In the last finished short film Ohayō (Good Morning, 2008) before his untimely death in 2010, Satoshi Kon comes full circle in reference to his earlier works. A closer look reveals some of the essential recurring themes throughout his films: Blurred layers of reality and imagination, dream logic, transitory states, memory and media recordings, (male) voyeurism and archetypical female anime characters. In the one minute runtime of Ohayō, visual storytelling reigns, words are unnecessary. When a girl wakes up in her messy apartment after a birthday party, her liminal state of waking up is visualized with a simple editing trick that splits the character in two. The result is tinged in the twilight of (perfect) blue, as multiple ghostly versions of the protagonist engage in delayed versions of her morning routine. Her fragmented self finally becomes whole when she steps in front of the mirror: “Ohayō!”—Good morning, she says into the camera, as her half transparent layers bloom into full color. By addressing us viewers, Kon reminds us that we are incorporated in the cinematic relationship with his characters.

Ohayō’s protagonist could as well be Mima, the main character from Perfect Blue (1996)—Kons directorial debut—as her two personas merge in front of the mirror before she tackles another day on set. Kon once said about his (female) characters that they are fictional constructs and therefore don’t exist in reality; as such, his characters may even be aware of their artificiality. If this is the case, it usually results in fractioned personas, identity crises, and schizophrenic tendencies.

Ohayō makes the state between the unconscious and conscious visible without any narrative explanation. Its minimalism and audiovisual build up to the climax in front of the mirror turns the mundane nature of the morning ritual into something more essential, more important. How do we start our day? Fragmented and removed, on autopilot and anxious, or determined and intentional? There is something intriguing and beautiful about transitory mental states; the surrealists tried to write them down, Satoshi Kon animated them. Ohayō!

It’s no surprise that I was unconsciously drawn to Satoshi Kon’s works for a while, given the shared obsession with blurred layers of reality, imagination, cinema and the dreamworld. Widely established beyond only anime lovers at this point, Kon’s films became acclaimed for their disorienting narratives that question reality while fusing psychological depth with social and technological issues. Relatable in 2026 for sure. Darren Aronofsky and Christopher Nolan are said to be inspired by his work and it makes sense why western filmmakers would look into Satoshi’s world, as the imagination has (almost) no limits there. I’m by no means an anime expert, but as mentioned elsewhere, the Japanese tradition of filmmaking left a particular mark on me. Japanese Anime classics as Akira (1988) and Ghost in the Shell (1995) opened my eyes to the possibilities of animation beyond the biased assumption of being entertainment for kids only.

Madhouse, the animation studio behind Satoshi Kon’s films, is one of Japan’s most respected anime production houses. Founded in 1972 by former Mushi Production animators including Masao Maruyama, it built a reputation for high-quality, ambitious projects ranging from experimental films to popular series. Madhouse played a crucial role in Kon’s career, producing three of his major features—Perfect Blue, Tokyo Godfathers, and Paprika—and allowing him significant creative freedom.

Satoshi Kon frequently drew from existing literary and cinematic sources. Perfect Blue was adapted from Yoshikazu Takeuchi’s 1991 novel of the same name. Tokyo Godfathers took loose inspiration from John Ford’s 1948 Western 3 Godfathers, reimagining a Christmas story in contemporary Tokyo with homeless protagonists. Paprika is based on Yasutaka Tsutsui’s 1993 science-fiction novel, which Kon expanded into a visually dazzling exploration of dreams and reality.

The following is a list and short commentary of his features as writer / director. Scroll to the bottom for the short list with film info. For streaming options, please have a look online.

Magnetic Rose (as Writer) - Segment in Memories (1996) (Directed by Katsuhiro Otomo)

Even though Kon did not direct this ca. 50 minute segment of an anthology feature called Memories, this sci-fi short is significant as it has Kon’s handwriting all over it. People familiar with the sci-fi canon may recognize similarities to Solaris, 2001, and La Jetée (for more sci-fi streams click here).

In the distant future, a space crew receives an emergency signal from what looks like a rose shaped structure floating in a magnetic field in outer space. When two of the four crew members set out to investigate the signal and enter the structure, they encounter a lost palace seemingly built for a long forgotten opera diva. A recurring serenade from Puccini’s Madama Butterfly is the fatal siren song luring the explorers deeper into a world of illusions based on long lost memories.

Perfect Blue (1997)

Call it synchronicity or randomness, Perfect Blue was a film that I encountered again and again over the years when researching for movies. If you’re curious about the liminal spaces between fantasy and reality, there’s no way past Perfect Blue. A good entry point that incorporates all of Kon’s recurring themes in a genre thriller that keeps you on your toes with some disturbing scenes.

Rising pop idol Mima Kirigoe retires from her girl group to pursue an acting career, only to face an obsessive stalker, brutal murders in her vicinity, and an increasingly fracturing sense of reality as her past persona haunts her in a descent into paranoia and identity crisis. This was Kon’s directorial debut, produced by Madhouse and originally planned as a live-action film before funding issues shifted it to anime. Adapted from Yoshikazu Takeuchi’s novel, with a screenplay by Sadayuki Murai and Kon.

Millennium Actress (2001)

Millenium Actress is a layered story about an aging actress reflecting on her past life on screen, blurring the lines between memory and recordings. After a big film production studio is shut down and razed, a documentary filmmaker and his camera assistant (Kon’s cameo?) have a rare appointment with the title giving Millennium Actress. The assignment to revisit the most important stops in her career in an interview turns out to be only one side of the narrative. When the director gives her a long lost key, a different strain of narrative from her memory begins and reveals the real motivation behind her acting career. An ode to the infinite pull of unfulfilled love and the solace of malleable memories. (Sunset Boulevard and Inland Empire may be distant relatives from Hollywood).

Tokyo Godfathers (2003)

The usual surrealist dance is less obvious in Tokyo Godfathers, probably his most straight forward film. On Christmas Eve in Tokyo, three homeless strangers—an alcoholic ex-bicyclist Gin, a flamboyant former drag queen Hana, and a teenage runaway Miyuki—discover an abandoned newborn baby in the trash and embark on a chaotic, heartfelt quest across the city to locate its parents, finding unexpected redemption along the way. Directed and co-written by Kon, it stands out as his more realistic, character-driven, and grounded work.

Paprika (2006)

In Paprika—the film that is said to have inspired Inception—Kon comes back to surrealist shapeshifting form. Paprika blends animated dreamworlds and layered levels of dream narratives in an ultimate standoff between reality and collective unconsciousness. Beware of the dream parade, it may stick with you in some way or another… That recurring music will stick with you for a while!

Therapist Dr. Atsuko Chiba uses the experimental DC Mini device to enter patients’ dreams as her vibrant alter ego “Paprika,” but when the tech is stolen, dreams invade reality, unleashing surreal chaos and forcing her to battle a dream terrorist to prevent widespread psychological collapse. This is Kon’s final completed feature, co-written by Kon and Seishi Minakami, with music by Susumu Hirasawa. The ambitious production (budget around 300 million yen) took about 2.5 years and is celebrated for its mind-bending visuals and influence.

Film list and details:

Magnetic Rose (彼女の想いで / Kanojo no Omoide, from Memories anthology, Japan, 1995) (Kōji Morimoto) (45 min) (Magnetic Rose)
(Satoshi Kon – screenwriter)
Cast: Tsutomu Isobe (Heinz), Kōichi Yamadera (Miguel), Shōzō Iizuka (Robot)

Perfect Blue (パーフェクトブルー, Japan, 1997) (Satoshi Kon) (81 min)
Cast: Junko Iwao (Mima Kirigoe), Rica Matsumoto (Rumi), Shiho Niiyama (Rei), Masaaki Okura (Mamoru Uchida), Shinpachi Tsuji (Tadokoro)

Millennium Actress (千年女優, Japan, 2001) (Satoshi Kon) (87 min)
Cast: Miyoko Shōji (Chiyoko Fujiwara, elderly), Mami Koyama (Chiyoko Fujiwara, adult), Fumiko Orikasa (Chiyoko Fujiwara, young), Shōzō Iizuka (Genya Tachibana), Kōichi Yamadera (Kyoji Ida)

Tokyo Godfathers (東京ゴッドファーザーズ, Japan, 2003) (Satoshi Kon) (92 min)
Cast: Tōru Emori (Gin), Yoshiaki Umegaki (Hana), Aya Okamoto (Miyuki), Satomi Kōrogi (Kiyoko, the baby)

Paprika (パプリカ, Japan, 2006) (Satoshi Kon) (90 min)
Cast: Megumi Hayashibara (Paprika / Atsuko Chiba), Tōru Emori (Seijirō Inui), Katsunosuke Hori (Toratarō Shima), Tōru Furuya (Kōsaku Tokita), Kōichi Yamadera (Morio Osanai)

Bonus:

Paranoia Agent (パラノイアエージェント, Japan, 2004) (Satoshi Kon) (13 episodes, ~25 min each) - limited TV Series (LINK)
Cast: (ensemble, key voices include) Mamiko Noto (Tsukiko Sagi), Shōzō Iizuka (various), multiple rotating cast across episodes

Ohayō (Good Morning, Japan, 2008) (Satoshi Kon) (1 min) - Short (LINK)

The Dream Machine (2010) - unfinished

“It is the saints who are admirable in their images, whether or not they are well and artfully made . . . Pay attention not to the maker, but to the work itself.”

— Cayetano Cabrera y Quintero (Creole Scholar and priest in Mexico City, 1746, transl. by William B. Taylor)

According to Mexican Catholic belief, on December 9, 1531, the Virgin Mary (Virgen de Guadalupe) appeared to Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin, an indigenous local, on Tepeyac Hill, a place where an aztec goddess was once worshipped. At the virgin’s request, a catholic shrine was built on the spot where the apparition took place. The event became pivotal in the conversion of the native people to Christianity during the Spanish colonial period, and a fundamental part of the Mexican national identity later. The Shrine is now located in the Basilica of our Lady Guadelupe in Mexico City, and became one of the most popular pilgrimage sites for Catholicism in the world.

Since then, small shrines, or “capillitas,” have become a familiar sight throughout the country, even in the most deserted corners. A testament to the far reaching influence of the Catholic church. Often, the shrines are built where the Virgencita’s protection is most needed—beside winding roads, outside hospitals, and at the entrances of towns. Adorned with fresh (or plastic) flowers and candles, these sites serve as places for prayer, reflection and solace.

In the searing sun of Baja California, where roads stretch long and deserted, colorful capillitas dot the barren landscape and offer a moment of respite for truckers, tourists and locals alike. Most honor Guadalupe or other Catholic saints, while others display images of the deceased. A consistent reminder of the coexistence between life and death.

Despite Mexico’s strong Catholic devotion, many of them are littered with trash—empty beer bottles, broken glass candles and toilet paper—a stark contrast to their intended sacred purpose, and a testament to the paradoxical nature of humanity.

The shrines on the road to Todos Santos make a holy presence felt along the journey, but saints are rarely found among the living.

(photos by harry caul, 2023)

PART I - ANALOG

PART II - DIGITAL

END

Given the constant barrage of all things AI, it’s difficult to ignore the impression that this technological revolution is imposed from the top down. Markets are fully committed, fueling the race for rare-earth minerals and sprawling data centers, surveillance is the built-in byproduct, but what do we have to hide anyways, right? In a time in which we are even going to the moon again, current hype scenarios feel eerily familiar from earlier books and films. Indeed, our cultural science-fiction archive grew quite large over the years and big tech makes no secret about taking inspiration from writers like Neil Stephenson, Philip K. Dick or Douglas Adams. While few tech evangelists still nurture noble goals, recent behavior from tech giants points far more toward control than salvation. Which one is it? Do no harm or divide and conquer?

Beyond the frothy optimism of the tech-finance bubble; fear, uncertainty, and doubt (FUD) rule the day. Social norms are falling apart, conflicts simmer consistently, jobs feel precarious, and common reality itself seems fractured. Can we still truly listen and talk to one another or have we already entered the fiction of The Matrix and The Terminator? In a world where online and offline bleed together, we must ask ourselves how deeply our imaginations have been colonized by mediated and increasingly synthetic imagery. What happens to our imagination when everything is mediated 24/7?

Fears of (tech) innovation are as old as the inventions themselves, and still, the Boomer-versus-Doomer binary persists, keeping the public discourse at bay with dogmatic choices between good and evil. Are we gradually adapting to think like computers? Machines like to think in binaries, yet what sets us apart as humans is our capacity for nuance and paradox. We should make use of it as long as we still can, as the future is present: virtual reality, computer simulations, deepfakes, meme wars, and artificial intelligence are here to stay and confuse our perception of what we thought was real. Opinions are shaped in endless feeds of perpetual Future Shock. The resulting emotional anxiety breeds drug use and tech dependency in a vicious cycle.

Are we running towards dystopia or utopia at last? Surely the arrival of the Singularity depends on how (much) we use and become used to certain tech in our daily lives. After all, it is us who improve AI models through reinforcement learning while also paying subscription fees (a business model that is as devious as it is genius). The still young history of social media showed us how influential feeds on screens can be. Repetitive attention can (in)form habits. Are we still acting with our own intention?

As we struggle to reclaim our attention from algorithmic dopamine loops, a good film can still shift perspectives, if we have the patience to let it. AI videos of cat kung-fu on TikTok or two hours of Bruce Lee? Recent reports on our decreasing attention span are not encouraging: Matt Damon revealed to Joe Rogan how Netflix dumbs down scripts for scrolling audiences (are you double screening?), while an Atlantic article noted that film students were unable to endure screenings without reaching for their phones. It’s almost as if the device has become the remote control. Time is precious, but we always have a choice. Who’s in charge?

In an era when transhumanist ideals align with political agendas and surveillance has become accepted for the sake of convenience, many earlier sci-fi works feel prophetic today. Since its earliest iterations, science fiction has commented on present conditions by exaggerating technological possibilities in the fictional realm. When imagination has no limits, innovation may follow, but ignoring potential consequences means facing them when it might be too late.

The following is a personal selection of sci-fi favorites from film history, offering a starting point for the ongoing conversation about technology’s promises and perils.

Film details and selection list at the bottom of the page. Please have a look online for current streaming options.

Metropolis (1927) / Woman in the Moon (Frau im Mond, 1929), Germany, Fritz Lang

Two early silent sci-fi masterpieces from Fritz Lang open the series. Metropolis, now approaching its centennial, gave us flying cars, a mad German scientist, and the robotic Maria; a technological Eve we still await. It’s one of cinema’s most influential works and its themes of division and empathy feel as urgent today as in 1927. The heartfelt call for the heart to mediate between the mind and our hands may sound cheesy today, yet it seems we still haven’t fully absorbed it.

On the B-Side, Frau im Mond (Woman in the Moon) treated rockets and moon travel with genuine seriousness two years later, and introduced the countdown in movies as a suspense device for the first time ever apparently. Additionally, the film is said to have inspired Wernher von Braun’s early rocket science and is available for streaming in stunning 4K on YouTube. Worth it, if you can get into silent movies.

La Jetée (1962), France, Chris Marker

Quite a time jump from the 20s to the 60s, with a unique 28-minute testament that still photographs can deliver a fully cinematic, time-bending story. La Jetée stands alone in Chris Marker’s body of work as his only dystopian sci-fi film, yet it weaves the same threads of memory, death, and mediated images found throughout his essay films. Its “dream machine” feels eerily like proto-VR goggles, letting the protagonist step inside his own version of Hitchcock’s Vertigo and watch himself. The question it poses, whether the virtual world might be preferable to the real, remains disturbingly relevant, yet even virtual comfort cannot outrun fate.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), UK/USA, Stanley Kubrick

Kubrick’s monumental sci-fi epic uses the power of pure cinema to cover immense territory, explaining why it remains one of the most influential films ever made. The dialogue-free “Dawn of Man” sequence alone supplies material for entire seminars on consciousness, technological progress, violence, and cosmic mystery. Kubrick’s signature blend of mesmerizing photography and music reaches its transcendental zenith here. AI companion HAL’s calm transformation into a disembodied villain that views humans as the weak link, unfortunately no longer feels like fiction.

THX 1138 (1971), USA, George Lucas

I only discovered this pre-Star Wars minimalist gem by George Lucas while studying the New Hollywood period in college. The film’s bare-bones art-house style and bleak dystopian vision reimagine Plato’s Allegory of the Cave inside a robotic future. Budget limits sparked remarkable creativity, producing a coherent underground world without ever showing the Earth’s surface. You can imagine what happened above ground that resulted in life moving down under. Huxley’s Brave New World certainly shows its influence. When synthetic life becomes self-conscious and awakens to its own artificiality, it’s usually the nonconformists that act in the most human way.

Solaris x2 (1972 / 2002) Soviet Union, Andreij Tarkovsky / USA, Steven Soderbergh

The first of two adaptations of Stanisław Lem’s novels in this series. Tarkovsky’s meditative Russian epic is often favored by purists; Soderbergh’s sleek Hollywood remake appeared thirty years later and features some crowd pleasing faces. Both treat outer space as a mirror for inner consciousness, showing how the mind’s tricks have no limits. A theme picked up again by Japanese anime director Satoshi Kon. Long before simulated worlds became commonplace, Solaris asked: what if the illusion becomes more desirable than real life? In a way, Tarkovsky’s space frontier picks up where Kubrick’s 2001 left off and pushes deeper into existential terrain.

World on a Wire (Welt am Draht, 1973), West Germany, Rainer Werner Fassbinder

Based on the same novel (Simulacron-3 by Daniel F. Galouye) that later inspired The Matrix, this 1973 film, which premiered on German TV when there were only two public channels available, already explored simulated worlds inside worlds. When Descartes meets Baudrillard in the framework of Zeno’s paradox, the diegetic world is bound to be disorienting. Fassbinder’s only sci-fi film deploys no special effects, but the rising 1970s malls, offices and suburbs and its modernist architecture, shot on location on the outskirts of Paris, are sufficient to feel alienating. Through excessive use of mirrors, screens, grid structures, disorienting long takes and innovative sound design the film feels retro-futuristic today. Cinematographer Michael Ballhaus’ precise framing makes every reflection question reality itself. The witty script, rhythmic editing and alienating sound design keep driving the narrative into deeper levels. How to define “reality” when we look at ourselves in infinity mirrors?

Soylent Green (1973), USA, Richard Fleischer

Set in a 2022 New York where the environment has collapsed, the class divide in this film feels uncomfortably close to our own trajectory. The rich live in towers that resemble vertical gated communities, and the poor stretch out in horizontal slums as far as the eye can see. In a society in which manufactured scarcity lead to rationed food supplies, Charlton Heston’s murder investigation reveals the hidden truth behind the government’s recycling program. Absurdly entertaining and grimly prophetic.

Blade Runner - The Final Cut (1982), USA, Ridley Scott

I almost left it out, but how could it be missing from this list. Ridley Scott’s adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep is a timeless classic that enhances the quest for what constitutes consciousness and humanity in a transhumanist future. What our eyes can see is a crucial theme throughout the film, hinting at the instability of reality and identity in alienating futuristic environments. The films drenched dark and neon lit style became a benchmark for sci-fi noir aesthetic. The cast and acting is brilliant, and as we are confronted once more with the question whether artificial beings can have real feelings, the film goes one step further and muses about what happens when Replicants actually replicate. If we become more like machines and machines become more like us, where and how do we draw the line about what constitutes a human being? Does it even matter anymore? Rutger Hauer’s legendary final monologue provides a poetic answer to that question and the origami unicorn towards the end seems to suggest that the artificial life we create, may act with similarly human desires if created in our image. Wishful thinking? Maybe. The original score by Vangelis makes it all transcendental.

WarGames (1983), USA, John Badham

When drones were still science fiction and computers ran on green text, WarGames anticipated the fusion of video games and military tech. What starts as a teen romance quickly escalates into a Dr. Strangelove-style countdown to nuclear annihilation. Though visually and narratively dated, WarGames’ core warning about naively playing with systems we don’t fully understand, has never been more relevant.

The Terminator (1984) / Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991), USA, James Cameron

It’s Impossible to leave out these two cult classics for the impact they had not just on Hollywood but also on our collective imagination. Skynet became the ultimate pop culture reference for the AI singularity and the moment when the machines have decided to rid the planet of obsolete humanity. By smartly inserting time travel into the narrative, both films set up a layered storyline in which actions always seem to have consequences across past, present & future simultaneously. The stakes couldn’t be higher as nothing less than the survival of humanity is on the line. We become witness to prime Arnold transforming from the ultimate apathetic killer in The Terminator to empathetic guardian angel in Terminator 2: Judgement Day. The reversal of his characters’ motivation and how we perceive him as a result, from initially fearsome to emotionally attached, is a masterclass of contextual storytelling and character transformation. When Arnie’s seemingly invincible T-800 death robot finds his match in Robert Patrick’s cold blooded rendition of the updated liquid metal T-1000, we are in for a ride of ultimate Hollywood action cinema that not only delivered some of the most iconic CGI effects and action sequences, but also upped the ante in its delivery of memorable one-liners. Unmatched to this day in my humble opinion.

RoboCop (1987) / Total Recall (1990) / Starship Troopers (1997), USA, Paul Verhoeven

Speaking of one-liners, Paul Verhoeven’s unofficial sci-fi trilogy hides sharp satire inside ridiculous, hyper-violent action blockbusters. Not unlike Grand Theft Auto in live action, the films are over-the-top, gory, masculine, and self-mocking while skewering American obsessions with policing, memory, and militarism. Kinda genius if you ask me. The cyborg cop in RoboCop feels less far-fetched in today’s era of militarized police. In Total Recall we can see a cartoonish vision of memory-blurring virtual worlds on an existing Mars colony, including its own red pill moment (shot on location in Mexico City). And in Starship Troopers we witness space colonization and authoritarian propaganda, with video-gamey combat and gore that still resonates in the new Dune franchise. Or could it be an allegory on xenophobia? Muscle or brains, who’s calling the shots?

Gattaca (1997), USA, Andrew Niccol

In a future where eugenics rule and genetically modified selection became standard, professional and private dispositions are determined by the genetic sequence you’ve been equipped with. In this setting, upward mobility of any kind in society amounts to nothing more than a pipe dream. Either you’re valid for the job, or the wife for that matter, or not. The problem is worse if you’re a natural born—without any prenatal genetical modifications—such as protagonist Vincent Freeman (Ethan Hawke), who, though perfectly normal to today’s standards, counts as somewhat retarded in comparison to his genetically modified younger brother. At least until a fateful swimming outing changes everything. While working as a cleaner at a space travel corporation some years later, he gets the chance to change his genetic identity to become valid for his dream job…

Pi (1998), USA, Darren Aronofsky

Darren Aronofsky’s debut film fuses mathematics, Kabbalah numerology, and madness in stark black-and-white. A computer genius and hermit haunted by migraines is obsessed to find a universal pattern in the number of Pi. His custom supercomputer in his crammed NY apartment, could either unlock, or destroy—everything. The film captures the razor thin edge between genius and madness in the dawning digital age. And of course New York is just the right setting for it.

The Matrix Trilogy (1999–2003), USA, The Wachowskis

Inspired by the same novel as Fassbinders’s World on a Wire, 26 years earlier, The Matrix arrived at the perfect Y2K moment, delivering philosophy, groundbreaking effects, and iconic postmodern style that constituted a phenomenon. “Red pilled” entered everyday language “as seeing through the simulation” at this point; Keanu became legendary and transformed into John Wick in the years that followed. The sequels may lack the original’s perfection but they complete the story and enhance the “Matrix Universe.” Unfortunately the newest rendition Resurrections (2021) is forgettable.

Teknolust (2002), USA, Lynn Hershman Leeson

The concept of self-cloning doppelgängers and the compartmentalization of the self across virtual domains is genuinely fascinating. Tilda Swinton plays multiple roles with her usual commitment, yet the filmic execution and acting feels a bit cheap throughout. Best to approach this experience like meditation: open your mind! Lynn Hershman Leeson pushes ideas into wild, ridiculous territory. Is it worth the full runtime? Debatable—but some questions linger.

Minority Report (2002), USA, Steven Spielberg

The third Philip K. Dick adaptation in this series just shows what a visionary science-fiction writer he was. The short novella The Minority Report was originally published in the sci-fi magazine Fantastic Universe in 1956 (!). In todays time of Palantir’s all seeing eye readily available for police and military deployment, the idea of Precrime—a neologism for “preventive crime” that Philip K. Dick coined—doesn’t seem so far fetched anymore. How does the tech work? In the film, one female and two male twins with super cognitive abilities are held in a water tank (for cooling purposes?) and hooked to a super computer AI system that the police uses to prevent murder before it happens. When all three so called precogs provide overlapping visions of the future crime, a majority report is produced, and the head of the precrime unit John Anderton (Tom Cruise) becomes active to save the day. While it seems that the system has been running successfully for quite some time, things start to change when DOJ agent Danny Witwer (Colin Farrell) shows up to audit the unit…

The Congress (2013), Israel/France/Germany/Poland, Ari Folman

As we circle through the decades, we move through recurring themes: Reminiscient of La Jetée, themes of immortality, invincibility, and boundless imagination await in animated virtual realms in The Congress, based on the novel The Futurist Congress by Stanislaw Lem. Enhanced consciousness, drugs, control, and pure fantasy may finally make the virtual experience preferable to the dull real world. Featuring Robin Wright playing herself as an aging actress, the film critiques Hollywood, fame, and our growing willingness to trade authentic life for modulated perfection in a trippy hybrid of live-action cinema and animation.

Selection List:

• Metropolis (1927) / Frau im Mond (1929) (Germany, Fritz Lang) (runtime varies) Cast: Brigitte Helm, Gustav Fröhlich, Alfred Abel (Metropolis); Willy Fritsch, Gerda Maurus, Fritz Rasp (Frau im Mond)

• La Jetée (1962) (France, Chris Marker) (28 min) Cast: Jean Négroni, Hélène Châtelain, Davos Hanich

• 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) (UK/USA, Stanley Kubrick) (139 min) Cast: Keir Dullea, Gary Lockwood, Douglas Rain (voice of HAL 9000)

• THX 1138 (1971) (USA, George Lucas) (88 min) Cast: Robert Duvall, Donald Pleasence, Maggie McOmie

• Solaris (1972 / 2002) (Soviet Union, Andrei Tarkovsky / USA, Steven Soderbergh) (166 min / 99 min) Cast: Donatas Banionis, Natalya Bondarchuk (1972); George Clooney, Natascha McElhone (2002)

• World on a Wire (Welt am Draht, 1973) (West Germany, Rainer Werner Fassbinder) (206 min) Cast: Klaus Löwitsch, Barbara Lass, Mascha Rabben

• Soylent Green (1973) (USA, Richard Fleischer) (97 min) Cast: Charlton Heston, Edward G. Robinson, Leigh Taylor-Young

• Blade Runner (1982) (USA, Ridley Scott) (117 min) Cast: Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer, Sean Young, Daryl Hannah

• WarGames (1983) (USA, John Badham) (114 min) Cast: Matthew Broderick, Ally Sheedy, Dabney Coleman

• The Terminator (1984) / Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) (USA, James Cameron) (107 min / 137 min) Cast: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Linda Hamilton, Michael Biehn (1984); Arnold Schwarzenegger, Linda Hamilton, Edward Furlong, Robert Patrick (1991)

• RoboCop (1987) / Total Recall (1990) / Starship Troopers (1997) (USA, Paul Verhoeven) (runtime varies) Cast: Peter Weller, Nancy Allen (RoboCop); Arnold Schwarzenegger, Rachel Ticotin, Sharon Stone (Total Recall); Casper Van Dien, Denise Richards, Neil Patrick Harris (Starship Troopers)

• Gattaca (1997) (USA, Andrew Niccol) (106 min) Cast: Ethan Hawke, Uma Thurman, Jude Law, Gore Vidal

• Pi (1998) (USA, Darren Aronofsky) (84 min) Cast: Sean Gullette, Mark Margolis, Ben Shenkman

• The Matrix Trilogy (1999–2003) (USA, The Wachowskis) (runtime varies) Cast: Keanu Reeves, Laurence Fishburne, Carrie-Anne Moss

• Teknolust (2002) (USA, Lynn Hershman Leeson) (85 min) Cast: Tilda Swinton

• Minority Report (2002) (USA, Steven Spielberg) (145 min) Cast: Tom Cruise, Colin Farrell, Samantha Morton, Max von Sydow

• The Congress (2013) (Israel/France/Germany/Poland, Ari Folman) (122 min) Cast: Robin Wright, Harvey Keitel, Kodi Smit-McPhee

With age comes appreciation for routine and doing things more slowly. Kurosawa reminds us, there are no shortcuts to creative mastery, the summit is reached through patient, steady steps. Perfectionism and blind ambition can paralyze; true progress is found in consistent effort and experimentation, a lesson that extends far beyond filmmaking.

Kurosawa didn’t ascend to greatness overnight. His enduring legacy proves that real achievement builds through lifelong dedication. The films below trace those incremental steps toward the peak.

His 50+ films body of work has always been intimidating to get into. Where to begin? By blending genres and including both accessible gems and undisputed classics, this selection offers a characteristic gateway to Kurosawa’s singular gifts: entertainment, historical sweep, sharp social critique, and groundbreaking technique. You don’t have to wait until the next winter to enjoy.

Many of his films are available on Criterion Channel. For alternative streaming and rent options, please have a look online. Short selection list and film info at the bottom of the page.

Stray Dog (1949)

The lingering trauma of “après-guerre” (as the characters call it) permeates this early noir, which is Kurosawa’s second teaming of Toshiro Mifune and Takashi Shimura, the recognizable actors duo destined to become legends in his samurai epics. When a rookie detective’s American Colt pistol is stolen on a packed bus, its loaded magazine turns into a ticking threat that drives the narrative of this relentless police procedural. While the symbolism of US weaponry turning deadly remains subtle, the line between cop and criminal blurs as the hunt plunges into Tokyo’s black-market underbelly and slums. As so often, the hunter and the hunted appear to be two sides of the same desperate coin. While the city sweats and simmers in blistering heat; Kurosawa keeps us gripped with confident twists of suspense and entertainment. A grounded, accessible entry to his world.

Rashomon (1950)

Rashomon became legendary for its groundbreaking technical and narrative innovations. From the remarkable gliding camera sequence through the woods with a Boléro rhythm on the soundtrack, to the characters fourth-wall breaking testimonials when recounting the film’s central violent assault. Which eyes and ears to trust? The nature of truth, this film reminds us, was as elusive back then as it is today. P.S.: Tarantino is a fan.

Ikiru (1952)

Ikiru is one of those rare films that feels profoundly sad and uplifting at the same time. Takashi Shimura delivers a heartbreaking performance as a quiet bureaucrat swallowed by the Kafkaesque inefficiency of a Japanese government office. When learning about having a potentially terminal illness, his priorities begin to shift. Kurosawa’s two-part narrative structure, seen again in later works, reaches its most deeply humanist peak here, turning personal despair into quiet, life-affirming action that lingers like a gentle ache.

Seven Samurai (1954)

This film is the one that made Kurosawa an international sensation (It won the Silver Lion at Venice and earned Oscar nominations). A major influence on Sergio Leone’s Westerns and even recent video games such as Ghost of Tsushima; Seven Samurai is an epic tale of seven aimless ronin that band together to defend a vulnerable village from bandits in feudal Japan, delivering pure entertainment wrapped in themes of honor, sacrifice, and the power of unlikely unity against a common threat. A timeless story that still feels urgent and exhilarating.

High and Low (1963)

Spike Lee’s recent remake (Highest 2 Lowest) updates it, but the original towers above with Kurosawa’s meticulous direction and its razor-sharp class tension. A kidnapping gone wrong forces a wealthy executive to confront moral and social divides, traversing opulent hilltop homes and sweltering slums in a gripping ransom thriller. Kurosawa mixes high and low, empathy for victim and criminal alike, into a perfect, unflinching examination of conscience and inequality.

Ran (1985)

After Throne of Blood (Macbeth) and The Bad Sleep Well (Hamlet), Ran completes Kurosawa’s Shakespeare trilogy with his loose adaptation of King Lear. In this late-career color masterpiece, an aging warlord divides his kingdom among three sons, igniting betrayal, madness, and apocalyptic family war. Monumental battles, vivid visuals, and tragic grandeur make it a spectacle of power, regret, and human frailty. An epic that hits with devastating emotional force.

Selection list:

• Stray Dog ( 野良犬 (Nora inu), Japan, 1949) (Akira Kurowawa) (122 min)

  Cast: Toshiro Mifune (Detective Murakami), Takashi Shimura (Detective Sato)

• Rashomon (羅生門 (Rashōmon), Japan, 1950) (Akira Kurosawa) (88 min)

  Cast: Toshiro Mifune (Bandit), Machiko Kyō (Wife), Masayuki Mori (Samurai), Takashi Shimura (Woodcutter)

• Ikiru (生きる (Ikiru), Japan, 1952) (Akira Kurosawa) (143 min) Cast: Takashi Shimura (Kanji Watanabe)

• Seven Samurai (七人の侍 (Shichinin no Samurai), Japan, 1954) (Akira Kurosawa) (207 min) Cast: Toshiro Mifune, Takashi Shimura, Isao Kimura, Daisuke Katō

• High and Low (天国と地獄 (Tengoku to Jigoku), Japan, 1963) (Akira Kurosawa) (143 min) Cast: Toshiro Mifune (Kingyo Gondo), Tatsuya Nakadai

• Ran (乱 (Ran), Japan, 1985) (Akira Kurosawa) (162 min)

  Cast: Tatsuya Nakadai (Lord Hidetora), Akira Terao, Jinpachi Nezu, Mieko Harada

Community

We are five friends. Once we came out of a house one after another, first came one and stood next to the gate, then came, or rather slid as easy as a drop of quicksilver, the next through the gate and stood not far from the first one. Then the third, then the fourth, then the fifth. Finally we all stood in one row. The people became aware of us, pointed at us and said: Those five came out of this house now. Since then we live together, and it would be a peaceful life if there wouldn’t be a sixth person that keeps getting involved. He doesn’t do anything to us, but it is annoying and that’s already enough. Why does he force himself into something, where he isn’t welcome. We don’t know him and don’t want to have him here. The five of us didn’t know each other before as well, and if you think about it, we don’t know each other now either, but what is possible and tolerated between the five of us, does not apply to this sixth person and cannot be tolerated. Apart from that we are five, and don’t want to be six. And what kind of sense should this constant being together have in the first place, also between us five it doesn’t make sense, but as we are already together now, we will stay together, and we don’t want a new community, precisely because of our common experiences. But how should you explain this to a sixth? Long explanations would almost mean acceptance into our circle, we rather don’t explain anything and won’t accept him. He can try to persuade us with all his might; we push him away with our elbows, but as much as we push him away, he always comes back.

K’s Community. 2025. 8sec, ♾️ loop.

Translated from the original German by harry caul. Illustrations generated with googlefx.

This film series pays homage to New York in the movies and is by no means exhaustive. For current streaming options, please have a look online. The selection list and film info is at the end of the page below.

While We're Young, Noah Baumbach (2015)

New York is a city of kids, but then life happens. When middle-aged filmmaker Josh and his wife Cornelia (Ben Stiller and Naomi Watts) befriend a young Brooklyn hipster couple (Amanda Seyfried and Adam Driver), their stagnant marriage gets a second wind. Noah Baumbach's dramatic comedy skewers generational divides, pitting perfectionism against improvisation. Funny yet poignant, it occasionally dips into cliché, but the characters and locations ring true for anyone who's navigated around the city in the past decade. Based on a true story? It might as well be.

Kids, Larry Clark (1995)

Before Supreme ruled streetwear, they were Kids. Larry Clark's debut shocked and inspired in the 90s. Written by Harmony Korine amid the HIV crisis, it captures raw scenes of aimless skaters, bringing the era's paranoia to the surface. Tragically, some cast members, like Justin Pierce (Casper) and Harold Hunter (Harold), didn't survive to the millennium, while Chloë Sevigny and Rosario Dawson rose to stardom in Hollywood and New York's art world.

Crooklyn, Spike Lee (1994)

Do the Right Thing is the obvious pick, but this chapter in Spike Lee’s Brooklyn Chronicles shines for depicting ‘70s Bed-Stuy family life through a 9-year-old girl’s eyes. Co-written by Lee’s siblings Joie and Cinqué, this semi-autobiographical “Spike Lee Joint” honors their childhood. With Soul Train dominating, the soundtrack bursts with soul and disco classics, until it turns jazzy down south.

Léon: The Professional, Luc Besson (1994)

In Little Italy, a corrupt NYPD detective (Gary Oldman at his unhinged best) triggers tragedy, leading young Matilda (Natalie Portman in her debut) to team up with her reclusive hitman neighbor Léon (Jean Reno). Their unlikely bond is bittersweet, building up to an inevitable showdown. A match made in Manhattan.

When Harry Met Sally, Rob Reiner (1989)

Katz's Delicatessen in the Lower East Side owes much of its fame to this '80s rom-com staple. Meg Ryan's infamous fake orgasm amid pastrami paradise still draws tourists braving lines in the cold and paying $20+ for a sandwich. You've likely seen it, so relax as this witty duo debates if men and women can ever truly be just friends. "I'll have what she's having!"

After Hours, Martin Scorsese (1985)

Leap to ‘80s SoHo/NoHo, pre-gentrification. Martin Scorsese’s comedy tracks Paul (Griffin Dunne) through a chaotic, unplanned night where chaos reigns. The title says it all: It’s one of those wild spontaneous city nights in which anything can happen. Go with the flow!

Eyes of Laura Mars, Irvin Kershner (1978)

Voyeurism turns deadly in this stylish thriller set in New York’s fashion scene just before the 80s. Star photographer Laura Mars (Faye Dunaway) inspires a killer who recreates her provocative images with a lethal twist. Even worse, she has visions of the murders like in a live feed camera. Thankfully, NYPD detective Tommy Lee Jones is on the case. Featuring photographs by Helmut Newton .

Annie Hall, Woody Allen (1977)

Annie Hall catapulted Woody Allen into New Hollywood’s elite. Love or loathe his persona, his New York devotion is unquestionable, birthing neurotic archetypes (hello, Larry David). As comedian Alvy Singer, Woody romances Annie (Diane Keaton) in a hilarious emotional whirlwind, not considering the lobster.

News from Home, Chantal Akerman (1976)

In this essayistic gem, 24 year old Belgian director Chantal Akerman, who was NY based at the time, reads her mother’s letters over meticulously framed 1970s city shots. Omitting her own replies, the urban visuals speak volumes and portray a city long lost in time, conveying her perspective as visual responses. More of a visual poem than a conventional movie.

Three Days of the Condor, Sydney Pollack (1975)

Nixon-era paranoia pulses in this conspiracy thriller prototype. Robert Redford plays "Condor," a Manhattan CIA analyst who knows too much. Inexperienced in fieldwork, he becomes the elusive target in a thrilling cat-and-mouse game. Even as shadowy forces pull the strings, a cornered mouse shouldn’t be underestimated. Max von Sydow shines as a memorable freelancer.

Klute, Alan J. Pakula (1971)

Though the film is named for detective John Klute (Donald Sutherland), who arrives from Pennsylvania to search for a missing executive, Jane Fonda owns the screen as Manhattan call girl Bree Daniels. Their paths entwine in this thriller, sparking attraction amid danger. Turns out, Klute isn't the only one with eyes for her.

Shaft, Gordon Parks (1971)

Beyond its cult appeal, Shaft holds historic weight. Photojournalist Gordon Parks adapted Ernest Tidyman's novel into this '70s Manhattan action flick, targeting Black urban audiences and birthing the ‘blaxploitation’ genre as a result. Richard Roundtree's effortless detective navigates legal and illicit worlds all across the city. With Isaac Hayes' on the soundtrack, some romance is inevitable, too.

The Queen, Frank Simon (1968)

Before Paris Is Burning, there was The Queen. This doc follows drag queens at the 1967 Miss All-America Camp Beauty Pageant in NYC’s Town Hall. Premiering at Cannes amid 1968 unrest, the film screened in Manhattan as people were still arrested for cross-dressing. A year prior to Stonewall, The Queen is a vanguard of LGBTQ+ visibility and a snapshot of New York way ahead of its time.

Symbiopsychotaxiplasm Take One, William Greaves (1968)

What if you filmed an arguing couple in Central Park, with varying actors and three cameras? Over and over again. Enter Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One. Steve Buscemi loved this film so much to co-direct its sequel 35 years later. The ultimate meta-flick, William Greaves’ 1968 hybrid blurs doc and fiction while questioning its own making. Loose and anarchic in cinéma vérité style, Greaves becomes director and actor in his own film. Tensions peak when the crew debates the project in his absence, but was that scripted too? Where to draw the line between reality and fiction: you decide.

Shadows, John Cassavetes (1959)

“The film you have just seen was an improvisation.” Partly true, John Cassavetes’ debut spearheaded American indie cinema. Shot guerrilla-style on location without permits and with a mostly nonprofessional theater cast, Shadows follows three drifting African-American siblings in their mid-twenties over the course of two weeks.

In an attempt to break from method acting conventions at the time, Shadows’ central premise emerged from a classroom exercise: A light-skinned young African-American woman starts dating a white man, but he rejects her when he discovers she has a black brother. The film expands on this concept, offering an unprecedented look at unfulfilled expectations in relationships and life.

On the Waterfront, Elia Kazan (1954)

No wonder it’s a Scorsese favorite: On the Waterfront prefigures mafia tales before the genre was a thing. Inspired by Malcolm Johnson’s Pulitzer-winning “Crime on the Waterfront” articles, the film exposes Hoboken dockworkers’ extortion under a corrupt union. After a fatal “accident,” the victim’s sister Edie (Eva Marie Saint’s debut) seeks justice. Ex-boxer Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando) knows secrets, but the honor code of ‘omertà’ demands silence, with dire stakes. Leonard Bernstein’s score elevates it all.

The Naked City, Jules Dassin (1948)

Jules Dassin delivers this naturalistic noir, filmed on-location in 1948 New York. An ex-model's murder on a hot summer night draws a veteran detective and his rookie partner in this classic police procedural. Their quest unfolds amid vivid cityscapes, from aerial Manhattan views to a gripping Williamsburg Bridge climax. The narrator reminds us: "There are eight million stories in the Naked City; this is one of them." Blacklisted for Communist ties amid McCarthyism, director Dassin fled to France, crafting heist classic Rififi (1955). He never returned to the U.S., dying in Athens at 96 in 2008.

Selection list (in reverse chronological order):

• While We’re Young (United States, 2015) (Noah Baumbach) (97 min) Cast: Ben Stiller, Naomi Watts, Adam Driver, Amanda Seyfried

• Kids (United States, 1995) (Larry Clark) (91 min) Cast: Leo Fitzpatrick, Justin Pierce, Chloë Sevigny, Rosario Dawson

• Crooklyn (United States, 1994) (Spike Lee) (115 min) Cast: Alfre Woodard, Delroy Lindo, Zelda Harris, David Patrick Kelly

• Léon: The Professional (Léon, France, 1994) (Luc Besson) (110 min) Cast: Jean Reno, Natalie Portman, Gary Oldman, Danny Aiello

• When Harry Met Sally… (United States, 1989) (Rob Reiner) (95 min) Cast: Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan, Carrie Fisher, Bruno Kirby

• After Hours (After Hours, United States, 1985) (Martin Scorsese) (97 min)
  Cast: Griffin Dunne, Rosanna Arquette, Verna Bloom, Tommy Chong

• Eyes of Laura Mars (United States, 1978) (Irvin Kershner) (104 min) Cast: Faye Dunaway, Tommy Lee Jones, Brad Dourif, René Auberjonois

• Annie Hall (United States, 1977) (Woody Allen) (93 min) Cast: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Tony Roberts, Carol Kane

• News from Home (Belgium/France, 1977) (Chantal Akerman) (85 min) Cast: Chantal Akerman (voice)

• Three Days of the Condor (United States, 1975) (Sydney Pollack) (117 min) Cast: Robert Redford, Faye Dunaway, Cliff Robertson, Max von Sydow

• Klute (United States, 1971) (Alan J. Pakula) (114 min) Cast: Jane Fonda, Donald Sutherland, Charles Cioffi, Roy Scheider

• Shaft (United States, 1971) (Gordon Parks) (100 min) Cast: Richard Roundtree, Moses Gunn, Charles Cioffi, Christopher St. John

• The Queen (United States, 1968) (Frank Simon) (68 min) Cast: Jack Doroshow (as Flawless Sabrina), Crystal LaBeija, Harlow (documentary participants)

• Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One (United States, 1968) (William Greaves) (75 min) Cast: William Greaves, Audrey Heningham

• Shadows (United States, 1959) (John Cassavetes) (87 min) Cast: Lelia Goldoni, Ben Carruthers, Hugh Hurd, Anthony Ray

• On the Waterfront (United States, 1954) (Elia Kazan) (108 min) Cast: Marlon Brando, Eva Marie Saint, Karl Malden, Lee J. Cobb

• The Naked City (United States, 1948) (Jules Dassin) (96 min) Cast: Barry Fitzgerald, Don Taylor, Howard Duff, Dorothy Hart

Open the (flood)gates…

aq·ue·duct | ˈäkwəˌdək(t), ˈakwəˌdək(t) |

noun an artificial channel for conveying water, typically in the form of a bridge across a valley or other gap.

• Anatomy a small canal containing fluid.

ORIGIN

mid 16th century: from obsolete French (now aqueduc), from Latin aquae ductus ‘conduit’, from aqua ‘water’ + ducere ‘to lead’.

(Source: New Oxford American Dictionary)

It’s been a long time coming…

Welcome to my Substack! The idea of running some sort of outlet to write about culture has been on my mind for way too long. Maybe as early as 2010, when I moved to the United States from Germany for Grad School. There was never a shortage of new ideas, but somehow I kept finding a way to stop myself from following through. Expectations be damned! This is about to change:

The Aqueduct - Culture Currents (TheAqueduct.cc) is an online publication and newsletter that engages in cultural commentary and social observations. Not overly political nor too tech focused, The Aqueduct aims to become a contextual archive of engaging curations of films, books, video games, and other cultural artifacts worthy of our time and attention.

Selected lists of genre films and directors may live side by side with short reviews of literary classics; or original essays on video games and zen buddhism. Brief entertainment recommendations will be featured as well as deep dives on cultural phenomena, unbound from the pressure of creating the next “viral moment.” Like that mountain source providing fresh water for our filthy cities, TheAqueduct.cc intends for steady quality, putting forward a variety of ideas and topics.

Expanding on the water metaphor, The Aqueduct contains three distinct article categories: Currents, Streams, and Sources.

Currents are observations that stay on the pulse without chasing trends. Feature-length articles, (guest) essays, columns, or in-depth background analyses with multiple perspectives.

Streams are the home for entertainment, recommendations, reviews and features on topics in film & tv, literature and video games.

Sources are original work in fiction, non-fiction and reportage by established and unknown authors alike and may be fluffy at times.

Why bother now and who am I?

After graduating with a PhD in 2018 and joining the freelance hustle in my favored town of choice—Brooklyn, New York—I have been in a constant uphill battle juggling between my personal creative ambitions, learning new professional crafts in the “creative industry” and making a living in maybe the most expensive (and therefore, unforgiving) city on the planet. While people around me have been starting families for a while now, overwhelm and confusion became more familiar companions to me throughout the years. I’m well aware of my stereotypical qualities, a humanities PhD turned media professional and writer in Brooklyn; but as immigrants from Germany and Mexico—my wife is originally from Mexico City—we very much identify with the type of New Yorkers that E.B. White called ‘passionate’— in his own words:

“There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter—the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last—the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is the this third city that accounts for New York’s high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion. ” —E.B. White, Here is New York.

I learned to love writing as a mode of thinking. To use it to improve my understanding of language and refine thoughts further. As a native German, my conception of language has been rather rigid, and while my prolonged academic education surely taught me about knowledge and critical thinking, it did not necessarily help to make my writing more playful. Instead, it amplified rationality and learning how to think structurally in pre-configured ideas of the past. In Germany even more so than in the US, which became especially obvious in the differing academic writing styles: Formulaic & strict vs. flowy & essaysistic. Meanwhile, I daydreamed of a more open outlet for my own thoughts and ideas. One with more freedom and less rules. Something that can be entertaining but also educating. Not bound by academic or commercial interest, only by my own curiosity. But taking blogging seriously? Come on, I was doing a PhD! This is about to change.

Paranoia and Surveillance: The Origins of harry_caul

Harry Caul is not my real name, but it was born as an online alias and is inspired by Gene Hackman’s character in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation from 1973. Back in a film history class in Germany, we were discussing a bunch of paranoia thrillers from the 70s, and this was the movie I had to present on. In the film, Harry Caul is a surveillance expert from San Francisco that gets caught in a web of government and corporate conspiracy. It was not only for its paranoid and conspiratorial nature that the film became a classic in my personal memory but also for its main characters’ name and its ambiguous meaning. Little did I know, that other than being a fairly common name, (to) ‘Harry’ can also signify to ‘attack’ or ‘harass’ someone (Hackman’s character spies on the title giving Conversation with his sophisticated audio surveillance tools). ‘Caul’ on the other hand, is where the ambiguity gets even weirder. The birth ‘caul’ is a rare amniotic membrane some babies are born with and is said to bring good luck. So besides adding a superstitious layer, ‘Caul’ makes the veil in sur-veil-lance quite literal and therefore, visible.

To consider being born into a state of surveillance as a stroke of luck felt relatable for my own coming of age in the United States. By learning more about the paranoid 70s, their historical context (JFK, Nixon, Watergate) and experiencing the massive acceleration transformation that big tech introduced in the 2010s, I could not help but see similarities to those earlier times. Conspiracies, paranoia, propaganda, divisive tactics and politics, unpopular wars and the gutting of social services—history seems to repeat itself, with differences of course. Observing the evolution of big tech over the years was reason enough to plant a powerful seed of doubt for their motivations and ambitions, always expecting the moment their limitless hunger for power could sell out to the next highest bidder or a government looking for authoritarian control.

In this environment, Harry Caul has felt appropriate as an alias, providing my own little paranoid veil against the (perceived) threat of increasing surveillance. Growing up at a time when it was normal to use aliases online, for gaming, in forums or online chats (remember IRC, ICQ, AIM?)—harry_caul became my alter ego since I signed up for instagram in 2011, not wanting to use my real name to leave any unwanted traces online. In the age of so called ‘kidfluencers’ today, it almost sounds absurd that this used to be the default.

Does knowledge spark paranoia, while ignorance breeds innovation? I don’t want to give a definitive answer, but this question will surely resurface here from time to time.

Besides all that, The Conversation is still as relevant as when it came out 50+ years ago. You should really see it if you haven’t!

Support TheAqueduct.cc on Substack

To keep things flowing, The Aqueduct will aim to post new articles at least bi-weekly, preferably weekly. As this is a 100% independent passion project and human generated, please bear with me in case I should miss one at some point.

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Thanks for reading!

DisclAImer: Critical reading, thinking and writing are as valuable as they have ever been. Consultation of AI/LLMs for research and illustration purposes only.