Blade Runner 2049’s New Making-Of Featurette Gives You a Sneak Peek Inside the Long-Awaited Sequel

All of us who excit­ed­ly write about Blade Run­ner 2049, the upcom­ing sequel to Blade Run­ner, have at some point described the film as “long-await­ed.” Since the orig­i­nal came out in 1982, that makes a cer­tain lit­er­al sense, but the wait has­n’t stretched to 35 years with­out cause. As Blade Run­ner rose high­er and high­er in stature, fol­low­ing it up prop­er­ly grew into a more and more daunt­ing chal­lenge. But now, as Blade Run­ner 2049 approach­es its Octo­ber release, the prospect that this most respect­ed of all sci­ence-fic­tion movies will have its con­tin­u­a­tion feels more real than ever — and it will feel even more real than that after you watch the short mak­ing-of fea­turette above.

Philip K. Dick, the pro­lif­ic author of Blade Run­ner’s source mate­r­i­al, a nov­el called Do Androids Dream of Elec­tric Sheep?, rec­og­nized imme­di­ate­ly how impor­tant the film would become. But its direc­tor Rid­ley Scott admits that he “could nev­er have imag­ined how icon­ic it would still be” today.

Though he did­n’t return to direct Blade Run­ner 2049, ced­ing the chair to Sicario and Arrival direc­tor Denis Vil­leneuve and tak­ing on the role of pro­duc­er instead, he does make quite a few appear­ances in this fea­turette as a kind of pre­sid­ing spir­it. â€śBlade Run­ner rev­o­lu­tion­ized the way we view sci­ence fic­tion,” says Vil­leneuve. “I’ve nev­er felt that much pres­sure on my shoul­ders — think­ing that Rid­ley Scott will see this movie.”

But more than any­thing the cast and film­mak­ers have to say, Blade Run­ner fans will savor the video’s glimpses of the new pic­ture’s aes­thet­ic, clear­ly both mod­eled after and delib­er­ate­ly made dif­fer­ent from that of the orig­i­nal. As the title makes obvi­ous, the sto­ry takes place thir­ty years after Blade Run­ner’s 2019, and just as things have changed in our world, so they’ve changed in its world — not least in the form of a Kore­an influ­ence that has its found its way in with the Japan­ese and Chi­nese ones that so char­ac­ter­ized Blade Run­ner’s future Los Ange­les. “Defin­ing this was like walk­ing on a knife’s edge,” says pro­duc­tion design­er Den­nis Gassner, “rid­ing the line between the orig­i­nal film and what we’re doing now.”

If you’d like to com­pare the build-up to Blade Run­ner 2049 with the build-up to Blade Run­ner, have a look at its own thir­teen-minute pro­mo­tion­al fea­turette above. Made well before the time of the mod­ern inter­net, let alone mod­ern inter­net videos, this 16-mil­lime­ter film pro­duc­tion, which fea­tured Scott, “visu­al futur­ist” Syd Mead, and spe­cial effects artist Dou­glas Trum­bull, cir­cu­lat­ed by mak­ing the screen­ing rounds sci-fi, fan­ta­sy, and even hor­ror con­ven­tions all across Amer­i­ca. Few movies, let alone sequels, have built up as much antic­i­pa­tion as Blade Run­ner 2049 has, and even few­er have such a lega­cy to live up to. At least the film­mak­ers can rest assured that, if the crit­ics don’t hap­pen to like it, well, they did­n’t like the first one either.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Offi­cial Trail­er for Rid­ley Scott’s Long-Await­ed Blade Run­ner Sequel Is Final­ly Out

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

The Blade Run­ner Pro­mo­tion­al Film

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

The Art of Mak­ing Blade Run­ner: See the Orig­i­nal Sketch­book, Sto­ry­boards, On-Set Polaroids & More

How Rid­ley Scott’s Blade Run­ner Illu­mi­nates the Cen­tral Prob­lem of Moder­ni­ty

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Free eBooks with Modern Typography & Nice Formatting, All “Carefully Produced for the True Book Lover”

If you look through our col­lec­tion of 800+ Free eBooks, you will find many pub­lic domain texts pre­sent­ed by providers like Project Guten­berg and Archive.org. Pret­ty soon, we’ll have to add texts from Stan­dard eBooks, a vol­un­teer-dri­ven project that dig­i­tizes books while plac­ing an empha­sis on design and typog­ra­phy. Here’s how they describe their mis­sion:

While there are plen­ty of places where you can down­load free and accu­rate­ly-tran­scribed pub­lic domain ebooks, we feel the qual­i­ty of those ebooks can often be great­ly improved.

For exam­ple, Project Guten­berg, a major pro­duc­er of pub­lic-domain ebooks, hosts epub and Kin­dle files that some­times lack basic typo­graph­ic neces­si­ties like curly quotes; some of those ebooks are auto­mat­i­cal­ly gen­er­at­ed and can’t take full advan­tage of mod­ern eread­er tech­nol­o­gy like pop­up foot­notes or pop­up tables of con­tents; they some­times lack niceties like cov­er images and title pages; and the qual­i­ty of indi­vid­ual ebook pro­duc­tions varies great­ly.

Archival sites like the Inter­net Archive (and even Project Guten­berg, to some extent) painstak­ing­ly pre­serve entire texts word-for-word, includ­ing orig­i­nal typos and ephemera that are of lim­it­ed inter­est to mod­ern read­ers: every­thing includ­ing cen­turies-old pub­lish­ing marks, adver­tise­ments for long-van­ished pub­lish­ers, author bios, deeply archa­ic spellings, and so on. Some­times all you get is a scan of the actu­al book pages. That’s great for researchers, archivists, and spe­cial-inter­est read­ers, but not that great for casu­al, mod­ern read­ers.

The Stan­dard Ebooks project dif­fers from those etext projects in that we aim to make free pub­lic domain ebooks that are care­ful­ly type­set, cleaned of ancient and irrel­e­vant ephemera, take full advan­tage of mod­ern eread­ing tech­nol­o­gy, are for­mat­ted accord­ing to a detailed style guide, and that are each held to a stan­dard of qual­i­ty and inter­nal con­sis­ten­cy. Stan­dard Ebooks include care­ful­ly cho­sen cov­er art based on pub­lic domain art­work, and are pre­sent­ed in an attrac­tive way on your ebook­shelf. For tech­ni­cal­ly-inclined read­ers, Stan­dard Ebooks con­form to a rig­or­ous cod­ing style, are com­plete­ly open source, and are host­ed on Github, so any­one can con­tribute cor­rec­tions or improve­ments eas­i­ly and direct­ly with­out hav­ing to deal with baroque forums or opaque process­es.

All of the ebooks in the Stan­dard eBooks col­lec­tion â€śare thought to be in the pub­lic domain in the Unit­ed States.” You can cur­rent­ly down­load 103 texts–for exam­ple titles like Jane Austen’s Pride and Prej­u­dice, Mary Shel­ley’s Franken­stein, short fic­tion by Philip K. Dick, and Niet­zsche’s Beyond Good and Evil. (See the full col­lec­tion here.) They offer ver­sions spe­cial­ly designed for the Kin­dle and Kobo, but also the more uni­ver­sal epub for­mat. If you’d like to pitch in and help Stan­dard eBooks dig­i­tize more aes­thet­i­cal­ly-pleas­ing books, get more infor­ma­tion here.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book and BlueSky.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

135 Free Phi­los­o­phy eBooks

Down­load 243 Free eBooks on Design, Data, Soft­ware, Web Devel­op­ment & Busi­ness from O’Reilly Media

Down­load 464 Free Art Books from The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

Read 700 Free eBooks Made Avail­able by the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia Press

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2,000-Year-Old Manuscript of the Ten Commandments Gets Digitized: See/Download “Nash Papyrus” in High Resolution

How old is the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible? As with most such ques­tions about dis­put­ed reli­gious texts, it depends on whom you ask. Many con­ser­v­a­tive Jew­ish and Chris­t­ian scholars—or “maximalists”—have long accept­ed the text as con­tain­ing gen­uine his­tor­i­cal records, and dat­ed them as ear­ly as pos­si­ble. Mod­ern crit­i­cal schol­ars, the “min­i­mal­ists,” informed by arche­ol­o­gy, have made strong empir­i­cal cas­es against his­toric­i­ty, and date the texts much lat­er.

These debates can become high­ly spec­u­la­tive the fur­ther back schol­ars attempt to push the Bib­li­cal ori­gins. One has to take cer­tain claims on faith. As far as the tex­tu­al evi­dence goes, the ear­li­est com­plete man­u­scripts we have are the so-called “Masoret­ic Text,” copied, edit­ed, and dis­sem­i­nat­ed between the 7th and 10th cen­turies CE. But we have frag­ments that date back over two thou­sand years, dis­cov­ered in the Qum­ran Caves among the Dead Sea Scrolls in the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry. Pri­or to their dis­cov­ery, the old­est known frag­ment was known as the “Nash Papyrus,” which dates from the sec­ond cen­tu­ry, BCE.

Pur­chased from an Egypt­ian antiq­ui­ties deal­er in 1902 by Egyp­tol­o­gist Dr. Wal­ter Llewl­lyn Nash and donat­ed to the Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty Library the fol­low­ing year, the papyrus con­tains a com­pos­ite of the two dif­fer­ent ver­sions of the Ten Com­mand­ments, from Exo­dus 20 and Deuteron­o­my 5, and the She­ma, a prayer from Deuteron­o­my 6. In 2012, the Nash Papyrus was dig­i­tized, “one of the lat­est trea­sures of human­i­ty,” report­ed Reuters, “to join Isaac Newton’s note­books, the Nurem­berg Chron­i­cle and oth­er rare texts as part of the Cam­bridge Dig­i­tal Library.”

“It has been sug­gest­ed,” notes the Cam­bridge descrip­tion of the ancient man­u­script, “that it is, in fact, from a phy­lac­tery (tefill­in, used in dai­ly prayer).” But the papyrus’ actu­al ori­gins are uncer­tain, though it “was said to have come from the Fayyum,” a city near Cairo. And while the Nash Papyrus may not resolve any debates about the Torah’s ori­gins, its open acces­si­bil­i­ty is a boon for schol­ars grap­pling with the ques­tions. As uni­ver­si­ty librar­i­an Anne Jarvis said upon its dig­i­tal release, the “age and del­i­ca­cy” of the man­u­script make it “sel­dom able to be viewed” in per­son. The leaf papyrus is, as the Cam­bridge Dig­i­tal Library notes, full of holes, “bare­ly leg­i­ble” and com­posed of “four sep­a­rate pieces fixed togeth­er.”

At the library site, users can see it in high res­o­lu­tion, zoom­ing in very close­ly to any area they choose. You can also down­load the image, embed it, or share it on social media. And if that gets your ancient Bib­li­cal engines run­ning, you can then see dig­i­tal Dead Sea Scroll man­u­scripts of the Ten Com­mand­ments here and get an up close look at many oth­er texts from that ancient trea­sure trove—as well as learn about them in a free online Rut­gers course—here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Google Dig­i­tizes Ancient Copies of the Ten Com­mand­ments and Gen­e­sis

Google Puts The Dead Sea Scrolls Online (in Super High Res­o­lu­tion)

Har­vard Presents Two Free Online Cours­es on the Old Tes­ta­ment

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

Carl Sagan Sent Music & Photos Into Space So That Aliens Could Understand Human Civilization (Even After We’re Gone)

A pop­u­lar thought exper­i­ment asks us to imag­ine an advanced alien species arriv­ing on Earth, not in an H.G. Wells-style inva­sion, but as advanced, bemused, and benev­o­lent observers. “Wouldn’t they be appalled,” we won­der, “shocked, con­fused at how back­ward we are?” It’s a pure­ly rhetor­i­cal device—the sec­u­lar equiv­a­lent of tak­ing a “god’s eye view” of human fol­ly. Few peo­ple seri­ous­ly enter­tain the pos­si­bil­i­ty in polite com­pa­ny. Unless they work at NASA or the SETI pro­gram.

In 1977, upon the launch­ing of Voy­ager 1 and Voy­ager 2, a com­mit­tee work­ing under Carl Sagan pro­duced the so-called “Gold­en Records,” actu­al phono­graph­ic LPs made of cop­per con­tain­ing “a col­lec­tion of sounds and images,” writes Joss Fong at Vox, “that will prob­a­bly out­last all human arti­facts on Earth.” While they weren’t prepar­ing for a vis­i­ta­tion on Earth, they did—relying not on wish­ful think­ing but on the con­tro­ver­sial Drake Equa­tion—ful­ly expect that oth­er tech­no­log­i­cal civ­i­liza­tions might well exist in the cos­mos, and assumed a like­li­hood we might encounter one, at least via remote.

Sagan tasked him­self with com­pil­ing what he called a “bot­tle” in “the cos­mic ocean,” and some­thing of a time cap­sule of human­i­ty. Over a year’s time, Sagan and his team col­lect­ed 116 images and dia­grams, nat­ur­al sounds, spo­ken greet­ings in 55 lan­guages, print­ed mes­sages, and musi­cal selec­tions from around the world–things that would com­mu­ni­cate to aliens what our human civ­i­liza­tion is essen­tial­ly all about. The images were encod­ed onto the records in black and white (you can see them all in the Vox video above in col­or). The audio, which you can play in its entire­ty below, was etched into the sur­face of the record. On the cov­er were etched a series of pic­to­graph­ic instruc­tions for how to play and decode its con­tents. (Scroll over the inter­ac­tive image at the top to see each sym­bol explained.)

Fong out­lines those con­tents, writ­ing, “any aliens who come across the Gold­en Record are in for a treat.” That is, if they are able to make sense of it and don’t find us hor­ri­bly back­ward. Among the audio selec­tions are greet­ings from then-UN Sec­re­tary Gen­er­al Kurt Wald­heim, whale songs, Bach’s Bran­den­berg Con­cer­to No. 2 in F, Sene­galese per­cus­sion, Abo­rig­ine songs, Peru­vian pan­pipes and drums, Nava­jo chant, Blind Willie Johnson’s “Dark Was the Night” (play­ing in the Vox video), more Bach, Beethoven, and “John­ny B. Goode.” Chal­lenged over includ­ing “ado­les­cent” rock and roll, Sagan replied, “there are a lot of ado­les­cents on the plan­et.” The Bea­t­les report­ed­ly want­ed to con­tribute “Here Comes the Sun,” but their record com­pa­ny wouldn’t allow it, pre­sum­ably fear­ing copy­right infringe­ment from aliens.

Also con­tained in the space­far­ing archive is a mes­sage from then-pres­i­dent Jim­my Carter, who writes opti­misti­cal­ly, “We are a com­mu­ni­ty of 240 mil­lion human beings among the more than 4 bil­lion who inhab­it plan­et Earth. We human beings are still divid­ed into nation states, but these states are rapid­ly becom­ing a sin­gle glob­al civ­i­liza­tion.” The mes­sages on Voy­agers 1 and 2, Carter fore­casts, are “like­ly to sur­vive a bil­lion years into our future, when our civ­i­liza­tion is pro­found­ly altered and the sur­face of the Earth may be vast­ly changed.” The team chose not to include images of war and human cru­el­ty.

We only have a few years left to find out whether either Voy­ager will encounter oth­er beings. “Incred­i­bly,” writes Fong, the probes “are still com­mu­ni­cat­ing with Earth—they aren’t expect­ed to lose pow­er until the 2020s.” It seems even more incred­i­ble, forty years lat­er, when we con­sid­er their prim­i­tive tech­nol­o­gy: “an 8‑track mem­o­ry sys­tem and onboard com­put­ers that are thou­sands of times weak­er than the phone in your pock­et.”

The Voy­agers were not the first probes sent to inter­stel­lar space. Pio­neer 10 and 11 were launched in 1972 and 1973, each con­tain­ing a Sagan-designed alu­minum plaque with a few sim­ple mes­sages and depic­tions of a nude man and woman, an addi­tion that scan­dal­ized some puri­tan­i­cal crit­ics. NASA has since lost touch with both Pio­neers, but you may recall that in 2006, the agency launched the New Hori­zons probe, which passed by Plu­to in 2015 and should reach inter­stel­lar space in anoth­er thir­ty years.

Per­haps due to the lack of the depart­ed Sagan’s involve­ment, the lat­est “bot­tle” con­tains no intro­duc­tions. But there is time to upload some, and one of the Gold­en Record team mem­bers, Jon Lomberg, wants to do just that, send­ing a crowd­sourced “mes­sage to the stars.” Lomberg’s New Horizon’s Mes­sage Ini­tia­tive is a “glob­al project that brings the peo­ple of the world togeth­er to speak as one.” The lim­i­ta­tions of ana­log tech­nol­o­gy have made the Gold­en Record selec­tions seem quite nar­row from our data-sat­u­rat­ed point of view. The new mes­sage might con­tain almost any­thing we can imag­ine. Vis­it the pro­jec­t’s site to sign the peti­tion, donate, and con­sid­er, just what would you want an alien civ­i­liza­tion to hear, see, and under­stand about the best of human­i­ty cir­ca 2017?

via Ezra Klein/Vox

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Carl Sagan Presents a Mini-Course on Earth, Mars & What’s Beyond Our Solar Sys­tem: For Kids and Adults (1977)

NASA Releas­es a Mas­sive Online Archive: 140,000 Pho­tos, Videos & Audio Files Free to Search and Down­load

NASA’s New Online Archive Puts a Wealth of Free Sci­ence Arti­cles Online

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

London in Vivid Color 125 Years Ago: See Trafalgar Square, the British Museum, Tower Bridge & Other Famous Landmarks in Photocrom Prints

“When a man is tired of Lon­don,” Samuel John­son so famous­ly said, “he is tired of life.” Of course, P.J. O’Rourke lat­er added that “he might just be tired of shab­by, sad crowds, low-income hous­ing that looks worse than the weath­er, and tat­too-faced, spike-haired pea brains on the dole,” but then, every­one expe­ri­ences the Eng­lish cap­i­tal a bit dif­fer­ent­ly. John­son’s Lon­don, the Lon­don of the eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry, looks to some like a city at its zenith; oth­ers might even think the same about the Lon­don O’Rourke made fun of in the 1980s. Every era in Lon­don is a gold­en age to some­one.

Today, we offer a vivid glimpse into anoth­er dis­tinct peri­od in Lon­don his­to­ry, the late nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, by way of the Library of Con­gress’ col­lec­tion of pho­tocrom prints. A few years ago we fea­tured images of Venice cap­tured with the same col­orized-pho­tog­ra­phy process, which pro­duced what the Library of Con­gress describes as ink-based images made with “the direct pho­to­graph­ic trans­fer of an orig­i­nal neg­a­tive onto litho and chro­mo­graph­ic print­ing plates.”

They may “look decep­tive­ly like col­or pho­tographs,” but “when viewed with a mag­ni­fy­ing glass the small dots that com­prise the ink-based pho­to­me­chan­i­cal image are vis­i­ble. The pho­to­me­chan­i­cal process per­mit­ted mass pro­duc­tion of the vivid col­or prints.”

The late nine­teenth and ear­ly twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry saw the emer­gence of a robust mar­ket for pho­tocrom prints, â€śsold at tourist sites and through mail order cat­a­logs to globe trot­ters, arm­chair trav­el­ers, edu­ca­tors, and oth­ers to pre­serve in albums or put on dis­play.” Hence, per­haps, the focus on Lon­don sites of touris­tic appeal: Tow­er Bridge, Trafal­gar Square, the British Muse­um, and even the ful­ly out­fit­ted “Yeo­man of the Guard” you see just above. But print also (and by appear­ances more cor­rect­ly) describes him as a “Beefeater,” the pop­u­lar name for the dif­fer­ent body of cer­e­mo­ni­al tow­er guardians the Yeomen Warders of Her Majesty’s Roy­al Palace and Fortress the Tow­er of Lon­don, and Mem­bers of the Sov­er­eign’s Body Guard of the Yeo­man Guard Extra­or­di­nary. (Got that?)

You can browse, and in var­i­ous for­mats down­load, the 33 images in the Library of Con­gress’ Lon­don pho­tocrom print col­lec­tion here. They all date from between 1890 and 1900, as do the near­ly 1000 images in their Eng­land pho­tocrom print col­lec­tion, whose loca­tions extend far beyond Lon­don. Go to Eng­land today and you’ll notice how much has changed in the past 125 or so years, of course, but how much has­n’t. Grum­bling being some­thing of a nation­al sport over there, espe­cial­ly in Lon­don, the trav­el­er hears no end of com­plaints about how the city and coun­try have gone to the dogs, but can also take some com­fort in the fact that, even back in the pic­turesque pho­tocrom era, peo­ple were air­ing all the same gripes.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Prize-Win­ning Ani­ma­tion Lets You Fly Through 17th Cen­tu­ry Lon­don

1927 Lon­don Shown in Mov­ing Col­or

Lon­don Mashed Up: Footage of the City from 1924 Lay­ered Onto Footage from 2013

2,000 Years of London’s His­tor­i­cal Devel­op­ment, Ani­mat­ed in 7 Min­utes

Venice in Beau­ti­ful Col­or Images 125 Years Ago: The Rial­to Bridge, St. Mark’s Basil­i­ca, Doge’s Palace & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Illustrated Guide to a PhD: 12 Simple Pictures That Will Put the Daunting Degree into Perspective

Matthew Might, a com­put­er sci­ence pro­fes­sor at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Utah, writes: “Every fall, I explain to a fresh batch of Ph.D. stu­dents what a Ph.D. is. It’s hard to describe it in words. So, I use pic­tures.” In his Illus­trat­ed Guide to the PhD, Pro­fes­sor Might cre­ates a visu­al nar­ra­tive that puts the daunt­ing degree into per­spec­tive. Any­one who has already pur­sued a Ph.D. will see the wis­dom in it. (Or at least I did.) And young, aspir­ing aca­d­e­mics would be wise to pay it heed.

You can see a con­densed ver­sion of the the illus­trat­ed guide above. Or fol­low it in a larg­er for­mat below.

Imag­ine a cir­cle that con­tains all of human knowl­edge:

By the time you fin­ish ele­men­tary school, you know a lit­tle:

By the time you fin­ish high school, you know a bit more:

With a bach­e­lor’s degree, you gain a spe­cial­ty:

A mas­ter’s degree deep­ens that spe­cial­ty:

Read­ing research papers takes you to the edge of human knowl­edge:

Once you’re at the bound­ary, you focus:

You push at the bound­ary for a few years:

Until one day, the bound­ary gives way:

And, that dent you’ve made is called a Ph.D.:

Of course, the world looks dif­fer­ent to you now:

So, don’t for­get the big­ger pic­ture:

Keep push­ing.

You can find Mat­t’s Illus­trat­ed Guide host­ed on his web site. This guide/reality check is pub­lished under a Cre­ative Com­mons License. You can also buy a print ver­sion for $6.50. The mon­ey goes to char­i­ty.

This guide first appeared on our site in 2012. But, with all of the wis­dom it packs into a small space, it seemed worth bring­ing back.

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A Crash Course on Soviet Montage, the Russian Approach to Filmmaking That Revolutionized Cinema

It would have scan­dal­ized many an Amer­i­can film­go­er of the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry to learn that the movies they watched — even the most whole­some Hol­ly­wood fare of the era — made exten­sive use of a Sovi­et inven­tion. What’s more, that inven­tion came out of the very rev­o­lu­tion that put the Com­mu­nists in pow­er, after which the Sovi­et gov­ern­ment “took a strong inter­est in film, because it rec­og­nized cin­e­ma for what it was — a pow­er­ful tool for social and polit­i­cal influ­ence.” So says Craig Ben­zine, host of Crash Course Film His­to­ry, in the series’ eighth self-con­tained episode, “Sovi­et Mon­tage,” which tells the sto­ry of that cin­e­ma-chang­ing edit­ing tech­nique.

The gov­ern­ment under­stood, in oth­er words, the pow­er of cin­e­ma as pro­pa­gan­da, and swift­ly cen­tral­ized the film indus­try. But after the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion, which put an end to the impor­ta­tion of film stock, Russ­ian film­mak­ers could­n’t shoot a frame. So while the nation built up the indus­tri­al capac­i­ty to pro­duce film stock domes­ti­cal­ly, these film­mak­ers — much like the video essay­ists on the inter­net today — stud­ied exist­ing films, break­ing them down, reassem­bling them, and fig­ur­ing out how they worked.

In this way, film­mak­er Lev Kuleshov defined the “Kuleshov effect,” explained by Ben­zine as the phe­nom­e­non where­by “view­ers draw more mean­ing from two shots cut togeth­er than either shot on its own,” and dif­fer­ent com­bi­na­tions of shots pro­duce vast­ly dif­fer­ent intel­lec­tu­al and emo­tion­al effects in those view­ers.

When they final­ly got some film stock, Sovi­et mon­tage film­mak­ers, who had come to believe that “for film to reach its true poten­tial, the cuts them­selves should be vis­i­ble, the audi­ence should be aware of them, the illu­sion should be obvi­ous­ly con­struct­ed and not hid­den,” got to work mak­ing movies that demon­strat­ed their ideas. They saw them­selves as engi­neers, “join­ing shots the way a brick­lay­er builds a wall or a fac­to­ry work­er assem­bles a vehicle,“and Ben­zine exam­ines sequences from two of the best-known fruits of these labors, Sergei Eisen­stein’s Bat­tle­ship Potemkin and Dzi­ga Ver­tov’s A Man with a Movie Cam­era (both of which you can watch free online by fol­low­ing those links).

Ben­zine also looks to more recent exam­ples of Sovi­et mon­tage the­o­ry in prac­tice in every­thing from Dum­b­le­dore’s death in the Har­ry Pot­ter movies to the show­er scene in Psy­cho (a film by an avowed fan of the Kuleshov effect) to the final stand­off in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. For more on the mechan­ics of Sovi­et mon­tage, have a look at the fif­teen-minute explain­er from Film­mak­er IQ above â€” or pay close atten­tion to most any movie or tele­vi­sion show or music video made over the past eighty years. The ide­o­log­i­cal cli­mate that gave rise to Sovi­et mon­tage the­o­ry may have changed, but the artis­tic prin­ci­ples its film­mak­ers dis­cov­ered will, for the fore­see­able future, hold true, under­scor­ing the reli­able effec­tive­ness and sur­pris­ing pow­er of the sim­ple cut.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Visu­al Intro­duc­tion to Sovi­et Mon­tage The­o­ry: A Rev­o­lu­tion in Film­mak­ing

Hitch­cock on the Filmmaker’s Essen­tial Tool: The Kuleshov Effect

Watch Bat­tle­ship Potemkin and Oth­er Free Sergei Eisen­stein Films

Free: Dzi­ga Vertov’s A Man with a Movie Cam­era, the 8th Best Film Ever Made

Take a 16-Week Crash Course on the His­to­ry of Movies: From the First Mov­ing Pic­tures to the Rise of Mul­ti­plex­es & Net­flix

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The 10 Most Depressing Radiohead Songs According to Data Science: Hear the Songs That Ranked Highest in a Researcher’s “Gloom Index”

One of my favorite music-themed com­e­dy sketch­es of recent years fea­tures a sup­port group of Radio­head fans flum­moxed and dis­ap­point­ed by the band’s post-Ok Com­put­er out­put. The sce­nario trades on the per­plex­i­ty that met Radio­head­’s abrupt change of musi­cal direc­tion with the rev­o­lu­tion­ary Kid A as well as on the fact that Radio­head fans tend toward, well… if not PTSD or severe mood dis­or­ders, at least a height­ened propen­si­ty for gen­er­al­ized depres­sion.

“Much of Radiohead’s music is unde­ni­ably sad,” writes Ana­lyt­ics Spe­cial­ist and Radio­head fan Char­lie Thomp­son. Rather than play some­thing “less depress­ing,” how­ev­er, as many an acquain­tance has asked him over the years, Thomp­son decid­ed “to quan­ti­fy that sad­ness, con­clud­ing in a data-dri­ven deter­mi­na­tion of their most depress­ing song.”

Now, pure­ly sub­jec­tive­ly, I’d place “How to Dis­ap­pear Com­plete­ly” in the top spot, fol­lowed close­ly by Amne­sia’s “Pyra­mid Song.” But my own asso­ci­a­tions with these songs are per­son­al and per­haps some­what arbi­trary. I might make a case for them based on lyri­cal inter­pre­ta­tions, musi­cal arrange­ment, and instru­men­ta­tion. But the argu­ment would still large­ly depend on mat­ters of taste and accul­tur­a­tion.

Thomp­son, on the oth­er hand, believes in “quan­ti­fy­ing sen­ti­ment.” To that end, he cre­at­ed a “gloom index,” which he used to mea­sure each song in the band’s cat­a­log. Rather than lis­ten­ing to them all, one after anoth­er, he relied on data from two online ser­vices, first pulling “detailed audio sta­tis­tics” from Spotify’s Web API. One met­ric in par­tic­u­lar, called “valence,” mea­sures a song’s “pos­i­tiv­i­ty.” These scores pro­vide an index “of how sad a song sounds from a musi­cal per­spec­tive.” (It’s not entire­ly clear what the cri­te­ria are for these scores).

Next, Thomp­son used the Genius Lyrics API to exam­ine “lyri­cal den­si­ty,” specif­i­cal­ly the con­cen­tra­tion of “sad words” in any giv­en song. To com­bine these two mea­sures, he leaned on an analy­sis by a fel­low data sci­en­tist and blog­ger, Myles Har­ri­son. You can see his result­ing for­mu­la for the “Gloom Index” above, and if you under­stand the pro­gram­ing lan­guage R, you can see exam­ples of his analy­sis at his blog, RChar­lie. (Read a less data-laden sum­ma­ry of Thompson’s study at the ana­lyt­ics blog Rev­o­lu­tions.) Thomp­son also plot­ted sad­ness by album, in the inter­ac­tive graph fur­ther up.

So, which song rat­ed high­est on the “Gloom Scale”? Well, it’s “True Love Waits” from their most recent album A Moon Shaped Pool (hear a live acoustic ver­sion up above.). It’s a damned sad song, I’ll grant, as are the nine run­ners-up, all of which you can hear in the YouTube and Spo­ti­fy playlists above). “Pyra­mid Song” appears at num­ber 5, but “How to Dis­ap­pear Com­plete­ly” doesn’t even rank in the top ten. From a pure­ly sub­jec­tive stand­point, this makes me sus­pi­cious of the whole oper­a­tion. But you tell us, read­ers, what do you think of Thomp­son’s exper­i­ment in “quan­ti­fy­ing sen­ti­ment” in music?

Here’s the top 10:

1. True Love Waits
2. Give Up The Ghost
3. Motion Pic­ture Sound­track
4. Let Down
5. Pyra­mid Song
6. Exit Music (For a Film)
7. Dol­lars & Cents
8. High And Dry
9. Tin­ker Tai­lor Sol­dier …
10. Video­tape

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Radiohead’s “Creep” Played on the Gayageum, a Kore­an Instru­ment Dat­ing Back to the 6th Cen­tu­ry

A His­to­ry of Alter­na­tive Music Bril­liant­ly Mapped Out on a Tran­sis­tor Radio Cir­cuit Dia­gram: 300 Punk, Alt & Indie Artists

A Free Course on Machine Learn­ing & Data Sci­ence from Cal­tech

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

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