This trailer for David Cronenberg’s (Videodrome, The Fly, eXistenZ, A History of Violence, Eastern Promises, A Dangerous Method) new movie looks pretty awesome. Like a kind of near-distant dystopia featuring Occupy-style protesters and slick Wall Street traders. It seems to revolve around a 24-hour trek through Manhattan, and looks pretty old-school Cronenberg.
New York City, not-too-distant-future: Eric Packer, a 28 year-old finance golden boy dreaming of living in a civilization ahead of this one, watches a dark shadow cast over the firmament of the Wall Street galaxy, of which he is the uncontested king. As he is chauffeured across midtown Manhattan to get a haircut at his father’s old barber, his anxious eyes are glued to the yuan’s exchange rate: it is mounting against all expectations, destroying Eric’s bet against it. Eric Packer is losing his empire with every tick of the clock. Meanwhile, an eruption of wild activity unfolds in the city’s streets. Petrified as the threats of the real world infringe upon his cloud of virtual convictions, his paranoia intensifies during the course of his 24-hour cross-town odyssey. Packer starts to piece together clues that lead him to a most terrifying secret: his imminent assassination.
Cronenberg revisits subjects that fascinate him: how the organic and the psychological are inextricably intertwined, society’s anxieties and phobias, and letting repressed impulses and paranoia run wild. COSMOPOLIS is a culmination of his masterpieces that addresses the alarming global financial crisis of today’s world.
“Manhattanhenge” is the day, every half year or so, in which the setting sun aligns with the east-west street grid on Manhattan. Makes for beautiful pictures, as on this Flickr set by photographer Vivienne Gucwa.
Manhattanhenge (sometimes referred to as the Manhattan Solstice) is a semiannual occurrence in which the setting sun aligns with the east–west streets of the main street grid in the borough of Manhattan in New York City. The term is derived from Stonehenge, at which the sun aligns with the stones on the solstices.
A couple of years ago, I had to take a cab from a Manhattan hotel to JFK airport really early in the morning, at 5.30 am or so.
It was already light outside.
It was very otherwordly to be driven through an, at that time, completely deserted Manhattan. The streets, normally bustling with traffic, were now empty, and you could see a mile away through the corridors between the high-rise buildings.
That’s what this cool exhibition of photos of empty public spaces in New York by Christopher Thomas reminds me of.
Before there was house, there was disco. Studio 54 was the temple of disco. I have been fascinated by this club for a long time. It set a standard for nightclubs, which would never again be met. Without this club there would have been no Hacienda, Roxy, Omen, Space, Fabric, Bar 25 or Berghain. The line that was in front of Studio 54 in ’77-’78 makes the crowds that gather near Ostbahnhof station look tiny. Although very cool and legendary in their own way, all these clubs stand in the shadow of Steve Rubell‘s and Ian Schrager’s magical world at 54th street in Manhattan. The pumping beats, extravagance, theatrics, the buzz, this is where it all started.
I have just found a two hour documentary about the venue, which by the looks of the interviewees was probably made in the 90′s. It paints a detailed picture of this 70′s “Sodom and Gomorrah”, or as one of the Studio guests describes it in the documentary, “Caligula’s party”. The documentary shows how Studio 54 was “the right club, at the right place, at the right time”. If you don’t want to watch the full thing, I recommend part 3. If you do want to watch the full story, start below:
Click here for an earlier post on Michael Jackson in Studio 54.
What is cooler than exploring forgotten urban underground constructions? Almost nothing. A while ago, we blogged about the “Freedom Tunnel” underneath Manhattan’s Upper West Side, that had turned into an ‘underground metropolis’ with organized homeless communities, as well as a haven for graffiti artists.
Now, the New York Times has a fantastic article about two underground urban explorers (one guy also climbed the Everest and walked the Poles), who make a five-day trip through sewers and metro tunnels from The Bronx to Queens. Here, they enjoy the underground architecture, encounter ‘mole people’ (people who permanently, illegally live underground) as well as other urban explorers.
This fascinating video details a trip they made earlier (the hopping besides the metro tracks is nervewracking; they also meet tunnel residents):
The NYT article can be read here. Some highlights of the story, which I recommend to read in full:
IT must have been the third or fourth day — time, by that point, had started to dissolve — when I stood in camping gear on Fifth Avenue, waiting as my companions went to purchase waterproof waders at the Orvis store. We had already hiked through sewers in the Bronx, slept in a basement boiler room, passed a dusty evening in a train tunnel; we were soiled and sleep-deprived, and we smelled of rotting socks. Yet no one on that sidewalk seemed to notice. As I stood among the businessmen and fashionable women, it dawned on me that New Yorkers — an ostensibly perceptive lot — sometimes see only what’s directly in front of their eyes.
I suppose that’s not a bad way to think about the urban expedition we were on: a taxing, baffling, five-day journey into New York’s underground, the purpose of which, its planners said, was to expose the city’s skeleton, to render visible its invisible marvels. The trip’s conceiver, Erling Kagge, a 47-year-old Norwegian adventurer, had ascended Mount Everest and trekked on foot to both the North and South poles. His partner, Steve Duncan, a 32-year-old student of public history, had logged more than a decade exploring subways, sewers and storm drains. Last month, the two of them forged a new frontier: an extended exploration of the subterranean city, during which they lived inside the subsurface infrastructure, sleeping on the trail, as it were.
(…)
1:48 a.m.
Bronx sewers
Amazing. The sounds down here are even more impressive than the sights and smells: the Niagara-like crash of water spilling in from side drains; the rumble of the subway; the guh-DUNK! of cars hitting manhole covers overhead, like two jabs on a heavy bag. Steve says we’re only 12 feet beneath the surface, but it feels far deeper. The familiar world is gone: only sewage now, the press of surrounding earth, the anxious dance of headlamps on the water. Every 100 feet or so, an archway appears and we can see a parallel channel gurgling beside us with a coffee-colored murk. I shine my headlamp down and watch a condom and gooey scraps of toilet paper float by. I check the air meter constantly: no trace of gas, and the oxygen level is a healthy 20.9 percent. I ask Steve how he navigates down here; he laughs. “Hey, Erling,” he calls out, “you’re taking care of the navigation, right?” Funny.
(…)
10:27 p.m.
Riverside Park, Manhattan
We just crossed the 125th Street off-ramp of the West Side Highway and plan to spend the night in an Amtrak tunnel in Riverside Park. Steve knows a woman who lives there — a “mole person” named Brooklyn. Today is Brooklyn’s birthday: she is 50. Erling met Brooklyn in August, on a scouting trip with Steve, and she asked him to return for a party. He has brought her chocolates — all the way from Norway — handmade by his daughters.
(…)
11:10 p.m.
Brooklyn’s home is on the other side: dirt floors, concrete walls, a mattress and a milk-crate nightstand, burning candles, a poster of Lance Armstrong. A bicycle lies at the foot of her bed; clothing hangs from makeshift hooks. Beneath Lance Armstrong, there are newspaper clippings marking the death of Michael Jackson. Beside the bed, a huge pile of bottles — hundreds, it appears. Brooklyn describes these as her savings account: when money runs low, she redeems them for cash.
She is a wiry woman in a headband, stunned and pleased to see us. “I can’t believe y’all came for my birthday!” Gifts are given, whiskey passed around. Once again, we are a large group and sing “Happy Birthday.”
A strange news conference then ensues. Andrew, the videographer, directs: arranges Brooklyn in the candlelight, tells the NPR producer where to place his boom. Brooklyn tells her story to the cameras: her stint in the Marine Corps; the death of her parents; the loss of her house upstate; how she lived in the subway and was beaten by marauding kids; how she lived in a box until it was set on fire; how she found herself alone, on a bench in the park, and was lured to the tunnel by friendly cats. She has lived down here since 1982, she says, with six cats and a boyfriend known as B. K.
(…)
1:12 a.m.
The party continues on the far side of the wall. More people arrive: Will the spotter, Will’s cousin and a guy named Moe. They, like Steve, are self-styled urban explorers. They talk of climbing bridges, running in subways. At one point, Moe confesses: “I really want to stop doing this. I’m 35. I want to be married and serious.” He sighs. “Then again, I’m saying this in a train tunnel. …”
In the video below, the murals of an underground cavern beneath Manhattan are explored. Back in the day, this tunnel seems to have been a dwelling place for hundreds of homeless people, as well as graffiti artists.
Under Manhattan’s Upper West side, runs the “Freedom” Tunnel. Built in the 30’s by Robert Moses, the passage boasts legendary graffiti murals and piles of debris remaining of the past homeless city era. After using it for only a couple of years, Amtrak discontinued the line and left a massive cavern which later became a shelter for street people. Progressively, the tunnel turned into a veritable underground metropolis where thousands of homeless were living in organized communities underneath the city’s skin.
The tunnel also became a prime spot for graffiti artists. Chris Pape, aka Freedom, was one of the pioneers and his work inspired the name of the tunnel. “Freedom” painted immense murals utilizing the unique lighting provided by the ventilation ducts, turning the tunnel into an extraordinary underground art gallery. Some of his most notable paintings survived for decades and are still conspicuous today (“Venus de Milo”, the “Coca-Cola Mural”, Dali’s “Melting Clock”, a self-portrait featuring a male torso with a spray-can head, etc.).
In 1991, Amtrak decided to reopen the tunnel. The shanty towns were cleared out by the police and homeless were evicted. Although deserted, the tunnel is now an active train line and a stunning experience for urban explorers.
It is a bizarre blend of dark and light, silence and rumble, solitude and multitude. As you penetrate the tunnel and walk along the tracks, the sunbeams perforating the ceiling and highlighting the railway gives the place a post-nuclear feel. Voices from children playing above in Riverside Park sound like lost souls and trains whistling and roaring through the ruins of the shanty towns send chills down your spine.
This is one of the most uncommon and fascinating journeys I’ve ever taken.
Mayor Bloomberg of New York City clearly knows his history, and probably has read Russell Shorto’s The Island at the Center of the World, or at least his speechwriters did. Anyway, I think the speech he gave on August 3 about the so called “Ground Zero mosque” (which is actually located 200 meters from Ground Zero) was a sane and brave speech. Here are some highlights:
“We’ve come here to Governors Island to stand where the earliest settlers first set foot in New Amsterdam, and where the seeds of religious tolerance were first planted. We come here to see the inspiring symbol of liberty that more than 250 years later would greet millions of immigrants in this harbor. And we come here to state as strongly as ever, this is the freest city in the world. That’s what makes New York special and different and strong.
(…)
“In the mid-1650s, the small Jewish community living in lower Manhattan petitioned Dutch governor Peter Stuyvesant for the right to build a synagogue, and they were turned down. In 1657, when Stuyvesant also prohibited Quakers from holding meetings, a group of non-Quakers in Queens signed the Flushing Remonstrance, a petition in defense of the right of Quakers and others to freely practice their religion. It was perhaps the first formal political petition for religious freedom in the American colonies, and the organizer was thrown in jail and then banished from New Amsterdam.
“Whatever you may think of the proposed mosque and community center, lost in the heat of the debate has been a basic question: Should government attempt to deny private citizens the right to build a house of worship on private property based on their particular religion? That may happen in other countries, but we should never allow it to happen here.
“This nation was founded on the principle that the government must never choose between religions or favor one over another. The World Trade Center site will forever hold a special place in our city, in our hearts. But we would be untrue to the best part of ourselves and who we are as New Yorkers and Americans if we said no to a mosque in lower Manhattan.
“Let us not forget that Muslims were among those murdered on 9/11, and that our Muslim neighbors grieved with us as New Yorkers and as Americans. We would betray our values and play into our enemies’ hands if we were to treat Muslims differently than anyone else. In fact, to cave to popular sentiment would be to hand a victory to the terrorists, and we should not stand for that.
Here’s a mosque that’s only four blocks away from Ground Zero. The Masjid Manhattan mosque, been there since 1970. So now what, demolish it?
- Edit: O, and here’s word from an area resident, a reader of Andrew Sullivan. He writes:
I live two blocks from Ground Zero in a six-building apartment complex with an active tenant association. As best I can tell, Cordoba House is a non-issue among local residents. I haven’t heard a word from anybody on the subject – not in the elevators, not in the lobby, not at the neighborhood bars or restaurants. Nada.
Here are the facts. The proposed Cordoba House is not a mosque. It’s to be a community center modeled after the YMCA and the Jewish Community Center, with most of its 13 floors devoted to classrooms, fitness and recreation – open to the entire downtown community, not just Muslims. There is to be a “prayer space” that can hold up to 2,000 people. I’ll aver that “prayer space” could just be a PC term for “mosque,” though I confess no knowledge of what procedures must take place to consecrate a facility as an official mosque. The group’s leader, Imam Abdul Rauf, has held services in a small mosque in the neighborhood since 1983. It isn’t as though the group materialized out of nowhere or has no history in the neighborhood.
I don’t think any New Yorker cares about this stupid non-issue.
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