Samuel L. Jackson Teaches Acting in a New Online Course, Drawing on His Iconic Pulp Fiction Performance & Others

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.

With an actor as pro­lif­ic and as long in the game as Samuel L. Jack­son, a fan can pick a favorite per­for­mance only with great dif­fi­cul­ty. Should it come from his roles in Hol­ly­wood block­busters like Juras­sic ParkDie Hard with a Vengeance, the Star Wars pre­quels, or the com­ic-book spec­ta­cles of Mar­vel Stu­dios? His roles for icon­o­clas­tic auteurs like Spike Lee, Mar­tin Scors­ese, Steven Soder­bergh, and Paul Thomas Ander­son? His role — immor­tal title line and all — in Snakes on a Place? For many, though, Jack­son attains prime Jack­so­ni­an­ism in only one con­text: his ongo­ing col­lab­o­ra­tion with Quentin Taran­ti­no.

When­ev­er Jack­son appears in a Taran­ti­no film, whichev­er char­ac­ter he plays imme­di­ate­ly becomes one of the most mem­o­rable in cin­e­ma’s past 25 years. But will any ever sur­pass Pulp Fic­tion’s Jheri-curled hit­man Jules Win­n­field for sheer impact per moment onscreen? Taran­ti­no wrote the part espe­cial­ly for Jack­son after see­ing what he could do with a thug­gish char­ac­ter in Tony Scot­t’s True Romance, whose script Taran­ti­no had also writ­ten. Taran­ti­no’s sec­ond fea­ture film (and Jack­son’s thir­ti­eth) rock­et­ed the actor to the top of the zeit­geist, not least on the strength of what we now call the “Ezekiel speech­es,” the scenes in which Jack­son-as-Win­n­field quotes what he describes as the Bible pas­sage Ezekiel 25:17:

Blessed is he who, in the name of char­i­ty and good will, shep­herds the weak through the val­ley of the dark­ness. For he is tru­ly his broth­er’s keep­er and the find­er of lost chil­dren. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furi­ous anger those who attempt to poi­son and destroy my broth­ers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.

Jack­son’s first Ezekiel speech (which owes as much to mar­tial-arts star Son­ny Chi­ba as to any holy text) comes toward the begin­ning of the movie, as he and his part­ner in killing Vin­cent Vega (a role that also did a great deal for its per­former John Tra­vol­ta, return­ing him to his for­mer cul­tur­al promi­nence) turn up to an apart­ment to do a job. He deliv­ers his final one in the high­ly Taran­tin­ian set­ting of a Los Ange­les din­er booth, and both Taran­ti­no and Jack­son do their utmost to make it reveal his char­ac­ter’s trans­for­ma­tion in his jour­ney through the sto­ry.

It makes sense, then, that Jack­son would break down and recre­ate that din­er scene in the online course “Samuel L. Jack­son Teach­es Act­ing,” new­ly offered (for a fee of $90) by the edu­ca­tion start­up Mas­ter­class. “I made a deci­sion ear­ly in life that I was­n’t going to live and die in Chat­tanooga, Ten­nessee,” he says in its trail­er, a line that could belong to the kind of mono­logue he deliv­ers so pow­er­ful­ly in the movies. “Being able to embody a lot of dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters in film has been very cathar­tic, being able to let go of the anger or the dis­ap­point­ment that I had in my life.” Jack­son’s Mas­ter­class promis­es cov­er­age of script break­down, voice, char­ac­ter­i­za­tion, audi­tion­ing, col­lab­o­ra­tion, and voiceover act­ing — cathar­sis, it seems, comes as a bonus. You can enroll now and get access to the 20-les­son course. Or you can pur­chase an All-Access Annu­al Pass for every course in the Mas­ter­Class cat­a­log for $180.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Quentin Tarantino’s Orig­i­nal Wish List for the Cast of Pulp Fic­tion

Free Audio: Go the F–k to Sleep Nar­rat­ed by Samuel L. Jack­son

Samuel L. Jack­son Stars in “Wake the F**ck Up for Oba­ma,” a NSFW Polit­i­cal Children’s Tale

See Flan­nery O’Connor’s Sto­ry “The Dis­placed Per­son” Adapt­ed to a Film Star­ring a Young Samuel L. Jack­son (1977)

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.

Calm Down & Study with Relaxing Piano, Jazz & Harp Covers of Music from Hayao Miyazaki Films

Call­ing all pedi­atric den­tists!

Cat Trum­pet, aka musi­cian and ani­me lover Cur­tis Bon­nett, may have inad­ver­tent­ly hit on a genius solu­tion for keep­ing young patients calm in the chair: relax­ing piano cov­ers of famil­iar tunes from Stu­dio Ghibli’s ani­mat­ed fea­tures.

The results fall some­where between pianist George Winston’s ear­ly 80s sea­son­al solos and Ryuichi Sakamoto’s sound­track for the film Mer­ry Christ­mas, Mr. Lawrence. Let us remem­ber that most of these tunes were fair­ly easy on the ears to begin with. Com­pos­er Joe Hisaishi, who has col­lab­o­rat­ed with direc­tor Hayao Miyaza­ki on every Stu­dio Ghi­b­li movie save Cas­tle of Cagliostro, isn’t exact­ly a punk rock­er.

Many lis­ten­ers report that the playlist helps them stay focused while study­ing or doing home­work. Oth­ers suc­cumb to the emo­tion­al rip­tides of child­hood nos­tal­gia.

Ten­der pre­na­tal and new­born ears might pre­fer Cat Trumpet’s even gen­tler harp cov­ers of sev­en Ghi­b­li tunes, above.

Meawhile, the Japan-based Cafe Music BGM Sta­tion pro­vides hours of jazzy, bossa-nova inflect­ed Stu­dio Ghi­b­li cov­ers to hos­pi­tals, hair salons, bou­tiques, and cafes. You can lis­ten to three-and-a-half-hours worth, above. This, too, gets high marks as a home­work helper.

 

Cat Trumpet’s Relax­ing Piano Stu­dio Ghi­b­li Com­plete Col­lec­tion

00:00:03 Spir­it­ed Away — Inochi no Namae

00:04:14 Howl’s Mov­ing Cas­tle — Mer­ry Go Round of Life

00:07:16 Kik­i’s Deliv­ery Ser­vice — Town With An Ocean View

00:09:31 The Secret World of Arri­et­ty — Arri­et­ty’s Song

00:13:29 Lapu­ta Cas­tle In The Sky — Car­ry­ing You

00:17:05 Por­co Rosso — Theme

00:19:55 Whis­per of the Heart — Song of the Baron

00:22:33 Por­co Rosso — Mar­co & Gina’s Theme

00:26:19 Only Yes­ter­day — Main Theme

00:29:07 From Up On Pop­py Hill — Rem­i­nis­cence

00:34:12 Spir­it­ed Away — Shi­roi Ryuu

00:37:06 Nau­si­caä of the Val­ley of the Wind — Tori no Hito

00:41:14 Nau­si­caä of the Val­ley of the Wind —  Kaze no Denset­su

00:43:25 My Neigh­bor Totoro — Kaze no Toori Michi

00:47:48 Cas­tle of Cagliostro — Fire Trea­sure

00:51:38 Princess Mononoke — Tabidachi nishi e

00:53:07 Tales From Earth­sea — Teru’s Theme

00:58:17 My Neigh­bor Totoro — Tonari no Totoro

01:02:35 Whis­per of the Heart — Theme

01:06:03 Ponyo — Ron­do of the Sun­flower House

01:10:34 Howl’s Mov­ing Cas­tle — The Promise of the World

 

Cat Trumpet’s Relax­ing Harp Stu­dio Ghi­b­li Col­lec­tion Playlist

00:03 Spir­it­ed Away — Inochi no Namae

04:01 Spir­it­ed Away — Waltz of Chi­hi­ro

06:43 Howls Mov­ing Cas­tle — Mer­ry Go Round of Life

09:45 Howl’s Mov­ing Cas­tle — The Promise of the World

13:15 Lapu­ta Cas­tle In The Sky — Main Theme

16:55 Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea — Main Theme

20:15 Tonari no Totoro — Kaze no Toori Michi

 

Cafe Music BGM’s Relax­ing Jazz & Bossa Nova Stu­dio Ghi­b­li Cov­er Playlist (song titles in Japan­ese)

0:00 海の見える街  〜魔女の宅急便/Kiki’s Deliv­ery Ser­vice

4:10 もののけ姫  〜もののけ姫/Princess Mononoke

7:28 君をのせて 〜天空の城ラピュタ/Laputa, the Cas­tle of the Sky

11:09 風の通り道 〜となりのトトロ/My Nei­bour Totoro

16:26 ひこうき雲 〜風立ちぬ/THE WIND RISES〜

19:48 空とぶ宅急便 〜魔女の宅急便/Kiki’s Deliv­ery Ser­vice

25:05 人生のメリーゴーランド

〜ハウルの動く城/Howl’s Mov­ing Cas­tle

28:07 いつも何度でも 〜千と千尋の神隠し/Spirited Away

32:08 となりのトトロ 〜となりのトトロ/My Nei­bour Totoro

36:40 さんぽ 〜となりのトトロ/My Nei­bour Totoro

38:40 崖の上のポニョ 〜崖の上のポニョ/Ponyo

42:08 ねこバス 〜となりのトトロ/My Nei­bour Totoro

46:06 旅路 〜風立ちぬ/THE WIND RISES

49:16 アシタカとサン 〜もののけ姫/Princess Mononoke

53:38 おかあさん 〜となりのトトロ/My Nei­bour Totoro

58:19 旅立ち 〜魔女の宅急便/Kiki’s Deliv­ery Ser­vice

1:02:25 風の谷のナウシカ 〜風の谷のナウシカ/Nausicaa of the Val­ley of the Wind

1:06:59 やさしさに包まれたなら 〜魔女の宅急便/Kiki’s Deliv­ery Ser­vice

 

Tune in to Cat Trumpet’s Spo­ti­fy chan­nel for his relax­ing takes on Dis­ney and ani­me, as well as Stu­dio Ghi­b­li. They are avail­able for pur­chase on iTunes and Google Play, or enjoy some free down­loads by patron­iz­ing his Patre­on. He takes requests, too.

Tune in to Cafe Music’s BGM Spo­ti­fy chan­nel for Stu­dio Ghi­b­li jazz, in addi­tion to some relax­ing Hawai­ian gui­tar jazz and a selec­tion of nature-based mel­low tunes. They are avail­able for pur­chase on iTunes.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Insane­ly Cute Cat Com­mer­cials from Stu­dio Ghi­b­li, Hayao Miyazaki’s Leg­endary Ani­ma­tion Shop

Hayao Miyaza­ki Picks His 50 Favorite Children’s Books

How the Films of Hayao Miyaza­ki Work Their Ani­mat­ed Mag­ic, Explained in 4 Video Essays

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

The Films of Christopher Nolan Explored in a Sweeping 4‑Hour Video Essay: Memento, The Dark Knight, Interstellar & More

Cameron Beyl does not play by the rules when it comes to video essays. Instead of short, under-10 minute explo­rations we’ve come to expect from the ever-increas­ing coterie of YouTube essay­ists, Beyl, in his Direc­tors Series on Vimeo, devotes hours to explor­ing the fil­mo­gra­phies of some of cinema’s great auteurs. We’ve already intro­duced you in pre­vi­ous posts to his extend­ed hagiogra­phies of Stan­ley Kubrick, the Coen Broth­ers, David Finch­er, and Paul Thomas Ander­son.

Now comes his lat­est work, a mul­ti-part explo­ration of Christo­pher Nolan’s oeu­vre, cov­er­ing his hard­scrab­ble years all the way through his Hol­ly­wood block­busters and end­ing with Inter­stel­lar. (This writer, hav­ing thought high­er of Dunkirk than his pre­vi­ous works, will just have to wait a few years until the next chap­ter.)

In the video above, Beyl starts off with some pre­his­to­ry about Christo­pher and his broth­er Jonathan, his ear­ly years mak­ing Super 8 movies, his time spent at Uni­ver­si­ty Col­lege Lon­don, and the very rare first films, “Taran­tel­la” and “Lar­ce­ny,” the sin­gle-gag short “Doo­dle­bug,” and how that crew–including his lead actor Jere­my Theobald and his pro­duc­er-soon-to-be-wife Emma Thomas–stayed with him through his $6000 debut fea­ture Fol­low­ing and its the­mat­ic and styl­is­tic cousin Memen­to, made for $4.5 mil­lion.

Part 2 shows Nolan nav­i­gat­ing the stu­dio sys­tem. Giv­en a chance by exec­u­tive pro­duc­ers George Clooney and Steven Soder­bergh to remake the Nor­we­gian thriller Insom­nia, he indulged in his love of Michael Mann by work­ing with Al Paci­no, who plays a char­ac­ter not unlike his role in 1995’s Heat. Then Nolan takes on a mori­bund com­ic book fran­chise and reboots it into Bat­man Begins, a move that stu­dio execs have since done over and over to rethink var­i­ous prop­er­ties with dif­fer­ent direc­tors. He ends with a less enthu­si­as­tic exam­i­na­tion of 2006’s The Pres­tige.

Part 3 takes on both The Dark Knight and Incep­tion, two huge block­busters and one that took Nolan into the pan­theon of crit­i­cal and pop­u­lar acclaim. If unde­cid­ed on Nolan, Beyl’s obse­quious tone might put one off: “Sim­ply put, the late 2000s saw Nolan oper­at­ing at the height of his pow­ers, locked in sync with the cul­tur­al zeit­geist to such a degree that his efforts were active­ly steer­ing it.” (Please have that debate in the com­ments.) How­ev­er, Beyl makes some nice com­par­isons between The Dark Knight and Heat here.

Part Four shows Nolan con­clud­ing his Bat­man tril­o­gy, fail­ing to top The Dark Knight, but then going all Kubrick with Inter­stel­lar. He’s a direc­tor who has glad­ly played with all the toys mul­ti-mil­lion dol­lar Hol­ly­wood pro­duc­tions have at their dis­pos­al, and he’s nev­er been afraid of being epic. Beyl leaves off, not­ing that after expand­ing into the uni­verse with Inter­stel­lar, Nolan has nowhere to turn but inward. So far that has result­ed in the his­tor­i­cal Dunkirk. But whether Nolan can return to more mod­est work has yet to be seen.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dis­cov­er the Life & Work of Stan­ley Kubrick in a Sweep­ing Three-Hour Video Essay

What Makes a Coen Broth­ers Movie a Coen Broth­ers Movie? Find Out in a 4‑Hour Video Essay of Bar­ton Fink, The Big Lebows­ki, Far­go, No Coun­try for Old Men & More

The Career of Paul Thomas Ander­son: A 5‑Part Video Essay on the Auteur of Boo­gie Nights, Punch-Drunk Love, The Mas­ter, and More

How Did David Finch­er Become the Kubrick of Our Time? A New, 3.5 Hour Series of Video Essays Explains

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.

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

Ing­mar Bergman is usu­al­ly remem­bered for the intense­ly seri­ous nature of his films. Death, anguish, the absence of God–his themes can be pret­ty gloomy. So it might come as a sur­prise to learn that Bergman once direct­ed a series of rather sil­ly soap com­mer­cials.

The year was 1951. Bergman was 33 years old. The Swedish film indus­try, his main source of income, had just gone on strike to protest high gov­ern­ment tax­es on enter­tain­ment. With two ex-wives, five chil­dren, a new wife and a sixth child on the way, Bergman need­ed to find anoth­er way to make mon­ey.

A solu­tion pre­sent­ed itself when he was asked to cre­ate a series of com­mer­cials for a new anti-bac­te­r­i­al soap called Bris (“Breeze,” in Eng­lish). Bergman threw him­self into the project. He lat­er recalled:

Orig­i­nal­ly, I accept­ed the Bris com­mer­cials in order to save the lives of my self and my fam­i­lies. But that was real­ly sec­ondary. The pri­ma­ry rea­son I want­ed to make the com­mer­cials was that I was giv­en free rein with mon­ey and I could do exact­ly what I want­ed with the pro­duc­t’s mes­sage. Any­how, I have always found it dif­fi­cult to feel resent­ment when indus­try comes rush­ing toward cul­ture, check in hand.

Bergman enlist­ed his favorite cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er at that time, Gun­nar Fis­ch­er, and togeth­er they made nine minia­ture films, each a lit­tle more than one minute long, to be screened in movie the­aters over the next three years. Bergman used the oppor­tu­ni­ty to exper­i­ment with visu­al and nar­ra­tive form.

Many of the styl­is­tic devices and motifs that would even­tu­al­ly fig­ure into his mas­ter­pieces can be spot­ted in the com­mer­cials: mir­rors, dou­bles, the tele­scop­ing in or out of a sto­ry-with­in-a-sto­ry. You don’t need to under­stand Swedish to rec­og­nize the mark of the mas­ter.

In the win­dow above we fea­ture Episode 1, “Bris Soap,” which is per­haps the most basic of the com­mer­cials. They become pro­gres­sive­ly more imag­i­na­tive as the series moves along:

  • Episode 2, Ten­nis Girl: An inno­cent game of ten­nis sets the stage for an epic bat­tle between good (Bris soap) and evil (bac­te­ria). Can you guess which side wins?
  • Episode 3, Gus­ta­vian: Bad hygiene in the 17th cen­tu­ry court of King Gus­tav III. Plen­ty of fop­pish­ness, but no Bris.
  • Episode 4, Oper­a­tion: “Per­haps the most intrigu­ing of the com­mer­cials,” writes Swedish film schol­ar Fredrik Gustafs­son. “In this one Bergman is decon­struct­ing the whole busi­ness of film­mak­ing, using all the tricks of his dis­pos­al to trick and treat us.”
  • Episode 5, The Mag­ic Show: Anoth­er bat­tle between good and evil, this time in minia­ture.
  • Episode 6, The Inven­tor: A man hero­ical­ly invents anti-bac­te­r­i­al soap, only to awak­en and real­ize it was all a dream. (And any­way, the mak­ers of Bris had already done it.)
  • Episode 7, The Rebus: Bergman uses mon­tage to cre­ate a game of “rebus,” a heraldic rid­dle (non ver­bis, sed rebus: “not by words but by things”), to piece togeth­er the slo­gan, “Bris kills the bacteria–no bac­te­ria, no smell.”
  • Episode 8, Three-Dimen­sion­al: Bergman thought 3‑D films were “ridicu­lous­ly stu­pid,” and in this episode he takes a few play­ful jabs.
  • Episode 9, The Princess and the Swine­herd: In this rein­ven­tion of Hans Chris­t­ian Ander­son­’s “The Swine­herd,” a 15-year-old Bibi Ander­s­son, who went on to star in many of Bergman’s great­est films, makes her screen debut as a beau­ti­ful princess who promis­es a swine­herd 100 kiss­es in exchange for a bar of soap. Not a bad deal for the swine­herd.

To learn more about Bergman’s soap com­mer­cials you can watch a 2009 report by Slate film crit­ic Dana Stevens here. (Note the video requires a flash play­er.)

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Mir­rors of Ing­mar Bergman, Nar­rat­ed with the Poet­ry of Sylvia Plath

Ing­mar Bergman Vis­its The Dick Cavett Show, 1971

Fellini’s Fan­tas­tic TV Com­mer­cials

The Art of Hand-Drawn Japanese Anime: A Deep Study of How Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira Uses Light

Ani­ma­tion before the days of mod­ern com­put­er graph­ics tech­nol­o­gy may impress today for the very rea­son that it had no mod­ern com­put­er graph­ics tech­nol­o­gy, or CGI, at its dis­pos­al. But if we real­ly think about it — and we real­ly watch the ani­mat­ed mas­ter­pieces of those days — we’ll real­ize that much of it should impress us on many more lev­els than it already does. Take, for instance, Kat­suhi­ro Oto­mo’s 1988 cyber­punk vision Aki­ra, one of the most beloved Japan­ese ani­mat­ed films of all time and the sub­ject of the Nerd­writer video essay above, “How to Ani­mate Light.”

Aki­ra, says Nerd­writer Evan Puschak, “is well known for its painstak­ing ani­ma­tion. Every frame of the film was com­posed with the clos­est atten­tion to detail, and that gives it an unmatched rich­ness and soul.”

But he points up one qual­i­ty of the pro­duc­tion in par­tic­u­lar: “I see the film’s many lights, their dif­fer­ent qual­i­ties and tex­tures, as a pow­er­ful motif and sym­bol, and a vital ele­ment of its genius.” But ani­ma­tors, espe­cial­ly ani­ma­tors using tra­di­tion­al hand-paint­ed cels, can’t just tell their direc­tors of pho­tog­ra­phy to set up a scene’s light­ing in a cer­tain way; they’ve got to ren­der all the dif­fer­ent types of light in the world they cre­ate by hand, man­u­al­ly cre­at­ing its play on every face, every object, every sur­face.

“The lines between shad­ow and light are dis­tinct and evoca­tive in the same way that film noir light­ing is,” Puschak elab­o­rates, “and like in film noir, light in Aki­ra is inti­mate­ly con­nect­ed to the city at night.” In the dystopi­an “Neo-Tokyo” of 2019, elab­o­rate­ly craft­ed by Oto­mo and his col­lab­o­ra­tors, “author­i­ty is as much a blind­ing spot­light as it is a gun or a badge” and neon “is the bit­ter but beau­ti­ful light that sig­ni­fies both the col­or­ful radi­ance and the gaudy con­sumerism of moder­ni­ty.” And then we have Tet­suo, “at once the pro­tag­o­nist and the antag­o­nist of the film, a boy who gains extra­or­di­nary psy­chic pow­er” that “so often pro­duces a dis­rup­tion in the light around him.” When the end comes, it comes in the form of “a giant ball of light, one sin­gle uni­form white light that eras­es the count­less arti­fi­cial lights of the city,” and Aki­ra makes us believe in it. Could even the most cut­ting-edge, spec­tac­u­lar­ly big-bud­get­ed CGI-age pic­ture do the same?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Phi­los­o­phy, Sto­ry­telling & Visu­al Cre­ativ­i­ty of Ghost in the Shell, the Acclaimed Ani­me Film, Explained in Video Essays

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

How the Films of Hayao Miyaza­ki Work Their Ani­mat­ed Mag­ic, Explained in 4 Video Essays

The Ori­gins of Ani­me: Watch Free Online 64 Ani­ma­tions That Launched the Japan­ese Ani­me Tra­di­tion

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.

Criterion Collection Films 50% Off for the Next 13 Hours: Get Great Films at Half Price

FYI. For the next 13 hours, the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion is run­ning a flash sale (click here), giv­ing you a chance to pur­chase “all in-stock Blu-rays & DVDs at 50% off.” Just use the pro­mo code COOP and get clas­sic films by Hitch­cock, Lynch, Welles, Kubrick, the Coen Broth­ers, and many oth­ers.

Cult Director John Waters Hosts a Summer Camp for Naughty Adult Campers: Enrollment for the 2018 Edition Opens Today

I hat­ed sports at camp, so at this camp I think we should reward every team that los­es. This would be the camp where the fat peo­ple get picked first in dodge ball. 

- Film­mak­er-cum-Camp Direc­tor John Waters

I can think of many chil­dren who would scram­ble toward the refuge of the com­pas­sion­ate state­ment above, but Camp John Waters is a decid­ed­ly adult activ­i­ty.

The Pope of Trash shares actor Bill Mur­ray’s rel­ish for odd­ball set­tings in which he can meet the pub­lic as some­thing close to a peer. But where­as Mur­ray spe­cial­izes in sur­prise drop-in appear­ances—recit­ing poet­ry to con­struc­tion work­ers, crash­ing parties—Waters favors more immer­sive expe­ri­ences, such as hitch­hik­ing coast to coast.

His lat­est stunt brought him and 300 fel­low trav­el­ers to a rus­tic Con­necti­cut facil­i­ty (from Sept 22–24) that nor­mal­ly hosts cor­po­rate team build­ing events, fam­i­ly camps, and week­end get­aways for play­ful 20-to-30-some­things keen to make new friends while zip lin­ing, play­ing ping­pong, and par­ty­ing in the main lodge.

ART­news pegged the inau­gur­al ses­sion thus­ly:

 The Waters camp com­bines two of the more absurd devel­op­ments in con­tem­po­rary leisure: the celebri­ty-based get­away (see also: the Gronk Cruise) and a cer­tain recre­ation­al aes­thet­ic that seems to advo­cate for a sort of devel­op­men­tal pur­ga­to­ry.

Here,  there were no reluc­tant, home­sick campers, weep­ing into their Slop­py Joes. This was a self-select­ing bunch, eager to break out their wigs and leop­ard print, weave ene­my bracelets at the arts and crafts sta­tion, and bypass any­thing smack­ing of offi­cial out­door recre­ation, save the lake, where inflat­able pink flamin­gos were avail­able for aquat­ic lol­ly­gag­ging.

“Who real­ly wants to go wall climb­ing?” the founder him­self snort­ed in his wel­com­ing speech, adding that he would if Joe Dalle­san­dro, the Warhol super­star who accord­ing to Waters “for­ev­er changed male sex­u­al­i­ty in cin­e­ma,” wait­ed up top.

Naughty ref­er­ences to water sports aside, cer­tain aspects of the camp were down­right whole­some. Pine trees and s’mores. Canoes and cab­ins. Pre­sum­ably there was a camp nurse. (In Waters’ ide­al world, this posi­tion would be filled by Cry Baby’s Traci Lords.)

Waters’ rec­ol­lec­tions of his own stint at Maryland’s Camp Hap­py Hol­low seem pri­mar­i­ly fond. It makes sense. Any­one who tru­ly loathed sum­mer camp would be unlike­ly to recre­ate the expe­ri­ence for them­selves and their fel­low adults.

Camp Waters harkens back to the 1950s trans­gres­sions its direc­tor mer­ri­ly fess­es up to hav­ing par­tic­i­pat­ed in: unfil­tered cig­a­rettes and short sheet­ed beds, cir­cle jerks and panty raids. From here on out the sub­ver­sion will be tak­ing place in the sun­light.

Anoth­er spe­cial camp mem­o­ry for Waters is regal­ing his cab­in mates with an orig­i­nal, seri­al­ized hor­ror sto­ry. He retells it on Celebri­ty Ghost Sto­ries, above:

At the end there was this hideous gory thing and then all the kids had night­mares and their par­ents called the camp and com­plained — and I’m still doing that! It was the begin­ning of my career…. It was a won­der­ful les­son for me as a 10-year-old kid that I think helped me become what­ev­er I am today. It gave me the con­fi­dence to go ahead, to believe in things, to believe in behav­ior I couldn’t under­stand, to be drawn to sub­ject mat­ter I couldn’t under­stand.

Reg­is­tra­tion for Camp John Waters 2018 opens today at noon, so grab the bug spray and get ready to sing along:

There is a camp in a place called Kent

It’s name is Camp John Waters

For here we come to spend the night

For we all love to fuck and fight

Camp John Waters — rah rah rah!

Camp John Waters — sis­boom­bah!

Camp John Waters — rah rah rah!

Three cheers for Camp John Waters!

Could Waters’ own con­tri­bu­tion to such camp clas­sics as Meat­balls, Lit­tle Dar­lings and Wet Hot Amer­i­can Sum­mer be far behind?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Waters’ RISD Grad­u­a­tion Speech: Real Wealth is Nev­er Hav­ing to Spend Time with A‑Holes

John Waters Nar­rates Off­beat Doc­u­men­tary on an Envi­ron­men­tal Cat­a­stro­phe, the Salton Sea

The Phi­los­o­phy of Bill Mur­ray: The Intel­lec­tu­al Foun­da­tions of His Comedic Per­sona

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. She attend­ed Gnaw­bone Camp in Gnaw­bone, Indi­ana, recap­tur­ing that hap­py expe­ri­ence three decades lat­er as the Mail Lady of Beam Camp.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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

Our country’s bipar­ti­san sys­tem ensures that every elec­tion will give rise to a win­ning side and a los­ing side—and depress­ing­ly, a siz­able group who refrained from cast­ing a vote either way.

There are times when the divide between the fac­tions does not seem insur­mount­able, when lead­ers in the high­est posi­tions of author­i­ty seem sin­cere­ly com­mit­ted to reach­ing across the divide….

And then there are oth­er times.

Ear­li­er in the year, the Women’s March on Wash­ing­ton and its hun­dreds of sis­ter march­es gave many of us rea­son to hope. The num­bers alone were inspir­ing.

But his­to­ry shows how great num­bers can go the oth­er way too.

With many Amer­i­can high school his­to­ry cur­ricu­lums whizzing through World War II in a week, if that, it’s dou­bly impor­tant to slow down long enough to watch the 7 minute doc­u­men­tary above.

What you’re look­ing at is the 1939 “Pro-Amer­i­can Ral­ly” (aka Pro-Nazi Ral­ly) spon­sored by the Ger­man Amer­i­can Bund at Madi­son Square Gar­den on George Washington’s 207th Birth­day. Ban­ners embla­zoned with such slo­gans as “Stop Jew­ish Dom­i­na­tion of Chris­t­ian Amer­i­cans,” “Wake Up Amer­i­ca. Smash Jew­ish Com­mu­nism,” and “1,000,000 Bund Mem­bers by 1940” dec­o­rat­ed the great hall.

New York City May­or Fiorel­lo LaGuardia—an Epis­co­palian with a Jew­ish mother—considered can­cel­ing the event, but ulti­mate­ly he, along with the Amer­i­can Jew­ish Com­mit­tee and the Amer­i­can Civ­il Lib­er­ties Com­mit­tee decreed that the Bund was exer­cis­ing its right to free speech and free assem­bly.

A crowd of 20,000 filled the famous sports venue in mid-town Man­hat­tan to capac­i­ty. 1,500 police offi­cers were present to ren­der the Gar­den “a fortress impreg­nable to anti-Nazis.” An esti­mat­ed 100,000 counter-demon­stra­tors were gath­er­ing out­side.

Police Com­mis­sion­er Lewis J. Valen­tine bragged to the press that “we have enough police here to stop a rev­o­lu­tion.”

The most dis­turb­ing moment in the short film comes at the 3:50 mark, when anoth­er secu­ri­ty force—the Bund’s Ord­nungs­di­enst or “Order Ser­vice” pile on Isidore Green­baum, a 26-year-old Jew­ish work­er who rushed the podi­um where bun­des­führer Fritz Julius Kuhn was fan­ning the flames of hatred. Valentine’s men even­tu­al­ly pulled them off, just bare­ly man­ag­ing to save the “anti-Nazi” from the vicious beat­ing he was under­go­ing.

Report­ed­ly he was beat­en again, as the crowd inside the Gar­den howled for his blood.

The uni­formed youth per­form­ing a spon­ta­neous horn­pipe in the row behind the Bund’s drum and bugle corps is a chill­ing sight to see.

Direc­tor Mar­shall Cur­ry was spurred to bring the his­toric footage to Field of Vision, a film­mak­er-dri­ven doc­u­men­tary unit that com­mis­sions short films as a rapid response to devel­op­ing sto­ries around the globe. In this case, the devel­op­ing sto­ry was the “Unite the Right” white nation­al­ist ral­ly in Char­lottesville, which had occurred a mere two days before.

“The footage is so pow­er­ful,” Cur­ry told an inter­view­er, “it seems amaz­ing that it isn’t a stock part of every high school his­to­ry class. But I think the ral­ly has slipped out of our col­lec­tive mem­o­ry in part because it’s scary and embar­rass­ing. It tells a sto­ry about our coun­try that we’d pre­fer to for­get. We’d like to think that when Nazism rose up, all Amer­i­cans were instant­ly appalled. But while the vast major­i­ty of Amer­i­cans were appalled by the Nazis, there was also a sig­nif­i­cant group of Amer­i­cans who were sym­pa­thet­ic to their white suprema­cist, anti-Semit­ic mes­sage. When you see 20,000 Amer­i­cans gath­er­ing in Madi­son Square Gar­den you can be sure that many times that were pas­sive­ly sup­port­ive.”

Field of Vision co-founder Lau­ra Poitras recalled how after meet­ing with Cur­ry, “my first thought was, ‘we need to put this film in cin­e­mas,’ and release it like a news­reel.”’  The Alamo Draft­house cin­e­ma chain screened it before fea­tures on Sep­tem­ber 26 of this year.

The Atlantic has pho­tos of the “Pro-Amer­i­can Ral­ly” and oth­er Ger­man Amer­i­can Bund-spon­sored events in the days lead­ing up to WWII here. Also read an account that appeared in a 1939 edi­tion of The New York Times here.

The Inter­na­tion­al Social­ist Review cov­ers the counter-demon­stra­tions in many eye­wit­ness quotes.

via Pale­o­Fu­ture

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Edu­ca­tion for Death: The Mak­ing of Nazi–Walt Disney’s 1943 Pro­pa­gan­da Film Shows How Fas­cists Are Made

Philoso­phers (Includ­ing Slavoj Žižek) and Ethi­cists Answer the Ques­tion: Is It OK to Punch Nazis?

Helen Keller Writes a Let­ter to Nazi Stu­dents Before They Burn Her Book: “His­to­ry Has Taught You Noth­ing If You Think You Can Kill Ideas” (1933)

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

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