Watch Great Directors, a Documentary That Explores the Minds of 10 Great Auteurs: David Lynch, Agnès Varda, Richard Linklater & More

When we first start watch­ing movies, often we decide what to watch by set­tling on a favorite genre, divi­sions first solid­i­fied by video-store shelves: action, com­e­dy, dra­ma, sci­ence fic­tion, and so on. When we’ve watched more movies, many of us move on to fol­low­ing the work of a par­tic­u­lar actor, which takes us across not just gen­res but eras as well. And prac­ti­cal­ly all cinephiles will remem­ber when it dawned on us that no fig­ure could bet­ter guide our view­ing than the direc­tor — about the same time we usu­al­ly learn the term auteur, which iden­ti­fies cer­tain direc­tors as the pri­ma­ry “authors” of their films. From that point on, we had only to mas­ter the knowl­edge of as many direc­tors’ fil­mo­gra­phies as pos­si­ble, then deter­mine those too whom we would pledge our alle­giance — thus forg­ing bonds with (or draw­ing bat­tle lines against) all oth­er film fans.

If the best movies come pri­mar­i­ly from the minds of their direc­tors, then there must be a great deal else of inter­est in those direc­to­r­i­al minds. Or so implic­it­ly argues Angela Ismai­los’ 2010 doc­u­men­tary Great Direc­tors, which con­sists of inter­views with ten auteurs of the late 20th and ear­ly 21st cen­tu­ry whose work has not only drawn crit­i­cal acclaim but also pro­voked the full range of audi­ence opin­ion, even inspir­ing some view­ers to ded­i­cate them­selves to cin­e­ma.

“I want­ed to cov­er the French cin­e­ma and I love the con­tro­ver­sial cin­e­ma of Cather­ine Breil­li­at and how she por­trays the emo­tion­al and phys­i­cal tra­vails of women in her cin­e­ma,” Ismai­los says of the pro­jec­t’s ori­gin in an inter­view with Film­mak­er mag­a­zine. Then came Agnès Var­da, and after her a line­up includ­ing Bernar­do Bertoluc­ci, Lil­iana Cavani, Todd Haynes, Richard Lin­klater, John Sayles, Ken Loach, and Stephen Frears. “The last direc­tor I added to the film was David Lynch. He was the most dif­fi­cult to get.”

Put togeth­er, these ten fil­mo­gra­phies — con­tain­ing pic­tures from Mate­wan to My Beau­ti­ful Laun­drette, The Last Emper­or to Vel­vet Gold­mine, Poor Cow to Eraser­head, Fat Girl to Slack­er — con­tain an impres­sive­ly wide range of cin­e­mat­ic sen­si­bil­i­ties. But what do the ten direc­tors, com­ing as they do from sev­er­al dif­fer­ent coun­tries and cul­tures, have in com­mon? “In their films they’re try­ing… to break moral stan­dards,” says Ismai­los. “They are not sur­ren­der­ing to pre­con­ceived notions of com­merce or audi­ence pop­u­lar­i­ty or pre­con­cep­tion of what cin­e­ma should be. I believe through the years they are con­stant­ly ask­ing their audi­ence to grow and face the uncer­tain­ties and unpre­dictabil­i­ty of adult life. This is the cin­e­ma I per­son­al­ly love.” She’s cer­tain­ly not the only one, and all the rest of us with an inter­est in films of that kind — and thus an inter­est in direc­tors of this kind — will cer­tain­ly be glad that she’s made Great Direc­tors free to view online.

Great Direc­tors will be added to our list of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

via Wel­come to Twin Peaks

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“The Direc­tors Series” Presents Free Immer­sive Stud­ies of Stan­ley Kubrick, the Coen Broth­ers, David Finch­er, Paul Thomas Ander­son & Christo­pher Nolan

Great Film­mak­ers Offer Advice to Young Direc­tors: Taran­ti­no, Her­zog, Cop­po­la, Scors­ese, Ander­son, Felli­ni & More

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Rare 1965 Inter­view with The New York­er

Lis­ten to Eight Inter­views of Orson Welles by Film­mak­er Peter Bog­danovich (1969–1972)

5 Hours of Free Alfred Hitch­cock Inter­views: Dis­cov­er His The­o­ries of Film Edit­ing, Cre­at­ing Sus­pense & More

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.

High School Kids Stage Alien: The Play, Get Kudos from Ridley Scott and Sigourney Weaver

High school dra­ma depart­ments tend to work from a pret­ty stan­dard­ized reper­toire, which makes sense giv­en the strict lim­i­ta­tions they work under: short time frames, school-sized bud­gets, teenage actors. The elab­o­rate, Hol­ly­wood film-like pro­duc­tions staged by Max Fis­ch­er in Wes Ander­son­’s Rush­more speak to frus­trat­ed high-school the­ater direc­tors and their fan­tasies about what they could put on stage with a bit more in the way of resources. But just this month, a real high-school dra­ma club put on a show that out-Max Fis­chered Max Fis­ch­er, draw­ing not just the aston­ish­ment of the inter­net but the respect of one of the most emi­nent film­mak­ers alive.

“A New Jer­sey high school has found itself the unex­pect­ed recip­i­ent of online acclaim and viral atten­tion for its recent stage pro­duc­tion of Alien, the 1979 sci­ence-fic­tion thriller,” writes the New York Times’ Dave Itzkoff. “Alien: The Play, pre­sent­ed last week­end by the dra­ma club of North Bergen High School, starred a cast of eight stu­dents in the film roles orig­i­nal­ly played by Sigour­ney Weaver, Tom Sker­ritt, John Hurt and Ian Holm. Where­as the movie had a bud­get in the range of about $10 mil­lion, Alien: The Play had cos­tumes, props and set designs made most­ly from donat­ed and recy­cled mate­ri­als.” Or as North Bergen stu­dent Justin Pier­son put it in NJ.com’s video on the sur­prise hit: “This is going to sound real­ly fun­ny but (the set crew) used garbage essen­tial­ly.”

With that “garbage” — “just any­thing that was lying around, like card­board and met­al” — they built not only a set that con­vinc­ing­ly evokes the dark claus­tro­pho­bia of the space ship Nos­tro­mo, but a shock­ing­ly accu­rate-look­ing alien, the ter­ri­fy­ing crea­ture orig­i­nal­ly born from the mind of Swiss illus­tra­tor H.R. Giger.

The young cast and crew get into detail about how they did it on Syfy’s Fan­dom File pod­cast: “Much of the atten­tion has high­light­ed and embraced their DIY approach,” writes host Jor­dan Zakarin, and “they were end­less­ly cre­ative in build­ing the sets, with hand-pup­pet aliens, egg crate walls, a stuffed cat (the stand-in for Jones was a par­tic­u­lar­ly inge­nious idea), and oth­er swed­ed props.”

Respons­es to the video clips of Alien: The Play that have cir­cu­lat­ed on the inter­net include a per­son­al con­grat­u­la­to­ry mes­sage from the orig­i­nal film’s star Sigour­ney Weaver as well as a let­ter from its direc­tor Rid­ley Scott, which Alien: The Play’s direc­tor, North Bergen Eng­lish-teacher-by-day Per­fec­to Cuer­vo, post­ed on Twit­ter. “Lim­i­ta­tions often pro­duce the best results because imag­i­na­tion and deter­mi­na­tion can sur­pass any short­falls and deter­mine the way for­ward — ALWAYS,” writes Scott, who has built his rep­u­ta­tion in the film indus­try on tak­ing firm and deci­sive action in the face of any and all pro­duc­tion dif­fi­cul­ties. He also offers both the funds for an encore pro­duc­tion as well as a sug­ges­tion: “How about your next TEAM pro­duc­tion being Glad­i­a­tor.” No doubt Cuer­vo and his enter­pris­ing play­ers are feel­ing pret­ty vin­di­cat­ed in their deci­sion not to do Our Town right about now.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rid­ley Scott Demys­ti­fies the Art of Sto­ry­board­ing (and How to Jump­start Your Cre­ative Project)

Rid­ley Scott Walks You Through His Favorite Scene from Blade Run­ner

Ele­men­tary School Stu­dents Per­form in a Play Inspired by David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

Orson Welles Presents Thorn­ton Wilder’s Our Town, the Most Pop­u­lar High School Play of All Time (1939)

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.

Salvador Dalí & the Marx Brothers’ 1930s Film Script Gets Released as a Graphic Novel

His­to­ry remem­bers Sal­vador Dalí as one of the most indi­vid­u­al­is­tic artists ever to live, but he also had a knack for col­lab­o­ra­tion: with Luis BuñuelAlfred Hitch­cock, Walt Dis­ney, even, in a sense, with Lewis Car­roll and William Shake­speare. But would you believe the list also includes one of the Marx Broth­ers? Though the film on which they col­lab­o­rat­ed in the 1930s nev­er entered pro­duc­tion, its sto­ry has been told by Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad, a hybrid of illus­trat­ed text and graph­ic nov­el pub­lished just this month, itself a col­lab­o­ra­tion between pop-cul­ture schol­ar Josh Frank, artist Manuela Perte­ga, and come­di­an Tim Hei­deck­er.

When Dalí went to Hol­ly­wood, he wrote the fol­low­ing to fel­low Sur­re­al­ist André Bre­ton: “I’ve made con­tact with the three Amer­i­can sur­re­al­ists: Har­po Marx, Dis­ney and Cecil B. DeMille.” He seems to have been espe­cial­ly tak­en with Marx.

“They paint­ed each oth­er, and Dalí sent his new friend a full-size harp strung with barbed wire,” writes NPR’s Etel­ka Lehoczky. “So over­come was Dalí with Har­po’s genius that he wrote a treat­ment, and lat­er an abbre­vi­at­ed screen­play, for a Marx Broth­ers movie to be called Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad.” (It also had at least one alter­nate title, The Sur­re­al­ist Woman.)

The project made it as far as a meet­ing with MGM head Louis B. May­er, to whom Frank describes Dalí and Marx as pitch­ing such scenes as “Har­po opens an umbrel­la and a chick­en explodes on all the onlook­ers. He … puts each piece [of chick­en] care­ful­ly on a sad­dle that he uses as a plate, a sad­dle not for a horse, but for a giraffe!” Unsur­pris­ing­ly, the busi­ness-mind­ed May­er did­n’t go for it, but Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad has had a long after­life as one of the most intrigu­ing films nev­er made. In the ear­ly 1990s, the New York the­ater col­lec­tive Ele­va­tor Repair Ser­vice put on a pro­duc­tion based on the sparse mate­ri­als then known, just a few years before the entire screen­play turned up among Dalí’s per­son­al papers.

“Har­po will be Jim­my, a young Span­ish aris­to­crat who lives in the U.S. as a con­se­quence of polit­i­cal cir­cum­stances in his coun­try,” Dalí wrote. Jim­my was to encounter a “beau­ti­ful sur­re­al­ist woman, whose face is nev­er seen by the audi­ence” in a sto­ry dra­ma­tiz­ing “the con­tin­u­ous strug­gle between the imag­i­na­tive life as depict­ed in the old myths and the prac­ti­cal and ratio­nal life of con­tem­po­rary soci­ety.” Dalí prob­a­bly used the term “sto­ry” loose­ly: “Even jazzed up with jokes by Tim Hei­deck­er (a mod­ern Marx Broth­er if there ever was one), Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad — the movie, not the book — is a baf­fling mess,” writes Lehoczky. “Nei­ther Dalí nor Har­po seems to have real­ized that their approach­es to humor were vast­ly dif­fer­ent.”

The Marx Broth­ers, as every one of their fans knows, were “acute­ly con­scious of, and respon­sive to, estab­lished struc­tures: They sub­vert­ed the social order using its own rules.” Dalí, in film and every oth­er medi­um in which he tried his hand (and mus­tache) besides, usu­al­ly head­ed off “in a direc­tion orthog­o­nal to accept­ed real­i­ty.” To what extent Dalí and Marx were aware of that clash — and to what extent they delib­er­ate­ly empha­sized it — dur­ing their work on Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad remains a mys­tery, but you can read more about that work, and the work Frank, Perte­ga, and Hei­deck­er put in to bring it to graph­ic fruition more than eighty years lat­er, at NPR, Indiewire, and Hyper­al­ler­gic. The more you learn, the more you’ll won­der how even Dalí and Marx could real­ly imag­ine their project pro­duced by a stu­dio in the Gold­en Age of Hol­ly­wood. But as Tate Mod­ern cura­tor Matthew Gale plau­si­bly the­o­rizes, actu­al­ly mak­ing the film may have been beside the point.

Pick up a copy of Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad here.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Two Vin­tage Films by Sal­vador Dalí and Luis Buñuel: Un Chien Andalou and L’Age d’Or

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound

Sal­vador Dalí & Walt Disney’s Short Ani­mat­ed Film, Des­ti­no, Set to the Music of Pink Floyd

The 14-Hour Epic Film, Dune, That Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky, Pink Floyd, Sal­vador Dalí, Moe­bius, Orson Welles & Mick Jag­ger Nev­er Made

The 55 Strangest, Great­est Films Nev­er Made (Cho­sen by John Green)

Grou­cho Marx and T.S. Eliot Become Unex­pect­ed Pen Pals, Exchang­ing Por­traits & Com­pli­ments (1961)

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.

David Lynch Teaches an Online Course on Film & Creativity

How many of us became David Lynch fans while first watch­ing one of his films? And how many of those fans also left filled with the desire to make a film them­selves? Though the long-cir­cu­lat­ing term “Lynchi­an” puts a name to Lynch’s dis­tinc­tive­ly stim­u­lat­ing and dis­turb­ing cin­e­mat­ic style, it increas­ing­ly seems that no film­mak­er, no mat­ter how skilled, can quite pull off that style but Lynch him­self. But even if you can nev­er be the man who direct­ed the likes of Eraser­head, Blue Vel­vet, and Mul­hol­land Dri­ve (and co-cre­at­ed the sim­i­lar­ly inim­itable tele­vi­sion series Twin Peaks), you can still learn a great deal about film­mak­ing from him that you can’t learn from any­one else.

Now online edu­ca­tion com­pa­ny Mas­ter­Class has made some of his knowl­edge eas­i­ly acces­si­ble in the form of their new course “David Lynch Teach­es Cre­ativ­i­ty and Film.” In Lynch’s world — unlike Hol­ly­wood in gen­er­al — you can’t make a film with­out cre­ativ­i­ty. But of what does cre­ativ­i­ty con­sist? “Ideas are every­thing,” says Lynch in the trail­er for his Mas­ter­Class above. “We’re noth­ing with­out an idea. So I go where the ideas lead.” He has long liked to make an anal­o­gy with fish­ing: you put a piece of bait on a hook, cast your line out into the world, and wait for an idea to bite. Dif­fer­ent idea-fish­ing meth­ods work for dif­fer­ent peo­ple, and Lynch has spo­ken of his suc­cess with drink­ing a milk­shake at Bob’s Big Boy every day for sev­en years, and even more so with decade after decade of twice-dai­ly med­i­ta­tion.


How­ev­er you fish for ideas, “you don’t know when they’re going to come or what will trig­ger them. Lo and behold, on a lucky day, bin­go, you’ll catch an idea, and… par­ty time.” Lynch also drops an unex­pect­ed­ly prac­ti­cal piece of advice to do with all this in the trail­er: “If you want to make a fea­ture-length film, all you need to do is get 70 ideas.” Then you take those 70 ideas, write them on cards, and put the cards in order — and not nec­es­sar­i­ly in a nar­ra­tive­ly con­ven­tion­al order. “In cin­e­ma, I don’t like rules,” Lynch says, a state­ment that will sur­prise nei­ther his boost­ers nor his detrac­tors. He cov­ers that ter­ri­to­ry in the eleventh les­son of his Mas­ter­Class, which explains the dif­fer­ence between “restric­tions that sti­fle cre­ativ­i­ty from those that actu­al­ly help you to think out­side the box.” Oth­er lessons get into “how to approach a blank page,” “how to iden­ti­fy and rec­og­nize the right per­former for a part,” and “how David han­dles the pres­sures of the set while pro­tect­ing a cre­ative space for the cast and crew.”

A final “bonus chap­ter” offers Lynch’s views on tran­scen­den­tal med­i­ta­tion, a prac­tice that has taught him “to approach life and work with deep­er aware­ness” and “enjoy the ‘doing’ of almost any activ­i­ty.” That sets “David Lynch Teach­es Cre­ativ­i­ty and Film” apart from the oth­er film­mak­ing cours­es Mas­ter­class offers, taught by such an intel­lec­tu­al­ly and aes­thet­i­cal­ly var­ied set of lumi­nar­ies as Mar­tin Scors­ese, Ken Burns, Jodie Fos­ter, Spike Lee, and Wern­er Her­zog. You can take all of those, and any oth­er Mas­ter­class besides, with the site’s “all-access pass,” or just this one course for $90. And even if you don’t, you’d do pret­ty well to take with you into your film­mak­ing career the words by which Lynch him­self has clear­ly lived: “Nev­er give up final cut and total cre­ative free­dom.” For a com­plete list of Mas­ter­class cours­es, click here.

FYI: If you sign up for a Mas­ter­Class course by click­ing on the affil­i­ate links in this post, Open Cul­ture will receive a small fee that helps sup­port our oper­a­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Ani­mat­ed David Lynch Explains Where He Gets His Ideas

David Lynch Explains How Med­i­ta­tion Boosts Our Cre­ativ­i­ty (Plus Free Resources to Help You Start Med­i­tat­ing)

How David Lynch Got Cre­ative Inspi­ra­tion? By Drink­ing a Milk­shake at Bob’s Big Boy, Every Sin­gle Day, for Sev­en Straight Years

The Sur­re­al Film­mak­ing of David Lynch Explained in 9 Video Essays

David Lynch Presents the His­to­ry of Sur­re­al­ist Film (1987)

David Lynch Teach­es Typ­ing: A New Inter­ac­tive Com­e­dy Game

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.

Bohemian Rhapsody’s Bad Editing: A Breakdown

Bohemi­an Rhap­sody may have won the Oscar for Best Edit­ing. But video essay­ist Thomas Flight isn’t per­suad­ed. In a 13-minute video, Flight decon­structs a 104-sec­ond clip from the biopic, reveal­ing the exces­sive 60 cuts that make up the scene. That trans­lates into a dizzy­ing cut every 1.8 sec­onds on aver­age.

For Thomas Flight, Bohemi­an Rhap­sody is noth­ing short of a “mas­ter­class in bad edit­ing.” For you, Flight’s video offers a nice short crash course in film edit­ing.

Accord­ing to The Wash­ing­ton Post, the pub scene decon­struct­ed in Flight’s video was actu­al­ly edit­ed by Dex­ter Fletcher–and not John Ottman, the film edi­tor who helped sal­vage the film and then won top hon­ors at the Oscars. Asked about the botched scene, Ottman told WaPo: “When­ev­er I see it, I want to put a bag over my head. Because that’s not my aes­thet­ic. If there’s ever an extend­ed ver­sion of the film where I can put a cou­ple scenes back, I will recut that scene!”

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!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How to Film Thought: A Close Look at the Mas­ter­ful Edit­ing of Sher­lock, Star­ring Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch

The Alche­my of Film Edit­ing, Explored in a New Video Essay That Breaks Down Han­nah and Her Sis­ters, The Empire Strikes Back & Oth­er Films

Scenes from Bohemi­an Rhap­sody Com­pared to Real Life: A 21-Minute Com­pi­la­tion

Hear How Queen’s “Bohemi­an Rhap­sody” Would Sound If Sung by John­ny Cash, David Bowie, Janis Joplin, Frank Sina­tra & 38 Oth­er Artists

Natalie Portman Teaches a MasterClass in Acting

This week, Mas­ter­Class rolled out its lat­est course–Natal­ie Port­man teach­ing a 20-les­son class on act­ing. The upstart edu­ca­tion­al ven­ture writes:

One of her generation’s most ver­sa­tile per­form­ers, Acad­e­my Award-win­ning actor Natal­ie Port­man has been cap­ti­vat­ing audi­ences for decades. Since her on-screen debut at age 12, she’s worked with some of cinema’s most cel­e­brat­ed direc­tors and show­cased her skills through unfor­get­table roles in Black Swan, Jack­ie, and the Star Wars fran­chise.

Hav­ing nev­er tak­en an act­ing class, Natal­ie devel­oped her craft over 25 years of obser­va­tion, col­lab­o­ra­tion, and count­less bold exper­i­ments. The con­sum­mate dra­mat­ic shapeshifter, she has worked across gen­res and his­tor­i­cal peri­ods, imbu­ing each per­for­mance with an authen­tic­i­ty she attrib­ut­es to intense research, prepa­ra­tion, and an eye for human behav­ior.

And now, in her first-ever act­ing class, she “shows how empa­thy is at the core of every great per­for­mance, how to bring real-life details into every role, and how to build your own cre­ative process.”

You can enroll in Port­man’s new class (which runs $90) here. You can also pay $180 to get an annu­al pass to the entire­ty of Mas­ter­Class’ cours­es–a cat­a­log of about 50 cours­es, which includes oth­er act­ing class­es by Jodie Fos­ter, Samuel L. Jack­son and more.

FYI: If you sign up for a Mas­ter­Class course by click­ing on the affil­i­ate links in this post, Open Cul­ture will receive a small fee that helps sup­port our oper­a­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

What Made Robin Williams a Unique­ly Expres­sive Actor: A Video Essay Explores a Sub­tle Dimen­sion of His Com­ic Genius

Movie Accent Expert Ana­lyzes 31 Actors Play­ing Oth­er Famous Peo­ple: Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles, Natal­ie Port­man as Jack­ie Kennedy, Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan, and More

A Stunning Live Concert Film of Queen Performing in Montreal, Digitally Restored to Perfection (1981)

The leg­end of Queen is immor­tal. It needs no fur­ther bur­nish­ing, not even, some might argue, by the most recent Oscar-win­ning biopic. The film may game­ly recre­ate the stage­craft of Britain’s most oper­at­ic export. But once you’ve seen the real thing, what need of a sub­sti­tute? For the mil­lions who loved them before Wayne’s World brought them back to glob­al con­scious­ness, and the mil­lions who came to love them after­ward, the only thing that could be bet­ter than watch­ing live Queen is watch­ing more live Queen.

If you’re one of those mil­lions, you’ll thrill at this con­cert film of Queen live in Mon­tre­al in 1981, “at their near peak,” writes Twist­ed Sifter. The footage you see here has been lov­ing­ly restored from an orig­i­nal release that chopped two dif­fer­ent nights’ per­for­mances togeth­er in a hash the band hat­ed.

The restora­tion, as Bri­an May him­self explained in 2007, is now “much much more true to what actu­al­ly hap­pened at any giv­en moment…. And I do find that once I’m five min­utes into the film, I’m caught up in it as a real live show.” It is, he says, “a great piece of work.”

Direct­ed by Saul Swim­mer, the doc­u­men­tar­i­an who made George Harrison’s Con­cert for Bangladesh, the film was plagued by mis­un­der­stand­ing and hos­til­i­ty, as May describes it. Fred­die Mer­cury hat­ed the expe­ri­ence and the direc­tor. “What you will see,” says the gui­tarist, “is a very edgy, angry band, carv­ing out a per­for­mance in a rather uncom­fort­able sit­u­a­tion.” But what per­for­mances they are. “High ener­gy, real, and raw.”

Yet no jus­tice was done to the elec­tric rage they brought to the stage those two nights. The film was shot on very high-qual­i­ty 35mm, then very bad­ly edit­ed with poor attempts at match­ing sound and video from dif­fer­ent per­for­mances. In 1984, an even worse VHS ver­sion titled We Will Rock You appeared, then it went to DVD in 2001. The band protest­ed but could only rem­e­dy the sit­u­a­tion when they bought the rights to the film.

In describ­ing the restora­tion process, May, the irre­press­ible sci­en­tist, gets most excit­ed:

The sur­viv­ing neg­a­tive went to be doc­tored in the USA – by a process using algo­rithms invent­ed by John D Lowry of NASA for res­cu­ing the film from the Apol­lo Moon mis­sions. (Astro­physics gets every­where!)  You know how quick com­put­ers are these days…?  Well, to give you an idea of the huge num­ber-crunch­ing involved, it took 700 Apple Mac G5’s one MONTH to process this film. 

From the orig­i­nal 24-track audio, all the songs, which had been edit­ed, were restored to their full length, and what footage wasn’t cut and dis­card­ed was rejoined “with mod­ern dig­i­tal artistry” into full per­for­mances.

Giv­en that the out­takes had dis­ap­peared, the result “is a doc­u­ment which con­cen­trates on Fred­die,” says May, but no one in the band “is upset” about that. I doubt any Queen fans will be over­ly upset either. See and hear the glo­ri­ous­ly restored film and live audio from Mon­tre­al in 1981 here: a fast ver­sion of “We Will Rock You,” “Some­body to Love,” “Killer Queen,” “Bohemi­an Rhap­sody,” “Anoth­er One Bites the Dust,” the slow ver­sion of “We Will Rock You,” and “We Are the Cham­pi­ons,” below.

via Twist­ed Sifter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Queen’s Stun­ning Live Aid Per­for­mance: 20 Min­utes Guar­an­teed to Give You Goose Bumps (July 15, 1985)

Watch Marc Mar­tel, Who Sup­plied Vocals for the Award-Win­ning Queen Film, Sing Just Like Fred­die Mer­cury: “Bohemi­an Rhap­sody,” “We Are The Cham­pi­ons” & More

Scenes from Bohemi­an Rhap­sody Com­pared to Real Life: A 21-Minute Com­pi­la­tion

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

Here’s John Steinbeck Asking Marilyn Monroe for Her Autograph (1955)

When ask­ing a celebri­ty for a spe­cial favor, it helps to be a bit of a celebri­ty your­self.

As Kei­th Fer­rell details in his biog­ra­phy, John Stein­beck: The Voice of the Land, the Nobel lau­re­ate had lit­tle patience for auto­graph seek­ers, pushy young writ­ers seek­ing help get­ting pub­lished, and “peo­ple who nev­er read books but enjoyed meet­ing authors.”

The shoe went on the oth­er foot when Mrs. Stein­beck let slip to her nephew that Uncle John had met the boy’s movie star crush, Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe.

Sud­den­ly, an auto­graphed pho­to seemed in order.

And not just some stan­dard issue pub­lic­i­ty shot, but ide­al­ly one show­ing the star of The Sev­en Year Itch and Gen­tle­men Pre­fer Blondes in a “pen­sive girl­ish mood.”

Also, could she please inscribe it by name to nephew Jon, a young man with, his uncle con­fid­ed, “one foot in the door of puber­ty”?

The star-to-star tone Stein­beck adopts for the above let­ter seems designed to ward off sus­pi­cion that this nephew could be a con­ve­nient inven­tion on the part of some­one desir­ing such a prize for him­self.

Six­ty years after a sec­re­tary typed it up, Stein­beck­’s mes­sage fetched $3,520 at Julien’s Auc­tions, one of a wide range of items culled from hard­core Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe col­lec­tor, David Gains­bor­ough-Roberts as well as the estate of Mon­roe’s act­ing teacher, Lee Stras­berg.

In addi­tion to oth­er cor­re­spon­dence, the Mar­i­lyn auc­tion includ­ed anno­tat­ed scripts, an emp­ty pre­scrip­tion bot­tle, a bal­le­ri­na paper­weight, stock­ings and gowns, some pin­up-type mem­o­ra­bil­ia, and a pro­gram from John F Kennedy’s 1962 birth­day cel­e­bra­tion at Madi­son Square Gar­den.

One lot that is con­spic­u­ous for its absence is Steinbeck’s promised “guest key to the ladies’ entrance of Fort Knox.”

Could it be that the boy nev­er got his cus­tomized auto­graph?

We’d like to think that he did. Per­haps he’s still savor­ing it in pri­vate.

H/T Alan Gold­wass­er/Let­ters of Note/Flash­bak

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“Noth­ing Good Gets Away”: John Stein­beck Offers Love Advice in a Let­ter to His Son (1958)

The 430 Books in Mar­i­lyn Monroe’s Library: How Many Have You Read?

Mar­i­lyn Mon­roe & Elvis Pres­ley Star in an Action-Packed Pop Art Japan­ese Mon­ster Movie

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in New York City for the next install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain, this Mon­day, March 11. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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