot­ter Audio Books for Free (and Get the Rest of the Series for Cheap)

Take Free Online Cours­es at Hog­warts: Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts & More

The Quan­tum Physics of Har­ry Pot­ter, Bro­ken Down By a Physi­cist and a Magi­cian

Cel­e­brate Har­ry Potter’s Birth­day with Song. Daniel Rad­cliffe Sings Tom Lehrer’s Tune, The Ele­ments.

Har­ry Pot­ter Pre­quel Now Online

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.

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.