Stanley Kubrick’s “Lost” Script Burning Secret Surfaces, Complete Enough to Make into a Film

in Film, Literature | July 18th, 2018


We remem­ber Stan­ley Kubrick as the arche­typ­al cin­e­mat­ic auteur. Though all huge­ly col­lab­o­ra­tive efforts, could any of his films have been made with­out his pre­sid­ing autho­r­i­al intel­li­gence? Cer­tain­ly none could have been made with­out his eye for lit­er­ary mate­r­i­al. Kubrick usu­al­ly began his projects not with his own orig­i­nal ideas but with books, famous­ly adapt­ing the likes of Vladimir Nabokov’s Loli­ta and Antho­ny Burgess’ A Clock­work Orange, con­tin­u­ing the prac­tice right up until his final pic­ture Eyes Wide Shut, an adap­ta­tion of Aus­tri­an writer Arthur Schnit­zler’s 1926 novel­la Traum­nov­el­le, or Dream Sto­ry.

But Traum­nov­el­le, it turns out, was­n’t the only Aus­tri­an novel­la of the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry Kubrick worked on adapt­ing for the screen. A recent­ly dis­cov­ered “lost” Kubrick screen­play, writes the Guardian’s Dalya Alberge, “is so close to com­ple­tion that it could be devel­oped by film­mak­ers. Enti­tled Burn­ing Secret, the script is an adap­ta­tion of the 1913 novel­la by the Vien­nese writer Ste­fan Zweig. In Kubrick’s adap­ta­tion of the sto­ry of adul­tery and pas­sion set in a spa resort, a suave and preda­to­ry man befriends a 10-year-old boy, using him to seduce the child’s mar­ried moth­er.” Kubrick wrote the script in 1956 in col­lab­o­ra­tion with Calder Will­ing­ham, with whom he also wrote Paths of Glo­ry, which would become his fourth fea­ture the fol­low­ing year.

The stu­dio MGM, Alberge writes, “is thought to have can­celled the com­mis­sioned project after learn­ing that Kubrick was also work­ing on Paths of Glo­ry, putting him in breach of con­tract. Anoth­er account sug­gests that MGM told Kubrick’s pro­duc­ing part­ner James B. Har­ris that it did not see the screenplay’s poten­tial as a movie.” She also quotes Nathan Abrams, the film pro­fes­sor at Wales’ Ban­gor Uni­ver­si­ty who recent­ly found the Burn­ing Secret script, as say­ing that “ ‘the adul­tery sto­ry­line’ involv­ing a child as a go-between might have been con­sid­ered too risqué” back in the 1950s. Since Kubrick could “only just” get Loli­ta through in 1961, this “inverse of Loli­ta” may not have had much chance half a decade ear­li­er.

Zweig, one of the most pop­u­lar writ­ers in the world in the 1920s and 1930s, has already inspired one film by an Amer­i­can auteur: Wes Ander­son­’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, which came out in 2014. Not only are sev­er­al of its char­ac­ters mod­eled on Zweig him­self, it has the same struc­ture of sto­ries nest­ed with­in sto­ries that Zweig used in his writ­ing. “It’s a device that maybe is a bit old-fash­ioned,” Ander­son said in a Tele­graph inter­view, “where some­body meets an inter­est­ing, mys­te­ri­ous per­son and there’s a bit of a scene that unfolds with them before they even­tu­al­ly set­tle down to tell their whole tale, which then becomes the larg­er book or sto­ry we’re read­ing.” Usu­al­ly, height­en­ing the con­fes­sion­al mood fur­ther still, the teller has nev­er told the tale to any­one else. Hence the burn­ing nature of secrets in Zweig — and hence the fas­ci­na­tion of Kubrick­’s cool, con­trolled cin­e­mat­ic sen­si­bil­i­ty inter­pret­ing them.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lost Kubrick: A Short Doc­u­men­tary on Stan­ley Kubrick’s Unfin­ished Films

Napoleon: The Great­est Movie Stan­ley Kubrick Nev­er Made

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Anno­tat­ed Copy of Stephen King’s The Shin­ing

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Jazz Pho­tog­ra­phy and The Film He Almost Made About Jazz Under Nazi Rule

Stan­ley Kubrick Explains the Mys­te­ri­ous End­ing of 2001: A Space Odyssey in a New­ly Unearthed Inter­view

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities 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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Watch All of the Commercials That David Lynch Has Directed: A Big 30-Minute Compilation

in Film, Television | July 16th, 2018

Some film­mak­ers start in com­mer­cials, hon­ing their chops in antic­i­pa­tion of mak­ing per­son­al projects lat­er. A select few go in the oth­er direc­tion, real­iz­ing their dis­tinc­tive vision before field­ing offers from com­pa­nies who want a piece of that vision’s cul­tur­al cur­ren­cy. Any­one who’s seen David Lynch’s most acclaimed work will sus­pect, cor­rect­ly, that Lynch belongs in the lat­ter group. With 1977’s cult hit Eraser­head, he showed cin­e­ma what it means to be Lynchi­an. This brought him the atten­tion of Hol­ly­wood, lead­ing to the respectable suc­cess of The Ele­phant Man and the dis­as­ter that was Dune. Only in 1986, with Blue Vel­vet, could Lynch make a tru­ly, even trou­bling­ly per­son­al film that hit the zeit­geist at just the right moment.

Nat­u­ral­ly, Madi­son Avenue came call­ing soon there­after. “With the smash Blue Vel­vet, a Palme d’or at Cannes for Wild at Heart, and then the nation­al phe­nom­e­non of Twin Peaks’ first sea­son, David Lynch clear­ly estab­lished him­self as the U.S.A.‘s fore­most com­mer­cial­ly viable avant-garde-‘offbeat’ direc­tor,” wrote David Fos­ter Wal­lace in a 1997 piece on the film­mak­er.

“For a while there it looked like he might be able to sin­gle-hand­ed­ly bro­ker a new mar­riage between art and com­merce in U.S. movies, open­ing for­mu­la-frozen Hol­ly­wood to some of the eccen­tric­i­ty and vig­or of art film.” Lynch’s fans in tele­vi­sion adver­tis­ing must have imag­ined that he could do the same for their indus­try, and you can watch the fruits of that hunch in the half-hour com­pi­la­tion of Lynch-direct­ed com­mer­cials above.

Lynch has worked for some star­tling­ly big brands, begin­ning with Calvin Klein: his trio of spots for the fra­grance Obses­sion take as their basis the writ­ing of F. Scott Fitzger­ald, Ernest Hem­ing­way, and D.H. Lawrence. A few years lat­er he direct­ed a humor­ous mini-sea­son of Twin Peaks to pro­mote Geor­gia Cof­fee, one of the top brands of canned cof­fee in the Lynch-lov­ing coun­try of Japan. The New York Depart­ment of San­i­ta­tion engaged Lynch’s ser­vices to imbue their anti-lit­ter­ing cam­paign with his sig­na­ture high-con­trast omi­nous­ness, a mood also sought by fash­ion-indus­try titans like Armani, Yves Saint Lau­rent, Guc­ci, and Dior. The mar­keters of hum­bler goods like Alka-Seltzer, Bar­il­la Pas­ta (a seem­ing­ly auteur-aware brand that has also hired Wim Wen­ders and Felli­ni), and Clear Blue Easy home preg­nan­cy tests have also gone in for a touch of the Lynchi­an.

Quite a few of these com­mer­cials orig­i­nal­ly aired only out­side Amer­i­ca, which may reflect the sup­pos­ed­ly more endur­ing appre­ci­a­tion of Lynch’s work that exists in Europe and Asia. But for all Lynch’s artis­tic dar­ing, the man him­self has always come off as an enthu­si­ast of unre­con­struct­ed Amer­i­can plea­sures. To this day he remains a stead­fast smok­er, and in 1998 brought that per­son­al cred­i­bil­i­ty to the Swiss cig­a­rette brand Parisi­enne. The result­ing spot fea­tures men in ties, show­ers of sparks, dead fish, back­wards talk­ing, a for­bid­ding­ly illu­mi­nat­ed shack, and apoc­a­lyp­tic flames: Parisi­enne, in oth­er words, must have got exact­ly what they paid for.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Makes a David Lynch Film Lynchi­an: A Video Essay

David Lynch Made a Dis­turb­ing Web Sit­com Called “Rab­bits”: It’s Now Used by Psy­chol­o­gists to Induce a Sense of Exis­ten­tial Cri­sis in Research Sub­jects

The Sur­re­al Film­mak­ing of David Lynch Explained in 9 Video Essays

Wim Wen­ders Cre­ates Ads to Sell Beer (Stel­la Artois), Pas­ta (Bar­il­la), and More Beer (Car­ling)

Spike Jonze’s Imag­i­na­tive TV Ads

Fellini’s Fan­tas­tic TV Com­mer­cials

Ing­mar Bergman’s 1950s Soap Com­mer­cials Wash Away the Exis­ten­tial Despair

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities 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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What It Would Look Like If Wes Anderson, Quentin Tarantino & Other Directors Filmed Cooking Videos

in Comedy, Film, Food & Drink, Video - Arts & Culture | July 16th, 2018

I usu­al­ly chafe when direc­tor Wes Ander­son is labelled “twee,” but as an enthu­si­as­tic, sticky-fin­gered gob­bler of bark and ash encrust­ed camp­fire s’mores, I did enjoy a rather row­dy laugh at his expense while watch­ing the above video.

Each entry in film­mak­er David Ma’s #Food­Films series starts with a hypoth­e­sis that pairs a sim­ple, famil­iar dish with a direc­tor whose visu­al style is well estab­lished.

What if Wes Ander­son made S’mores? 

Ma’s ear­ly mar­i­na­tion in the realms of food styling and adver­tis­ing is a recipe for suc­cess here.

Anderson’s beloved God shot has become a sta­ple of online cook­ing videos, but Ma’s atten­tion to sub­tler details would pass muster with a Cor­don Bleu chef.

The for­mal­ly engraved card! The rib­bon motif! The cos­tumes!

The look is more Grand Budapest Hotel than the camp-themed Moon­rise King­dom, but no mat­ter. That more obvi­ous pair­ing start­ed tast­ing a tad over-chewed around the time of the Moon­rise King­dom-inspired wed­ding pho­to shoot.

Ma’s homage to Quentin Taran­ti­no is a butch and bloody take on spaghet­ti and meat­balls.

To para­phrase Jean-Luc Godard, “It’s not blood. It’s red sauce.”

The sound­track sug­gests that Ma’s ear is just as keen as his eye.

45 sec­onds in, there’s a Part 2, as an extra treat for QT fans.

Big bud­get action king Michael Bay and a Grav­i­ty-cen­tric Alfon­so Cuarón round out #Food­Films’ four-course tast­ing menu.

How­ev­er sat­is­fied view­ers may feel with these hijinks, their appetite for the project is far from sati­at­ed. Sequel requests are pil­ing up:

What if Kubrick made Toast?

What if Tim Bur­ton made a grilled cheese sand­wich?

What if Woody Allen made piz­za?

What if Steven Spiel­berg made cup­cakes?

What if Kuro­sawa made scram­bled eggs?

What if Guy Ritchie did a Full Eng­lish Fry-Up?

Gives me a han­ker­ing to see what Sofia Cop­po­la would do with my grandmother’s favorite lay­ered Jell‑o sal­ad.

While we’re wait­ing for Ma to serve up his next dish we can tide our­selves over with some of his oth­er high­ly styl­ized recipe videos, like the Incred­i­ble Hulk’s Smashed Pota­toes.

Read­ers, what direc­tor-dish pair­ing would you order up? Let us know in the com­ments.

via W Mag­a­zine

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pow­er of Food in Quentin Tarantino’s Films

For­rest Gump Direct­ed by Wes Ander­son: Here’s What It Would Look Like

A Com­plete Col­lec­tion of Wes Ander­son Video Essays

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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Watch “The Hangman,” a Classic Animated Film That Explores What Happens When No One Dares to Stand Up to Evil

in Film | July 13th, 2018

Last Fri­day, I was down­town at an open air cin­e­ma to watch a col­lec­tion of ani­mat­ed shorts. It was also a beast­ly hot night with roar­ing sun­down­ers, a very present dan­ger of being clocked in the head by falling palm fronds, and an exis­ten­tial dan­ger of fire in the hills. The oth­er exis­ten­tial dan­ger was that of the author­i­tar­i­an turn of this coun­try that, at that moment, seemed so far away from our pic­nic bas­kets and wine in a can.

In the mid­dle of the pro­gram of well made but light and fluffy shorts came the above ani­mat­ed film, “The Hang­man.” The ver­sion above is not the restored ver­sion we saw, but it’s pret­ty much the same, give or take a scratch. Les Gold­man and Paul Julian’s 1964 short deliv­ers a moral mes­sage along the same lines as anti-Nazi pas­tor Mar­tin Niemöller’s “First they came for the Social­ists” statement–currently a meme you’ve prob­a­bly seen pass through your social feed. And though the nar­ra­tive, based on the poem by Mau­rice Ogden, is easy to suss out as it trun­dled towards its mor­tal con­clu­sion, it did not stop the fact that the ram­bunc­tious Fri­day night audi­ence fell dead silent upon its con­clu­sion. You may too.

The poem first appeared in a 1954 issue of Mass­es and Main­stream, a month­ly Marx­ist pub­li­ca­tion that con­tin­ued pub­lish­ing through the worst excess­es of the McCarthy hear­ings to an under­stand­ably van­ish­ing read­er­ship. The poem has occa­sion­al­ly been taught in the con­text of the Holo­caust, but any kind of creep­ing fas­cism will do. Not much is real­ly known about Ogden, who wrote the poem under the pseu­do­nym Jack Denoya in its orig­i­nal pub­li­ca­tion. (He is pos­si­bly the same man who taught at Coast Com­mu­ni­ty Col­lege in Cos­ta Mesa, CA, and min­is­tered at Orange Coast Uni­tar­i­an Uni­ver­sal­ist Church.)

The ani­mat­ed ver­sion, with its mod­ernist look influ­enced by UPA’s ani­ma­tion stu­dio, came out one year after Mass­es and Main­stream fold­ed. Dur­ing that Fri­day night view­ing, I sus­pect­ed the nar­ra­tor to be Ken Nor­dine, who record­ed a vocal jazz album around that time. But actu­al­ly the voice belongs to Her­schel Bernar­di, a film and the­ater actor who would have been known to Broad­way fans for his star­ring role in Fid­dler on the Roof but to tele­vi­sion fans as Char­lie Tuna in the Stark­ist com­mer­cials. Before all that, how­ev­er, he was a vic­tim of the Hol­ly­wood black­list, which made him a per­fect choice to nar­rate “The Hang­man.”

Direc­tor Paul Julian illus­trat­ed much of the back­ground art used in Warn­er Bros. car­toons, and his claim to pop cul­ture fame is pro­vid­ing the “beep beep” sound for the Road Run­ner car­toons by the same stu­dio. Pro­duc­er Les Gold­man went on to pro­duce sev­er­al oth­er influ­en­tial ani­mat­ed shorts, such as “The Dot and the Line” and “The Phan­tom Toll­booth.”

How­ev­er, “The Hang­man” is seri­ous food for thought in these fraught times, and it’s good to see it back in cir­cu­la­tion, thanks to cura­tor Ron Dia­mond. Here’s to hop­ing his­to­ry doesn’t repeat itself.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch a Sur­re­al 1953 Ani­ma­tion of Edgar Allan Poe’s “Tell-Tale Heart,” Vot­ed the 24th Best Car­toon of All Time

A Short Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to Karl Marx

The Best Ani­mat­ed Films of All Time, Accord­ing to Ter­ry Gilliam

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

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Stanley Kubrick’s Annotated Copy of Stephen King’s The Shining

in Books, Film | July 11th, 2018

The web site Over­look Hotel has post­ed pic­tures of Stan­ley Kubrick’s per­son­al copy of Stephen King’s nov­el The Shin­ing, which is nor­mal­ly kept at the Stan­ley Kubrick Archive, but has been mak­ing the rounds in a trav­el­ing exhi­bi­tion. The book is filled with high­light­ed pas­sages and large­ly illeg­i­ble notes in the margin—tantalizing clues to Kubrick’s inten­tions for the movie.

The site fea­tures a pic­ture of the book’s care­worn cov­er along with two spreads from the book’s inte­ri­or —pages 8–9, where Jack Tor­rance is being inter­viewed by hotel man­ag­er Mr. Ull­man, and pages 86–87 where hotel cook Dick Hal­lo­rann talks to Jack’s son Dan­ny about the tele­path­ic abil­i­ty called “shin­ing.” (Click on the images to enlarge.)

Much of the mar­gin­a­lia is mad­den­ing­ly hard to deci­pher. One of the notes I could make out reads:

Maybe just like their [sic] are peo­ple who can shine, maybe there are places that are spe­cial. Maybe it has to do with what hap­pened in them or where they were built.

Kubrick is clear­ly work­ing to trans­late King’s book into film. Oth­er notes, how­ev­er, seem whol­ly unre­lat­ed to the movie.

Any prob­lems with the kitchen – you phone me

When The Shin­ing came out, it was greet­ed with tepid and non­plussed reviews. Since then, the film’s rep­u­ta­tion has grown, and now it’s con­sid­ered a hor­ror mas­ter­piece.

At first view­ing, The Shin­ing over­whelms the view­er with pun­gent images that etch them­selves in the mind—those creepy twins, that rot­ting senior cit­i­zen in the bath­tub, that del­uge of blood from the ele­va­tor. Yet after the fifth or sev­enth view­ing, the film reveals itself to be far weird­er than your aver­age hor­ror flick. For instance, why is Jack Nichol­son read­ing a Play­girl mag­a­zine while wait­ing in the lob­by? What’s the deal with that guy in the bear suit at the end of the movie? Why is Dan­ny wear­ing an Apol­lo 11 sweater?

While Stephen King has had dozens of his books adapt­ed for the screen (many are flat out ter­ri­ble), of all the adap­ta­tions, this is one that King active­ly dis­likes.

“I would do every­thing dif­fer­ent,” com­plained King about the movie to Amer­i­can Film Mag­a­zine in 1986. “The real prob­lem is that Kubrick set out to make a hor­ror pic­ture with no appar­ent under­stand­ing of the genre.” King lat­er made his own screen ver­sion of his book. By all accounts, it’s nowhere as good as Kubrick’s.

Per­haps the rea­son King loathed Kubrick’s adap­ta­tion so much is that the famous­ly secre­tive and con­trol­ling direc­tor packed the movie with so many odd signs, like Danny’s Apol­lo sweater, that seem to point to a mean­ing beyond a tale of an alco­holic writer who descends into mad­ness and mur­der. The Shin­ing is a semi­otic puz­zle about …what?

Crit­ic after crit­ic has attempt­ed to crack the film’s hid­den mean­ing. Jour­nal­ist Bill Blake­more argued in his essay “The Fam­i­ly of Man” that The Shin­ing is actu­al­ly about the geno­cide of the Native Amer­i­cans. His­to­ri­an Geof­frey Cocks sug­gests that the movie is about the Holo­caust. And con­spir­a­cy guru Jay Wei­d­ner has argued pas­sion­ate­ly that the movie is in fact Kubrick’s cod­ed con­fes­sion for his role in stag­ing the Apol­lo 11 moon land­ing.

Rod­ney Ascher’s 2012 doc­u­men­tary Room 237  jux­ta­pos­es all of these wild­ly diver­gent read­ings, bril­liant­ly show­ing just how dense and mul­ti­va­lent The Shin­ing is. You can see the trail­er for the doc­u­men­tary above.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in Jan­u­ary 2014.

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:

Mak­ing The Shin­ing

The Mak­ing of Stan­ley Kubrick’s The Shin­ing (As Told by Those Who Helped Him Make It)

How Stan­ley Kubrick Made His Mas­ter­pieces: An Intro­duc­tion to His Obses­sive Approach to Film­mak­ing

Go Inside the First 30 Min­utes of Kubrick’s The Shin­ing with This 360º Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty Video

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

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Stanley Kubrick Explains the Mysterious Ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey in a Newly Unearthed Interview

in Film, Sci Fi | July 9th, 2018

Dur­ing the mak­ing of Stan­ley Kubrick­’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, “the film’s nar­ra­tive tra­jec­to­ry point­ed inex­orably toward a big end­ing, even a rev­e­la­tion, but Kubrick kept chang­ing his mind about what that end­ing would be — and nobody who saw the film knew quite what to make of the one he final­ly chose.” Those words come from a piece by The New York­er’s Dan Chi­as­son, pub­lished to mark the fifti­eth anniver­sary of the film’s release. Since then, gen­er­a­tions of view­ers have inter­pret­ed 2001, and espe­cial­ly its end­ing, in their own way. But these debates over mean­ing may all change now that Kubrick­’s own inter­pre­ta­tion seems to have sur­faced.

Not only that, it turns out to dif­fer marked­ly from most of the ones in cir­cu­la­tion. “I’ve tried to avoid doing this ever since the pic­ture came out,” Kubrick tells jour­nal­ist Junichi Yaoi when the lat­ter asks what 2001’s end­ing means.

“When you just say the ideas they sound fool­ish, where­as if they’re dra­ma­tized one feels it, but I’ll try.” He then reveals his view of the con­cept behind it:

The idea was sup­posed to be that he is tak­en in by god-like enti­ties, crea­tures of pure ener­gy and intel­li­gence with no shape or form. They put him in what I sup­pose you could describe as a human zoo to study him, and his whole life pass­es from that point on in that room. And he has no sense of time. It just seems to hap­pen as it does in the film. 

They choose this room, which is a very inac­cu­rate repli­ca of French archi­tec­ture (delib­er­ate­ly so, inac­cu­rate) because one was sug­gest­ing that they had some idea of some­thing that he might think was pret­ty, but wasn’t quite sure. Just as we’re not quite sure what do in zoos with ani­mals to try to give them what they think is their nat­ur­al envi­ron­ment.

Any­way, when they get fin­ished with him, as hap­pens in so many myths of all cul­tures in the world, he is trans­formed into some kind of super being and sent back to Earth, trans­formed and made some kind of super­man. We have to only guess what hap­pens when he goes back. It is the pat­tern of a great deal of mythol­o­gy, and that is what we were try­ing to sug­gest.

This makes sense, or at least as much sense as any of the bet­ter inter­pre­ta­tions of 2001’s end­ing out there. Draw­ing explic­it­ly on ancient mythol­o­gy has become stan­dard prac­tice for big-bud­get spec­ta­cles, espe­cial­ly after Star Wars did it to much greater com­mer­cial suc­cess almost a decade lat­er, but in devel­op­ment the idea must have seemed rad­i­cal. Some will take Kubrick­’s expla­na­tion as defin­i­tive, and oth­ers, sub­scrib­ing to a dif­fer­ent phi­los­o­phy of artis­tic cre­ation, will show no more inter­est in it than they do in Rid­ley Scot­t’s per­son­al views on whether Deckard is a repli­cant.

The mys­te­ri­ous nature of the inter­view clip itself, a piece of the footage gath­ered in 1980 for a nev­er-released Japan­ese doc­u­men­tary, suits the nature of the rev­e­la­tion. We see only Yaoi as he inter­views Kubrick over the phone, but not, accord­ing to Pixar direc­tor and Kubrick super­fan Lee Unkrich, because the direc­tor was­n’t there. Unkrich post­ed to Red­dit that, as the Warn­er Broth­ers pub­li­cist who toured the Japan­ese crew around told him, “Stan­ley was actu­al­ly at the stu­dio that day, but didn’t want to meet with the crew and be inter­viewed on cam­era.” So even though we hear his voice on the phone, “he’s actu­al­ly just in anoth­er office!”

But then, nobody ever accused Kubrick of pos­sess­ing con­ven­tion­al habits, per­son­al or pro­fes­sion­al. Not that a con­ven­tion­al mind could ever have direct­ed the film that 2001: A Space Odyssey turned out to be, one that, in Chi­as­son’s words, “took for grant­ed a broad cul­tur­al tol­er­ance, if not an appetite, for enig­ma, as well as the time and incli­na­tion for pars­ing inter­pre­tive mys­ter­ies.” Kubrick might have com­plet­ed the film with his own ideas about the mean­ing of every­thing in it, but he sure­ly knew, and respect­ed, that every­one who saw it would also come out of the the­ater with their own.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1966 Doc­u­men­tary Explores the Mak­ing of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (and Our High-Tech Future)

Watch the Open­ing of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey with the Orig­i­nal, Unused Score

What’s the Dif­fer­ence Between Stan­ley Kubrick’s & Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (A Side-by-Side Com­par­i­son)

In 1968, Stan­ley Kubrick Makes Pre­dic­tions for 2001: Human­i­ty Will Con­quer Old Age, Watch 3D TV & Learn Ger­man in 20 Min­utes

Andrei Tarkovsky Calls Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey a “Pho­ny” Film “With Only Pre­ten­sions to Truth”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities 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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How Warner Brothers Resisted a Hollywood Ban on Anti-Nazi Films in the 1930s and Warned Americans of the Dangers of Fascism

in Film, History | July 6th, 2018

“In the cen­tu­ry span­ning the years 1820 to 1924,” writes the Library of Con­gress, “an increas­ing­ly steady flow of Jews made their way to Amer­i­ca, cul­mi­nat­ing in a mas­sive surge of immi­grants towards the begin­nings of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry.” Impelled by eco­nom­ic hard­ship and bru­tal per­se­cu­tion, the migrants came from Rus­sia and East­ern Europe and set­tled all over the coun­try. One fam­i­ly, orig­i­nal­ly named Won­sal, or Won­sko­laser, came from the vil­lage of Kras­nosielc in Poland, first set­tling in Bal­ti­more, then, after two years  in Cana­da, in Youngstown, Ohio. It was there that four broth­ers Har­ry, Abe, Sam, and Jack began exhibit­ing films, in small min­ing towns in Ohio and Penn­syl­va­nia. Soon, they began pro­duc­ing their own movies. The enter­prise would become an empire when Warn­er Broth­ers Stu­dio opened in 1918 in Hol­ly­wood.

The his­to­ry of Warn­er Broth­ers Pic­tures sounds like a glit­tery immi­grant suc­cess sto­ry, but it also includes a sig­nif­i­cant episode of resis­tance to the same kind of per­se­cu­tion that the fam­i­ly had once fled, as the anti-Semi­tism of fas­cist Europe estab­lished a foothold in the U.S. and Hol­ly­wood cen­sors start­ed to answer to Joseph Goebbels. “Dri­ven by a per­son­al knowl­edge of anti-Semi­tism,” Jack and Har­ry Warn­er became “deeply con­cerned about the rise of Nazism” in the 1930s, as PBS’s His­to­ry Detec­tives notes, “and they used their stu­dio to speak out against fas­cism.” Theirs was not a pop­u­lar posi­tion. Anti-Jew­ish, pro-fas­cist sen­ti­ments were com­mon in the U.S., stoked by famous fig­ures like Charles Lind­bergh, Father Cough­lin, and Hen­ry Ford.

“The influ­ence of Nazism was felt across the U.S.,” writes Peter Mon­aghan at Mov­ing Image Archive News. “The infat­u­a­tion was suf­fi­cient that, for exam­ple, swastikas could unabashed­ly be dis­played on the streets of Los Ange­les.” An over­whelm­ing major­i­ty of Amer­i­cans opposed the reset­tling of Jew­ish refugees; hun­dreds of thou­sands of peo­ple were turned away in the 1930s. In 1932, Joseph Breen, soon to become head of the Pro­duc­tion Code Admin­is­tra­tion (PCA), cen­sor­ship arm of the Motion Pic­ture Pro­duc­ers and Dis­trib­u­tors of Amer­i­ca, wrote a let­ter to a Jesuit priest in which he called Jews “the scum of the scum of the earth and “dirty lice.” Breen would soon be charged by his boss Will Hays with enforc­ing a ban on anti-Nazi films in Hol­ly­wood between 1934 and 1941, at the behest of Joseph Goebbels, by way of the Nazi con­sul in Los Ange­les, Georg Gyssling.

“By shap­ing the con­tent of Amer­i­can films,” writes his­to­ri­an Stephen Ross in Hitler in Los Ange­les, “Goebbels hoped to shape the ways in which Amer­i­cans thought about Hitler and his poli­cies.” While most of the stu­dio heads com­plied with the ban, which also strong­ly dis­suad­ed the pro­duc­tion of films about Jew­ish sub­jects or fea­tur­ing Jew­ish actors, the Warn­er broth­ers did their best to fight back. As His­to­ry Detec­tives writes,

The Warn­ers demon­strat­ed their com­mit­ment to fight­ing fas­cism by donat­ing two Spit­fire planes to the British. They also offered the use of the stu­dio to the [US] gov­ern­ment, an offer the gov­ern­ment would­n’t accept until a few years lat­er.

It was Har­ry, the qui­eter, more reli­gious broth­er, who saw the threat Nazism posed ear­ly on. He react­ed by can­cel­ing a pos­si­ble buy of the Ger­man stu­dio, Uni­ver­sum. He also pushed his broth­er Jack to end all rela­tions with Ger­many, which Warn­er Broth­ers did in 1934. They were the first stu­dio to cre­ate anti-Hitler con­tent, as well. In 1933, the ani­mat­ed Bosko’s Pic­ture Show por­trayed Hitler as an incom­pe­tent ruler.

The pre-ban Bosko’s Pic­ture Show incensed the Nazi cen­sors (see an excerpt at the top with Hitler chas­ing come­di­an Jim­my Durante), but the Warn­ers would not be deterred even after the PCA cracked down; they were the only stu­dio heads to sup­port the 1936-cre­at­ed Hol­ly­wood Anti-Nazi-League. “Two fur­ther films, Black Legion and Con­fes­sions of a Nazi Spy” fol­lowed Bosko’s Pic­ture Show, the first a 1937 “doc­u­men­tary style” pro­duc­tion that “shed light on a fas­cist move­ment with­in the U.S.” (see the trail­er fur­ther up). 1939’s Edward G. Robin­son-star­ring Con­fes­sions of a Nazi Spy, whose trail­er you can see below, is wide­ly “con­sid­ered the first film to fea­ture Nazis as the ene­my,” pre­ced­ing oth­er PCA-defi­ant films like Three Stooges’ short You Naz­ty Spy! and Char­lie Chaplin’s The Great Dic­ta­tor, both released in 1940.

“Based on the true sto­ry of a Nazi spy ring in the Unit­ed States,” notes the Nation­al WWII Muse­um, “it was, remark­ably, the first film by a major US stu­dio to direct­ly address the sit­u­a­tion in Ger­many and to emphat­i­cal­ly warn Amer­i­cans against a stark iso­la­tion­ist posi­tion.” The film open­ly chal­lenged Nazism in the U.S., por­tray­ing “the Ger­man Amer­i­can Bund and its leader, an Amer­i­can Hitler played by Paul Lukas, as an arm of the Ger­man gov­ern­ment.” In the year of the film’s release, 20,000 Amer­i­can Nazis held a ral­ly in Madi­son Square Gar­den. Mix­ing “seg­ments of news and scenes from Leni Riefenstahl’s Tri­umph of the Will” with fic­tion­al­ized accounts of true events, the film pulled no punch­es in char­ac­ter­iz­ing Nazi sym­pa­thies as a direct threat to nation­al secu­ri­ty, despite claims by iso­la­tion­ists like Sen­a­tor Ger­ald Nye that “Hol­ly­wood Jews [were] more of a prob­lem than Hitler,” as PBS puts it.

The stric­tures against anti-Nazi films weak­ened after Con­fes­sions of a Nazi Spy and the events it depict­ed suf­fi­cient­ly alarmed view­ers. The ban offi­cial­ly end­ed in 1941 when the U.S. entered the war. There­after, “the pres­i­dent was quick to state the impor­tance of the film indus­try to America’s suc­cess in the war,” and Warn­er Broth­ers pro­duced patri­ot­ic pro­pa­gan­da films for the dura­tion of World War II.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

20,000 Amer­i­cans Hold a Pro-Nazi Ral­ly in Madi­son Square Gar­den in 1939: Chill­ing Video Re-Cap­tures a Lost Chap­ter in US His­to­ry

Fritz Lang Tells the Riv­et­ing Sto­ry of the Day He Met Joseph Goebbels and Then High-Tailed It Out of Ger­many

The 16,000 Art­works the Nazis Cen­sored and Labeled “Degen­er­ate Art”: The Com­plete His­toric Inven­to­ry Is Now Online

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

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Dancing in Movies: A Montage of Dance Moments from Almost 300 Feature Films

in Dance, Film | June 27th, 2018

Some­one went through a great deal of effort to stitch togeth­er a mon­tage of dance scenes from some 300 fea­ture films. Below find a list of films in order of their appear­ance, and with the appro­pri­ate time­stamp.

00:00:06 — Trop­ic Thun­der (2008)

00:09:17 — 10 Clover­field Lane (2016)

00:10:10 — Frank (2014)

00:11:02 — Dead­pool (2016)

00:12:02 — Girl­hood (2015)

00:13:10 — West Side Sto­ry (1961)

00:16:18 — Scott Pil­grim vs. the World (2010)

00:18:00 — Big (1988)

00:18:14 — Risky Busi­ness (1983)

00:19:05 — For­rest Gump (1994)

00:19:21 — 20th Cen­tu­ry Women (2016)

00:21:02 — God Help the Girl (2014)

00:22:07 — Begin Again (2013)

00:23:16 — The Rock­e­teer (1991)

00:25:13 — Dead Poets Soci­ety (1989)

00:27:21 — Brave­heart (1995)

00:28:22 — Snow White and the Sev­en Dwarfs (1937)

00:29:23 — Robin Hood (1973)

00:31:00 — Austin Pow­ers: The Spy Who Shagged Me (1999)

00:32:14 — Titan­ic (1997)

00:33:14 — Big Fish (2003)

00:35:07 — Go (1999)

00:36:14 — Fid­dler on the Roof (1971)

00:37:12 — Cit­i­zen Kane (1941)

00:38:12 — Life is Beau­ti­ful (1997)

00:40:01 — White Nights (1985)

00:42:08 — Swing Time (1936)

00:44:13 — Pee-wee’s Big Adven­ture (1985)

00:45:21 — Mer­maids (1990)

00:48:14 — Home Alone (1990)

00:49:18 — Mul­hol­land Dri­ve (2001)

00:50:22 — Boy (2010)

00:51:20 — Girl Asleep (2015)

00:52:08 — Despi­ca­ble Me (2010)

00:55:05 — Air­plane (1980)

00:57:08 — Car­rie (1976)

00:58:21 — Love, Rosie (2014)

00:59:21 — The Mask (1994)

01:00:14 — Dope (2015)

01:01:13 — Rock of Ages (2012)

01:02:21 — Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)

01:04:14 — Mon­thy Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

01:04:19 — Kung Fu Hus­tle (2004)

01:05:12 — Bill & Ted’s Excel­lent Adven­ture (1989)

01:06:07 — (500) Days of Sum­mer (2009)

01:08:23 — Star Wars: Episode IV — A New Hope (1977)

01:10:03 — The Mup­pets (2011)

01:11:00 — Revenge of the Nerds (1984)

01:10:03 — The Mup­pets (2011)

01:14:00 — Love Actu­al­ly (2003)

01:16:05 — Mean Girls (2004)

01:19:01 — Austin Pow­ers in Gold­mem­ber (2002)

01:20:15 — Scar­face (1983)

01:22:05 — Grease (1978)

01:24:22 — It’s a Won­der­ful Life (1946)

01:26:13 — The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (2003)

01:28:13 — Young Franken­stein (1974)

01:29:16 — Get Smart (2008)

01:31:07 — My Fair Lady (1964)

01:32:12 — An Edu­ca­tion (2009)

01:33:21- The Deer Hunter (1978)

01:35:06 — The Sit­ter (2011)

01:35:22 — Up in the Air (2009)

01:36:20 — Sil­ver Lin­ings Play­book (2012)

01:38:10 — This Is the End (2013)

01:39:13 — Hair­spray (2007)

01:40:07 — Dumb and Dumb­er (1994)

01:41:03 — The Way Way Back (2013)

01:42:01 — Moon­rise King­dom (2012)

01:43:05 — Blaz­ing Sad­dles (1974)

01:44:05 — Adven­tures in Babysit­ting (1987)

01:45:18 — Shrek 2 (2004)

01:47:18 — Flash­dance (1983)

01:48:14 — The Gold Rush (1925)

01:49:10 — Mag­ic Mike (2012)

01:50:20 — Viva Las Vegas (1964)

01:52:00 — Clerks II (2006)

01:53:10 — The Great Gats­by (2013)

01:54:08 — Eagle vs Shark (2007)

01:57:06 — What We Do in the Shad­ows (2014)

01:58:15 — The Cab­in in the Woods (2012)

01:59:17 — Rush Hour (1998)

02:01:17 — Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

02:02:17 — The Last Pic­ture Show (1971)

02:03:18 — Band of Out­siders (1964)

02:05:23 — Weird Sci­ence (1985)

02:07:15 — Reser­voir Dogs (1992)

02:09:10 — Bat­man (1989)

02:12:20 — Mom­my (2014)

02:14:00 — Des­per­ate­ly Seek­ing Susan (1985)

02:15:20 — Hot Shots! (1991)

02:16:14 — Borat (2006)

02:17:14 — Amer­i­can Beau­ty (1999)

02:18:18 — Moon­light (2016)

02:19:14 — Super­bad (2007)

02:20:15 — Gar­den State (2004)

02:21:15 — Roy­al Wed­ding (1951)

02:22:17 — The Big Lebows­ki (1998)

02:24:07 — My Week with Mar­i­lyn (2011)

02:25:13 — Mary Pop­pins (1964)

02:27:20 — Kick­box­er (1989)

02:29:07 — The Blues Broth­ers (1980)

02:30:21 — Bring it On (2000)

02:32:07 — Fer­ris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)

02:33:17 — Trainspot­ting (1996)

02:34:10 — Amer­i­can Gang­ster (2007)

02:34:21 — Don Jon (2013)

02:35:14 — Mor­ris from Amer­i­ca (2016)

02:36:08 — Hunt for the Wilder­peo­ple (2016)

02:36:08 — A.I. Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence (2001)

02:39:06 — Striptease (1996)

02:40:10 — Don­nie Darko (2001)

02:41:04 — The Pink Pan­ther (1963)

02:41:20 — Mon­sters Uni­ver­si­ty (2013)

02:43:09 — Every­body Wants Some (2016)

02:44:18 — Clue­less (1995)

02:46:13 — The Imag­i­nar­i­um of Doc­tor Par­nas­sus (2009)

02:47:04 — All That Jazz (1979)

02:48:04 — The Princess Diaries (2001)

02:50:16 — Sing Street (2016)

02:52:12 — While We’re Young (2014)

02:54:06 — Once Bit­ten (1985)

02:55:15 — Lost Riv­er (2014)

02:56:10 — Ruby Sparks (2012)

02:58:03 — Sat­ur­day Night Fever (1977)

02:59:05 — Boo­gie Nights (1997)

03:00:15 — The Reunion 2: The Funer­al (2014)

03:01:11 — Amer­i­can Hus­tle (2013)

03:02:20 — Ex Machi­na (2015)

03:04:10 — The Losers (2010)

03:06:00 — Lit­tle Miss Sun­shine (2006)

03:06:20 — The Best Man Hol­i­day (2013)

03:07:10 — Step Up Rev­o­lu­tion (2012)

03:08:19 — Shaun of the Dead (2004)

03:10:07 — Bil­ly Elliot (2000)

03:11:22 — Fun­ny Face (1957)

03:14:09 — King of New York (1990)

03:15:10 — Mis­tress Amer­i­ca (2015)

03:16:13 — The Perks of Being a Wall­flower (2012)

03:17:15 — Save the Last Dance (2001)

03:18:14 — Elf (2003)

03:19:03 — The Edge of Sev­en­teen (2016)

03:19:16 — Lit­tle Sis­ter (2016)

03:21:00 — The Rocky Hor­ror Pic­ture Show (1975)

03:22:04 — Moon (2009)

03:23:12 — The Boon­dock Saints (1999)

03:26:03 — Mon­sters Uni­ver­si­ty (2013)

03:27:08 — Let’s Be Cops (2014)

03:29:09 — The World’s End (2013)

03:31:04 — Fun Size (2012)

03:32:10 — Spi­der-Man 3 (2007)

03:34:14 — To Die For (1995)

03:35:16 — The Break­fast Club (1985)

03:37:11 — The Goonies (1985)

03:38:11 — The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

03:39:15 — Blue Valen­tine (2010)

03:41:01 — Napoleon Dyna­mite (2004)

03:42:22 — Pop­star: Nev­er Stop Nev­er Stop­ping (2016)

03:43:16 — 13 Going On 30 (2004)

03:44:04 — Wed­ding Crash­ers (2005)

03:44:15 — Pitch Per­fect (2012)

03:45:07 — Wayne’s World (1992)

03:45:21 — Milk (2008)

03:46:11 — Some­thing Bor­rowed (2011)

03:47:17 — School of Rock (2003)

03:48:16 — Hitch (2005)

03:49:19 — The Kings of Sum­mer (2013)

03:50:17 — Bling Ring (2013)

03:52:10 — Neigh­bors (2014)

03:53:04 — Ani­mal House (1978)

03:54:07 — A League of Their Own (1992)

03:55:19 — Hot Rod (2007)

03:57:11 — Zoolan­der (2001)

03:58:17 — Gen­tle­men Pre­fer Blondes (1953)

03:59:17 — The Great Dic­ta­tor (1940)

04:01:23 — Charlie’s Angels (2000)

04:03:03 — Romeo + Juli­et (1996)

04:04:05 — Kill Your Dar­lings (2013)

04:05:02 — Amadeus (1984)

04:06:00 — Days of Heav­en (1978)

04:10:07 — Lars and the Real Girl (2007)

04:12:15 — The Lob­ster (2015)

04:14:01 — House of Fly­ing Dag­gers (2004)

04:15:13 — Big Night (1996)

04:17:23 — Band of Rob­bers (2015)

04:19:06 — Almost Famous (2000)

04:21:03 — Rain Man (1988)

04:22:15 — Brook­lyn (2015)

04:23:10 — The Imi­ta­tion Game (2014)

04:24:09 — Moulin Rouge! (2001)

04:27:13 — Slum­dog Mil­lion­aire (2008)

04:29:12 — The God­fa­ther (1972)

04:30:11 — The Sound of Music (1965)

04:32:01 — Dirty Danc­ing (1987)

04:34:08 — Focus (2015)

04:35:10 — The Dark Knight Ris­es (2012)

04:36:08 — Zom­bieland (2009)

04:37:07 — Beau­ty and the Beast (1991)

04:40:23 — The Addams Fam­i­ly (1991)

04:44:06 — Beetle­juice (1988)

04:47:02 — Eter­nal Sun­shine of the Spot­less Mind (2004)

04:49:12 — Like Crazy (2011)

04:50:09 — End of Watch (2012)

04:51:14 — Pret­ty in Pink (1986)

04:53:03 — House Par­ty (1990)

04:54:05 — Along Came Pol­ly (2004)

04:55:23 — Some Like it Hot (1959)

04:56:23 — Real­i­ty Bites (1994)

04:59:01 — Wet Hot Amer­i­can Sum­mer (2001)

05:01:10 — Obvi­ous Child (2014)

05:02:14 — The Man from U.N.C.L.E (2015)

05:04:14 — Lost in Trans­la­tion (2003)

05:06:03 — Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)

05:06:18 — A Clock­work Orange (1974)

05:08:14 — Har­ry Pot­ter and the Gob­let of Fire (2005)

05:09:16 — Star Wars: Episode VI — Return of the Jedi (1983)

05:10:18 — Pen­guins of Mada­gas­car (2014)

05:11:19 — Euro­pean Vaca­tion (1985)

05:13:02 — The Wiz­ard of Oz (1939)

05:15:04 — The Inbe­tween­ers Movie (2011)

05:16:12 — Three Ami­gos (1986)

05:18:00 — The 40 Year Old Vir­gin (2005)

05:18:23 — A Night At The Rox­bury (1998)

05:20:01 — Com­ing To Amer­i­ca (1988)

05:20:21 — Cin­derel­la (2015)

05:21:17 — About Time (2013)

05:23:16 — Ground­hog Day (1993)

05:25:03 — Chef (2014)

05:26:07 — Some­where (2010)

05:28:08 — Office Space (1999)

05:30:03 — Shall We Dance (2004)

05:31:04 — The Artist (2011)

05:31:18 — The Red Shoes (1948)

05:33:21 — Strict­ly Ball­room (1992)

05:36:07 — The Turn­ing Point (1977)

05:37:05 — Do the Right Thing (1989)

05:38:03 — Sin­gin’ In The Rain (1952)

05:39:09 — Chica­go (2002)

05:41:09 — Foot­loose (1984)

05:43:17 — When Har­ry Met Sal­ly… (1989)

05:45:02 — The Pro­duc­ers (1967)

05:46:05 — The Full Mon­ty (1997)

05:47:20 — Back to the Future Part III (1990)

05:49:00 — Dances with Wolves (1990)

05:50:07 — Hook (1991)

05:50:22 — Short Cir­cuit (1986)

05:51:13 — Pulp Fic­tion (1994)

05:53:08 — Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)

05:53:22 — Dazed and Con­fused (1993)

05:54:20 — From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

05:55:16 — My Gold­en Days (2015)

05:56:12 — Mid­night in Paris (2013)

05:58:21 — The Naked Gun 2½: The Smell of Fear (1991)

05:59:12 — The Intouch­ables (2011)

06:00:10 — Les Mis­érables (2012)

06:01:08 — A Roy­al Affair (2012)

06:02:11 — King Kong (2005)

06:03:17 — Hap­py Feet (2006)

06:04:20 — Tan­gled (2010)

06:06:01 — Tarzan (1999)

06:07:01 — Top Hat (1935)

06:08:01 — Hail, Cae­sar (2016)

06:09:05 — Cen­ter Stage (2000)

06:10:03 — Amer­i­can Pie (1999)

06:11:10 — A Hard Days Night (1964)

06:12:01 — 45 Years (2015)

06:12:15 — La Dolce Vita (1960)

06:13:10 — O Broth­er, Where Art Thou? (2000)

06:14:00 — West Side Sto­ry (1961)

06:14:20 — Straight Out­ta Comp­ton (2015)

06:15:12 — La La Land (2016)

06:16:12 — Her (2013)

06:17:08 — Being John Malkovich (1999)

06:18:03 — Flash­dance (1983)

06:19:01 — Bar­ton Fink (1991)

06:19:22 — The Artist (2011)

06:24:09 — Casablan­ca (1942)

06:26:13 — Sun­set Boule­vard (1950)

06:27:15 — Black Book (2006)

06:28:08 — Edward Scis­sorhands (1990)

06:29:17 — Labyrinth (1986)

06:31:18 — Short Term 12 (2013)

06:33:18 — When Marnie Was There (2014)

06:36:18 — Before Sun­rise (1995)

06:37:15 — Scent of a Woman (1992)

06:39:14 — Sab­ri­na (1954)

06:40:20 — Loli­ta (1962)

06:41:23 — Schindler’s List (1993)

06:42:14 — Gangs of New York (2002)

06:43:16 — Black Swan (2010)

06:44:23 — Pride and Prej­u­dice (2005)

06:46:15 — Sweeney Todd: The Demon Bar­ber of Fleet Street (2007)

06:48:06 — Up (2009)

06:49:23 — One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975)

06:51:05 — Out of Africa (1985)

06:52:22 — Jack­ie (2016)

06:54:15 — Rush­more (1998)

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