SadÂly, despite great strides since the 1970s, HolÂlyÂwood (and filmÂmakÂing in genÂerÂal) is still a boys’ club, espeÂcialÂly when it comes to those behind the camÂera. Until Kathryn Bigelow won her 2010 Oscar for The Hurt LockÂer, no female direcÂtor had claimed the prize. And not a sinÂgle woman has even been nomÂiÂnatÂed for Best CinÂeÂmatogÂraÂphy.
But as someÂbody on this MetafilÂter thread sugÂgests, if we want to supÂport female direcÂtors, we need to watch more films by female direcÂtors. This Google Doc lists 245 films directÂed by women that are curÂrentÂly availÂable on NetÂflix. It’s a mix of art house and popÂcorn fare, and all worth checkÂing out…and no doubt many Open CulÂture readÂers have seen quite a few already. Here’s our Top Ten sugÂgesÂtions from that list, with four more thrown in for good meaÂsure. And yes, we know that NetÂflix is a paid serÂvice, but, not to worÂry, you can sign up for a month-long free triÂal.
Ted Mills is a freeÂlance writer on the arts who curÂrentÂly hosts the artist interÂview-based FunkZone PodÂcast. You can also folÂlow him on TwitÂter at @tedmills, read his othÂer arts writÂing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.
Ta-Nehisi Coates has been ridÂing a wave so high these past few years that most honÂest writÂers would conÂfess to at least some small degree of envy. And yet anyone—writer or reader—who appreÂciÂates Coates’ rigÂorÂous scholÂarÂship, stylÂisÂtic masÂtery, and enthralling perÂsonÂal voice must also admit that the accoÂlades are well-earned. WinÂner of the NationÂal Book Award for his secÂond autoÂbiÂoÂgraphÂiÂcal work, Between the World and Me and recipÂiÂent of a MacArthur “Genius Grant,” Coates is freÂquentÂly called on to disÂcuss the seemÂingÂly intractable racism in the U.S., both its long, gritÂty hisÂtoÂry and conÂtinÂuÂaÂtion into the present. (On top of these creÂdenÂtials, Coates, an unabashed comÂic book nerd, is now penÂning the revived Black PanÂther title for MarÂvel, curÂrentÂly the year’s best-sellÂing comÂic.)
As a senior ediÂtor at The Atlantic, Coates became a nationÂal voice for black AmerÂiÂca with artiÂcles on the paraÂdoxÂes of Barack ObaÂma’s presÂiÂdenÂcy and the bootÂstraps conÂserÂvatism of Bill CosÂby (pubÂlished before the comedian’s prosÂeÂcuÂtion). His artiÂcle “The Case for RepaÂraÂtions,” a lengthy, hisÂtorÂiÂcal examÂiÂnaÂtion of RedlinÂing, brought him furÂther into nationÂal promiÂnence. So high was Coates’ proÂfile after his secÂond book that Toni MorÂriÂson declared him the heir to James Baldwin’s legaÂcy, a manÂtle that has weighed heavÂiÂly and sparked some backÂlash, though Coates courtÂed the comÂparÂiÂson himÂself by styling Between the World and Me after Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time. In doing so, writes Michael Eric Dyson, “Coates did a darÂing thing… waged a bet that the AmerÂiÂcan pubÂlic could absorb even more of the episÂtoÂlary device, and wrote a book-length essay to his son.”
Not only did AmerÂiÂca “absorb” the device; the nation’s readÂers marÂveled at Coates’ deft mixÂture of exisÂtenÂtial toughÂness and emoÂtionÂal vulÂnerÂaÂbilÂiÂty; his intense, unsenÂtiÂmenÂtal take on U.S. racist aniÂmus and his movÂing, lovÂing porÂtraits of his close friends and famÂiÂly. As a letÂter from a father to his son, the book also works as a teachÂing tool, and Coates libÂerÂalÂly salts his perÂsonÂal narÂraÂtive with the sources of his own eduÂcaÂtion in African AmerÂiÂcan hisÂtoÂry and polÂiÂtics from his father and his years at Howard UniÂverÂsiÂty. In the wake of the fame the book has brought him, he has conÂtinÂued what he seems to view as a pubÂlic misÂsion to eduÂcate, and interÂviews and disÂcusÂsions with the writer freÂquentÂly involve digresÂsions on his sources of inforÂmaÂtion, as well as the books that move and motiÂvate him.
So it was when Coates sat down with New York Times MagÂaÂzine and ProPÂubÂliÂca reporter Nikole HanÂnah-Jones at New York’s SchomÂburg CenÂter for Research in Black CulÂture last year. You can watch the full interÂview at the top of the post. DurÂing the course of the hour-long talk, Coates menÂtioned the books below, in the hopes, he says, that “folks who read” Between the World and Me “will read this book, and then go read a ton of othÂer books.” He both began and endÂed his recÂomÂmenÂdaÂtions with BaldÂwin.
FinalÂly, Coates refÂerÂences the famous debate between James BaldÂwin and William F. BuckÂley at CamÂbridge UniÂverÂsiÂty in 1965, which you can read about and watch in full here.
A few weeks ago, I took my kids to see Paul McCartÂney launch his One on One Tour in FresÂno, CalÂiÂforÂnia. The highÂlight? SeeÂing him play “Hard Day’s Night” and “Love Me Do” live for the first time since the 1960s? Not realÂly. WatchÂing Sir Paul wave at my kids when they held up a “CheeÂrio Paul” sign? Yeah, that was worth the price of the tickÂets alone.
But none of that comÂpares to the scene that played out earÂliÂer this week in Buenos Aires. Above, watch litÂtle Leila sweetÂly ask Paul to play a litÂtle bass, get her wish grantÂed, and rock to some “Get Back.” It’s pretÂty adorable.
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If you ever find yourÂself in Zadar, CroaÂtÂia, pay a visÂit to The Sea Organ, the experÂiÂmenÂtal musiÂcal instruÂment creÂatÂed by the archiÂtect NikoÂla Bašić. Unveiled in 2005, the organ–made of 35 polyÂethÂylÂene pipes tucked under white marÂble steps–turns the wind and the waves into a nevÂer-endÂing stream of avant-garde sounds. In 2006, the Sea Organ won the 2006 EuroÂpean Prize for Urban PubÂlic Space. Hear it make its music above.
If you would like to supÂport the misÂsion of Open CulÂture, conÂsidÂer makÂing a donaÂtion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your conÂtriÂbuÂtions will help us conÂtinÂue proÂvidÂing the best free culÂturÂal and eduÂcaÂtionÂal mateÂriÂals to learnÂers everyÂwhere. You can conÂtribute through PayÂPal, PatreÂon, and VenÂmo (@openculture). Thanks!
Image courÂtesy of NationÂal BurÂial DataÂbase of Enslaved AmerÂiÂcans
The stoÂries are infreÂquent but deeply comÂpelling: one recent news item in the AP’s The Big StoÂry describes the bones of 14 peoÂple from the 18th or earÂly 19th cenÂtuÂry, disÂcovÂered in Albany, NY, “wrapped in shrouds, buried in pine boxÂes and—over centuries—forgotten.” SevÂen adults, five infants, and two chilÂdren, soon to be “pubÂliÂcalÂly memoÂriÂalÂized and [re]buried in perÂsonÂalÂized boxÂes beside promiÂnent famÂiÂlies in old Albany.”
Over the 11 years since the bones’ disÂcovÂery by conÂstrucÂtion workÂers, sciÂenÂtists have been able to piece togethÂer clues about what these lives were like: marked by conÂstant toil and physÂiÂcal hardÂship. GenetÂic markÂers, and broÂken bones, notched and missÂing teeth, and arthritÂic joints offer the only means of idenÂtiÂfyÂing the remains. A granÂite headÂstone donatÂed to the new gravesite will read, “Here lies the remains of 14 souls known only to God. Enslaved in life, they are slaves no more.”
MemoÂriÂals like this one and the recent Albany burÂial site do not change the facts or right the wrongs of hisÂtoÂry, but they do make visÂiÂble lives and hisÂtoÂries long buried and forÂgotÂten. “Among the scars left by the herÂitage of slavÂery,” writes Edward RothÂstein at The New York Times, “one of the greatÂest is an absence: where are the memoÂriÂals, cemeÂterÂies, archiÂtecÂturÂal strucÂtures or sturÂdy sancÂtuÂarÂies that typÂiÂcalÂly proÂvide the ground for a people’s memÂoÂry?” This is preÂciseÂly the quesÂtion SanÂdra Arnold is now askÂing, in a very litÂerÂal sense, for a project called The NationÂal BurÂial DataÂbase of Enslaved AmerÂiÂcans (NBDEA).
A GradÂuÂate FelÂlow at Brown UniÂverÂsiÂty, Arnold foundÂed the PeriÂwinÂkle IniÂtiaÂtive, “a pubÂlic humanÂiÂties and eduÂcaÂtion iniÂtiaÂtive dedÂiÂcatÂed to preÂservÂing culÂturÂal herÂitage assoÂciÂatÂed with enslaved AmerÂiÂcans.” The NBDEA—Periwinkle’s core project in colÂlabÂoÂraÂtion with FordÂham UniÂverÂsiÂty, the NationÂal EndowÂment for the HumanÂiÂties, and the 1772 FounÂdaÂtion—aims, writes Arnold at The New York Times, to “be the first nationÂal reposÂiÂtoÂry of inforÂmaÂtion on the grave sites of indiÂvidÂuÂals who died while enslaved or after they were emanÂciÂpatÂed.”
The grave sites The NBDEA comÂpiles will depend in some part on the pubÂlic: “AnyÂone who comes to the webÂsite will evenÂtuÂalÂly be able to subÂmit inforÂmaÂtion about these places and conÂduct searchÂes.” CurÂrentÂly, the site remains in develÂopÂment, unavailÂable for pubÂlic searchÂes, but users can make preÂlimÂiÂnary subÂmisÂsions. Arnold describes the process of siftÂing through the subÂmisÂsions she has received as “painful.”
BurÂial grounds that should be revered spaces… instead are covÂered by playÂgrounds and apartÂment comÂplexÂes. I have learned that many grave sites of forÂmerÂly enslaved AmerÂiÂcans are abanÂdoned, undocÂuÂmentÂed, desÂeÂcratÂed by the asphalt of “develÂopÂment,” and lack any type of memoÂriÂalÂizaÂtion or recogÂniÂtion. The burÂial grounds are often found inciÂdenÂtalÂly by develÂopÂers under parks and office buildÂings, and for many of the sites, oral hisÂtoÂry is their only source of docÂuÂmenÂtaÂtion.
Just such an oral hisÂtoÂry preÂserved the unmarked gravesite of one of Arnold’s ancesÂtors in her homeÂtown in West TenÂnessee. AlliÂson Meier at HyperÂalÂlerÂgic points to some specifÂiÂcalÂly trouÂbled sites like those Arnold describes, includÂing “a slave cemeÂtery… bullÂdozed in HousÂton,” anothÂer “covÂered with asphalt in Atlanta,” and a third “found below a Harlem bus depot.”
Arnold hopes that recordÂing and memoÂriÂalÂizÂing these “sacred spaces… can conÂtribute to healÂing, underÂstandÂing and potenÂtialÂly even recÂonÂcilÂiÂaÂtion.” AddiÂtionÂalÂly, she cites a “pragÂmatÂic” ratioÂnale for the project, since “burÂial grounds are valuÂable resources for scholÂars and hisÂtoÂriÂans, servÂing as road maps for genealogÂiÂcal and hisÂtorÂiÂcal research.”
The project presents a tremenÂdous opporÂtuÂniÂty for the many thouÂsands of citÂiÂzen hisÂtoÂriÂans scatÂtered across the counÂtry to come togethÂer and fill in the absences in our hisÂtorÂiÂcal memÂoÂry; and the cenÂtralÂized dataÂbase will also draw more attenÂtion to the few memoÂriÂals that do exist, many of which, writes Meier, “are often stagÂgerÂingÂly small in relaÂtion to the numÂber of lives they rememÂber.” She refers to the examÂple of a “miniaÂture mass grave monÂuÂment” in MemÂphis’ ElmÂwood Cemetary (above), a “sinÂgle stone [that] memoÂriÂalÂizes over 300 slaves who died between 1852 and 1865.”
Like The Freedman’s Bureau Project, a recent online dataÂbase of 1.5 milÂlion hisÂtorÂiÂcal docÂuÂments relatÂed to slavÂery, The NBDEA will furÂther hisÂtoriÂcize and humanÂize “overÂlooked lives,” writes Arnold, that “are an inexÂtriÂcaÂble part of the hisÂtorÂiÂcal narÂraÂtive of our counÂtry.”
Sure, I know ice truckÂers and snow crab fishÂerÂmen have it rough, but I’ve always thought the hardÂest job in the world is to be a comeÂdiÂan. You walk out on stage, night after night, throwÂing yourÂself on the merÂcy of the fickÂle crowd, with nothÂing but your wits to keep you afloat. It’s nevÂer been any wonÂder to me that so many comeÂdiÂans turn to varÂiÂous subÂstances to cope with the heckÂling, chilly silences, and disÂinÂterÂestÂed, half-empÂty rooms. Even sucÂcessÂful, beloved comics face tremenÂdous perÂforÂmance presÂsures. Some of them crack. And some, like John Belushi, hop onstage durÂing a GrateÂful Dead show at the CapiÂtol TheÂatre, cartÂwheel over to a microÂphone before the choÂrus of “U.S. Blues,” and join in on backÂing vocals.
Belushi’s imprompÂtu 1980 prank perÂforÂmance with the Dead was not, iniÂtialÂly, welÂcomed. He had, reports Live for Live Music, “met with some resisÂtance from the band” when he asked to join in durÂing the encore, and drumÂmer Bill KreutzÂmann “had to nix Belushi’s wishÂes.”
So Belushi, true to form, took matÂters into his own anarÂchic hands, stagÂing what KreutzÂmann called in his 2015 autoÂbiÂogÂraÂphy a “comedic ambush.”
He had on a sport coat with small AmerÂiÂcan flags stuffed into both of his breast pockÂets and he landÂed his last cartÂwheel just in time to grab a microÂphone and join in on the choÂrus. The audiÂence and everyÂone in the band—except for Phil—ate it up. It couldÂn’t have been rehearsed betÂter. Belushi had impecÂcaÂble comedic timÂing, musiÂcalÂiÂty, balls, the works. And apparÂentÂly, he didÂn’t take no for an answer.
SadÂly, no video of the stunt seems to exist, but you can see KreutzÂmann tell the Belushi stoÂry in the interÂview at the top of the post and, just above, hear that night’s encore perÂforÂmance of “U.S. Blues.” LisÂten closeÂly at around the 1:50 mark and you’ll hear Belushi join in on the choÂrus. We’ll have to imagÂine the cartÂwheels, but it probÂaÂbly looked someÂthing like this.
We all know the rules of art museÂums: look, but don’t touch. This doesÂn’t bothÂer most of us most of the time, but for art-lovers who hapÂpen to be blind and thus use feelÂing as a subÂstiÂtute for seeÂing, it presents a probÂlem indeed — but it also opens up an artisÂtic opporÂtuÂniÂty. “CanÂtor Fine Art, a just-launched gallery by father and son team LarÂry and Sam CanÂtor, offers a stoÂry of a difÂferÂent kind of physÂiÂcal interÂacÂtion with art in their project, Please Touch the Art,” writes The CreÂator’s ProÂjecÂt’s Gabrielle Bruney. “They partÂnered with artist Andrew Myers to creÂate a tacÂtile paintÂing that is appreÂciaÂble by both sightÂed and blind art lovers.”
In the five-minute video above, you can see — or if visuÂalÂly impaired, hear — Myers disÂcussing the beginÂnings of his “screw pieces,” images made by driÂving countÂless screws into a piece of wood, each one ultiÂmateÂly actÂing as a kind of physÂiÂcal, three-dimenÂsionÂal pixÂel. Though Myers didÂn’t begin these works with the blind in mind, one such gallery-goer’s visÂit to his show, and the “huge smile on his face” when he put his hand to the screw pieces, got him thinkÂing of the posÂsiÂbilÂiÂties in that direcÂtion. Thanks to his art, “there was a blind man who could almost see for a secÂond.”
We also meet the blind woodÂworkÂer George Wurtzel, curÂrentÂly at work on “conÂvertÂing an old grape crushÂing barn into a TacÂtile Art CenÂter” which comÂbines a woodÂworkÂing shop with a “tacÂtile gallery space where the visuÂalÂly impaired can expeÂriÂence and sell artÂwork.” DisÂcovÂerÂing their shared pasÂsion for tacÂtile art, Myers decides to make a surÂprise for Wurtzel, “the first porÂtrait of himÂself he can actuÂalÂly feel,” the first new piece for his tacÂtile art gallery. The video capÂtures the big reveal, which conÂverts Wurtzel from his skepÂtiÂcism about the screw-piece form. Still, even as he runs his finÂgers over his own metalÂliÂcized feaÂtures, he has his objecÂtions: “My nose is not that big. I’m sorÂry. I like the beard, though. The beard is good. The beard is realÂly good.”
From the figÂureÂheads of ships to cigÂar store statÂues to the carÂiÂcaÂture masÂcots of varÂiÂous sports teams…. UnforÂtuÂnate or denÂiÂgratÂing images of Native AmerÂiÂcan peoÂples have perÂsistÂed in popÂuÂlar culÂture, folk symÂbols of what ElisÂaÂbeth W. RusÂsell refers to in her hisÂtoÂry of the cigÂar store IndiÂan as “The VanÂishÂing AmerÂiÂcan.” The phrase comes from the title of a Zane Grey novÂel, which then became a 1925 silent film dealÂing, wrote the New York Times that year, “with the passÂing of the AmerÂiÂcan IndiÂan.” Although both the novÂel and film attempt to protest the treatÂment of Native peoÂple by the U.S. govÂernÂment, both underÂwrite a comÂmon, trouÂbling assumption—that Native AmerÂiÂcans, like the BufÂfaÂlo and the wild MusÂtang, were a threatÂened (and threatÂenÂing) sepÂaÂrate species, whose “vanÂishÂing” from the picaresque West (as they had “vanÂished” from the East) was a lamÂenÂtaÂble, but perÂhaps unavoidÂable, side effect of the march of Euro-AmerÂiÂcan progress.
Each symÂbolÂic memoÂriÂalÂizÂing of Native AmerÂiÂcans in U.S. iconogÂraÂphy, howÂevÂer solemn or offenÂsiveÂly carÂtoonÂish, gesÂtures toward some meaÂger recogÂniÂtion of a tragÂic loss, while erasÂing the cirÂcumÂstances that occaÂsioned it. Of course Native AmerÂiÂcans didn’t vanÂish, but were slowÂly killed or houndÂed into poverÂty and disÂposÂsesÂsion, and out of sight of white America—their dress, reliÂgions, and culÂtures made to disÂapÂpear through forced assimÂiÂlaÂtion, only to reapÂpear in romanÂtiÂcized images of tragÂiÂcalÂly conÂquered, but admirably warÂlike, primÂiÂtives.
Those images proÂlifÂerÂatÂed durÂing the mid-to-late 19th cenÂtuÂry, the periÂod of intense WestÂern setÂtleÂment and expanÂsion and the so-called IndiÂan Wars. “It is a givÂen today,” writes hisÂtoÂriÂan BriÂan DipÂple, “that the idea of the AmerÂiÂcan IndiÂan has been hisÂtorÂiÂcalÂly sigÂnifÂiÂcant. It shaped the attiÂtudes of those in the nineÂteenth cenÂtuÂry who shaped IndiÂan polÂiÂcy. IndiÂan policy—be it removal of the EastÂern tribes in the 1830s, reserÂvaÂtion isoÂlaÂtionÂism beginÂning in the 1850s, or allotÂment of reserÂvaÂtion lands and assimÂiÂlaÂtion in the 1880s—cannot be underÂstood withÂout an awareÂness of the ideas behind it. LitÂerÂaÂture and the visuÂal arts proÂvide revealÂing guides to nineÂteenth cenÂtuÂry assumpÂtions about the IndiÂan.”
Native hisÂtoÂriÂan Vine DeloÂria describes the culÂturÂal sitÂuÂaÂtion with more inciÂsive wit in his “IndiÂan ManÂiÂfesto,” Custer Died for Your Sins: “The AmerÂiÂcan pubÂlic feels most comÂfortÂable with the mythÂiÂcal IndiÂans of stereoÂtype-land who were always THERE. These IndiÂans are fierce, they wear feathÂers and grunt. Most of us don’t fit this ideÂalÂized figÂure since we grunt only when overeatÂing, which is selÂdom.” By the earÂly 20th cenÂtuÂry, “mythÂiÂcal IndiÂans” had become firmÂly embedÂded in popÂuÂlar culÂture, thanks to art and enterÂtainÂment like the preÂsumÂably seriÂous attempts of Zane Grey and FredÂerÂic RemÂingÂton, and J.M. Barrie’s deeply unseÂriÂous Peter Pan. It is in this culÂturÂal atmosÂphere that phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer Edward SherÂiff CurÂtis’ huge, 20-volÂume ethnoÂgraphÂic project, The North AmerÂiÂcan IndiÂan emerged.
BeginÂning in 1904, and with the evenÂtuÂal backÂing of J.P. MorÂgan, writes MashÂable, CurÂtis “spent more than 20 years crissÂcrossÂing North AmerÂiÂca, creÂatÂing over 40,000 images of more than 80 difÂferÂent tribes. He made thouÂsands of wax cylinÂder recordÂings of native songs and lanÂguage, and wrote down oral hisÂtoÂries, legÂends and biograÂphies.” You can view and downÂload more than 1,000 of these phoÂtographs at the Library of ConÂgress. CurÂtis thought of his work as docÂuÂmentÂing “what he saw as a vanÂishÂing way of life.” MotiÂvatÂed by assumpÂtions about Native peoÂple as semi-mythÂic remÂnants from the past, the phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer “someÂtimes medÂdled with the docÂuÂmenÂtary authenÂticÂiÂty of his images. He posed his subÂjects in romanÂtiÂcized setÂtings stripped of WestÂern civÂiÂlizaÂtion, more repÂreÂsenÂtaÂtive of an imagÂined pre-ColomÂbian exisÂtence than the subÂjects’ actuÂal lives in the present.”
The phoÂtographs are beauÂtiÂful, their subÂjects ennoÂbled by the draÂmatÂic lightÂing and stylÂized posÂes, and the breadth and scope of the entire project is nothÂing less than breathÂtakÂing. It set the stage for the sigÂnifÂiÂcant work of latÂer phoÂtogÂraÂphers and ethnoÂgÂraÂphers like WalkÂer Evans, Dorothea Lange, and the LomaxÂes. CurÂtis has even been credÂitÂed with proÂducÂing the first docÂuÂmenÂtary film. The images, hisÂtoÂries, traÂdiÂtions, and biograÂphies CurÂtis preÂserved conÂstiÂtute an invaluÂable hisÂtorÂiÂcal record. That said, we should bear in mind that The North AmerÂiÂcan IndiÂan comes to us framed by CurÂtis’ assumpÂtions about Native AmerÂiÂcan culÂtures, formed by a cliÂmate in which myth vied with, and usuÂalÂly supÂplantÂed, fact. What do we see in these staged images, and what do we not see?
One of CurÂtis’ enthuÂsiÂasÂtic earÂly backÂers, Theodore Roosevelt—who authored the introÂducÂtion to VolÂume One—was, “like many of CurÂtis’ evenÂtuÂal supÂportÂers,” writes Valerie Daniels, “more interÂestÂed in obtainÂing a record of vanÂishÂing Native AmerÂiÂcan culÂtures as a tesÂtaÂment to the supeÂriÂorÂiÂty of his own civÂiÂlizaÂtion than out of any conÂcern over their sitÂuÂaÂtion or recogÂniÂtion of his own role in the process.” Though CurÂtis did not necÂesÂsarÂiÂly share these views, and latÂer became “radÂiÂcal in his admoÂniÂtion of govÂernÂment poliÂcies toward Native AmerÂiÂcans,” he also had to please his financiers and his audiÂence, most of whom would have felt the way RooÂsevelt did. We should bear this culÂturÂal conÂtext in mind as we take in CurÂtis’ work, and ask how it shaped the creÂation and recepÂtion of this truÂly impresÂsive record of both AmerÂiÂcan hisÂtoÂry and AmerÂiÂcan myth. Enter the archive of images here.
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