by Mike Allen
“It is coming, and I wonder if Dum, those many years ago, was able to escape its grasp at my hands or through his own mechanism in the split second before steel bit flesh, my brother slipping between the skeins to the outside. Perhaps that is how I heard his voice—the last echoes down the walls of time as his soul abandoned his body and traveled outside of both ever and never.
“Tonight, I cross the asymptote. Perhaps I have given in to despair, but ‘suicide’ is far too crude a term for the ritual entrance into the mysteries of timelessness that I am about to undertake. Zeno be damned. He never existed on this side of the glass anyway, I’ve only read about him in fairy tales written by under-sexed men who prey on little girls’ fancies. My greatest fear is that he, Zeno, dictates the laws of that place outside ever and never. Soon, I shall know for myself. Forever or never at all.”
each thing i show you is a piece of my death
Gemma Files and Stephen J. Barringer
“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
— The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,
William Shakespeare.
* * *
From a journal found in a New Jersey storage unit, entry date unknown:
Somewhere, out beyond the too-often-unmapped intersection of known and forgotten, there’s a hole through which the dead crawl back up to this world: A crack, a crevasse, a deep, dark cave. It splits the earth’s crust like a canker, sore lips thrust wide to divulge some even sorer mouth beneath—tongueless, toothless, depthless.
The hole gapes, always open. It has no proper sense of proportion. It is rude and rough, rank and raw. When it breathes out it exhales nothing but poison, pure decay, so awful that people can smell it for miles around, even in their dreams.
Especially there.
Through this hole, the dead come out face-first and down, crawling like worms. They grind their mouths into cold dirt, forcing a lifetime’s unsaid words back inside again. As though the one thing their long, arduous journey home has taught them is that they have nothing left worth saying, after all.
Because the dead come up naked, they are always cold. Because they come up empty, they are always hungry. Because they come up lost, they are always angry. Because they come up blind, eyes shut tight against the light that hurts them so, they are difficult to see, unless sought by those who—for one reason, or another—already have a fairly good idea where to start looking.
To do so is a mistake, though, always—no matter how “good” our reasons, or intentions. It never leads to anything worth having. The dead are not meant to be seen or found, spoken with, or for. The dead are meant to be buried and forgotten, and everybody knows it—or should, if they think about it for more than a minute. If they’re not some sort of Holy Fool marked from birth for sacrifice for the greater good of all around them, fore-doomed to grease entropy’s wheels with their happy, clueless hearts’ blood.
Everybody should, so everybody does, though nobody ever talks about it. Nobody. Everybody. Everybody . . .
. . . but them.
(The dead)
* * *
July 26/2009
FEATURE ARTICLE:
COMING SOON TO A DVD NEAR YOU?
“BACKGROUND MAN” JUMPS FROM ’NET
TO . . . EVERYWHERE
By Guillaume Lescroat,
strangerthings.net/media
Moviegoers worldwide are still in an uproar over Mother of Serpents, Angelina Jolie’s latest blockbuster, being pulled from theatres after only four days in wide release due to “unspecified technical problems.” According to confidential studio sources, however, the real problem isn’t “unspecified” at all—this megabudget Hollywood flick has apparently become the Internet-spawned “Background Man” hoax’s latest victim.
For over a year now, urban legend has claimed that, with the aid of careful frame-by-frame searches, an unclothed Caucasian male (often said to be wearing a red necklace) can be spotted in the background of crowd scenes in various obscure films, usually partially concealed by distance, picture blur or the body-parts of other extras. Despite a proliferation of websites dedicated to tracking Background Man (over thirty at last count), most serious film buffs dismissed the legend as a snipe-hunt joke for newbies, or a challenge for bored and talented Photoshoppers.
But all that changed when the Living Rejects video “Plastic Heart” hit MTV in September last year, only to be yanked from the airwaves in a storm of FCC charges after thousands of viewers confirmed a “full-frontally naked” man “wearing a red necklace” was clearly visible in the concert audience . . . a man that everybody, from the band members to the director, would later testify under oath hadn’t been there when the video was shot.
“You know the worst thing about looking for Background Man? While you’re waiting for him you gotta sit through the crappiest movies on the planet! C’mon, guy, pick an Oscar contender for once, wouldja?!”
— Conan O’Brien, Late Night with Conan O’Brien, November 18, 2008
Background Man has since appeared in supporting web material for several TV shows (House, Friday Night Lights and The Bill Engvall Show have all been victims) and has been found in a number of direct-to-DVD releases as well, prompting even Conan O’Brien to work him into a monologue (see above). Mother of Serpents may not be the first major theatrical release to be affected, either; at least three other films this summer have pushed back their release dates already, though their studios remain cagey about the reasons. The current consensus is that Background Man is a prank by a gifted, highly-placed team of post-production professionals.
This theory, however, has problems, as producer Kevin Weir attests. “Anybody involved who got caught, their career, their entire life would be wrecked,” says Weir. “Besides the fines and the criminal charges, it’s just totally f---ing unprofessional—nobody I know who could do this would do it; it’s like pissing all over your colleagues.” Film editor Samantha Perry agrees, and notes another problem: “I’ve reviewed at least three different appearances, and I couldn’t figure out how any of them were done, short of taking apart the raw footage. These guys have got tricks or machines I’ve never heard of.”
Hoax or hysteria, the Background Man shows no signs of disappearing. However, our own investigation may have yielded some insights into the mysterious figure’s origin–an origin intimately connected with the collapse last year of the Toronto-based “Wall of Love” film collective’s Kerato-Oblation/Cadavre Exquis project, brainchild of experimental filmmakers Soraya Mousch and Max Holborn . . .
* * *
Soraya Mousch [email protected]
Date: Friday, June 20, 2008, 7:08 PM
To: Max Holborn [email protected]
Subject: FUNDRAISING PITCH DOC: “KERATO-OBLATION” (DRAFT 1)
To Whom it May Concern —
My name is Soraya Mousch, and I am an experimental filmmaker. Since 1999, when Max Holborn and I founded Toronto’s Wall of Love Experimental Film Collective, it has been my very great pleasure both to collaborate on and present a series of not-for-profit projects specifically designed to push — or even, potentially, demolish — the accepted boundaries of visual storytelling as art.
Unfortunately, given that film remains the single most expensive artistic medium, this sort of thing continues to cost money . . . indeed, with each year we practice it, it seems to cost more and more. Thus the necessity, once government grants and personal finances run out, of fundraising.
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(mhb):
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To this end, Mr Holborn and I have registered an internet domain and website (kerato-oblation.org), through which we intend to compile, edit and host our next collaborative project, with the help of filmmakers from every country which currently has ISP access (ie, all of them). The structure of this project will be an exquisite corpse game applied to the web-based cultural scene as a whol
e, one that anybody can play (and every participant will “win”).
WHY KERATO-OBLATION?
Kerato-oblation: Physical reshaping of the cornea via scraping or cutting. With our own version — the aforementioned domain — how we plan to “reshape” our audience’s perspectives would be by applying the exquisite corpse game to an experimental feature film assembled from entries filed over the Internet, with absolutely no boundaries set as to content or intent.
WHAT IS AN EXQUISITE CORPSE?
An “exquisite corpse” (cadavre exquis, in French) is a method by which a collection of words or images are assembled by many different people working at once alone, and in tandem. Each collaborator adds to a composition in sequence, either by following a rule (e.g. “The adjective noun adverb verb the adjective noun”) or by being allowed to see, and either elaborate on or depart from, the end of what the previous person contributed. The technique was invented by Surrealists in 1925; the name is derived from a phrase that resulted when the game was first played (“Le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau.”/“The exquisite corpse will drink the new wine.”). It is similar to an old parlour game called Consequences in which players write in turn on a sheet of paper, fold it to conceal part of the writing, then pass it to the next player for a further contribution.
Later, the game was adapted to drawing and collage, producing a result similar to classic “mix-and-match” children’s books whose pages are cut into thirds, allowing children to assemble new chimeras from a selection of tripartite animals. It has also been played by mailing a drawing or collage — in progressive stages of completion — from one player to the next; this variation is known as “mail art.” Other applications of the game have since included computer graphics, theatrical performance, musical composition, object assembly, even architectural design.
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(mhb):
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Earlier experiments in applying the exquisite corpse to film include Mysterious Object at Noon, an experimental 2000 Thai feature directed by Apichatpong Weerasethakul which was shot on 16 mm over three years in various locations, and Cadavre Exquis, Première Edition, done for the 2006 Montreal World Film Festival, in which a group of ten film directors, scriptwriters and professional musicians fused filmmaking and songwriting to produce a musical based loosely on the legend of Faust.
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(mhb):
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For your convenience, we’ve attached a PDF form outlining several support options, with recommended donation levels included. Standard non-profit release waivers ensure that all contributors consent to submit their material for credit only, not financial recompense. By funnelling profits in excess of industry-standard salaries for ourselves back into the festival, we qualify for various tax deductions under current Canadian law and can provide charitable receipts for any and all financial donations made. Copies of the relevant paperwork are also attached, as a separate PDF.
For more information, or to discuss other ways of getting involved, either reply to this e-mail or contact us directly at (416)-[REDACTED]. We look forward to discussing mutual opportunities.
With best regards,
Soraya Mousch and Maxim Holborn
The Wall of Love Toronto Film Collective
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(mhb):
* * *
8/23/08 1847HRS
TRANSCRIPT SUSPECT INTERVIEW 51 DIVISION
CASEFILE #332
PRESIDING OFFICERS D. SUSAN CORREA 156232, D. ERIC VALENS 324820
SUBJECT MAXIM HOLBORN
D.VALENS: All right. So you had this footage for what, better than six weeks—footage apparently showing somebody committing suicide—and you didn’t ever think that maybe you should let the police know?
HOLBORN: People send us stuff like this all the time, man! The collective’s been going since ’98. Most of it’s fake, half of it has a fake ID and half of the rest doesn’t have any ID at all.
D.VALENS: Yeah, that’s awful lucky for you, isn’t it?
D.CORREA: Eric, any chance you could get us some coffee?
HOLBORN: I don’t want coffee.
(D.VALENS LEFT INTERROGATION ROOM AT 1852 HRS)
D.CORREA: Max, I’m only telling you this because I really do think you don’t know shit about this, but you need to do one of two things right now. You need to get yourself a lawyer, or you need to talk to us.
HOLBORN: What the fuck am I going to tell a lawyer that I didn’t already tell you guys? What else do you want me to say?
D.CORREA: Max, you’re our only connection to a dead body. This is not a good place to be. And your lawyer’s going to tell you the same thing: the more you work with us, the better this is going to turn out for everyone.
HOLBORN: Yeah. Because that’s an option.
* * *
From: [email protected]
Date: Wednesday, June 25, 2008, 3:13 AM
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: KERATO-OBLATION FILM PROJECT
To Whom It May Concern --
Please accept my apologies for not fully completing your submission form. I think the attached file is suitable enough for your purposes that you will find the missing information unnecessary, and feel comfortable including it in your exhibition nevertheless. I realize this will render it ineligible for competition, but I hope you can show it as part of your line-up all the same.
Thank you.
* * *
VIRTUAL CELLULOID (vcelluloid.blogspot.com)
Alec Christian: Pushing Indie Film Forward Since 2004
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July 23, 2008
“Wall of Love” Big Ten Launch Party
Got to hang out with two of my favourite people from the Scene last night at the Bovine Sex Club: Soraya Mousch and Max Holborn, the head honchos behind the Wall of Love collective. The dedication these guys’ve put into keeping their festivals going is nothing short of awesome, and last night’s launch party for the next one was actually their tenth anniversary. Most marriages I know don’t last that long these days. (Doubly weird, given Max and Soraya are that rarest of things, totally platonic best opposite-sex straight friends.)
For those who’ve been under a rock re the local artsy-fart scene over each and every one of those ten years, meanwhile, here’s a thumbnail sketch of the Odd Couple. First off, Soraya. Armenian, born in Beirut, World Vision supermodel-type glamorous. Does music videos to pay the bills, but her heart belongs to experimentalism. Thing to remember about Soraya is, she’s not real big on rules: When a York film professor told her she’d have to shift mediums for her final assignment, she ended up shooting it all on her favorite anyways (8mm), then gluing it to 16mm stock for the screening. This is about as crazy as Stan Brakhage gluing actual dead-ass moths to the emulsion of his film Mothlight . . . and if you don’t know what that is either, man, just go screw. I despair of ya.
Then there’s Max: White as a sack of sheets, Canadian as a beaver made out of maple sugar. Meticulous and meta, uber-interpretive. Assembles narratives from found footage, laying in voiceovers to make it all make (a sort of) sense. Also a little OCD in the hands-on department, this dude tie-dyes his own films by swishing them around in food-color while they’re still developing, then “bakes” them by running them through a low-heat dryer cycle, letting the emulsion blister and fragment. The result: Some pretty trippy shit, even if you’re not watching it stoned.
Anyways. With fest season coming up fast, M. and S. are in the middle of assembling this huge film collage made from snippets people posted chain-letter-style. You might think this sou
nds like kind of a dog’s breakfast, and any other self-proclaimed indie genius you’d be right. But S. took me in the back and showed me some of the files they hadn’t got to yet, and man, there’s some damn raw footage in there, if ya know what I mean; even freaked her out. So if you’re looking for something a little less Saw and a little more Chien Andalou, check it out: October 10, the Speed of Pain . . .
* * *
From: Soraya Mousch [email protected]
Date: Wednesday, June 25, 3:22 PM
To: Max Holborn [email protected]
Subject: Check this file out!
Max --
Sorry about the size of this file, I’d normally send it to your edit suite but it’s got some kind of weird formatting -- missing some of the normal protocols -- I don’t have time to dick around with your firewalls. Anyway, YOU NEED TO SEE THIS. Get back in touch with me once you have!
From: Soraya Mousch [email protected]
Wednesday, June 25, 3:24 PM
Max Holborn [email protected]
Subject: Apology followup
Max: Realized I might’ve come off a little bitchy in that last message, wanted to apologize. I know you’ve got a lot of shit on your plate with Liat (how’d the CAT-scan go, BTW?); last thing I want to do is make your life harder. You know how it goes when the deadline’s coming down.
