450+ Movie Scenes Where Actors Break the Fourth Wall, Presented in Two Big Supercuts

Do you remem­ber the first time you saw the fourth wall bro­ken? Few of us prob­a­bly do, but maybe we all should, giv­en how radi­al a depar­ture from estab­lished dra­mat­ic con­ven­tion — specif­i­cal­ly, the con­ven­tion dic­tat­ing that a work of dra­mat­ic art not acknowl­edge the fact that it is a work of dra­mat­ic art — fourth-wall-break­age rep­re­sents. Then again, a work of art can break the fourth wall sub­tly, too sub­tly to make an out­sized impact on our con­scious­ness: take, for exam­ple, all the brief but know­ing glances movie char­ac­ters have direct­ed at their audi­ences through­out almost the entire his­to­ry of cin­e­ma.

A fair few of those glances appear in the super­cut of 400 break­ages of the fourth wall above (which may well con­tain the first one you ever wit­nessed). It draws from films from a vari­ety of time peri­ods, Hol­ly­wood clas­sics and block­busters as well as less­er-known pic­tures.

Togeth­er with the Press Play fourth-wall-break­age super­cut below, it pro­vides an overview of just how wide a vari­ety of ways film­mak­ers have found to momen­tar­i­ly breach what Vin­cent Can­by once described as “that invis­i­ble scrim that for­ev­er sep­a­rates the audi­ence from the stage.” Most films break the fourth wall for laughs, but oth­ers have done it in ser­vice of emo­tion­al, aes­thet­ic, and even intel­lec­tu­al ends.

None of this is to say that the fourth wall stood per­fect­ly intact before the colos­sus of cin­e­ma came along to smash it. The con­cept goes at least as far back as 17th-cen­tu­ry France, first used as a term by Molière and lat­er more ful­ly defined by Enlight­en­ment icon Denis Diderot. But the­atri­cal per­form­ers must have been break­ing the fourth wall, or at least pok­ing holes in it, even before the fourth wall was quite up: long ago, we read in his­tor­i­cal accounts of the­ater around the world, audi­ences even expect­ed a cer­tain degree of inter­ac­tion with the action onstage — or at least they expressed their thoughts on it, often force­ful­ly, attempt­ing to break the fourth wall from the oth­er direc­tion.

Over time, we, the cre­ators and view­ers of dra­ma alike, built the fourth wall, and it has sel­dom tak­en us long to expect its pro­tec­tion in every medi­um we enjoy: the­ater and film, yes, but tele­vi­sion, video games, and even lit­er­a­ture as well. “It is not a good idea to inter­rupt the nar­ra­tive too often,” writes J.M. Coet­zee in Eliz­a­beth Costel­lo, a nov­el that breaks the fourth wall and a host of oth­er con­ven­tion besides, “since sto­ry­telling works by lulling the read­er or lis­ten­er into a dream­like state in which the time and space of the real world fade away, super­seded by the time and space of the fic­tion.” A lit­er­ary sto­ry­teller of Coet­zee’s cal­iber would know. But what oth­er art form has been as often com­pared to a dream, or felt as much like a dream, as film — and what oth­er dreams play out on, lit­er­al­ly, a wall?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Them Watch Us: A His­to­ry of Break­ing the “Fourth Wall” in Film

How the French New Wave Changed Cin­e­ma: A Video Intro­duc­tion to the Films of Godard, Truf­faut & Their Fel­low Rule-Break­ers

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

Cin­e­ma His­to­ry by Titles & Num­bers

We’re Gonna Build a Fourth Wall, and Make the Brechtians Pay for It

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Why Is English So Hard to Learn?: The Ingenious Poem, “The Chaos,” Documents 800 Irregularities in English Spelling and Pronunciation

In 1920, Dutch writer and trav­el­er Ger­ard Nolst Tren­ité, also known as Chari­var­ius, pub­lished a text­book called Drop Your For­eign Accent: engelsche uit­spraakoe­fenin­gen. In the appen­dix, he includ­ed a poem titled “The Chaos,” a vir­tu­oso, tongue-twist­ing demon­stra­tion of some­where around 800 irreg­u­lar­i­ties in Eng­lish spelling and pro­nun­ci­a­tion. No one now remem­bers the text­book, and the poem might have dis­ap­peared too were it not for efforts of the Sim­pli­fied Spelling Soci­ety, which tracked frag­ments of it through “France, Cana­da, Den­mark, Ger­many, the Nether­lands, Por­tu­gal, Spain, Swe­den and Turkey.”

The poem’s his­to­ry, as told in the Jour­nal of the Sim­pli­fied Spelling Soci­ety (JSSS) in 1994, shows how it trav­eled around Europe, in pieces, con­found­ing and bedev­il­ing aspir­ing Eng­lish speak­ers. Full of homonyms, loan words, and words which—at one time—actually sound­ed the way they’re spelled, the poem’s fifty-eight stan­zas may be the most clever and com­pre­hen­sive “con­cor­dance of caco­graph­ic chaos,” as the JSSS puts it. Admired by lin­guists and his­to­ri­ans of Eng­lish, it has, since its 1994 repub­li­ca­tion, become some­thing of a cult hit for enthu­si­asts of lan­guage every­where.

You can read it here, hear it read above by YouTube’s Lindy­beige, and see a tran­scrip­tion into IPA, the inter­na­tion­al pho­net­ic alpha­bet. Though it’s pop­u­lar­ly rep­re­sent­ed as a kind of sort­ing mech­a­nism for “the Eng­lish-Speak­ing Elite,” that’s hard­ly accu­rate. Eng­lish once sound­ed like this and this, then like this, and now sounds com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent accord­ing to hun­dreds of region­al dialects and accents around the world. The soci­ety ges­tures toward this in their intro­duc­tion, writ­ing, “the selec­tion of exam­ples now appears some­what dat­ed, as do a few of their pro­nun­ci­a­tions. Indeed a few words may even be unknown to today’s read­ers.”

“How many will know what a ‘stud­ding-sail’ is, or that its nau­ti­cal pro­nun­ci­a­tion is ‘stun­sail’?,” asks the JSSS. It seems rea­son­able to won­der how many peo­ple ever did. In any case, Eng­lish, Lindy­beige writes, “is a rapid­ly-chang­ing lan­guage,” and one that has not made much pho­net­ic sense for sev­er­al cen­turies. This is exact­ly what has made it such a bear to learn to spell and pronounce—for both Eng­lish lan­guage learn­ers and native speak­ers. Try your hand at read­ing every word in “The Chaos,” prefer­ably in front of an audi­ence, and see how you do.

via Men­tal Floss/The Poke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Eng­lish Would Sound Like If It Was Pro­nounced Pho­net­i­cal­ly

Hear Beowulf Read In the Orig­i­nal Old Eng­lish: How Many Words Do You Rec­og­nize?

Hear What Shake­speare Sound­ed Like in the Orig­i­nal Pro­nun­ci­a­tion

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

Public Domain Day Is Finally Here!: Copyrighted Works Have Entered the Public Domain Today for the First Time in 21 Years

Ear­li­er this year we informed read­ers that thou­sands of works of art and enter­tain­ment would soon enter the pub­lic domain—to be fol­lowed every year by thou­sands more. That day is nigh upon us: Pub­lic Domain Day, Jan­u­ary 1, 2019. At the stroke of mid­night, such beloved clas­sics as Robert Frost’s “Stop­ping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” and “Yes! We Have No Bananas” will become the com­mon prop­er­ty of the peo­ple, to be quot­ed at length or in full any­where when the copy­right expires on work pro­duced in 1923. Then, 1924 will expire in 2020, 1925 in 2021, and so on and so forth.

It means that “hun­dreds of thou­sands of books, musi­cal com­po­si­tions, paint­ings, poems, pho­tographs and films” will become freely avail­able to dis­trib­ute, remix, and remake, as Glenn Fleish­man writes at Smith­son­ian. “Any mid­dle school can pro­duce Theodore Pratt’s stage adap­ta­tion of The Pic­ture of Dori­an Gray, and any his­to­ri­an can pub­lish Win­ston Churchill’s The World Cri­sis with her own exten­sive anno­ta­tions… and any film­mak­er can remake Cecil B. DeMille’s orig­i­nal The Ten Com­mand­ments.”

Those are just a few ideas. See more exten­sive lists of hits and obscu­ri­ties from 1923 at our pre­vi­ous post and come up with your own cre­ative adap­ta­tions. The pos­si­bil­i­ties are vast and pos­si­bly world chang­ing, in ways both decid­ed­ly good and arguably quite bad. Teach­ers may pho­to­copy thou­sands of pages with­out fear of pros­e­cu­tion; schol­ars may quote freely, artists may find deep wells of inspi­ra­tion. And we may also see “Frost’s immor­tal ode to win­ter used in an ad for snow tires.”

Such crass­ness aside, this huge release from copy­right her­alds a cul­tur­al sea change—the first time such a thing has hap­pened in 21 years due to a 20-year exten­sion of the copy­right term in 1998, in a bill spon­sored by Son­ny Bono at the urg­ing of the Walt Dis­ney com­pa­ny. The leg­is­la­tion, aimed at pro­tect­ing Mick­ey Mouse, cre­at­ed a “bizarre 20-year hia­tus between the release of works from 1922 and 1923.” It is fas­ci­nat­ing to con­sid­er how a gov­ern­ment-man­dat­ed mar­ket­ing deci­sion has affect­ed our under­stand­ing of his­to­ry and cul­ture.

The nov­el­ist Willa Cather called 1922 the year “the world broke in two,” the start of a great lit­er­ary, artis­tic and cul­tur­al upheaval. In 1922, Ulysses by James Joyce and T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land” were pub­lished, and the Harlem Renais­sance blos­somed with the arrival of Claude McKay’s poet­ry in Harlem Shad­ows. For two decades those works have been in the pub­lic domain, enabling artists, crit­ics and oth­ers to bur­nish that notable year to a high gloss in our his­tor­i­cal mem­o­ry. In com­par­i­son, 1923 can feel dull.

That year, how­ev­er, marked the film debut of Mar­lene Diet­rich, the pub­li­ca­tion of mod­ernist land­marks like Vir­ginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dal­loway and Jean Toomer’s Cane and far too many more influ­en­tial works to name here. Find sev­er­al more at Duke University’s Cen­ter for the Study of the Pub­lic Domain,  Life­hack­er, Indiewire, and The Atlantic and have a very hap­py Pub­lic Domain Day.

Pub­lic domain films and books will be added to ever-grow­ing col­lec­tions:

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

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

800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Avalanche of Nov­els, Films and Oth­er Works of Art Will Soon Enter the Pub­lic Domain: Vir­ginia Woolf, Char­lie Chap­lin, William Car­los Williams, Buster Keaton & More

The Library of Con­gress Launch­es the Nation­al Screen­ing Room, Putting Online Hun­dreds of His­toric Films

List of Great Pub­lic Domain Films 

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

Watch an Art Conservator Bring Classic Paintings Back to Life in Intriguingly Narrated Videos

Even in our age of unprece­dent­ed­ly abun­dant images, deliv­ered to us at all times by print, film, tele­vi­sion, and espe­cial­ly the ever-mul­ti­ply­ing forms of dig­i­tal media, some­thing inside us still val­ues paint­ings. It must have to do with their phys­i­cal­i­ty, the phys­i­cal­i­ty of oil on can­vas or what­ev­er tan­gi­ble mate­ri­als the painter orig­i­nal­ly used. But in that great advan­tage of the paint­ing lies the great dis­ad­van­tage of the paint­ing: tan­gi­ble mate­ri­als degrade over time, and many, if not most, of the paint­ings we most revere have been around for a long time indeed, and few of them have come down to us in pris­tine shape.

Enter the art restor­er, who takes on the task of undo­ing, painstak­ing­ly and entire­ly by hand, both the rav­ages of time and the blun­ders of less com­pe­tent stew­ards who have come before. In this case, enter Julian Baum­gart­ner of Chicago’s Baum­gart­ner Fine Art Restora­tion, a med­i­ta­tive short doc­u­men­tary on whose prac­tice we fea­tured ear­li­er this year here on Open Cul­ture.

You can see much more of it in these videos: in the one above, writes Colos­sal’s Kate Sierzputows­ki, Baum­gart­ner “con­dens­es over 40 hours of del­i­cate swip­ing, scrap­ing, and paint retouch­ing into a 11.5 minute nar­rat­ed video” show­ing and explain­ing his restora­tion of The Assas­si­na­tion of Archimedes.

The project, not atyp­i­cal for a paint­ing restora­tion, “involved clean­ing a dark­ened var­nish from the sur­face of the piece, remov­ing the work from its orig­i­nal wood­en pan­el using both mod­ern and tra­di­tion­al tech­niques, mount­ing the thin paper-based paint­ing to acid-free board, and final­ly touch­ing up small areas that had become worn over the years.” Baum­gart­ner’s Youtube chan­nel also offers sim­i­lar con­densed restora­tion videos of two oth­er paint­ings, Moth­er Mary and a por­trait by the Amer­i­can Impres­sion­ist William Mer­rit Chase.

Baum­gart­ner packs into each of these videos an impres­sive amount of knowl­edge about his restora­tion tech­niques, which few of us out­side his field would have had any rea­son to know — or even imag­ine —before. They’ve racked up their hun­dreds of thou­sands of views in part thanks to that intel­lec­tu­al stim­u­la­tion, no doubt, but all these phys­i­cal mate­ri­als and the sounds they make have also attract­ed a crowd that shares a vari­ety of enthu­si­asm unknown before the age of dig­i­tal media. I’m talk­ing, of course, about ASMR video fans, whom Baum­gart­ner has oblig­ed by cre­at­ing a ver­sion of his The Assas­si­na­tion of Archimedes restora­tion espe­cial­ly for them. Now there’s an art restor­er for the 21st cen­tu­ry.

via Colos­sal

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How an Art Con­ser­va­tor Com­plete­ly Restores a Dam­aged Paint­ing: A Short, Med­i­ta­tive Doc­u­men­tary

The Art of Restor­ing a 400-Year-Old Paint­ing: A Five-Minute Primer

The Art of Restor­ing Clas­sic Films: Cri­te­ri­on Shows You How It Refreshed Two Hitch­cock Movies

Rembrandt’s Mas­ter­piece, The Night Watch, Will Get Restored and You Can Watch It Hap­pen Live, Online

25 Mil­lion Images From 14 Art Insti­tu­tions to Be Dig­i­tized & Put Online In One Huge Schol­ar­ly Archive

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

How Nirvana’s Iconic “Smells Like Teen Spirit” Came to Be: An Animated Video Narrated by T‑Bone Burnett Tells the True Story

Cred­it­ed with ignit­ing the 90s grunge craze and putting Pacif­ic North­west punk and indie scenes on the map, Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” has eclipsed hun­dreds of rock hits as “the most icon­ic song of all time”—at least accord­ing to the ana­lyt­ics of com­put­er sci­en­tists from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Lon­don.

What­ev­er that des­ig­na­tion means, it’s with­out a doubt the most icon­ic Nir­vana song of all time, a tune whose influ­ence may be impos­si­ble to mea­sure. Kurt Cobain might have grown weary of it, but fans nev­er stopped clam­or­ing for the hit (his mom loved it, too). An anthem for a gen­er­a­tion dis­af­fect­ed with cor­po­rate mar­ket­ing and major label pan­der­ing, “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” is also—like the decade it came to define—a nest­ing doll of irony.

Cobain played this up to a degree—the irony of an indie band announc­ing the sec­ond com­ing of charged DIY punk rock with a song that net­ted them a major label deal and put him on the path to super­star­dom. When Nir­vana debuted their soon-to-be icon­ic hit live at Seattle’s OK Hotel on April 17th, 1991, the usu­al­ly tac­i­turn front­man intro­duced him­self by say­ing, “Hel­lo. We’re major label cor­po­rate rock sell­outs.”

Giv­en his sar­don­ic sense of humor, fans have gen­er­al­ly assumed some kind of anti-cap­i­tal­ist in-joke in the title of the song, with its ref­er­ence to a pop­u­lar brand of deodor­ant. But in a more dra­mat­ic irony, Cobain had no idea when he wrote and record­ed it that “Teen Spir­it was a prod­uct, aimed at teenage girls.” The song’s title, as you’ll learn in the short, ani­mat­ed back­sto­ry in the video above, orig­i­nat­ed with Biki­ni Kill singer Kath­leen Han­na, who scrawled it on Cobain’s wall with a Sharpie after the two shared a night of heavy drink­ing and polit­i­cal­ly right­eous van­dal­ism.

Nar­rat­ed by T‑Bone Bur­nett and ani­mat­ed by Drew Christie, the award-win­ning short “Drawn & Record­ed: Teen Spir­it” con­dens­es the song’s sto­ry (which you can read about in more depth here) into two and a half min­utes of pop cul­ture his­to­ry and com­men­tary. Upon wak­ing up and see­ing Hanna’s mes­sage on the wall, Cobain was imme­di­ate­ly flat­tered: “Kurt thought it meant he was a rad­i­cal, a rev­o­lu­tion­ary, a fem­i­nist, a punk, an anti-author­i­tar­i­an, anti-cap­i­tal­ist, anar­chist cru­sad­er.” He got right to work on the song’s cho­rus.

But Han­na main­ly meant to say he lit­er­al­ly smelled like Teen Spir­it, which hap­pened to be the brand of deodor­ant his then-girlfriend—Bikini Kill drum­mer Tobi Vail—used. “I didn’t know that the deodor­ant spray exist­ed until six months after the sin­gle came out,” he told Michael Azer­rad in the biog­ra­phy Come as You Are. He didn’t intend to write an adver­tise­ment, of course. But in yet anoth­er grim twist, “after the song came out,” Bur­nett monot­o­nes, “sales of Teen Spir­it went through the roof.”

The les­son, maybe? “Cap­i­tal­ism is very resilient”? Cobain under­stood this all too well though he may have inad­ver­tent­ly become the last thing he ever want­ed, a prod­uct pitch­man. But his cre­ative mis­read­ing of Han­na’s joke also made music his­to­ry.

Above, you can watch Han­na tell the ori­gin sto­ry her­self. The scene was record­ed at Joes Pub in NYC, back in Decem­ber 2010.

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nir­vana Refus­es to Fake It on Top of the Pops, Gives a Big “Mid­dle Fin­ger” to the Tra­di­tion of Bands Mim­ing on TV (1991)

Nir­vana Plays an Angry Set & Refus­es to Play ‘Smells Like Teen Spir­it’ After the Crowd Hurls Sex­ist Insults at the Open­ing Act (Buenos Aires, 1992)

Watch Nir­vana Per­form “Smells Like Teen Spir­it,” Just Days After the Release of Nev­er­mind (1991)

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

Make Orwell Fiction Again

Amen to that. Get your hat or shirt here

via @DavidFrum

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Cov­er of George Orwell’s 1984 Becomes Less Cen­sored with Wear and Tear

George Orwell Explains How “Newspeak” Works, the Offi­cial Lan­guage of His Total­i­tar­i­an Dystopia in 1984

George Orwell Pre­dict­ed Cam­eras Would Watch Us in Our Homes; He Nev­er Imag­ined We’d Glad­ly Buy and Install Them Our­selves

George Orwell Iden­ti­fies the Main Ene­my of the Free Press: It’s the “Intel­lec­tu­al Cow­ardice” of the Press Itself

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