How the Astonishing Sushi Scene in Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs Was Animated: A Time-Lapse of the Month-Long Shoot

Since the moviego­ing pub­lic first start­ed hear­ing it twen­ty years ago, Wes Ander­son­’s name has been a byword for cin­e­mat­ic metic­u­lous­ness. The asso­ci­a­tion has only grown stronger with each film he’s made, as the live-action ones have fea­tured increas­ing­ly com­plex ships, trains, and grand hotels — to say noth­ing of the cos­tumes worn and accou­trements pos­sessed by the char­ac­ters who inhab­it them — and the stop-motion ani­mat­ed ones have demand­ed a super­hu­man atten­tion to detail by their very nature. It made per­fect sense when it was revealed that Isle of Dogs, Ander­son­’s sec­ond ani­mat­ed pic­ture, would take place in Japan: not only because of Japan­ese film, which opens up a vast field of new cin­e­mat­ic ref­er­ences to make, but also because of tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese cul­ture, whose metic­u­lous­ness match­es, indeed exceeds, Ander­son­’s own.

Most of us first expe­ri­ence that tra­di­tion­al Japan­ese metic­u­lous­ness through food. And so most of us will rec­og­nize the form of the ben­to, or meal in a box, pre­pared step-by-step before our eyes in Isle of Dogs, though we may nev­er before have wit­nessed the actu­al process of carv­ing up the wrig­gling, scur­ry­ing sea crea­tures that fill it.

One view­ing of this 45-sec­ond shot is enough to sug­gest how much work must have gone into it, but this time-lapse of its 32-day-long shoot (with­in a longer sev­en-month process to make the entire sequence) reveals the extent of the labor involved. In it you can see ani­ma­tors Andy Bid­dle (who’d pre­vi­ous­ly worked on Ander­son­’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, and before that his ani­mat­ed The Fan­tas­tic Mr. Fox) and Tony Far­quhar-Smith painstak­ing­ly posi­tion­ing and repo­si­tion­ing each and every one of the ben­to’s ingre­di­ents — all of which had to be spe­cial­ly made to look right even when chopped up and sliced open — as well as the dis­em­bod­ied hands of the sushi mas­ter prepar­ing them.

Shoot­ing stop-motion ani­ma­tion takes a huge amount of time, and so does mak­ing sushi, as any­one who has tried to do either at home knows. Per­form­ing the for­mer to Ander­son­ian stan­dards and the lat­ter to Japan­ese stan­dards hard­ly makes the tasks any eas­i­er. But just as a well craft­ed ben­to pro­vides an enjoy­able and uni­fied aes­thet­ic expe­ri­ence, one that would­n’t dare to remind the con­sumer of how much time and effort went into it, a movie like Isle of Dogs pro­vides thrills and laughs to its view­ers who only lat­er con­sid­er what it must have tak­en to bring such an elab­o­rate vision to life on screen. If you want to hear more about the demands it made on its ani­ma­tors, have a look at the Vari­ety video above, in which Andy Gent, head of Isle of Dogs’ pup­pet depart­ment, explains the process and its con­se­quences. “It took three ani­ma­tors, because it broke quite a few peo­ple to get it through the shot,” he says. “Sev­en months lat­er, we end up with one minute of ani­ma­tion.” But that minute would do even the most exact­ing sushi mas­ter proud.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch the New Trail­er for Wes Anderson’s Stop Motion Film, Isle of Dogs, Inspired by Aki­ra Kuro­sawa

The Geo­met­ric Beau­ty of Aki­ra Kuro­sawa and Wes Anderson’s Films

Wes Ander­son & Yasu­jiro Ozu: New Video Essay Reveals the Unex­pect­ed Par­al­lels Between Two Great Film­mak­ers

The His­to­ry of Stop-Motion Films: 39 Films, Span­ning 116 Years, Revis­it­ed in a 3‑Minute Video

How to Make Sushi: Free Video Lessons from a Mas­ter Sushi Chef

The Right and Wrong Way to Eat Sushi: A Primer

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.

Watch Andy Warhol Eat an Entire Burger King Whopper–While Wishing the Burger Came from McDonald’s (1981)

In the ear­ly 1980s, Dan­ish exper­i­men­tal film­mak­er Jør­gen Leth came to Amer­i­ca intent on cap­tur­ing it live as it was actu­al­ly lived across that vast, still-new, and often strange coun­try. The result, 66 Scenes from Amer­i­ca, offers images of road­side motels and din­ers, desert land­scapes, the Man­hat­tan sky­line, miles of lone­ly high­way, and stars and stripes aplen­ty. Halfway through it all comes the longest, and per­haps most Amer­i­can, scene of all: Andy Warhol eat­ing a fast-food ham­burg­er. A few moments after he accom­plish­es that task, he deliv­ers the film’s most mem­o­rable line by far: “My name is Andy Warhol, and I just fin­ished eat­ing a ham­burg­er.”

“Leth did not know Warhol, but he was a bit obsessed with him so he def­i­nite­ly want­ed to have him in his movie,” writes Dai­l­yArt’s Zuzan­na Stan­s­ka. And so when Leth came to New York, he sim­ply showed up at Warhol’s Fac­to­ry and pitched him the idea of con­sum­ing a “sym­bol­ic” burg­er on film. “Warhol imme­di­ate­ly liked the idea and agreed to the scene – he liked it because it was such a real scene, some­thing he would like to do.”

When Warhol showed up at the pho­to stu­dio Leth had set up to shoot the scene, com­plete with a vari­ety of fast-food ham­burg­ers from which he could choose, he had only one ques­tion: “Where is the McDon­ald’s?” Leth had­n’t thought to pick one up from the Gold­en Arch­es as well, not know­ing that Warhol con­sid­ered McDon­ald’s pack­ag­ing “the most beau­ti­ful.”

Warhol had a deep inter­est in Amer­i­can brands. “What’s great about this coun­try is that Amer­i­ca start­ed the tra­di­tion where the rich­est con­sumers buy essen­tial­ly the same things as the poor­est,” he wrote in The Phi­los­o­phy of Andy Warhol. “You can be watch­ing TV and see Coca-Cola, and you know that the Pres­i­dent drinks Coke, Liz Tay­lor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of mon­ey can get you a bet­ter Coke than the one the bum on the cor­ner is drink­ing. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good.” Sure­ly the same could be said of any par­tic­u­lar fast-food burg­er, even if Warhol could­n’t have his pre­ferred brand on that par­tic­u­lar day in New York in 1981. In the event, he chose a Whop­per from Burg­er King, still a well-known brand if hard­ly as icon­ic as McDon­ald’s — or, for that mat­ter, as icon­ic as Warhol him­self.

Above, you can see Leth talk­ing years lat­er about his expe­ri­ence film­ing Warhol.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

130,000 Pho­tographs by Andy Warhol Are Now Avail­able Online, Cour­tesy of Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty

When Steve Jobs Taught Andy Warhol to Make Art on the Very First Mac­in­tosh (1984)

Andy Warhol Dig­i­tal­ly Paints Deb­bie Har­ry with the Ami­ga 1000 Com­put­er (1985)

Warhol’s Cin­e­ma: A Mir­ror for the Six­ties (1989)

The Case for Andy Warhol in Three Min­utes

Ernest Hemingway’s Favorite Ham­burg­er Recipe

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.

Wes Anderson’s Breakthrough Film, Rushmore, Revisited in Five Video Essays: It Came Out 20 Years Ago Today

“I gen­uine­ly don’t know what to make of this movie.” So said emi­nent New York­er film crit­ic Pauline Kael about Rush­more, Wes Ander­son­’s sec­ond film. But hav­ing spent the bet­ter part of a decade in retire­ment by that point, she did­n’t pub­lish that judg­ment; rather, she spoke it straight to Ander­son him­self, who had rent­ed out a the­ater to give her a per­son­al screen­ing. “I was a lit­tle dis­ap­point­ed by Ms. Kael’s reac­tion to the movie,” Ander­son writes in his rec­ol­lec­tion of the event. Upon its release on Decem­ber 11, 1998 — twen­ty years ago today — a fair few of its view­ers would echo Kael’s bewil­der­ment. But just as many would feel they’d seen the ear­ly work of a mas­ter, and time would soon vin­di­cate that feel­ing: whether you love his movies or can’t stand them, Wes Ander­son became Wes Ander­son because of Rush­more.

“There are few per­fect movies,” says crit­ic and Wes Ander­son spe­cial­ist Matt Zoller-Seitz. “This is one of them.” His video essay on Rush­more, part of a series adapt­ed from his book The Wes Ander­son Col­lec­tion, breaks down just a few of the ele­ments that have made the film so beloved. “At once arch and earnest, know­ing and inno­cent,” Ander­son­’s sto­ry of a flak­i­ly ambi­tious teenage prep-school boy Max Fis­cher’s friend­ship with a mid­dle-aged steel mag­nate Her­man Blume — and the affec­tions for a wid­owed first-grade teacher that turn that friend­ship into a rival­ry — “feels unique and furi­ous­ly alive.”

Draw­ing deeply from the per­son­al­i­ty and expe­ri­ence of Ander­son him­self (and those of his co-writer and fre­quent col­lab­o­ra­tor Owen Wil­son) as well as The 400 BlowsThe Grad­u­ate, and oth­er clas­sic pic­tures, it nev­er does so in an obvi­ous or pre­dictable man­ner.

Of all the strokes of luck required for the then-twen­tysome­thing Ander­son even to get the chance to make a movie like Rush­more (espe­cial­ly after his debut fea­ture Bot­tle Rock­et seemed to have van­ished with­out a trace), no coup was greater than the cast­ing of Bill Mur­ray as Blume. It “res­onates back­ward through film his­to­ry,” says Zoller-Seitz, “because Max is a geeky teenage ver­sion of a cer­tain kind of 80s and 90s hero. Rush­more’s mas­ter­stroke is how it takes the piss out of those char­ac­ters: it implies that maybe the brava­do that those 80s and 90s char­ac­ters had was just a cov­er for fear and depres­sion.” Quite a depth of insight for a young film­mak­er to pos­sess — but then, many once under­es­ti­mat­ed the young Ander­son, whose sen­si­bil­i­ties get fur­ther exam­ined in the Screen­Prism video essay Rush­more: Por­trait of Wes Ander­son as a Young Man,” and they did so at their per­il.

“The charms of this movie are abun­dant,” says the New York Times’ A.O. Scott in his Crit­ic’s Pick video on Rush­more. “It has whim­si­cal pro­duc­tion design; clever and sharp writ­ing; ten­der, com­i­cal per­for­mances; a bril­liant use of pop music to under­score and slight­ly ironize the emo­tions being expressed on the screen.” Scott sin­gles out the strength of its visu­al com­po­si­tions, which Ander­son uses to, for exam­ple, “arrange peo­ple in the frame in such a way as to show every­thing about their rela­tion­ship — a kind of psy­cho­log­i­cal dimen­sion to the space that almost makes the dia­logue sec­ondary.” It all comes in ser­vice of telling two sto­ries in coun­ter­point, one “about an ado­les­cent com­ing to terms with his lim­i­ta­tions” and anoth­er about “an artist com­ing into pos­ses­sion of his pow­ers.”

Over the past twen­ty years, the crit­i­cal con­sen­sus on Rush­more has shift­ed almost uni­ver­sal­ly away from assess­ments like Kael’s and toward those like Scot­t’s. In the video above, a more mature Ander­son reflects on mak­ing the movie — and mak­ing it, in fact, at the very same high school he went to him­self. “The strongest asso­ci­a­tion for me is being back in class,” he says. “In the end, the thing that strikes me most force­ful­ly when I think back on it is just that I went home.” He also adds that “I don’t even know how we man­aged to get Rush­more made, or why,” giv­en the appar­ent fail­ure of Bot­tle Rock­et, a pic­ture on which he and Wil­son had labored for years. “Rush­more was more expen­sive, maybe even a bit stranger, and yet it seemed just to hap­pen. I think it was just lucky.” Espe­cial­ly lucky for us view­ers over the past two decades, as well as the gen­er­a­tions of Rush­more fans still to come.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Com­plete Col­lec­tion of Wes Ander­son Video Essays

What’s the Big Deal About Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel? Matt Zoller Seitz’s Video Essay Explains

A Glimpse Into How Wes Ander­son Cre­ative­ly Remixes/Recycles Scenes in His Dif­fer­ent Films

Wes Anderson’s Cin­e­mat­ic Debt to Stan­ley Kubrick Revealed in a Side-By-Side Com­par­i­son

Wes Ander­son Names 12 of His Favorite Art Films

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.

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

Well-known fig­ures’ voic­es are often as dis­tinc­tive as their thou­sand-watt smiles and influ­en­tial hair­dos.

While there is some evi­dence as to the accents and idio­syn­crat­ic speech pat­terns of such his­tor­i­cal heavy hit­ters as Thomas Edi­son, Flo­rence Nightin­gale, and Har­ry Hou­di­ni, tech­no­log­i­cal improve­ments have real­ly upped the ante for those charged with imper­son­at­ing real life peo­ple from the mid 20th-cen­tu­ry onward.

Natal­ie Port­man had to sus­tain her Jack­ie Kennedy imper­son­ation for an entire fea­ture-length biopic, a per­for­mance dialect coach Erik Singer gives high marks, above. Port­man, he explains, has tru­ly inter­nal­ized Jackie’s idi­olect, the indi­vid­ual quirks that add yet anoth­er lay­er to such sig­ni­fiers as class and region.

As evi­dence, he sub­mits a side-by-side com­par­i­son of the First Lady’s famous 1962 tele­vised tour of the White House ren­o­va­tions she had spear­head­ed, and Portman’s recre­ation there­of.

Port­man has done her home­work with regard to breath pat­tern, pitch, and the refine­ment that strikes most 21st cen­tu­ry ears as a bit stilt­ed and strange. Most impres­sive to Singer is the way Port­man trans­fers Kennedy’s odd­ly musi­cal elon­ga­tion of cer­tain syl­la­bles to oth­er words in the script. Tis no mere par­rot job.

Jamie Foxx’s Oscar-win­ning turn as Ray Charles suc­ceeds on copi­ous research and his abil­i­ty to inhab­it Charles’ habit­u­al smile. Obvi­ous­ly, the pos­ture in which an indi­vid­ual holds their mouth has a lot to do with the sound of their voice, and Foxx was blessed with plen­ty of source mate­r­i­al.

The 1982 epic Gand­hi pro­vid­ed the ver­sa­tile Ben Kings­ley with the oppor­tu­ni­ty to show­case not one, but two, idi­olects. The adult Gand­hi under­went a dra­mat­ic and well doc­u­ment­ed evo­lu­tion from the British accent he adopt­ed as a young law stu­dent in Lon­don to a proud­ly Indi­an voice bet­ter suit­ed to inspir­ing a nation to uni­fy against its British col­o­niz­ers.

It’s like­ly that many of us have nev­er con­sid­ered the speech-relat­ed build­ing blocks Singer scru­ti­nizes while ana­lyz­ing 29 oth­er per­for­mances for the WIRED video, above—epenthesis, tongue posi­tions, rel­a­tive degrees of emphat­ic mus­cu­lar­i­ty, and retroflex consonants—but it’s easy to see how they play a part.

Singer invites you to expand his research and teach­ing library by record­ing your­self speak­ing extem­po­ra­ne­ous­ly and read­ing from two sam­ple texts here. Pray that who­ev­er plays you in the biopic gets it right.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Peter Sell­ers Gives a Quick Demon­stra­tion of British Accents

Why Do Peo­ple Talk Fun­ny in Old Movies?, or The Ori­gin of the Mid-Atlantic Accent

Watch Meryl Streep Have Fun with Accents: Bronx, Pol­ish, Irish, Aus­tralian, Yid­dish & More

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  See her onstage in New York City through Decem­ber 20th in the 10th anniver­sary pro­duc­tion of Greg Kotis’ apoc­a­lyp­tic hol­i­day tale, The Truth About San­ta, and the book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Stream 48 Classic & Contemporary German Films Free Online: From Fritz Lang’s Metropolis to Margarethe von Trotta’s Hannah Arendt

If you’re read­ing this, there’s a good chance you’ve seen the Ger­man Expres­sion­ist clas­sic The Cab­i­net of Dr. Cali­gari. As soon as Robert Weine’s 1920 film came out, it was described as essen­tial. Or as one review­er wrote, “so-called cul­tured peo­ple who fail to see it are neglect­ing their edu­ca­tion.” There are dozens more Ger­man films to which that sen­tence might apply. Films from the country’s explo­sive Weimar moment—which also pro­duced Metrop­o­lis, Nos­fer­atu, M, Faust, etc.—to those of the New Ger­man Cin­e­ma move­ment of the 1960s and 70s, which gave the world such enfants ter­ri­bles as Wim Wen­ders, Mar­garethe von Trot­ta, Wern­er Her­zog, and Rain­er Maria Fass­binder. The furi­ous­ly pro­lif­ic Fass­binder died in 1982 at 37, but the for­mer three direc­tors have con­tin­ued to make inter­na­tion­al­ly-known films into the 21st cen­tu­ry.

You may have seen Von Trotta’s Han­nah Arendt (trail­er above), which won mul­ti­ple awards in 2012. Or per­haps you caught Car­o­line Link’s WWII-themed Nowhere in Africa, which won an Oscar that same year. The Nazi era may have laid waste to the Ger­man film industry—whose biggest tal­ents end­ed up exiled in Hol­ly­wood—and the post­war years are often thought of as a “lost decade” (wrong­ly, it seems). But on the whole, Ger­man film­mak­ers have pro­duced some of the most visu­al­ly dis­tinc­tive, nar­ra­tive­ly thrilling, and emo­tion­al­ly raw films in world cin­e­ma since its begin­nings.

WERNER HERZOG TEACHES FILMMAKING. LEARN MORE.

Germany’s cul­tur­al insti­tute, the Goethe Insti­tut, is hon­or­ing the lega­cy of Ger­man film, from its clas­sic to its con­tem­po­rary peri­ods, with 48 films free to stream on Kanopy. (The films include sub­ti­tles in Eng­lish.) The ini­tia­tive is just one part of Wun­der­bar, a cel­e­bra­tion that includes “Goethe Pop Ups in the US,” with film screen­ings, fes­ti­vals, appear­ances by Ger­man film­mak­ers, and an online series of crit­i­cal arti­cles by Ger­man and Amer­i­can experts.

If you haven’t seen Dr. Cali­gari, Nos­fer­atuMetrop­o­lis, or Faust, you can stream them now at the Goethe Institut’s Kanopy. You can also see Han­nah Arendt, Nowhere in Africa, and oth­er acclaimed con­tem­po­rary films. Herzog’s 1971 Aguirre, the Wrath of God is in the col­lec­tion, as is Frank Beyer’s far more obscure Trace of Stones from 1966, a film banned for 25 years by East Ger­man offi­cials after its release.

There are doc­u­men­taries on artists like Joseph Beuys and Ger­hard Richter, on Mar­lene Diet­rich and, nat­u­ral­ly, Ger­man beer. Films by direc­tors Anne Birken­stock, Chris­t­ian Pet­zold, and Tom Tyk­w­er. Berlin Inter­na­tion­al Film Fes­ti­val nom­i­nee Beloved Sis­ters appears. There are films that “so-called cul­tured peo­ple” are expect­ed to have seen, and many more unlike­ly to show up on the syl­labus of a sur­vey course.

Per­haps only one of these movies has been specif­i­cal­ly cred­it­ed with grim­ly pre­dict­ing the future—as Siegfried Kra­cauer alleged in his book Cali­gari to Hitler. But all of these are films that deserve a wide audi­ence out­side their nation­al bor­ders. To view the Goethe Institut’s selec­tion of 48 films, you’ll need to sign up for a free Kanopy account, which you can do with your Google or Face­book logins or with an email address. Then sim­ply set your home library as “Goethe-Insti­tut” and you can stream any or all of the films in the col­lec­tion, from 1920’s Cali­gari to 2017’s Axolotl Overkill, on IOS and Android devices, Apple TV, Roku, Chrome­cast, or your com­put­er.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

10 Great Ger­man Expres­sion­ist Films: From Nos­fer­atu to The Cab­i­net of Dr. Cali­gari

Watch Wern­er Herzog’s Very First Film, Her­ak­les, Made When He Was Only 19-Years-Old (1962)

Film­mak­er Wim Wen­ders Explains How Mobile Phones Have Killed Pho­tog­ra­phy

The Top 100 For­eign-Lan­guage Films of All-Time, Accord­ing to 209 Crit­ics from 43 Coun­tries

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

Mira Nair, Director of Monsoon Wedding and The Namesake, Teaches an Online Course on Indie Filmmaking

FYI: Mira Nair, the direc­tor of Mon­soon Wed­ding and The Name­sakehas just released an online mas­ter­class on inde­pen­dent film­mak­ing. In 17 video lessons, the Oscar-nom­i­nat­ed direc­tor teach­es stu­dents how to “make a big impact on a small bud­get, evoke the best from actors and non-actors, and pro­tect your cre­ative vision so you tell the sto­ry that can only come from you.” Nair’s course runs $90. But for $180, you can get an All-Access Pass to Mas­ter­class’ cat­a­logue of 45 cours­es, which includes cours­es by a num­ber of oth­er promi­nent filmmakers–Martin Scors­ese, Spike Lee, Ken Burns, Ron Howard, Wern­er Her­zog and more. Not to men­tion actors and actress­es like Samuel L. Jack­son and Helen Mir­ren.

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:

Wern­er Her­zog Offers 24 Pieces of Film­mak­ing & Life Advice

Direc­tor Robert Rodriguez Teach­es The Basics of Film­mak­ing in Under 10 Min­utes

The Stu­dent of Prague: The Very First Inde­pen­dent Film (1913)

Blade Runner Getting Adapted into a New Anime Series, Produced by Cowboy Bebop Animator Shinichiro Watanabe

You may remem­ber, in the run-up to the the­atri­cal release of Blade Run­ner 2049 last Octo­ber, that three short pre­quels appeared on the inter­net. Black Out 2022 (above), the most dis­cussed install­ment of that minia­ture tril­o­gy, stood out both aes­thet­i­cal­ly and cul­tur­al­ly: direct­ed by famed Japan­ese ani­ma­tor Shinichi­ro Watan­abe, it expand­ed the real­i­ty of Blade Run­ner through a form that has drawn so much from that uni­verse over the pre­vi­ous 35 years. “I just want an ani­mat­ed bladerun­ner series now,” says the cur­rent top-rat­ed com­ment below that video, “this was mag­i­cal.” And so, a year lat­er, the answer to the prayer of that com­menter (and clear­ly many oth­er view­ers besides) has appeared on the hori­zon: a Japan­ese ani­mat­ed series called Blade Run­ner — Black Lotus.

Over­seen by Watan­abe in the pro­duc­er role and direct­ed by Ken­ji Kamiya­ma and Shin­ji Ara­ma­ki, the lat­ter of whom worked in the art depart­ment on Black Out 2022, the new series will take place in 2032, between the events of the short and those of Blade Run­ner 2049.

“It will also include some ‘estab­lished char­ac­ters’ from the Blade Run­ner uni­verse, but that could mean all sorts of things,” writes The A.V. Club’s Sam Barsan­ti. “Har­ri­son Ford’s Rick Deckard would already be in hid­ing at that point after father­ing the mir­a­cle repli­cant baby, so it could be about him going off on some cool guy adven­tures, but Deckard doesn’t exact­ly seem like a guy who goes on cool guy adven­tures. Ryan Gosling’s K prob­a­bly wasn’t ‘born’ yet, since he’s a Nexus‑9 repli­cant and those weren’t cre­at­ed until lat­er in the 2030s, but we don’t know for sure.”

Per­haps sup­port­ing char­ac­ters from both movies, “like Edward James Olmos’ Gaff (he might still be an LAPD cop) or Jared Leto’s Nian­der Wal­lace (he’s def­i­nite­ly hang­ing around, being an evil rich guy),” will show up. What­ev­er hap­pens, the thir­teen episodes of Blade Run­ner — Black Lotus will cer­tain­ly have no small amount of both famil­iar­i­ty and sur­prise in store for fans of Blade Run­ner, as well as those of Watan­abe’s oth­er work. That goes espe­cial­ly for his philo­soph­i­cal space boun­ty-hunter series Cow­boy Bebop, itself the source mate­r­i­al for a new live-action tele­vi­sion series on Adult Swim, who will air Blade Run­ner — Black Lotus at the same time as it’s streamed on ani­me site Crunchyroll.com. No release date has thus far been announced, but odds are the show’s debut will hap­pen some time in 2019 — the per­fect year for it, as every­one thrilling to the prospect of more Blade Run­ner already knows.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Three New Pre­quels Get You Ready to Watch Blade Run­ner 2049

Watch the New Ani­me Pre­quel to Blade Run­ner 2049, by Famed Japan­ese Ani­ma­tor Shinichi­ro Watan­abe

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

The Exis­ten­tial Phi­los­o­phy of Cow­boy Bebop, the Cult Japan­ese Ani­me Series, Explored in a Thought­ful Video Essay

“The Long Tomor­row”: Dis­cov­er Mœbius’ Hard-Boiled Detec­tive Com­ic That Inspired Blade Run­ner (1975)

When Japan’s Top Ani­ma­tors Made a Thrilling Cyber­punk Com­mer­cial for Irish Beer: Watch Last Orders (1997)

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 David Lynch Manipulates You: A Close Reading of Mulholland Drive

David Lynch mess­es with your mind. You’ve prob­a­bly heard vari­a­tions on that obser­va­tion before, as like­ly to come from peo­ple who love Lynch’s films as from those who can’t stand them. Unlike most “nor­mal” film­mak­ers, who tell sto­ries com­fort­ably ensconced in the real­i­ty that the tra­di­tion of cin­e­ma has built, Lynch has always told his sto­ries in a cin­e­mat­ic real­i­ty of his own, built out of the exist­ing ele­ments of cin­e­ma but bolt­ed togeth­er by him in sur­pris­ing and often unset­tling ways. Hence his name’s long-ago con­ver­sion into an adjec­tive: David Lynch movies are Lynchi­an, and it falls to we who watch them to deal with the psy­cho­log­i­cal effects — fright­en­ing, thrilling, com­plete­ly dis­ori­ent­ing, or some com­bi­na­tion of those and more — that Lynchi­an­ness stirs with­in us.

In the video essay “Mul­hol­land Dri­ve: How Lynch Manip­u­lates You,” Evan Puschak, bet­ter known at the Nerd­writer, breaks down Lynch’s process of mind-mess­ing, at least as it works in one par­tic­u­lar scene of one of his best-known and most acclaimed films, Mul­hol­land Dri­ve. Lynch, Puschak explains, “uses expec­ta­tion as a tool. He wields expec­ta­tion — the expec­ta­tion that comes from what we know about film, about its his­to­ry, the his­to­ry of sto­ries, and from our human­i­ty — with the same nuance and pow­er as some­one else might use light to cre­ate a vari­ety of moods in a space.”

Mul­hol­land Dri­ve, which seems to begin as the sto­ry of a would-be blonde ingenue arriv­ing in Hol­ly­wood with dreams of mak­ing it big, gets fur­ther and fur­ther off kil­ter as it goes, lever­ag­ing the osten­si­ble stiff­ness and even corni­ness it dares to present at the begin­ning to deliv­er a much dark­er and more com­plex cin­e­mat­ic expe­ri­ence in the end. “All through­out the film, from the over­dubbed dia­logue on down, David Lynch has made us privy to the veneer of things,” says Puschak. “It’s all curi­ous­ly two-dimen­sion­al, and that puts us on our guard, since sur­faces are what we get. Lynch encour­ages us to exam­ine those sur­faces, always remain­ing detached enough for a dis­in­ter­est­ed, crit­i­cal view of what we’re see­ing.”

But “as with every­thing that Lynch does, this two-dimen­sion­al­i­ty, this flat­ness, is also a decep­tion. While we think we’re on our guard, supe­ri­or to the cloy­ing emo­tions of Hol­ly­wood wish-ful­fill­ment, Lynch rel­ish­es drop­ping the bot­tom out, show­ing us just how unpre­pared for and sus­cep­ti­ble we are to emo­tions that our soci­ety trea­sures or deeply fears.” In Mul­hol­land Dri­ve he accom­plish­es this over and over again by using ancient Hol­ly­wood stereo­types, film noir tropes, a night­club singer lip-sync­ing to a Roy Orbi­son song in Span­ish, a cave­man liv­ing behind a Sun­set Strip din­er, Ange­lo Badala­men­ti spit­ting out an espres­so, Bil­ly Ray Cyrus, and much more besides. And as both Lynch’s fans and detrac­tors must sus­pect, he no doubt has a few more ways to drop the bot­toms out from under his audi­ences in his tool­box yet.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sur­re­al Film­mak­ing of David Lynch Explained in 9 Video Essays

What Makes a David Lynch Film Lynchi­an: A Video Essay

An Ani­mat­ed David Lynch Explains Where He Gets His Ideas

David Lynch Mus­es About the Mag­ic of Cin­e­ma & Med­i­ta­tion in a New Abstract Short Film

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.

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.