1949
Showing 71 works across all media from 1949

The Third Man
Britain has never made a better one, and nothing else sounds like it: a ruined postwar Vienna, and a zither score by a musician Reed first heard playing for the crew.

1984
Winston Smith rewrites old newspapers so history agrees with the Party, then risks a diary and a love affair. Orwell built the machinery so exactly that reading it feels like being watched.

The Second Sex
One is not born a woman, Beauvoir argues, but becomes one. She works through biology, history, myth, marriage, and old age to prove it, and modern feminism begins in these pages.

Death of a Salesman
Willy Loman, a traveling salesman worn down to nothing, argues with his grown sons and with people who are not in the room. Audiences have recognized their own fathers in him since 1949.

Late Spring
Ozu made the same film over and over and this is the most perfect version: a daughter who will not marry, a father who will not say what he wants, and one vase.

I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry
Issued as a B-side because jukeboxes wanted uptempo, with Jerry Byrd's steel guitar shadowing every line Williams sings.
If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—for ever.

Violet, Black, Orange, Yellow on White and Red
Soft-edged bands of color stacked one above another, hovering slightly off the surface. Rothko wanted you to stand close and stay a while.

Kind Hearts and Coronets
Alec Guinness plays eight members of the same family, including one of the women: the blackest comedy the British ever made, narrated in perfect drawing-room manners by a man counting off his relatives.

The Hero with a Thousand Faces
Campbell read the world's myths and found one story under them: a hero leaves home, survives an ordeal, returns changed. Hollywood took the pattern wholesale, from Star Wars to Disney's animated features.

The Fat Man
Cosimo Matassa's J&M studio, December 1949: Earl Palmer's backbeat, Domino's wordless wah-wah, and a million copies sold.

The Historian's Craft
Bloch's son asked what the use of history was. He answered from hiding: history is the science of men in time, and evidence speaks only when questioned. The Gestapo shot him in 1944.

The Kingdom of This World
Carpentier's preface named the marvelous real: Latin American history already outruns anything the surrealists could invent. He proves it across the Haitian Revolution, watched from below by an enslaved man named Ti Noel.

A Sand County Almanac
Leopold shot a wolf and watched the green fire go out of her eyes. Land is a community we belong to, he concluded, and his land ethic became American environmentalism's creed.

Human Action
Every economic law follows from one fact, Mises argues: people act to relieve uneasiness. Planners without market prices are blind, and three generations of the libertarian right have drawn their economics from him.

Leda Atomica
Nothing in the picture touches anything else. Dalí built it on the physics of the atom, where matter is mostly empty space.

Mind Your Own Business
Cut at Castle Studio in 1949, Williams answering the gossips with a grin, a fiddle and Clyde Baum's mandolin.
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Recorded in June 1949 by a reluctant Autry, at his wife's urging, from a story written for a department store.
Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows.
Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.

A Letter to Three Wives
Joseph Mankiewicz won for both writing and directing it: three women receive a single letter announcing that a woman they all know has left town with somebody's husband.

All the King's Men
Robert Penn Warren's novel about Huey Long, filmed with real Californians pulled off the street as extras: a country lawyer discovers what he can do with a crowd.
Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimetres inside your skull.
"If there is hope," he had written in the diary, "it lies in the proles."
Orthodoxy means not thinking—not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.
They teach you there's a boundary line to music. But, man, there's no boundary line to art.