Pablo Neruda’s Historic First Reading in the US (1966)

Few pub­lic fig­ures of the 20th cen­tu­ry are as dear to the hearts and minds of Latin Amer­i­ca as Chilean poet Nef­tali Ricar­do Reyes Basoal­to — AKA Pablo Neru­da. He became famous for his writ­ing before he was 20 years old and he won the Nobel Prize for Lit­er­a­ture in 1971. In between, he wrote sur­re­al­ist poems, Whit­manesque epics and polit­i­cal man­i­festos. Fel­low Nobel Prize win­ner Gabriel Gar­cía Mar­quez called him “the great­est poet of the 20th cen­tu­ry in any lan­guage.”

Yet Neru­da was known almost as much for his pol­i­tics as for his writ­ing. After Franco’s forces exe­cut­ed his friend Fed­eri­co Gar­cía Lor­ca dur­ing the Span­ish Civ­il War, Neru­da shift­ed hard to the left. In the 30s and 40s, he pub­li­cal­ly sup­port­ed Joseph Stal­in at a time when his tri­umphs were obvi­ous and his crimes were hid­den. Neru­da even wrote a cou­ple odes to the strong­man. When Neru­da was sta­tioned as a diplo­mat in Mex­i­co City, he report­ed­ly helped mural­ist David Alfaro Siqueiros flee the coun­try after he led an assas­si­na­tion attempt against Stalin’s rival Leon Trot­sky.

So it isn’t sur­pris­ing that Neruda’s pol­i­tics would make him unpop­u­lar in some cor­ners of Wash­ing­ton. He was offi­cial­ly barred from com­ing to the Unit­ed States and he was report­ed­ly at the cen­ter of a CIA smear cam­paign. But, in 1966, the poet was invit­ed to the Inter­na­tion­al PEN con­fer­ence in New York City by Arthur Miller. When the play­wright beseeched the White House, Pres­i­dent John­son, dis­play­ing far more polit­i­cal courage than is imag­in­able today, grant­ed Neru­da a visa.

The poet was treat­ed like a rock star. He gave a read­ing of his poems with trans­la­tion, at the 96th St. Y. in Man­hat­tan to a packed audi­ence on June 11th of that year. You can lis­ten to it above, or down­load the audio here. After an intro­duc­tion by Archibald MacLeish, Neru­da begins speak­ing at the 9:00 mark.

When the New York Times asked what he thought of Amer­i­ca, he said, “Your coun­try – how shall I say it? – seems more pre­pared for peace than for war. Peace and poet­ry…”

Neru­da died in 1973, twelve days after a CIA-backed coup in Chile over­threw Neruda’s polit­i­cal ally Sal­vador Allende and installed Gen­er­al Augus­to Pinochet.

You can find oth­er poet­ry read­ings in our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“The Me Bird” by Pablo Neru­da: An Ani­mat­ed Inter­pre­ta­tion

Poems as Short Films: Langston Hugh­es, Pablo Neru­da and More

Read 10 Short Sto­ries by Gabriel Gar­cía Márquez Free Online (Plus More Essays & Inter­views)

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.

Terry Gilliam, Guy Ritchie & Alejandro González Iñárritu Direct Soccer Ads for Nike

Even if you don’t hail from one of the world’s many soc­cer-lov­ing coun­tries (you know, the ones that don’t call it “soc­cer”) sure­ly you can get on board for the World Cup. Here in the Unit­ed States, I often hear “I just watch it for the ads” said about the Super Bowl. And if that game’s breaks show­case some pret­ty cool spots, then its non-Amer­i­can foot­ball equiv­a­lent offers an even high­er lev­el of pro­mo­tion­al spec­ta­cle. Last year, we fea­tured Brazil and 12 Mon­keys auteur Ter­ry Gilliam’s two ven­tures into the form of the World Cup com­mer­cial, “The Secret Tour­na­ment” and “The Rematch,” the first of which you can watch at the top of the post. They came com­mis­sioned by Nike in 2002, and six years lat­er the for­mi­da­ble shoe man­u­fac­tur­er put a pre­sum­ably decent chunk of its mar­ket­ing bud­get behind anoth­er fea­ture film­mak­er with a vision: Lock, Stock, and Two Smok­ing Bar­rels and Snatch direc­tor Guy Ritchie. The result, “The Next Lev­el,” appears below:

“The entire film is seen as if through the eyes of an ama­teur foot­baller fast-tracked into the big time,” says the web site of The Mill, the adver­tis­ing agency behind the spot. “We see what he sees in the thick of the action, on and off the pitch: the foot­work, the fouls, the goals and the girls. Film­ing in Lon­don, Man­ches­ter and Barcelona with per­haps the world’s small­est cam­era (SI 2K) took a month. The Mill pushed post pro­duc­tion to the extreme, ven­tur­ing into some unchar­tered FX ter­ri­to­ry, set­ting up a new data pipeline for the cam­era (used here for the first time in com­mer­cial pro­duc­tion) and to track shots pre­vi­ous­ly con­sid­ered impos­si­ble.” These hyper­ki­net­ic, celebri­ty foot­baller-filled two min­utes cer­tain­ly do take the wish-ful­fill­ment aspect of sports fan­dom to the next lev­el, or at least a more lit­er­al one. The Mill and Nike would then step up to a three-minute pro­duc­tion with Ale­jan­dro González Iñár­ritu, he of Amores Per­ros and Babel, for 2010’s “Write the Future,” a med­i­ta­tion on how, in sports as else­where, one good move might lock in a des­tiny, or one bad move might shat­ter it:

The Mill calls it “one of our biggest jobs to date,” with “a stag­ger­ing 236 VFX shots made up of 106 foot­ball shots which includ­ed a CG sta­di­um com­plete with flags and ban­ners, crowd repli­ca­tion using Mas­sive, grass clean up and replace­ment, and full roto­scope of all the play­ers.” Impres­sive, sure, but some sure­ly feel that such a degree of labor and atten­tion placed on adver­tis­ing dur­ing tele­vised match­es takes away from the beau­ty of the Beau­ti­ful Game itself.  “Soc­cer is a lie,” says the dis­ap­point­ed would-be foot­baller pro­tag­o­nist of Eduar­do Sacheri’s new nov­el Papers in the Wind. “It’s all a farce … And yet … some­how … there’s still a ‘but.’” You may also con­sid­er the adver­tis­ing enter­prise a lie, but when it can bring togeth­er rare tal­ents from cin­e­ma as well as the rest of the cul­tur­al world for high-impact moments like these, well, some­how… there’s still a “but.” Just think back twen­ty years to anoth­er Nike ad, the one with the clas­sic turn by none oth­er than William S. Bur­roughs:

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch “The Secret Tour­na­ment” & “The Rematch,” Ter­ry Gilliam’s Star-Stud­ded Soc­cer Ads for Nike

Beat Writer William S. Bur­roughs Spreads Coun­ter­cul­ture Cool on Nike Sneak­ers, 1994

Video: The Day Bob Mar­ley Played a Big Soc­cer Match in Brazil, 1980

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.

Free Audio: Go the F–k to Sleep Narrated by Samuel L. Jackson

Go_the_fuck_to_sleep

Pub­lished back in 2011, Go the F–k to Sleep, the play­ful chil­dren’s sto­ry­book meant for adults, became a big besteller. It topped Ama­zon’s best­seller list for a while. And, before you knew it, celebri­ties were giv­ing pub­lic read­ings of the book. Per­haps you’ll recall Wern­er Her­zog’s fun read­ing at The New York Pub­lic Library.

Samuel L. Jack­son did the hon­ors when the book was released in its offi­cial audio for­mat. Now that read­ing is free to down­load thanks to Audible.com. Unabridged, it runs a mere 6 min­utes. To down­load the audio, you will need to reg­is­ter with Audi­ble. We hope you’ll get a good laugh out of it.

[PS: If you’re inter­est­ed in oth­er ways to down­load a free audio book from Audi­ble, be sure to see their a 30-day free tri­al pro­gram. We have more info on that here.]

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

Wern­er Her­zog Reads “Go the F**k to Sleep” in NYC (NSFW)

The First Children’s Pic­ture Book, 1658′s Orbis Sen­su­al­i­um Pic­tus

Bob Dylan Clas­sic, “For­ev­er Young,” Ani­mat­ed for Chil­dren

 

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

Deleted Scene from Almost Famous: Mom, “Stairway to Heaven” is Based on the Literature of Tolkien

If you came of age dur­ing the 1980s, you might asso­ciate Led Zep­pelin’s “Stair­way to Heav­en” with junior high school dances — an awk­ward phase of life you’d just as soon for­get. For me, it’s hard to think of “Stair­way to Heav­en” and not cringe. But if you first heard the song in 1971 (when it was released) or soon there­after, per­haps you have bet­ter asso­ci­a­tions. That’s what film­mak­er Cameron Crowe was part­ly try­ing to get across in this delet­ed scene from his 2000 film Almost Famous. In the clip, a high-school boy tries to coax his moth­er (played by the great Frances McDor­mand) into let­ting him write for Rolling Stone. Cen­tral to his pitch is the idea that rock music is intel­lec­tu­al, that “Stair­way to Heav­en” is based on the lit­er­a­ture of Tolkien — some­thing that has been debat­ed by crit­ics and schol­ars. As for why the scene did­n’t make it into the movie, you’d think that it’s because of the song’s length. 8 min­utes is a long time for a film to go with­out any dia­logue. But appar­ent­ly it came down to per­mis­sions. Crowe told Com­ing Soon.Net : “Led Zep­pelin had already giv­en us four songs at a nice price but they said, ‘Stair­way to Heav­en’ we’re not going to give to any­body, and we had already shot a scene that was to ‘Stair­way to Heav­en’ so what was great was we end­ed up putting the scene on the DVD and say­ing ‘Put your record on NOW and score it your­self.’ ” You can try that at home and see if it changes your thoughts on “Stair­way to Heav­en,” for bet­ter or for worse.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dutch­man Mas­ters the Art of Singing Led Zeppelin’s “Stair­way to Heav­en” Back­wards

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

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

Hear Led Zeppelin’s Mind-Blow­ing First Record­ed Con­cert Ever (1968)

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

David Brooks’ List of “Really Good Books”

david brooks books

In the pages of The New York Times, David Brooks reeled off a list of Real­ly Good Books. He pref­aces the list with this: “Peo­ple are always ask­ing me what my favorite books are. I’ve held off list­ing them because it seems self-indul­gent. But, with sum­mer almost here, I thought I might spend a cou­ple columns rec­om­mend­ing eight books that have been piv­otal in my life.” [He actu­al­ly rec­om­mends more than 8 in the end.] Some of the books will help you think about liv­ing a life of “civ­i­lized ambi­tion.” Oth­ers will nur­ture your inner spir­it. And still oth­ers will help you think more intel­li­gent­ly about writ­ing and pol­i­tics. Along the way, he adds a quick caveat about what these books “can’t do.” “They can’t carve your con­vic­tions about the world. Only life can do that — only rela­tion­ships, strug­gle, love, play and work. Books can give you vocab­u­lar­ies and frame­works to help you under­stand and decide, but life pro­vides exact­ly the edu­ca­tion you need.”

The list was pub­lished in two parts: Part 1 and Part 2. In each install­ment, Brooks explains why he select­ed each work. Where pos­si­ble, we have pro­vid­ed links to texts avail­able online. You can also find them list­ed in our col­lec­tion, 800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices.

1. A Col­lec­tion of Essays by George Orwell

2. Anna Karen­i­na by Leo Tol­stoy

3. “Ratio­nal­ism in Pol­i­tics” by Michael Oakeshott

4. All the King’s Men by Robert Penn War­ren

5. The Pelo­pon­nesian War by Thucy­dides

6. The Con­fes­sions by St. Augus­tine

7. The Lone­ly Man of Faith by Joseph Soloveitchik

8. Man’s Search for Mean­ing by Vik­tor Fran­kl (see Fran­kl talk about that great search here.)

9. Mid­dle­march by George Eliot

10. End­less Love by Scott Spencer

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie’s Top 100 Books

Stephen King Cre­ates a List of 96 Books for Aspir­ing Writ­ers to Read

Neil deGrasse Tyson Lists 8 (Free) Books Every Intel­li­gent Per­son Should Read

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 7 ) |

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

dimension x

Enthu­si­asts of Amer­i­can radio dra­ma usu­al­ly place the for­m’s “Gold­en Age” as begin­ning in the 1920s and end­ing, almost at the stroke of tele­vi­sion’s mass adop­tion, in the 1950s. NBC’s Dimen­sion X, which ran in 1950 and 1951, came some­what late to the game, but it did more than its part to give “old time radio” a strong last decade — indeed, per­haps its strongest. Oth­er famous “seri­ous” sci­ence-fic­tion pro­grams had aired in the 20s, 30s, and 40s, but Dimen­sion X made its mark by adapt­ing short sto­ries by acknowl­edged mas­ters of the craft: Isaac Asi­mov, Ray Brad­bury, Robert Hein­lein, and even a non-genre-bound lit­er­ary mind like Kurt Von­negut. All of these world-cre­ators knew well the val­ue of imag­i­na­tion, and radio, in its way, stood then and remains today the most evoca­tive, imag­i­na­tion-dri­ven medi­um of them all. At the Inter­net Archive (cer­tain­ly a more con­ve­nient old time radio source than the boot­leg cas­sette tapes I used to have to buy) you can down­load all of Dimen­son X’s “adven­tures in time and space, tran­scribed in future tense.”

If you don’t know where in this spec­u­la­tive field of time and space to begin, we’ve high­light­ed a few Dimen­sion X episodes drawn from works of the most notable authors. June 10, 1950’s “The Green Hills of Earth”, based upon the Robert Hein­lein sto­ry of the same name, relates the life of “Noisy” Rhys­ling, a blind space-age trou­ba­dour who real­izes he must pay trib­ute to the plan­et he long ago left behind. The very next week’s “There Will Come Soft Rains”, one of Ray Brad­bury’s many works adapt­ed for the show, describes the apoc­a­lypse through the process­es of the self-main­tain­ing high-tech mir­a­cle house. June 17, 1951’s “Peb­ble in the Sky” takes its theme from the epony­mous Isaac Asi­mov nov­el that thrusts a 20th-cen­tu­ry every­man into a com­plex future of a galac­tic empire, a radioac­tive Earth, and manda­to­ry euthana­sia at age six­ty. And in Feb­ru­ary 11, 1950’s “Report on the Barn­house Effect”, only the show’s third broad­cast, we hear the tes­ti­mo­ny of a tele­ki­net­ic — one who, giv­en that Kurt Von­negut wrote the orig­i­nal sto­ry, it won’t sur­prise you to hear the gov­ern­ment imme­di­ate­ly (and hap­less­ly) tries to weaponize.

“The Green Hills of Earth” (Robert Hein­lein)

“There Will Come Soft Rains” (Ray Brad­bury)

“Peb­ble in the Sky” (Isaac Asi­mov)

“Report on the Barn­house Effect” (Kurt Von­negut)

Relat­ed con­tent:

Orson Welles Vin­tage Radio: The War of the Worlds That Pet­ri­fied a Nation

The Rel­a­tiv­i­ty Series Fea­tures 24 Free Plays About Great Sci­en­tists and Sci­en­tif­ic Endeav­ors

Isaac Asimov’s Sci­ence Fic­tion Clas­sic, The Foun­da­tion Tril­o­gy, Dra­ma­tized for Radio (1973)

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.

Botticelli’s 92 Surviving Illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy (1481)


Every true Renais­sance man need­ed a wealthy patron, and many Ital­ian artist-inven­tor-schol­ar-poets found theirs in Loren­zo de’Medici, scion of a Flo­ren­tine dynasty and him­self a schol­ar and poet. Loren­zo either spon­sored direct­ly or helped secure com­mis­sions for such 15th cen­tu­ry art stars as Michelan­ge­lo Buonaroti and Leonar­do da Vin­ci.

Among Lorenzo’s many artist friends was a painter who most­ly dis­ap­peared from his­to­ry until the late nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, when the redis­cov­ery of his Pri­mav­era and Birth of Venus made him one of the most pop­u­lar of Renais­sance artists. I’m refer­ring of course, to San­dro Bot­ti­cel­li, por­traitist of Loren­zo de’Medici, his father, and grand­fa­ther and also, it turns out, illus­tra­tor of Dante Alighieri’s Divine Com­e­dy.

In 1550, the so-called “father of art his­to­ry” Gior­gio Vasari record­ed that “since Bot­ti­cel­li was a learned man, he wrote a com­men­tary on part of Dan­te’s poem, and after illus­trat­ing the Infer­no, he print­ed the work.”  The painter also made a por­trait of Dante, Vasari tells us, and drew sketch­es for engrav­ings in the first Flo­ren­tine edi­tion of The Divine Com­e­dy in 1481.

It seems, how­ev­er, that Botticelli’s inter­est in Dante went much fur­ther than even Vasari knew. Some­time late in his career—after he had already achieved local renown in Florence—Botticelli promised his patron Loren­zo an illus­trat­ed Divine Com­e­dy on sheep­skin with a sep­a­rate image for each Can­to, some­thing no artist had yet attempt­ed. 92 of those illus­tra­tions sur­vive, in var­i­ous stages of com­ple­tion, such as the two above, “Pan­der­ers, Flat­ter­ers” (top–the only draw­ing in col­or) and “Giants” (above), both from the Infer­no.

These are two of the most ful­ly real­ized of the col­lec­tion. Accord­ing to art his­to­ri­an Jonathan K. Nel­son, “Bot­ti­cel­li com­plet­ed the out­line draw­ings for near­ly all the can­tos, but only added col­ors for a few. The artist shows his ‘learn­ing’ and artis­tic skill by rep­re­sent­ing each of the three realms each in a dis­tinc­tive way.” Many of Botticelli’s draw­ings for the Pur­ga­to­rio and Par­adiso sur­vive as well, but—like the books themselves—these are increas­ing­ly less detailed (and arguably less inter­est­ing). See “Dan­te’s Con­fes­sion” from the Pur­ga­to­rio above, his “Map of Hell” at the top, “Jacob’s Lad­der” from the Par­adiso below, and the remain­ing 88 illus­tra­tions at World of Dante.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Gus­tave Doré’s Dra­mat­ic Illus­tra­tions of Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy

Alber­to Martini’s Haunt­ing Illus­tra­tions of Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy (1901–1944)

Sal­vador Dalí’s 100 Illus­tra­tions of Dante’s The Divine Com­e­dy

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

20-Year-Old Louis CK Performs Stand Up (1987)

Ever been tak­en aback by a vin­tage pho­to of a Face­book friend? “Look how young he was! An infant!” If you’re a mem­ber of come­di­an Louis CK’s gen­er­a­tion, it’s like­ly that at some point, the per­son in the pho­to was you.

Louis mod­el 1987, above, is close to unrec­og­niz­able, with a full head of red hair and a trim bel­ly. His joke-based rou­tine isn’t howl­ing­ly fun­ny, but nei­ther is it shame­ful. He’s con­fi­dent, at his ease with the audi­ence, but the life expe­ri­ence that would inform his lat­er work was not yet a thing.

A few years fur­ther along, above, one can see that com­ic per­sona com­ing into focus. The sad sack phys­i­cal­i­ty that gives it weight came lat­er. Suf­fice to say, that hair­brush joke is no longer a present tense propo­si­tion.

What struck me were the famil­iar back walls of those lit­tle com­e­dy club stages. Louis has been work­ing those crum­my lit­tle stages for such a long time. No won­der he’s on famil­iar terms with the door guys at the Com­e­dy Cel­lar, the club he’s most often shown fre­quent­ing in his char­ac­ter-dri­ven, self-pro­duced, large­ly auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal TV show.

As he gen­er­ous­ly advised an 18-year-old aspi­rant on the Google news­group “alt.comedy.standup”:

Go on stage as often as pos­si­ble.  Any stage any­where.  Don’t lis­ten to any­one about any­thing.  Just keep get­ting up there and try to be fun­ny, hon­est and orig­i­nal.

Know that it’s not going to be easy.  Know that it’s going to take a long time to be good or great. Don’t focus on the career climb­ing.  Focus on the get­ting fun­nier.  The sec­ond you are bitch­ing about what anoth­er com­ic is get­ting you are going in the com­plete­ly wrong direc­tion.  No one is get­ting your gig or your mon­ey.

Keep in mind that you are in for a looooong haul of ups and downs and noth­ing and some­thing.  It takes at least 15 years, usu­al­ly more, to make a great com­ic.  Most flame out before they get there.

And yes, be polite and cour­te­ous to every sin­gle per­son you deal with. Not because that will make you a bet­ter come­di­an, but because you’re sup­posed to do that.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the author of sev­en books, includ­ing No Touch Mon­key! And Oth­er Trav­el Lessons Learned Too Late. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sur­re­al Short Films of Louis C.K., 1993–1999

Sein­feld, Louis C.K., Chris Rock, and Ricky Ger­vais Dis­sect the Craft of Com­e­dy (NSFW)

How the Great George Car­lin Showed Louis CK the Way to Suc­cess (NSFW)

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast