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House of Psychotic Women Interview Kier-La Janisse Weird Weekend III

Kier-La Janisse: In Conversation (29.10.22)

Kier-La Janisse (Photo by Ingrid Mur)

We were extremely honoured to welcome the legendary writer, programmer, producer, director, Kier-La Janisse to Glasgow at Weird Weekend III, for our dedicated House of Psychotic Women strand and a very special In Conversation with The Final Girls’ Anna Bogutskaya. That conversation was recorded for posterity (albeit via the live captioners’ Zoom link), and formed the final episode of Anna’s podcast mini-series dedicated to Kier-La’s pioneering book and its influence. Listen via the link below (or wherever you get your podcasts), or read our transcript here.

HOUSE OF PSYCHOTIC WOMEN 06 • Kier-La Janisse in Conversation The Final Girls: A Horror Film Podcast

The final episode in our mini-series dedicated to the influential book by Kier-la Janisse, House of Psychotic Women, is an interview with the author herself. This is a recording from the conversation we had during Matchbox Cine's Weird Weekend, in Glasgow.  → Watch all the films featured in the book HERE.→ Buy the expanded edition of House of Psychotic Women HERE.Produced and presented by Anna Bogutskaya***Music: "Prince of Darkness" by Karl Casey @ White Bat Audio***The Final Girls are a UK-based film collective exploring the intersections of horror film and feminism, founded by Anna Bogutskaya and Olivia Howe.→ Find out more about our projects here: thefinalgirls.co.uk→ Follow us on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.→ Support us on Patreon.

[Anna] Welcome to the Final Girls podcast. I’m Anna Bogutskaya, and as ever, I’m your podcast host. In this mini-series, we’re exploring and celebrating the House of Psychotic Women, the seminal book by Kier-La Janisse.

[Woman] What do you think? Go ahead, be honest, just tell me. You think I’m insane?

[Woman 2] You know, these women wrestling in an arena of mud.

[Woman 3] No… I disgust you. I sicken you. You hate me. But it’s difficult! Don’t you understand me? It’s difficult! I didn’t want it to happen but it’s happened, and now…

[Anna] Over this mini-series, we have been interrogating the House of Psychotic Women – a book of film criticism, a memoir, and a topography of female neuroses on screen. I’ve been talking to film-makers whose films have a psychotic woman at the heart of them about a film featured in the book that’s inspired their own in some way. I’ve spoken to Prano Bailey-Bond, Alice Lowe, Deborah Haywood, Hannah Barlow and Kane Senes. And now, it’s time to talk to the author herself, Kier-La Janisse. Now, this episode is taken from a live recording of a conversation we had at Matchbox Cine’s Weird Weekend, so the quality of the audio is not the greatest, but the conversation itself was, in my opinion, outstanding. It was a real honour to speak to Kier-La about her programming, her writing and the legacy of the book. So, I hope you forgive the audio and focus on the words. If you enjoyed this episode or this series, do let me know. It means a lot. And you can find me on Twitter at @annabdemented or support the podcast over on Patreon, where we publish regular bonus episodes. You can also leave us a review at Apple or Spotify podcasts. We’ll be back early next year with a new full season, so a little review of the podcast really does help while we’re on hiatus. And with all of that said, please join me in the House of Psychotic Women.

[Anna] Hi, everyone. I’m Anna. I’m a programmer and a film writer myself, which I’m genuinely only able to say that I am because of the woman that I’m about to host on stage. So, before I introduce her and ask you to clap once more but harder… Kier-La Janisse is a multi-hyphenate of the film world. A film programmer, a festival director, film-maker in her own right, The author of House of Psychotic Women, the editor of many other books, a former cinema owner, festival director of many a festival. I haven’t even begun to cover the amount of projects and the work that she’s done that has influenced and inspired a whole generation of film-makers, writers, critics, programmers, myself very much included. So, please put your hands together for Kier-La Janisse.

[Kier-La] I’m laughing at one of the captions ’cause it said I’m “from the film wealth.” Yes. I wish I was from the film wealth!

[Anna] We all wish we were from the film wealth. But, um… You know, I wanted to hype you up and really begin this conversation because there’s so many things that we could be talking about, so I’m going to try to ask you about some of the key pieces of work and bodies of work and projects that you’ve done. The very first one, and I wasn’t joking, I didn’t know what a film programmer was until I saw your work. So, I wanted to ask you, what drew you to becoming a film programmer? What was your entry point into that world?

[Kier-La] It was kind of an accident. I think, like, back when I started doing it, most people didn’t know what a film programmer was, including me. So, I had a little fanzine that I used to make. I worked in video store for many years and I made, like, a horror fanzine, and I would mail-order movies and I would… ike, I mail-ordered movies from European Trash Cinema, Video Search of Miami… There was even some British companies that I would get stuff from. Dave Gregory, who I work for at Severin now, used to have a company called Exploited, that had VHS tapes, and so, I would buy stuff from them, too. And so, I would get all this stuff and I would, like, review these things in my fanzine. But in Canada, we have obligatory ratings, sort of like you guys have obligatory ratings here, right? And so, we weren’t allowed to… Even though I worked in a video store, we weren’t allowed to just put these movies on the shelf, even if they had officially been released, like, by a company somewhere. They had to have a Canadian distributor, that distributor had to pay for the rating, and all the ratings were different in each province. And so, it just ended up becoming really obstructive for, you know, like, small shops like ours to be able to have obscure movies on our shelves. And, you know, we just did it illegally anyway, but… But that was sort of how I started, was that I would review these films in the fanzine and people, you know, customers would be like, “But how can we see the movies? How can we see the movies? “We’re not going to see these movies that you’re reviewing.”

Kier-La Janisse in conversation with Anna Bogutskaya (Photo by Ingrid Mur)

And so, there was, like, this little micro-cinema in town. This was… I lived in Vancouver at the time, so this was, like, 1999. And I went to this micro-cinema and I asked them… I gave them a list of films and said, “If you ever want to play horror films, like, here’s a list of films you could play.” And I could probably get people to come out to it, because I have a horror fanzine.” And the guy’s like, “Oh, yeah, thanks a lot. Okay, see you later, crazy person.” And then, like, a few months later, he called me and was like, “Okay, I’m doing the calendar for June, and what dates were you thinking of for your horror festival?” And I was like, “I don’t have a horror festival.” And he was like, “Oh, I thought you had a horror film festival or something and you wanted to, like, rent the theatre.” And I was like, “Oh, well, how much is it to rent the theatre?” and he was like, “$200.” Which was, like, $200 a night, but even then, that was cheap. That’s ridiculously cheap now, but even then, it was cheap. And I had just gotten my student loan. And so, I just was like, “I’m going to use my student loan and put on a horror film festival.” And so, that’s, like, how I started doing it. And so, the first year I did it was totally… I would say 70% of the movies were illegal, were shown illegally. And then there was, like, some contacts I made. Once I decided I wanted to do a film festival…I found I had some mutual friends with, like, Mitch Davis, who was the programmer at the Fantasia Film Festival. So, I got introduced to him, and it was really kind of through him that I got the first handful of, like, legit film bookings, you know?

Like, where I got in touch with Jörg Buttgereit and I played his films. I think the first year, I may have played, like, Nekromantik and Der Todesking or something, and I played those legally. And Singapore Sling was another film I played legally, but I also played tons of things illegally, like Possession and Gerald Kargl’s film, Angst. And I’m trying to think if I played Der Fan the first year. I did at some point. And, um… God, I played, like, Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, and Deep Red and Breakfast at the Manchester Morgue, and, like, all these, like, classic films that had just not been released in Canada, you know? And so, the first year was, like, crazy. It was gangbusters. It went amazingly. And it was also great because I had no idea that there were that many people interested in horror in Vancouver, because you always think, like, you’re the only one. And so, that was the first time that I saw all these people just come out of the woodwork and, like, come to this festival. And so, then I just kept doing it because I was like, “Oh, there’s an audience here for it,” you know? So, it was, like, totally by accident.

[Anna] And you kept going and kept curating and programming for festivals, running your own festival, and then, you know, after that finished, setting up another festival, and all these budgets. What about the programming itself, and the festival environment in particular, keeps you coming back and…and keep setting up new ones, possibly building on that?

[Kier-La] Well, I think, like, you know, throughout the year, when I’d be looking at films, any time I saw a film that, like, moved me or resonated with me or whatever, I just be like, “Oh, I would love to show this to people.” You know, there’s, like, this instinct to share it with people, you know? And that was something that I think I always had, you know? Like, according to my neighbour who lived across the street from us when I was a kid. I went back to visit as an adult, and… you know, and she asked me when I was up to. I said, “Oh, I’m running this horror film festival,” and she’s like, “You were always organising things in the neighbourhood.” And I was like, “What do you mean? Like what?” She’s like, “You organised a circus, you had all the kids playing different roles in the circus and stuff.” And she’s like, “You made a haunted house” and all these things, and I was like, “Really?” I barely even remember doing these things. But I realised that that was just an obvious thing, that if I was excited about something, it wasn’t enough for me to just be excited alone about it. Like, I always wanted to, like, get other people excited about it.

And so, yeah, so, I think the fanzine was like that, too, because, I mean, there’s no reason I had to be spending so much time writing reviews of movies except for some weird compulsion to share the films with people, and the festival was an outgrowth of that. And, you know, I had a friend named Sam McKinlay, who was kind of, like, my best friend that I hung out with when I lived in Vancouver. And the two of us would watch movies, like, non-stop, you know? Like, I would just be at his house – he lived across the alley from me, you know – and we would just, like, watch movies non-stop. We both were, like, obsessive mail-ordering people, him much more than me. And so, we were just constantly getting all kinds of obscure films. And then it came down to, like, trying to track them down to see if we could show them at the festival.

So, I think it’s just, like, partially… There’s definitely, like, a compulsive aspect to it, because a lot of times I would ask myself, “Why are you doing this?” Especially because it cost all my money that I made at the video store. You know, like, I was so poor I couldn’t buy socks or anything like that because I was spending all my money shifting 35mm prints across the world. Because back then, it was not DCP or anything. Everything was on film, so… Yeah, there was no Blu-ray, there was nothing exhibition quality other than 35mm or sometimes, like, a DigiBeta or some tape or something like that. But it always involved shipping by a courier and having insurance and all these things. And so, it was, like, quite a bit of money, you know, for putting on these things. And then, plus I started having guests. So, I started, like, inviting people to the festival, which I would also have to pay for. And I didn’t have that many sponsors or anything.

So, I often would ask myself, like, “Why am I doing this?” “Why do I feel the need to spend all my money and all my time “putting on this festival for other people “when I could just sit at home and watch movies myself, you know?” And I came to the conclusion it was, like, a mental illness, you know? It was, like, a sickness that I had, yeah. Which I think, like, after all these years, I have finally gotten to the other side of it, where I stop myself from putting on events. I’m just… I think about it, the wheels start going, and then I’m just like, “Nope, somebody else can do it.”

Kier-La Janisse in conversation with Anna Bogutskaya (Photo by Ingrid Mur)

[Anna] I’m very familiar with that particular compulsion. “Nope, put it in a box. Not for me to organise.” And where was this writing at this time? So, you know, you were doing all this organising, setting up festivals, bringing guests over, bringing 35mm prints over, but where’s…? Were you still writing reviews for the fanzine? Were you thinking about the book already? When did that start cooking?

[Kier-La] I was writing my fanzine from about 1997 until about 2002-3 or something like that. And it was, like, quarterly, you know? I don’t know how regular it was. I think, ultimately, there were, like, twelve issues of it. So, I wrote a lot of stuff for those. That was also the beginning of my kind of, like, editing the work because I could get other people to try to write stuff for the fanzine, too, so that it wasn’t just me. And the more the festival kind of took over my life, and then I got a job at the Alamo Drafthouse as a programmer in 2003. And so, then I was, like, fully working full-time as a programmer. And so, the fanzine kind of had to end because I just didn’t have time. But I started… The first book I did was this little book called A Violent Professional, which was about an Italian actor named Luciano Rossi. And it’s just, like, this little fluff-piece that’s very inspired by reading Teen Beat magazine and stuff as a kid. It’s all… Like, I rate all the movies by how much screen-time he has and how good his hair is. So, it’s totally ridiculous. But it was beautifully designed by a guy named Rob Jones, who, at the time, wasn’t very well-known, but went on to be, like, the White Stripes’ main designer and stuff like that. So, the layout of the book is incredible. So, I did that book while I was working at…at the Alamo, and it came out in 2005.

And House of Psychotic Women, I had kind of started working on it in little spurts, still when I lived in Vancouver, so it was definitely before 2003, when I moved away. And so, it came out in 2012, and I was sort… So, it was ten years, you know, that I had been writing little bits here and there on it, you know, and then it was really, like, the last two years of that, that it became much more intensive writing. And I often rewrote the stuff that I had written earlier. But I would say, yeah, 2000 to 2003, I started working on it. It just took me that long partially because I had a full-time job that was very hectic. But also, I kept being very uncertain about the structure, you know? For anybody who has read the book, it’s, you know, it’s, like, memoir mixed with film analysis, and it’s kind of transitioning between these things through the book. And I just didn’t know, really, how to do it, and… Like, I wasn’t sure if I should have, like, a chapter that was about my life and then an essay about a film, and that, you know, if it should be much more divided that way. And then I decided, somehow, that I just wanted to, like, meld it all. And I wanted the analysis of the films to kind of stand in as my self-analysis of, like, whatever the situation in my life was that I had just talked about related to that film. So, instead of analysing my life or analysing my mother, I would analyse the mother in the film, and that would kind of be…help me to understand my mother better, you know, like, things like that. So, going over the structure and trying out lots of different types of structures, you know, like I had all these little documents, that I started writing a different way and then I was like, “Forget it,” but I think I still even have some of those old documents somewhere. Yeah, so, it was just… A lot of it took so long ’cause I had to figure that out.

[Anna] Yeah, and this is one of the things that continues shifting in the book. When I first picked it up and I read it, when I remember it, I remember only focusing on the film history stuff, and the film analysis, and taking notes of all the different films that I’d never seen or heard of before. And when I re-read it, the memoir stuff was the stuff that really stood out to me. Maybe because I was a different person as well, reading it. And I’m wondering how much of yourself… Did you ever kind of battle with yourself of much of yourself to put in there alongside all the film analysis and film history and the knowledge that you poured into the book?

[Kier-La] Yeah. I mean, I knew that the book had to have pretty much everything. Like, it had to be…pretty open. I mean, there’s lots of stuff that’s not in it from my life that’s happy, which is unfortunate because… like, I only talk about traumatic incidents because I’m talking about these films, right? And so, unfortunately, it’s definitely led to situations where people think my childhood was much worse than it was, and they think I have had no joy in my childhood at all. But I was like, my stepdad, who many readers of the book think is a total monster, was my favourite parent. It’s, like, he was the most violent parent, but he was also my favourite parent. He’s the one I got along with the best in other ways, you know? Like, he was, like, a horror fan. I spent most quality time with him. You know, but unfortunately, I don’t write about a lot of those things because I’m focusing on, like, traumatic stories. And so, if I had the book to do over again, I might try to insert more of that. But, uh… I’m trying to remember what the question was. Oh, how much of myself to put in. Yeah, I knew that it kind of had to have most things in it because… I kept thinking of, like, if I was going to use my personal anecdotes and my personal life to talk about these films, I couldn’t just say, like, “Oh, yeah, I relate to these films because, you know, “I had similar things in my life, or I associate that with a memory that I had.” I couldn’t just, like, then not say what the memory is, you know, because it’s, like, you’re writing an essay and you have a thesis, you have to support your thesis with, like, support materials and stuff, you know? And so, I felt like being honest in that way was required or else… I had no argument, the book fell apart, you know, like, if people didn’t understand why I had those associations with those movies, you know, like, I had to sort of go in detail about certain things. So, I knew it was going to be really personal, but I also didn’t think anyone would read it. So, I thought because, you know, my publisher’s not that big of a publisher, and it was also, like, a weird book, you know, like, there was no other book like that at the time, and definitely not from my publisher, he wasn’t quite sure how to market it. And so, I thought that maybe 500 people at most would ever read that book, you know? So, there’s also things where I’m just, like, flippant about certain films that I wish I hadn’t been that flippant about if I knew more people were going to read it, you know? But I think also there’s a freedom in that. Like, if you think nobody’s going to read it, You’re just like, “Whatever I think in this moment, that’s what’s going there,” you know?

[Anna] That’s the best part, is thinking you’re writing for no-one in particular. [Indistinct] And you mentioned that this book needed to have everything, but you make a clear choice, even in the subtitle of the book, that you’re going through horror films and exploitation films. But a lot of the films that you write about don’t necessarily fit in either of those genres. So, how did you know when enough films were… How did you know that you had covered as many as you possibly could?

[Kier-La] I think I… I think there’s 200 in the first edition, and I think I was kind of just, like, I wanted 200 movies, you know, and I wanted…in the new edition, I wanted 100 more movies, you know? And so, then, it all came down to my mood, what those movies were. Like, what did I feel like watching that day? And so, there are certain movies that should be in it that aren’t there just because I never felt like watching them the whole time I was writing the book. So, like, Mulholland Drive is not in it. Mulholland Drive is in it, like, mentioned in other reviews. Like, I’ll name-drop it, but I’m just like, “Nobody needs to hear what I think of Mulholland Drive.” There’s, like, whole books about Mulholland Drive, you know? Same with, like, Rosemary’s Baby and stuff. Rosemary’s Baby is, like, mentioned in the context of other write-ups, but it doesn’t have its own section. And so, it’s very subjective and it’s very disorganised in a way. But I kind of left it that way because in a lot of my other writing, I do try to be more consistent. I do try to have a balance and make sure things fit together and whatever. But with House of Psychotic Woman, because it was always so subjective kind of, like, right from the outset, I just let it be what it was. I let it document my moods, you know? Because I also reviewed everything alphabetically, for the most part. So… You can’t really tell because of the first and second edition, because they’re not marcated in any way, unfortunately, which I forgot to do. I was going to put, like, an asterisk or something, like, if it was a new one added for the new edition, and I forgot. And, um… But it’s kind of, like, if you go alphabetically in the appendix, most of those movies I did watch in that order, so you can actually see drastic mood swings… from one day to the next, of, like, how open or closed I am to what a movie is telling me, you know? And so, I kind of just left it like that, so…

Kier-La Janisse in conversation with Anna Bogutskaya (Photo by Ingrid Mur)

[Anna] And tell me about kind of the original release ten years ago. You know, you mentioned that you felt nobody would ever read it, but what was the reaction ten years ago when it came out?

[Kier-La] So, the reaction was… definitely positive. There were… I got hate mail and stuff, like anybody would. Yeah, I had, like a kind of guy stranger threatening to kill me and stuff.

[Anna] Because Mulholland Drive wasn’t included?

[Kier-La] He didn’t like how I treated my husband in the book.

[Anna] Okay, yeah, that’s the… that’s the victim of that story.

[Kier-La] And, um… And so… Yeah, so, I mean, there were things like this where I would occasionally get somebody… bothering me about stuff in it. But for the most part, the responses were overwhelmingly positive. But it was not kind of, like… I don’t know how… It’s weird because I got definitely reviewed, like, in the horror press, you know, so, like, the whole… I knew people at Fangoria and Rue Morgue and all this stuff, so, you know, of course a lot of the genre press covered it. But it didn’t get any really, like, mainstream press at all. Like, not, like, culture press type of stuff. I mean, it was really kind of stuck to the genre, but the way the book really got out was from film programmers. So, it was that… I don’t know whether I first, like, contacted film programmers I knew or if some of them contacted me, probably a bit of both. But they started doing programmes around the book where they would call it the House of Psychotic Women series. And sometimes they’d play, like, almost 30 movies, you know? Like, this one, Offscreen in Brussels, played 27 movies from the book, and they decorated their whole bar themed to the movies. So, they had, like, sculptures they had made, they had a menu, you know, like, all these things. And so, there would be film programmers, like, all over the world that did these House of Psychotic Women things. And then there was, like, in Portugal, this amazing art exhibit. These four artists, like, put together a show of, like, paintings and sound design and, like, all kinds of stuff. They had, like, this building that was going to be torn down and they just, like, transformed the whole thing into, like, a House of Psychotic Women. It was incredible, and, uh… And so, it was really through stuff like that that the book started to get more crossover interest and press and things like that, was through the film programmers. So, that was really interesting. And that’s been my motto for releasing books ever since then, is basically I never go to book stores, I go to film programmers. Because I do movie books. So, it’s easy to, like, tie in screenings and stuff.

[Anna] And exactly when did you first start realising…the impact that it was having, that fact that, you know, even years later, people were finding it, people were… you know, studying it, people were giving it to actresses, to their actors and actresses to read before going into a movie shoot, that it was kind of inspiring this whole legion of people?

[Kier-La] I would say around 2014 or 2015 was when I started having film-makers telling me or actresses telling me that their director had told them to read the book before shooting. And so, there were directors like… The director of The Untamed, you know, for instance, said that he gave it to the whole cast of the movie. And, yeah, it was, like, a bunch of people that said that to me. But I started hearing that from people in about 2014, 2015. You know, and so much of those movies are in the book now that there’s a new edition. But, so, yeah, it was interesting because, more recently, I’ve had people asking me about the influence it had on, like, people’s writing styles, you know? So, like, at first, the influence of it was really about the movies. It wasn’t really about, like, my memoir or anything like that, it was really about just categorising these movies into a subgenre together, and then people being like, “Oh, I really like that subgenre, too,” you know? “I want to make a movie like that kind of movie.” So, it was not really about me, it was really about, like… those kinds of movies, you know, that was what people were drawn to. And then just in the last few years, I would say much more I’ve been hearing from people that they were like, “You know, it was really weird, when you wrote that book “that there weren’t, you know… “people didn’t really write personal film books like that.” But now it’s very common. You know, there’s lots of books like that now. There’s lots of… You know, back when I started writing for Fangoria, you definitely could not write an article that was, like, a personal essay. But now it’s really common in Fangoria, like, on the website and stuff, you’ll see people telling stories of, like, their trauma and stuff, and how a film, a certain film, may have helped them navigate that or whatever. And so, some people have told me that, like, the book actually helped create a pathway where it was okay to, like, have yourself in the narrative, you know?

[Anna] Yeah, the book as a whole, as a piece of writing, is this, you know.. blazed this trail for this format of the autobiography through art or through film in particular. What do you think about that as a style of writing?

Anna Bogutskaya (Photo by Ingrid Mur)

[Kier-La] I mean, I… So, when I first started writing it, I didn’t know if there were any other books like that. I assumed there would be. I assumed there would be and that I just didn’t know about them. And as time went on, I hadn’t found other ones, still. But there was a reviewer recently who talked about my book and she talked about James Baldwin writing a film memoir. And she mentioned a few other writers, and I was… and some of the other writers I didn’t know. So, I was just like, “Okay, so, there are other people “who have written books like this.” But often you don’t know, you know, like, if it’s not… You know, like, at some point when I was writing the book, somebody told me they thought Walker Percy’s book, The Moviegoer, was kind of like what I was doing. Which turned out to be very different, you know, but… But, yeah, I always was curious to know if there were other… if this was a style of writing that predated my book, and if… ‘Cause I thought it would be really interesting to look at those earlier examples. And so, I know now that some of them do exist, but I just haven’t read them yet because I just heard about this, like, in the last month, so…

[Anna] I was about to ask if you have read any of them or whether you have read even books or essays that have come out since House of Psychotic Women where you can kind of see, you know, maybe not just your own influence, but kind of this genre of film writing or, “I’m writing about myself, but I’m actually using myself as a conduit to write about films”?

[Kier-La] Yeah, there was… There is a girl in… A writer named Claire Cronin wrote a book called The Blue Light of the Screen…which I was actually quite upset about when it came out, because it had some stuff that was very similar to my book, but, um… And there was a guy from, uh… A friend forwarded me an article of a guy from Nova Scotia in Canada whose name I can’t remember now, and he had also written, like, a memoir that was, like… horror films specifically. So, all of these I’m mentioning are horror films specifically. And then there was somebody… I can’t remember, I think Will Fowler from the BFI forwarded me an academic book. And this was interesting because it was an academic book that was written in the style of my book. And academic, we were talking this morning, you never would have been able to write with your personal stories in an academic context before, so things have changed a lot. Because this was somebody’s book that I guess it was, like, their thesis that got published as a book… and it was that, you know, and it’s, like, in the last year.

[Anna] And it’s interesting that you bring up the academic world. Do you see House of Psychotic Women as a work of scholarship as well? And I wanted to ask you whether… the experience of writing that inspired you in any way to then set up Miskatonic, The Miskatonic Institute of Horror Studies.

[Kier-La] Well, I… So, I started in Miskatonic before House of Psychotic Women came out. I started it in 2010. But in terms of, like, House of Psychotic Women being scholarship, I mean, I do think these things are scholarship, like, all these things. Like, a lot of the other genre film writers I know, they’re not academics, per se. They, you know, maybe went to school and didn’t finish school or didn’t get a degree or maybe didn’t go at all. But they do the same level of rigorous research that an academic does. And in many cases, I find the academics behind them, you know? So, a lot of the independent scholars… I still call them scholars, you know, and… I don’t tend to call myself a scholar, but I also don’t deny it if someone does, you know, because it’s, like, it is scholarship, you know? It is doing original research and stuff. And… So, I know that my publisher definitely didn’t want it to be scholarly. Like, I remember when Iain Banks wrote a quote for the back cover and it said something about, you know, academic analysis, my publisher was like, “Oh, can we get rid of that word ‘academic’? “It’s going to turn people off.” And Ian was like, “No, you cannot get rid of it. It must stay exactly as it is.” So, of course you honour Iain Banks and you keep it how it is, but… my publisher was just afraid of the word “academic.” He thought that people would be like, “Oh, I’m not going to be able to read this thing if it’s academic. I won’t be able to understand it,” you know? And I think also academia has become more accessible, so it isn’t… That term is not as scary as it used to be for people.

And with Miskatonic, I started it in 2010, and it… and it was largely because I knew a lot of horror scholars, both independent researchers and ones that were teaching in schools. And a lot of the ones I knew that were teaching in school were never allowed to teach the horror stuff they knew, and in some cases, they even had to teach stuff they didn’t know anything about. You know, like, where they would be given an assignment, like, “Okay, you’re in charge of Drama 101 this year,” and they’d be, like, “I don’t know anything about drama. I’ve never taught drama.” And they would have to do a crash course in it so they could teach this class. And I’m just like, “Wow, people are spending a lot of money to go to university and be taught by somebody who just, like, “googles ‘drama 101’ is teaching them”? Like, that’s bullshit, you know? But I knew that a lot of these people had core expertise, it was just not being tapped by their universities because it wasn’t taken seriously. You know, they would often propose courses that would be rejected and stuff. So, I’m like, “All right, come do your course here,” you know? So, I just, like… I had at the time when I started, I had my own venue, so I owned a venue so I didn’t have to worry about whether it was successful or not, you know? Once we started doing Miskatonic at other venues, and renting venues, then that became an issue where they were, like, very much wanting the classes to be more popular or whatever. “We need more people” and stuff. But when I first started it, it was not about that at all. It was really about just, like, giving these scholars somewhere to exercise their knowledge and then providing an open door for people to come and… and hear it, you know, for very cheap, accessible price. I think it’s, like, seven bucks, you know, or something to come and take a class.

And so, yeah, so, that’s how… that’s how Miskatonic started, and then it just grew. I think London was the first branch outside of Canada because in the UK, there’s so many genre film scholars. So many, so many. I feel like we could have Miskatonic classes for, like, the next 50 years and still not run out of teachers, you know, which is great. I feel like even, you know, in the fanzine days, the UK was always way ahead of the US. I mean in terms of, like, the quality of the writing and the scholarship that was inherent, like, even in fanzine writing here, so… And so, that just turned out that… that translated into a whole bunch of people who, like, read those fanzines and went to the cinemas and events that these people were putting on. And then those people went to school and became academics. And when we have that many people who want to do Gothic Studies, you better have a Gothic Studies department. So, I think it was eventually, like, the horror people just kind of took over because there were so many of them, you know? And so now there are, like, in the UK, so many, like, conferences and people with different niche specialities and stuff. It’s amazing. And so, that was why I knew Miskatonic London would work, you know? But, yes, that’s how that started.

Kier-La Janisse (Photo by Ingrid Mur)

[Anna] I want to go back to House of Psychotic Women specifically, and talk a little bit about the book and the contents of the films that you cover. One of the things I wanted to ask you was, what attracted you about these kind of characters? How did you even start defining your idea of a “psychotic woman” on-screen?

[Kier-La] Mm-hm. Well, yeah, the definition is hard. I feel like my book does not necessarily give a consistent definition. But it kind of started because at the video store where I worked, the customers would always return movies and say, “Every movie you recommend to me has some crazy woman in it.” And friend Sam said the same thing. He would be like, “Oh, this is a Janisse special.” You know, he’d hand me some movie that had, like… that had some crazy performance like that and he would always call it a Janisse special. And, um… And so, it was just, like, this kind of feedback from people made me think, like, “Oh, that is interesting.” Like, “I do tend to watch a lot of those types of films and I really like those films,” you know? “Why am I drawn to those films?” And… uh, you know… Most people who knew me, I mean, it was transparent to them that they were like, “Whenever you’re having a problem with this, all the movies you’re watching are about that. “Whenever you’re having a problem with this, all the things you’re watching are about that,” you know? So, it’s like, I’m finding, like, having anxiety about getting married, all the movies I’m watching are about women who don’t want to get married. And, like, you know, all these things. Like, everybody I knew noticed that I was definitely exorcising fears about real things that were happening in my life with movies. And so… Yeah, so, I knew I was doing that and I just wanted to go deeper into it, I just wanted to go, you know, “What is that?,” you know? Like, “Is that… Is that healthy? Is that helpful?” Like, “Is it is good, is it bad?” Like, I mean, “What does it mean?,” you know? “Is it, like, escaping or is it actually helping me to confront?,” you know? And, um… And so, those were the kinds of questions that I went into the book with, you know? Especially if it’s, like, if you’re having a mental imbalance of some sort, is it… is it good for you or bad for you to, like, have more of it in your orbit? Like have those kinds of influences around you, like, even more by watching non-stop movies like this?

And so, when it came to the different types of female characters in the book, um… I mean, really it was… it’s everything from a woman in my skin eating her own flesh to, you know, female necrophiliacs to, uh…you know, women who kill their own children, you know? And then, like, women who, as I mentioned in the intro, aren’t even crazy at all. Women, like, in Gaslight or whatever, which I actually forgot to put in the first edition of the book. It’s only in the second edition, which I thought was hilarious, that I forgot to put Gaslight in. But, um… But, yeah, so, it was… There were really all these different, like, types of women, and all these different levels of, like, how extreme their behaviour was because that’s also how I felt a lot of times. I felt like sometimes I was able to keep things under control fairly well and my nervousness would show up in… just small mannerisms that most people wouldn’t notice, you know? And then it would get more extreme, and eventually get to the point where I can actually relate to the characters in Possession or The Brood, you know? Or The Piano Teacher. You know, like, I mean, it… Like, my behaviour was not consistent, you know? Like, it went all over the place. I mean, like… I remember I had a friend once who said, like, “Can you mail me some speed “so I can keep up with your mood swings?” And it was just because it can really change in, like, five minutes, you know? And it’s always a constant effort to, like, try to not be derailed by my own…moods and, like, behaviour, you know, and reactivity and stuff like that. And so, the women in the film are not really one type because they do kind of follow that. Like, all the different… the many colours of female emotional disturbance, you know? And, so… But, I mean, in terms of like, some of the movies not necessarily being horror or exploitation, what would happen is that sometimes I think… I would order a film or watch a film think it was going to be horror or exploitation because something about it looked dark or creepy or something to me. So, I would watch it and…even if it wasn’t explicitly horror or exploitation, if it moved me in the same way, I would kind of just end up including it, you know? So, I mean, like, something like Trompe L’oeil that we just watched, would you call that a…? I mean, you definitely wouldn’t call it an exploitation film…

[Anna] No, absolutely not.

Laure Dechasnel in Trompe l’oeil (Claude d’Anna, 1975)

[Kier-La] ..but would you even call it a horror film? It’s much more like a fantastique film, in the kind of European sense, or, like… In my book, I sort of compared it to the writing of Jean Ray or something like this. You know, it’s this kind of, like, European fantastique tradition, It’s not necessarily horror. And a lot of those movies, I really [indistinct] because I feel like… the horror genre and the horror community, they kind of, like, adopt movies that no-one else cares about. Like, they’re just like, “Okay, no-one loves you, we’ll take you in the horror genre, you’re a horror movie now,” you know?

[They laugh]

[Kier-La] It’s like, “We’ll love you.” And I feel like that happens, where we just have… these associations with certain movies as horror films, because that’s… that’s the audience that has, like, embraced them or whatever, you know?

[Anna] There’s a few films that are really sort of lifted up through the book. And there’s one line where you write, which stuck with me, and it’s really simple, and you just say, “It all started with Possession.” So, I wanted to ask you specifically about Possession. When did you first discover this film and how has your relationship with it changed? Because it is…it’s a fundamental film in all of the 200 films you talk about in House of Psychotic Women, the first edition. It’s still… It’s one of the few that really stand out.

[Kier-La] Yeah. Well, I didn’t watch Possession in the ’80s when it came out. I remember the video box when I was a kid and I never watched it because everybody would tell me it was shit. And so, I didn’t see it until, like, the mid-’90s, where I was able to get the European version by mail-ordering it. And I was just, like… my mind was blown by this movie. Like, I mean, just… I think the very first time I watched it, I was just fixated on that subway scene, right? It was, like, all I could remember was that scene. Everything else kind of faded away, and I was just, like… It seemed… In my memory, that scene was, like, 20 minutes long, you know? I was like, “Oh, my God, this scene is, like, interminable. “It just goes on and on and on. She just doesn’t stop screaming. “This is amazing,” you know? And then I watched it again, and, you know, a lot of the rest of the movie started to fill in for me. I remember, at one point, I timed the subway scene and it was only, like, two minutes or something.

But that is the impression I think a lot of people have from it. You know, it just feels like it’s this never-ending scene that exists in its own world or something. But I think it was like a puzzle to me, you know, like, and so, I just kept watching it and kept watching it. And I still wouldn’t say I understand it completely, you know? I feel this I understand this tiny part of it, but it’s not even the same part that, like, Andrzej Żuławski understands or Daniel Bird, who was, like, the main champion in the English language of Andrzej Żuławski’s films. Like, how I write about Possession is not at all how he would write about Possession. He sees different things in it. There are different things that are important to him about it, you know? Whereas, for me, it was, like, all of the emotion and stuff was really important, and the stuff about identity and… And, yeah, so, it’s just… It was an important movie to me because…it was so emotional, but I also love that…the husband…wants to solve that mystery. You know, he wants to go into the madness with her. And that was really appealing to me, too, that it was like, you can actually just go as crazy as you want and the right person will still try to find you, you know? There was something reassuring about that, you know? Because I felt like… I felt like so many relationships and so many friendships and all these things are stifled by the fact that people hold things in, you know, and they don’t express how they feel. And of course… we’re taught societally, that you can’t just be like, “Waah!,” you know? Like, you can’t just, like, melt down in public or scream or whatever. Like, people just don’t want to have anything to do with you, you know? Um, and…you know.

But I found that movie, like, incredibly romantic, even though I think all the men are assholes in it. But I still liked that… You know, and the more I watch it, the more I think that him trying to solve Anna’s problem was really about him and it’s not really about him understanding her. It’s about his own ego or whatever. But it was, like… But when I first saw it, I saw it as this, like, very romantic thing where you could be as crazy as you wanted and somebody would still love you, you know? And, um… And, so, yeah, there was just all kinds of things that I got out of that film, and it was just… I just think that, you know… I have it in the same chapter, I think, with, like, The Brood, which is think is such a similar movie to Possession. Like, they both came out the same year and they’re both about divorces, like, real divorces. And they’re both…they both have this woman, like, giving birth to weird…a creature, an undescribed creature… like, that are, like, their rage… that kill for them, and stuff like that. I mean, both movies were really weirdly similar, you know?

Anna Bogutskaya (Photo by Ingrid Mur)

[Anna] Are there any other films from House of Psychotic Women that have, in a similar sense as Possession or The Brood, that have sort of stayed with you over the years, that you kind of can’t really shed?

[Kier-La] Yeah. I mean, The Piano Teacher is one. Let’s Scare Jessica to Death is one. Um… Oh, my God… The Mafu Cage. Um…

[Anna] And I wonder if, uh… You mentioned that the horror genre adopts, sometimes, these orphan movies and, you know, decides to give them another life. Do you ever…? Have you ever felt? Because a lot of these films, and I’m talking both personally here and in general, a lot of these films have been, you know, resurfaced, back on the festival circuit, written about because of the book and because of you and your work. Do you ever feel protective of the films that you’ve helped resurface in this way?

[Kier-La] I mean, I don’t know if I feel as protective any more. I mean, I definitely… Because the thing is, like, a movie like Possession, I’m like actually sick of watching Possession now. Like, I have now hit the wall with Possession, you know? And, so, now I’m like, “Okay, everybody else can write about Possession now. It’s fine.” I still feel slightly protective of them off the page, I think. Just because… it really was… Possession still had champions, you know? Like, it had Daniel Bird and it had Eyeball magazine. Stephen Thrower’s magazine was hugely important to those films, getting an audience, you know? So, it’s, like… In North America, I would say my book…tour, you know, may have had more to do with it. But in the UK, I feel like Eyeball laid that groundwork already for a movie like Possession. But, like, The Mafu Cage I felt more protective of because it was something that I had rented from a store, that I’d gotten in, like, you know, the big VHS box, and it just had this crazy cover… of, like, Carol Kane painted up, you know, behind a cage with, like, a dead woman hanging in her arms and stuff, and I was, “What is this movie?” And so, I rented it, and I just, like, loved it, but, like, no-one else I knew either had ever seen it, ever heard of it, or would even watch it on my recommendation, you know? Like, no-one would watch it, and… And I remember, before House of Psychotic Women came out, it had come out on DVD because I remember watching it again on DVD when I was writing about it. So, somebody did release it. So, out there somewhere it did have a champion that thought, “This movie should get a release.” But, like, nobody bought that DVD. Like, it didn’t do anything, you know?

But when my book came out, and tour, The Mafu Cage was one of the movies that played in a lot of the places that nobody had seen. And people were just like, “Wow,” you know? I remember somebody afterwards, like, came up to me and said they wanted to look into buying the rights to the play it was based on. so they could, like, make a theatrical play of it again or something. Yeah, people just thought it was great. And, you know, so that one, I think I’m a bit more protective of just because I still feel like it doesn’t totally have the full appreciation that it should. And also Karen Arthur, who made it, I think deserves to get a lot more attention because she’s actually made a lot of idiosyncratic and amazing films. There’s one I want to talk about that’s not in my book, but I’ve got to mention it just because it’s so good. It’s this movie called Victims for Victims: The Theresa Saldana Story, and it’s made-for-TV movie she made about Theresa Saldana, who was an actress that got stabbed, like, 30 times or something in broad daylight by a crazy fan. And so, Karen Arthur made the movie and she got Theresa Saldana to play herself in the movie. And so, she’s going through this shit where she’s, like, getting… The scene where she gets stabbed in the street is, like, terrifying. It’s, like, one of the most disturbing… Like, it just affected me deeply, you know? And just the fact that she is going through this again and dramatising it for this movie is crazy. So, yeah, it’s on YouTube. You can find it. Victims for Victims: The Theresa Saldana Story. But it’s the same woman who made The Mafu Cage.

[Anna] Karen Arthur, yeah. And I wanted to ask you about the choice to revisit the book. What made you… I want to ask two questions. When did you decide to start working on a new edition of House of Psychotic Women? What urged you to do that? And how did you start picking out the 100 extra films to add to this canon that you’d built?

[Kier-La] Well, I started thinking about it, I think, like, two years ago. Like, I think it was, like, right before the pandemic I brought up the idea to the publisher of, like, “What about doing a 10th anniversary?” And it wasn’t because it was, like, “Oh, the book’s ten years old, let’s milk it and make a new edition.” It was more that in the last ten years there really had been so many more movies made that fit this kind of…subgenre, if you want to call it that. But there were also…movies made by people who had been inspired by the book to some extent. And I found that really interesting, and I kind of wanted to… I kind of wanted to give that to those people, in a sense. Like, I wanted to have… You know, if they were inspired by the book in some way, I wanted them to then see their own movie in the book, you know? And… But then, also, there were also, like, a lot more women making these kinds of films in the last ten years. And so, I wanted to recognise that also. So, I felt like there were a bunch of reasons to make a new edition, and not just because it was an anniversary. That was just kind of, like, the excuse for the timing. But I got to say, it was so fun to put together compared to the first one, because when I started contacting people for images and stuff the first time around, I’d be like, “Oh, I wrote about your movie in my book that I’m putting out. “Can I have a picture?,” and they’d be like, “Wait, what is this book? I don’t know. Who’s the publisher? How many copies are going to be printed?” And then this time around, I’d contact people and they’d be like, “Oh, my God, that would be so amazing! Here’s a million pictures!” And even, like, people like Osgood Perkins you know, who made, like, Blackcoat’s Daughter, was like, “Oh, yes, I’m a big fan of the book. I’d love to give you a picture.” And I was just like, “Wow, this is amazing”, because it was like… it was like pulling teeth trying to get pictures the first time and now people wanted to be a part of this project, you know?

Because I feel like now it’s a project… I feel like it’s a project that’s, like, bigger than me. It has its own thing, you know, because there’s, like, people who… who interpret the films… You know, there’s people who have, like, certain types of films they consider Psychotic Woman films more than other types of films. They have their own kind of categorisation. But then also, like, as I mentioned in the preface, too, it’s like…the book is really subjective. It’s my memoir. So, that means it is coming from a really particular perspective. And so, there is actually room for…other perspectives writing about these films and writing from their perspective, you know, and writing about films that kind of, like…what they’re in the mood to watch that day, or things that kind of automatically appeal to them that might be things I didn’t think of or whatever, you know. So, I’m kind of hoping now that it’s got a ten-year edition, that I can kind of retire from doing stuff on it and then, you know, maybe other people can do stuff.

[Anna] And what do you think about, you know, just the sheer number, the fact that you can add 100 new films for the anniversary edition? What do you think it says about the state of genre, that there’s so many more movies that kind of fit…?

[Kier-La] There were more than 100. There was only 100 I had time to write about. I have another… I have a list of 100 more that I didn’t have time to include. But I think that… I mean, it definitely… Part of it is definitely… I think a lot of people think this is, like, a new thing, like, a new phase of genre or something. It’s like, “No, it’s always been like that.” The difference… Like, horror films have always been…really introspective and stuff, you know? So… the difference is that mainstream press and mainstream producers are paying attention to the genre more, and also more, like, indie…producers and directors that wouldn’t normally consider themselves horror people, you know, are seeing… the… all the ways you can manoeuvre within the genre, you know, to be able to talk about things in an interesting way, you know? And so, you get the A24-type movies. You know, everybody calls them elevated movies or whatever, and it’s like, that term was invented by sales agents only to sell things. It doesn’t actually mean anything. And it doesn’t… it doesn’t offend me, though, either, because it’s literally just a sales term. It is a sales term made up for salespeople and the press started using it. And then, unfortunately, people who don’t know that much about horror, think it’s a thing, that it’s a type of horror film. It’s not a type of horror film at all. It’s literally any horror film that a sales agent wants to sell to somebody who doesn’t like horror films.

But these types of movies, I think, have always existed. It’s just that I think there’s more money being put into them now, more producers are willing to let somebody make a really personal genre film, you know? And… You know, like, even, you know, like… I’ve used this example before, but, like, a director, like Joe Swanberg, you know, who you would not consider a horror director but he sort of started doing his, like, indie films on the festival circuit when Ti West started doing his indie films. So, they became friends, kind of knew each other because they’re travelling around the same time. And Joe Swanberg kind of saw the audience reaction to Ti West’s films and was just like, “Wow, I would love to make a film that the audience would respond to in that way,” you know? And so, he started making movies that, unfortunately, got called mumblecore by the press, and everybody hated that term, but, you know, started making these films that were experimenting with horror, but had a lot of characterisation and a lot of dialogue and a lot of just…you know, in an apartment or in a cabin or whatever, like, talking for long periods of time.

And, you know, so, he wanted to make these kind of movies and you ended up having this really weird hybrid type of movie that existed for a little while because of this. Because it wasn’t just him, it was also, like, the Duplass Brothers and other people that made indie films started, like, trying to do these things. And so, I think that happens sometimes, like, where…other directors and press… I think a lot of it is fed by the press, too, you know? Because, like, when I started going to genre film festivals, the press that went to them was genre press, you know, and you could, occasionally, by coaxing with, like, hotel and flights and everything. You could maybe get a Variety reporter there or something, you know? Or if you had a genre-friendly one, Dennis Harvey, who used to write for Variety – I don’t know, maybe he still does – would come to Fantasia and cover Fantasia and stuff like that. So, you could sometimes have these allies in the more mainstream press, but it was hard. It was mostly genre press that was coming.

And then I would say around 2010 or so, that switched where, all of a sudden… And I wonder how much the Fantasia Festival Frontières Market had something to do with that. But it was, like, all of a sudden the mainstream studios, the mainstream press, they just descended upon the genre festivals. All of a sudden, they were watching movies they never would have given the time of day to a year before. Meeting, you know, all kinds of young, up-and-coming film-makers, and totally changed the genre, you know, because it was, like, all of a sudden, the mainstream press was writing about stuff which makes more mainstream producers take notice, you know? And so, then it seems like, yes, there’s, like, more of this stuff being made. But I still honestly feel the horror genre has always made these kinds of movies. I think there’s nothing new about it. It’s just that there’s more people doing it now, I think.

[Anna] And you mentioned it offhandedly earlier that there’s, for this new edition, there’s more female film-makers making horror movies and making more movies that have this type of psychotic protagonist. Do you attribute that to anything in particular?

[Kier-La] I mean, I think that because of…just in the last ten years, women have been given more opportunities to make films, you know? And I would say definitely in the last three… no, last five years, you know, since #MeToo and Time’s Up and all this kind of stuff, there’s, like, incentives for people to, like, hire women directors and create opportunities for women. And my hope is that…we learn some things and that stays, you know? You know, that hopefully we don’t need those incentives forever because, you know, I think in some ways the incentives are good because they make the opportunities, you know? It’s, like, nobody’s going to be able to tell how good a director you are if you never have that opportunity. So, at least it is creating that. And so, you just hope that the result is that this whole wealth of work that’s being created because of these incentives will have an impact when people, like, stop caring about having incentives like that, you know?

But I think that… Yeah, I don’t know. I mean, there’s so many… creative women writers, directors, producers, cinematographers, everything…that I know that get so frustrated, you know, because they’re literally, like, they’ll make a film… Like, somebody like Alice Lowe makes Prevenge, which is a well-received film everywhere, and it takes her forever to get funding to make another movie, whereas, like, some guy can make a music video and then get to direct Star Wars after that or something. That’s an exaggeration, I guess. But, you know, like, with this kind of thing, you know, it’s kind of like… You know, there’s a lot of women I know who’ve made breakout films and stuff like that. The work that they’re being given is in television. You know, they’re directing episode of, like, The Haunting of Hill House or Bly Manor or whatever, or, you know, like, all these horror shows. Which is so great, you know, because there’s a lot of great horror shows being made, but there’s still obviously kind of, like, a limit happening in terms of the opportunities that are being given to women versus men. I mean, thankfully they’re working and they’re getting work, but… But, yeah, I just think, like, in the last ten years, there have been… You know, somebody took a chance and made a movie with a woman director, and it’s like, “If you want to make any kind of film, what kind of film would you make?” And it’s like, “I would like to make a film about a woman who’s really frustrated and wants to kill everybody,” you know? And… So, you get these kinds of films… that fit in my book.

[Indistinct]

[Anna] But I did want to ask you, have you ever considered, now that you’ve also become a film-maker and made Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched. It’s an incredible documentary about folk horror, for anyone who hasn’t seen it. Have you ever felt temped about adapting House of Psychotic Women yourself into a film?

[Kier-La] I mean, I did pitch it as a TV series with a producer, Andy Starke, who did a bunch of Ben Wheatley’s films, and so, Ben Wheatley was supposed to executive product it and stuff, but it wasn’t really for me to write. It was more like I would be a producer on it and I would be a consultant for the writer. But I didn’t have, you know, I didn’t have television writing experience or any narrative writing experience at all, you know? So, even though it’s based on a non-fiction book, so many elements would obviously have to be dramatised and fictionalised and stuff. But I just didn’t have any experience in that, so I couldn’t write it myself. So, I was kind of at the mercy of, like, if other people wanted to do it, and…it just kept falling apart, you know? There was, like, a couple of companies that optioned it for a bit and didn’t do anything with it. And so, I think it’s dead now. And, yeah, in terms of, like, me actually directing narrative, I mean, the problem is I have a really bad temper and so, I can’t be with people. Like, I can’t be a director on a set. You’d be reading in the tabloids about my toxic set that I made. You know, firing guns or something crazy that I would do, I don’t know. But it’s like… Like, I feel like my temper would be a really, really bad thing with actors and stuff, you know? And, um… So, I do have some good friends who were like, you know, “Come on, you could do it,” and I was like, “Okay, if there’s, like, one actor.” So, then we started looking at this, like, adapting a book I really wanted to do where it was, like, a woman and a bear. And they were like, “Okay, the bear is really expensive,” you know? The bear is, like, five actors. So, I think that’s not going to happen ’cause somebody else bought the rights to the book and I couldn’t get it anyway.

But, yeah, I was just, like, I don’t know if I could, you know, because that aspect of it is really daunting to me. Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched was made pretty much alone in my room, you know? It was, like, I would assign… You know, some of the interviews I did myself, if the people were in the same place as me, but a lot of them I assigned camera-people that lived locally to that person. They would send me the footage, I would be editing at home. You know, there was a lot of free space, for me to take time for things, depending on what my moods were. You know, like, I was never in a… never forced to be in a state where I am in a stressful situation, I have to make a decision right now, all those people are waiting for me to make my decision, you know, whatever. So, it was like I was able to avoid a lot of the stress that people have when making films. So, uh… But, I mean, if someone wanted to make House of Psychotic Women, I think at first I was really resistant to the idea, of just, like, selling it to someone to make because I thought I would hate it. But now I’m just like, well, you know, I tried to do it my way and people didn’t really want to do it, so, if someone wanted to just buy it and make it and I would have to just, like, suffer with their bad music choices and stuff, then, you know, I guess I would just do that.

[Anna] I want to kind of, you know, very lightly touch on all the stuff that you’ve done. All the programming, film-making, writing. Distribution as well. Is there any of the… any of the projects, or the… I kind of hate this word because it’s a very businessy word, but all the verticals of the work that you’ve done so far, is there any one particular thing that you find most satisfying?

[Kier-La] I think I really… I really love putting the box-sets together for Severin. And I like editing books, like the anthologies that I did. I published a book called Satanic Panic… and one… called Yuletide Terror, about Christmas horror, and one about, um… Well, I didn’t… I published the book that Samm Deighan did of Lost Girls, the Jean Rollin book, which I still did tons of work on, but… I really liked putting together those projects, and I feel like the box-sets I’ve done for Severin Films, it’s really a similar process. You know, you’re sort of, like, picking people and getting them to work on stuff, and, you know, you can pay them money, which is nice. Working with artists and just, like, you know, just making it exactly… picking at it until it’s exactly how you want, you know? And yet feeling like there’s a support system there. Like, I feel like when you do an anthology book, because you’re not writing the whole book, usually I would write one chapter and then everybody else will write a chapter. And so, it takes some of the burden off of… The books don’t drag out as long because it’s like, if everybody has a year to write their essay and then, in a year and a half, you can have a book, you know? And, yeah, and then the same with the Severin box-sets I’ve done. I did the folk horror box set, the House of Psychotic Women one. I did a couple other ones I’m working on that I can’t announce. But, yeah, I find those really satisfying because you’re just kind of, like, putting pieces together, you know? You’re curating and putting pieces together, but it’s very, like, low-stress.

[Anna] How important…? I find this a very programming-specific question because you put so much work into putting together a programme – finding the films, finding the guests, producing a festival or an event. There’s so much invisible work that goes into putting on events and festivals like this, that, when everything goes right, you never see that work. You never really see behind the curtain. You only see when something goes wrong and people start complaining. But was there an interest for you with, perhaps with House of Psychotic Women or the box-sets or books that you edited and published. Was there an impetus to kind of have something tangible, like a physical thing?

[Kier-La] Yes, absolutely. Because, yeah, when you’re programming, it’s very hard to capture…what you did, you know? And I remember applying for a job once, it was, like, 2014. So, I mean, it was, like, less than ten years ago. I was applying for this job in Toronto, and I gave them my CV, and they just were like…”If you’ve done all these things, how come I’ve never heard of you?” But it was like they didn’t believe me that I had done all that stuff, and there was kind of no way to prove that I had done all these things. Like, when you’re programming and coordinating events, all the events I did for the Alamo Drafthouse, it would just be the Alamo Drafthouse that was credited for things. Not the individual people who did all the stuff. I mean, now they finally have a page on Fantastic Fest’s website that lists the staff and their roles, but that only happened in the last few years. So, there was so much unseen labour that happened there. And some of the stuff I did was crazy. Like, I was in charge of some major projects, but there was, like, no way to prove it, you know? And so, then I’d have my CV and people just wouldn’t even believe that I did those things, you know? And so, yes, when it comes to doing books, box-sets and all these things, there is something that is like a relief that there’s, like, a thing you can hold in your hand and be like, “I made that,” you know? Yeah.

[Anna] And kind of as a follow up to that, how important is it for you to… to have your work, especially that kind of… legacy work with the programming stuff or, you know, projects that maybe you’ve established and then other people have taken on, how important is it for you to have that documented for yourself and have that properly credited?

[Kier-La] I mean, it’s important for me to be credited, but not enough that I have actually done it or, like, kept documentation properly. My own archive-keeping for myself is terrible considering I generally have a collector mentality. And so, I will collect all kinds of things related to other people’s careers and I have very little, you know, stuff from my own because I just… I don’t know, I always end up moving and then I throw it out or whatever. But I do get really mad when I’m not credited for something I did. So, I do have to get better about that. I mean, like, it’s, like… One of the things, like… I always tell writers and stuff, for instance, is, like, if you write for magazines and you write whatever, it’s, like, you have to keep… Like, if it’s for an online magazine, like, you need to make your own website and keep all your articles and stuff because any day, they could just stop doing their website and take it down, and then all your writing will be lost, you know? And…yeah.

[Anna] Considering and, you know, thinking of… starting up a conversation here, but I wanted to ask you, with this tour in particular, I know it’s kicking off here, but all of the activity that’s been surrounding the 10th anniversary of the book, the new edition. What have been some of the most surprising or perhaps moving parts of this whole experience, of [indistinct] the book, talking about it again?

[Kier-La] Yeah. I mean… I don’t know, I feel like the whole thing has been really moving to me. The whole thing is… I mean, any time you make any project and people come up and tell you they like it…is… Like, I never know what to say, but I… I feel it a lot, you know? And so, I feel like this 10th anniversary has been a lot of that because I feel like when I was just selling it, going around the first time, people often hadn’t read it yet or whatever, so people are kind of like, “Oh, whatever. I’ll just check out this book, I guess,” you know? But now it’s much more, like, the people interacting with me on this 10th anniversary when a lot of them have read the book already, and so… so, I feel like there’s all this, like, love coming at me that’s really nice. And especially because, you know, when you write something, like, that personal, it is really good to get that back, you know, because you feel like you give a lot of yourself telling a story that way. And so, that’s always… I don’t know, I mean, it was really moving, for instance, at the Fantasia Film Festival, they gave me an award, and that was the first festival I ever went to, you know? Like, when I first started my festival and I didn’t know what I was doing and I didn’t know anybody. Like, most of my film festival friends and stuff like that, I met that year and that festival, you know, the first time I went. And so, then it was kind of, like, this weird thing getting invited. You know, when Mitch Davis asked if he could give me an award at the festival…and he was just like, “Oh, we want to give you this such-and such-award.” And I was just like, “That’s the same award that Ted Kotcheff got,” you know? Like, I was like, “How is that possible?” And, uh… But it was just incredibly moving to me that…this friend, Mitch Davis, had basically been the one to legitimise my career, giving me those first early connections, you know? Like, I would not have had it… It probably would have just been that one year playing illegal VHS tapes, you know, if it hadn’t been for him. So, to be back there after all that time, I guess, you know, it was, like, almost 25 years later, you know, and be celebrated as, like, a professional at the festival where I was just, like, a kid who didn’t know anything, you know, that was great.

[Anna] To wrap up the House of Psychotic Women conversation, do you feel done with that book, with that project, at this point, or can we expect a 20th anniversary edition?

[Kier-La] I definitely feel done with it. I’m so… I’m like, “Stick a fork in it,” you know? I mean, like, I alluded to another possible edition in the preface, mostly because I felt like, you know, you could make another edition that doesn’t have the horror/exploitation requirement. That could just be…any, you know? But I think that requires, like, 600 more movies being in the book, you know? So, is that something I want to do? I don’t know. I mean, I really… I have a lot of interests. I want to do other things, you know? So, yeah. This is the last hurrah, I think, for House of Psychotic Women.

[Anna] Kier-La, thank you. I mean, thank you so much for all of the work that you’ve done, in general, in your whole career. And specifically, thank you for House of Psychotic Women, both personally, and I think not just everyone in this room, but everyone who’s read it over the past ten years and has come to all the screenings. So, thank you again for this conversation.

[Kier-La] Thank you for interviewing me. Thank you guys for being here.


Buy House of Psychotic Women from FAB Press here.

Buy Severin Films’ House of Psychotic Women Rarities Collection blu-ray box set here.

Visit the House of Psychotic Women website here.

Visit Kier-La Janisse’s personal website here.

Visit Kier-La’s own small press publisher, Spectacular Optical, here.

Categories
Interview News Weird Weekend III

Squint: Cinema From Cinema Panel (30.10.22)

This panel, part of Weird Weekend III’s Squint strand, took place via Zoom on Sunday, 30th October, 2022. Originally intended to be hosted before a live audience, the venue’s A/V presentation was beset with technical problems, meaning we ultimately had to decide to record it, during the festival as planned, but with no audience in the room. The host’s composure may or may not reflect the palaver that immediately preceded the recording.

TRANSCRIPT

[Sean Welsh] Hello and welcome to the Cinema from Cinema Panel, part of Weird Weekend’s Squint strand, on the practicalities and possibilities of Stolen Cinema. My name is Sean Welsh. I’m the programmer of Matchbox Cine and Weird Weekend and your host for today’s panel. In terms of a visual description, I’m a bespectacled white man with a shaved head and greying beard. In a moment, I’ll introduce you to our esteemed panel today, but, just to set the scene, in the Squint strand this year, we presented films made from films, transformative creations that parody and détourné cinema to radical new ends, alongside the collage and found footage movies that capture and reframe the bizarre and ephemeral.

Many of you will have just watched our Squint Shorts programme, which had a particular focus on the repurposing of Western cultural detritus to examine, interrogate and undermine the dominant male viewpoint. And the festival closes later tonight with Anti-Banality Union’s Earth II, which brings me to our first panellists.

Anti-Banality Union is an anonymous collective who re-cut Hollywood blockbusters into new feature films – feature-length films, rather. Their work has been screened at Spectacle Theater, Anthology Film Archives, UnionDocs and several undisclosed squats and communes. Earth II, their latest epic project, repurposes four decades of disaster movies, over 200, into a disaster epic that contains a meta-narrative on both Hollywood tropes and our cultural grasp of the eminent environmental apocalypse.

LA-native Bret Beg has been a video store manager, a film distributor, a college radio DJ, a film programmer and a non-profit founder. With the Museum of Home Video, Bret shares his enthusiasm for finally watching anything he’s ripped over the past 20 years, while inviting fellow download cultural obsessives to join the party. His weekly live show is found at MuseumOfHomeVideo.com.

Elizabeth Purchell is a queer film historian and programmer. She is the creator of Ask Any Buddy, a multi-media project that explores the history of the gay adult film industry and its role in the development of queer cinema and the spread of gay male visual culture. The project consists of an Instagram feed, a feature-length mash-up film that was selected to play nearly two dozen international film festivals and a companion podcast. Recently, she has appeared in home video releases by Altered Innocence, the American Genre Film Archive and Vinegar Syndrome and programmes and hosts the monthly queer cinema Lost and Found screening series at Austin Film Society. Her work has been featured in publications such as ArtForum and New York Times.

Katie Rife, finally, last but not least, of course, is a freelance writer and critic with a background in VHS hunting and found footage comedy. She was a founding member of the collective Everything Is Terrible, posting under the name Future Schlock from 2006 to 2… to 2014, excuse me. She was a writer for The AV Club from 2014 to 22 and currently writes about film and TV for outlets including Vulture, Rolling Stone, Entertainment Weekly, IndieWire, Polygon and RogerEbert.com.

So, thank you all for joining us today. So, as advertised, we’re going to talk a wee bit about your backgrounds and the practicalities and possibilities of stolen cinema, including your practice, the practicalities of actually producing this work. So, Katie, your foundational work with Everything Is Terrible is a little obfuscated, partly by its pseudonymous nature, but certainly unfairly. Can you tell us how you first got started with found footage and what drew you into it?

[Katie Rife] Well, what got me started in found footage was I was a thrift store, you know, obsessive thrift store goer, from way back from my very early days, like, you know, pre-teen years. And when I went to school in Athens, Ohio, we had…which is kind of the… It’s a college town in the middle of Appalachia, in Southeast Ohio, and, needless to say, some very strange artefacts came out of the hills and hollers, into the thrift stores, mostly religious tapes. And so that’s kind of when I became obsessed with… with watching these strange tapes. One was called Rock Music and the Occult and it was, you know, a classic fear-mongering tape about how if you played Led Zeppelin backwards it was the devil and that sort of thing. So, I started combining those into clip shows using two VCRs and Dimitri Simakis, who we went on to found Everything Is Terrible, he went to the same school as me, and we became friends, based on our mutual obsession with digging up VHSs. And then, shortly after I graduated college in the mid-2000s, I started a group called Future Schlock. It used to be two people, it was me and Nick Moore, and we made two found footage mixes under the name Future Schlock and then, around that time, I got back in touch with Dimitri and he said that they were starting this group and would I like to join up with that? So, that’s kind of how everything got rolling.

[Sean Welsh] Anti-Banality Union, you’re an anonymous collective of indeterminate number. We’ll talk a bit about your practice a bit later, hopefully, but perhaps you can talk about how you came together with found footage as your preferred medium, collaborative medium. And, if it’s not too obvious, why you chose to work collectively and anonymously.

[Anti-Banality Union] I can field that one for now. So, we…started… in, about 12 years ago or 11 years ago, in 2011. At the time, we were… ..involved in a screening space in Brooklyn called the Spectacle Theater, which is a micro cinema, and were exposed through that to different kinds of found footage…video practice that a lot of other people who were involved there were working on. And the first project we did together… as a collective, was a short – I forget how long it was, probably 10 minutes or so – short of…basically a supercut of scenes of New York City being destroyed in Hollywood features, that we screened at a very informal gallery show on loop on a monitor, on around the 10th anniversary of September 11th. And that short video piece turned into, over the next year, turned into a feature, where we basically – that’s called Unclear Holocaust – which is where we took the concept of that short supercut that we had done and expanded it to make it narratively somewhat coherent and tried to combine, tried to be as comprehensive as possible in cataloguing instances of New York City being maimed in different ways by asteroids or nuclear attacks or strange weather phenomena, and also kind of weaving the events of 9/11 into that narrative. And we continued working in that idiom in sort of collaboration with Spectacle Theater, and exhibiting our stuff there, along with a bunch of other people who were showing their stuff there regularly and in dialogue with that work. And we, yeah, we made another feature a year later, two years later, called Police Mortality that also started out as kind of a supercut concept of just collecting every instance of a cop getting killed in a Hollywood movie. And then also, we tried to form a narrative within that of the militarisation of policing in America and… and this was around the time that Black Lives Matter was taking off, in 2014. So, we’re responding to that moment as well, or attempting to, at least. And then our third feature was called State of Emergence. It was a zombie movie without zombies. We basically took about 75 zombie movies and removed the zombies and…into this kind of, like, feature-length thing about… about people barricading themselves in houses and then having all kinds of, like, just interpersonal quarrels and paranoias and then Earth II took us about four, five… well, four and a half, five years to put together. And it’s a climate disaster movie made up of a ton of climate disaster movies, but also lots of different genres. So, we didn’t really restrict ourselves to one genre in this project. Anyway, that’s a short overview. Basically, we’ve only worked in this kind of, like… supercut or collage film feature… Hollywood feature idiom for the past 11 years, and… you know, we’re inspired by, like I mentioned before, our work with people at Spectacle Theater… Spencer Yeh, Soda Jerk, a number of other people, and, you know, other people who, at the time, were doing kind of elevated, high profile sort of…versions of supercuts that were being exhibited in a fine art context, like Christian Marclay. So, taking that kind of stuff and trying to apply it to this kind of material. So, yeah, that’s kind of the origin.

[Sean Welsh] Bret, your archives are legendary, I think you referred to them a wee bit, do you remember when and why you started to accumulate this material and what brought you first to repurpose it to new ends?

[Bret Berg] I would say the original inspiration for me to start messing with material would be Negativland, which is audio, not video. Because somewhere when I was 13 or 14, my branch of the public library in L.A. had Negativland’s Helter Stupid on cassette, you could just check it out from the library, and it was a weird cover and I didn’t know anything about it, so, I gave it a blind rent and it completely changed my life, in terms of how I think about media and how to put stuff like this together. And then I would say my years managing at a video store called CineFile Video, here in LA, an expansive store. An analogue in New York would be, like, the old Kim’s Video. Anyways, so, we had a pretty deep “culture jamming” section in our experimental film section, which was all kinds of… like all the stuff that we’re talking about here and kind of previous figures, like Craig Baldwin and Bruce Conner and… ..and people that took the, you know, the more wacky side of things, like, Animal Charm was a collective in the ’90s and 2000s that I paid a lot of attention to. TV Carnage, who was Derrick Beckles. His stuff was pretty influential to me, in terms of knowing that you could just put your own style on something. And EIT, later. As they were making their stuff, I started to make the first stuff of mine. I grew into making found footage pieces and trailers for a now defunct place in LA called Cinefamily and it was just part of the job to mess with media. And that evolved into now The Museum of Home Video, which is, I guess, more like Negativland than any of these things, now that I think about it. So, really, it was Negativland. [He chuckles]

[Sean Welsh] Okay, that’s fantastic. Thank you. Liz, your Ask Any Buddy film is an expression of your larger Ask Any Buddy project. We saw an extension of that last night at Weird Weekend, in the Unsee strand, a work-in-progress trailer assemblage. You’re doing the Lord’s work in archiving and preserving these films, but can you talk about what brought you to work with the material in the way that you have with these projects?

[Elizabeth Purchell] Sure. I’m kind of glad that I’m last, because everything I’m going to say is, like, bits and pieces of what everyone else has already said. Growing up in a cultural wasteland like Tampa, Florida, where there’s not really much going on, all I could really do was kind of look outside of my state. And that’s how I discovered Negativland and Everything Is Terrible and Spectacle and all these other… venues and groups that were doing found footage work. And that, along with seeing Joe Dante’s The Movie Orgy really kind of influenced the way I approach this kind of work. Near the end of my time in Tampa, I was involved with a very underground micro cinema. It was located in the backyard of a noodle shop, where we masked a screen and were allowed by the ownership to do screenings late at night. It was very much kind of modelled off of Spectacle. We’d do pre-shows and create posters and essays for every single thing that we showed, which was a pain in the ass, because it was Florida, so it would rain most of the times we were going to do a screening, so most of them never happened. But that was when I first started… doing actual, like, found footage editing. Like, we were showing Hard Target once, and I had never seen the film before, so I decided to make a found footage pre-show of what I would think Hard Target would be like, which was ’90s dad action movies like Parole Violators, Hard Ticket to Hawaii Action USA… ..the most extreme, absurd stuff you can think of. Moved to Austin, started doing Ask Any Buddy stuff, which was originally just an Instagram, kind of as a mood board for… trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the subject. Eventually, I was approached by a very small, local queer film festival to do a piece for an installation event that they were going to do. And I think the original idea that they had was that I was just going to take some hot porn scenes and put them together and, you know, it’d be a fun little compilation. And, instead, I wanted to do something a lot stranger and, you know, something that people would have to sit down and actually watch. And I had all these different concepts. One of them was, like, It’ll be like a road trip from the West Coast to the East Coast, or it’ll be this or it’ll be that. And, in the end, I settled on the idea of… taking the fantasy that these films present, these adult films, and trying to turn them back into reality, by creating a hypothetical day in the life. So, Ask Any Buddy is made from pieces of 126 films. I didn’t think anything was going to happen with it after that screening. Bret, thankfully, saw something in it and got the American Genre Film Archive to pick it up for distribution. We worked together for…two years, getting it into all these festivals, that started happening right as Covid happened, so it was very online. And then, you know, we had to pull it for reasons that I’m not going to talk about, but… [She chuckles] ..it’s finally starting to get back out there again and we just finished a week-long run at Anthology Film Archives last week, which was very, very successful, just packed screenings every single day. And now I have this new project I’ve been working on, since the beginning of the pandemic, called X-RATED / COLOR / ALL MALE CAST, which is trying to take a found footage approach to a gay porn trailers compilation. So, that’s it.

[Sean Welsh] And, I want to say, everyone enjoyed the work-in-progress version of that. A lot of good reports from Unsee last night. That was kind of the pinnacle. That was the big finale. Fantastic. Thank you so much. So, then, I guess if we can turn to methodology, then, Anti-Banality Union… the practical art of stolen cinema. Earth II is a project many years in the making, you were saying, perhaps deceptively, conceptually elegant, you know. Can you talk about how you developed this kind of work intellectually and how you approached the practical assemblage, especially over so many years?

[Anti-Banality Union] Yeah, I can field that one. So, yeah, I guess, you know, we also watch a lot of Hollywood films leisurely. So we, you know, part of our practice is just going to movies and watching. But we also, in the case of Earth II, we spent about two years… watching all the films. So, it’s like, you know, at least in Earth II, there’s more than 200, but we’ve definitely watched probably double that. So… And, you know, in this case, for Earth II, you know, without working within a specific genre, the parameters were really kind of large. So, we had to… It took a really long time to kind of narrow that down… You know, you couldn’t just… We tried to use every disaster film we could find and climate fiction films, which there’s not a lot of those yet. So… But I think we’ve developed a really… And I think maybe it kind of influences how we watch films now anyway, but, you know, we’re so accustomed to looking for the tropes… ..and, so, when watching a film, they just become a series of units that we can isolate. So, we can… And we’ve come up with this very elaborate keywording system that allows us to create essentially an archive of every moment that something happens in a film. You could just do a quick search in our hard drives, and it’ll come up. You know, every time someone says “DEFCON three”, every time there’s a situation room military meeting, you know, so… that made it easier for us to work separately, that one of us could watch a film and essentially just catalogue a film based on its… like, the smallest units of information. And then, when we… And so, when we create our films, we actually storyboard them out and create almost a script, like, “We want this to happen.” And essentially we’ve watched enough films that we know we can make it happen with everything we’ve seen. So, it’s kind of, instead of necessarily letting… It’s kind of a chicken or egg situation with us, it kind of goes back and forth. And… Yeah, it’s very labour intensive.

[Sean Welsh] Well, I mean, that’s interesting, because I was going to ask, you talked about the cataloguing and the more methodical way to watch things that’s feeding in to your practice, this is something that I’ve thought about and I wanted to ask you, Bret, again, how you approach your mixtapes and cutdowns. I’m thinking particularly about the ones… I want to talk about Fasterpiece Theater and the one that comes to mind is the Beverly Hills 90210 Christmas one and, you know, how do you approach that? I mean, there’s not so much… Perhaps you just have to go through it and stop the tape every time someone says “Christmas”, but what I like to know is what kind of head space that puts you in or maybe you consider them a product of your head space, as it already is. What’s your approach?

[Bret Berg] It’s both. The piece in question is a two-minute supercut of every time the word “Christmas” is said aloud in this one Christmas episode of 90210, from season three. So, in that case… And they say it 200 times in one episode. It’s noticeable to someone who makes found footage. If you put yourself in front of that episode, you’re going to see that, and you’re going to want to go, “I just want to get rid of everything but the Christmas.” So, in this case, my boyfriend was bingeing, back in the Netflix by mail era, was bingeing 90210. And I couldn’t stand 90210. I would always have a book in front of my face while he was watching it, so that I didn’t have to actually look at it while he was watching it. But then I was really intensely reading some book, and then out of the corner of my ear, I hear “Christmas”, “Christmas”, like, about every 30 seconds they said the word “Christmas”. And I just couldn’t ignore it and so I peeked around the book and just paid attention for a few minutes. And then I was like, “I immediately know what I have to do with this thing.” Other examples are me stumbling across something in my kind of dusty fingers travels through media, and…it’s chance. It’s, like, equal parts what’s going on in my life and the Brian Eno, I Ching approach, where chance has an awful lot to do with it, because there’s just so much media. When you’re a pirate, a media pirate, in this age, there’s just so much that you can never really… I hate to say that I do deep dives, because I don’t. I feel like I’m literally just taking a stone and skipping it across the surface, because there’s no way to ever get to the bottom of it. So, this weird livestream that I do is kind of a mixture of what’s going on in my life, and then just the random chance of sailing on the seas of piracy, basically. But, yeah, that 90210 thing was destined to happen. Somebody had to make it. It was just there. [He chuckles]

[Elizabeth Purchell] Your Poltergeist III one too, where it’s every time someone says, “Carol Anne”.

[Bret Berg] Oh, yes, that’s another one. If you ever if anyone’s ever seen Poltergeist III, if you watch it with an editor’s eye, you’re like, someone is saying somebody else’s character name aloud every 30 seconds, and that’s just uncomfortable and it’s lazy screenwriting. And how fun is it to just string those all together. Yeah, I mean, has anyone seen the… the movie From Beyond by Stuart Gordon? Mm-hm. You know, there’s a fair chance some of us have seen it. And in it, the lead character played by Jeffrey Combs – has this like… – [He groans] this little, like, pineal gland shooting out of his head, like a… like a weird third eye, or something else. And I guess… when I make those kinds of pieces, – it just tries to activate that, like… – [He groans] It shakes your head up a little bit.

[Sean Welsh] That’s a great reference. Thanks for that, Bret. And the image, too. Katie, yeah, just on that token… how much were you led by the content? How intuitive was the process for you, practically? Did you always have a clear idea of what the final edit would be, or, like Bret, are you led by your nose?

[Katie Rife] Oh, yeah. It’s very much according to chance, and I think that it is quite different if you were making found footage now because, yeah… So, when I started, it was all thrift stores, it was all whatever you could find in the thrift store. That was, like, the original game that became gamified into found footage videos. So, it was very much led by what you could find, because we were working with not only thrift store videos but also… public access television and late-night infomercials. And so, it… it really was a lot of, like, surfing the high seas, as Bret put it, to just kind of see what you could find. And then, as you collected more and more and more of this stuff, that’s when larger pictures started to emerge. You could start to see certain trends, certain tropes, certain things that just emerged from this, really just a soup of just content, just the weirdest stuff that you could find late at night. And so, there wasn’t… So, I think it does… What we were doing does differ from the supercut model in the sense that the supercut model is very based around… honing in on a specific thing and finding all the instances of that thing. And this was more like… It was really done in a spirit of… “Do y’all want to see this really wild thing I found?” That was the original kind of impetus behind it, and what we would do with Everything is Terrible is, it started off kind of as a way to share these tapes with your friends. No-one read the blog when we first started. For the first year and change, absolutely no-one read that blog except for our friends. And so, it was a way… So, what we would do is… The methodology for creating the first two Everything is Terrible tapes… found footage compilations was, every day of the week, someone would take a tape that they found and cut it down into about three minutes to share the highlights. And these started branching off into different… People started developing their own styles. You know, some would be more repetitive and some would be more free-form. You started developing techniques like call and response, you know, fairly simple stuff. So, what we would do is, every day of the week, someone would share a tape and that would be, that tape, condensed down into three minutes of footage. And you do that for a year… and then you have all this huge library of footage condensed down into a relatively smaller form. And so, then you would take… just basically, when you would be watching it, you would… What I would do is I would… I would sit with literally pen and pencil and write down the time codes for the good stuff and then rip the tape… into Final Cut 7, RIP… We loved Final Cut 7. And, um… [She laughs] And then I would just go in and start cutting out all the fat until you were left with the lean. And then you rearrange the lean until patterns start to emerge. And then when you have all of this lean, then you start dividing it up thematically, is what we would do. Like, certain people had certain specialities. Mine was I was really fascinated with evangelical messaging… ’cause I grew up… I had a religious background growing up, so I had this perverse fascination with the kind of extremes… of Christian indoctrination, basically. And so, that was one of my specialities, and my other speciality was, like, stuff for…”for women.” There was a huge… thread of, you know, make-up… instructional videos and dating instructional videos and even marriage and motherhood instructional videos. And those, when you condense them down…the cultural messaging around femininity and gender roles just leaps out. [She laughs] And so, what we would do is… Yeah, so, everyone would kind of take a chunk of everything that we had done throughout the year, and you would start condensing that and rearranging that, and then the voice would come out of that. And so, to… The short answer to your question is, it was almost entirely led by chance at first, and the deliberate nature of it emerged over time.

[Sean Welsh] I see, that’s fantastic. Thank you. I mean, by contrast, I suppose, to that kind of collaborative… sharing back and forth, like, forming… or informing the end results and… you know, evolving everyone’s kind of collaborative work or teamwork or however you want to phrase that, working as a group independently. Like, Liz, I mean, your film, and perhaps even X-RATED / COLOR / ALL MALE CAST, your trailer feature, did you have any pitfalls you wanted to avoid in reassembling and reworking the material, because, you know, in a sense, you’re working in isolation, in collaboration with that material from such a remove. What were the pitfalls you wanted to avoid when you were doing that, in that process?

[Elizabeth Purchell] I mean, a really important kind of guiding light for all the work I do, you know, with the gay adult stuff, is taking the films seriously as films. I never do a, “Ha-ha-ha, look how bad this porn is,” or “Look how goofy…” Like, the Boogie Nights approach, basically. So, I, you know, I wanted… Ask Any Buddy to be funny, but I wanted it to be, you know, “This is funny on purpose,” you know? There’s a lot of talent behind the camera, making these films. There are occasionally good actors in them. And also, I think… kind of inspired by, you know, what I saw in The Movie Orgy and, like, the early Everything is Terrible feature-length works, is I really wanted to put the clips in conversation with each other and kind of create this shared space. So, I mean, you know, I… in assembling it, I kind of had these situations that I wanted to build around. There was, like, the… the piers, the nightclub, the porno theatre, the tea room. And then I would just, you know, go through my memory of all of the films that I’ve seen, ’cause it’s hundreds of them, and, you know, earmark every single one that had a sequence that was shot in a location like that, and then… try to find, like, one film that had a sequence that I could kind of build out. Because I didn’t want every clip to have its own audio because I thought that would be very annoying and unenjoyable if the audio cuts every, you know, ten seconds. So, I would do that, and… you know, weird chance things would happen as I was going. I was in the middle of cutting the tea room, public toilet cruising sequence when I realised that four or five of the movies were shot in the same bathroom. [She laughs] So, you can… you kind of get used to this shared space and how it changes over time throughout these different movies that are all shot in the same location. And also, I mean, with the type of work that I do, a lot of it is very archival, too. Ask Any Buddy has 126 films in it, and I personally digitised about at least half of them. Some of them are ones that are available otherwise online, others are… you can’t see them unless you have a tape of them. And you know, it got to the point where, like, I was… collecting these trailer compilation tapes that porn labels would put out to try to get people to, like, you know, buy their releases. They would just take the theatrical trailer instead of, like, cutting together the highlights. And I started collecting those, and that was kind of the root of X-RATED / COLOR / ALL MALE CAST. But also, you know, some of these movies that I used for Ask Any Buddy, all I had access to is the trailer. So, there are films in my film that I still have never seen the full version of. I’ve only seen the three-minute trailer where I could pull, you know, a couple of shots of, like, a gay pride parade or a couple of shots of, like, a night-time sequence. So, it was a lot of hard archival work putting it together and then… I guess, working in isolation, it is hard because it’s hard, you know… At least with that one, now I know more people. At least with that one, it was hard for me to get feedback, so I had no clue if I was doing something that was good or bad or worthwhile or not, so…

[Sean Welsh] Well, I wanted to ask you, Katie, again, I think it’s been a while, if I’m not misspeaking, since you were actively involved in producing edits this way, at least for public consumption. Do you still dabble at all? Do you miss it, and has that kind of curatorial aspect… I think Bret touched on it as well, it’s partly a way of processing culture and then dealing with the influx and making sense of it. I mean, do you find that energy you’re using elsewhere or have you found a different way to process it?

[Katie Rife] I mean, my immersion into the world of so-called “bad movies…” I always use scare quotes when talking about that because… the motto… I don’t know if they still use it, but the motto, originally, of Everything is Terrible was, “If everything is terrible, nothing is.” And so, we were taking a more broad-minded approach to just appreciating things. Sometimes mocking them. For me, the mocking… the mocking mostly came from a place of, “I have a principled disagreement “with what you are trying to say here, and I’m going to make fun of you “as a way of subverting that.” It was… I guess I guess you’d call that culture-jamming. But… over time, you know, then we started dabbling more in kind of these underground auteurs, basically. It’s like Liz was saying, five films all shot in the same toilet. You start to realise that, “Oh, all of these films came from the same director.” And so, it kind of… A big way it’s influenced my work as a critic is my knowledge of the… I have a totally different canon that I’m working with from other folks, and… [She laughs] So, I think that it’s influenced my work in that way, number one. And in number two, just I… I don’t really think about things in traditional… I don’t consider “good” or “bad” to be, “It fits within an academic framework… “created by white, straight men “of what is quality and what is not.” I tend to think outside of that box more, and I would I would chalk that up entirely to my work in found footage.

[Sean Welsh] Thank you. Thank you. That’s fantastic. As a follow up, I just wondered if you, you know, in terms of the… Everything is Terrible, the theatrical part of that that’s kind of evolved, do you think that’s a necessary enhancement? Not necessarily as a commentary on Everything is Terrible now, I mean. Now in a world where everyone’s making supercuts on their phone, everyone is, you know… and list-making as programming… I don’t know. I’m sure there’s people in the… ..other panellists that might have a take on that, but we see a lot of that. You know, that’s seems to be the kind of bare minimum of curation required to be considered curation, to make a list, a collection with no further effort involved. So, do you…do you think that’s a necessary aspect of this kind of work, the more kind of personality presenting it that way? Yes, Katie, sorry, you.

[Katie Rife] Well, actually, I… This was… I… I understand the eventising utility of using the costumes and the puppets and everything, but I was more interested in moving in a direction that actually Liz has moved in in her work, which is creating narratives out of other narratives. I was very influenced by Craig Baldwin when I first came up, and a lot of our peers were working more in a loose party-tape type of capacity. But, yeah, I was always interested in building narratives out of other narratives and tropes. And so, actually, I would move it more in a direction of refining the tape itself, as opposed to creating a spectacle around the tape. That’s just my personal preference.

[Sean Welsh] And, Bret, on a similar token, everyone can do it, but not everyone can do it. What do you think separates, really, essentially the TikTok supercuts from the ones that play in festivals around the world? Or maybe nothing? Is it a question of quality or is it simply a question of the curator?

[Bret Berg] Uh, it’s usually a question of musicality, because editing is like music to me and I think most editors would agree that there’s some rhythm to it that you have to follow. And, uh, I don’t know… Ones for TikTok, I don’t know. There’s not… There’s actually not a whole lot between them because that’s what the medium will become, this weird, ill-defined medium that we’re all in. But I don’t know, I appreciate the… the long-form jams, the ability to… weave a narrative, but I think of it more musically than I do story-wise. But, uh, I don’t know… the feature films, the ones that play in festivals, are ones that manage to take something from today and apply it to yesterday and how we got to today. And I’m thinking of things, like, from antiquity, like The Atomic Café, from the early ’80s by Kevin Rafferty and crew, stuff like that. I don’t know… I also… It’s going to be harder to archive all the TikTok stuff, because it’s just the sheer quantity of it… and the ill-defined meta-tagging of it all. And does it survive or does it disappear? It’s the ultimate ephemerality, which is, like, that’s what we’re dealing with anyway, most of us, just, like, ephemeral material, which was just evaporated the second that it, you know, it was released. So, they’re going to have a much harder time archiving than any of us. And I’m looking forward to see how they tackle that problem, ’cause I’m not going to do that. It’s not my project.

[Sean Welsh] Well, I guess by extension, there, talking about the ephemerality of things… I did want to ask Liz, but also everyone, we’re, you know, we’re in this culture where… you know, physical media, which I think everyone has some kind of… has had some kind of dealings with, obviously, as consumers, if not producers… generally dwindling, and streaming libraries themselves are essentially ephemeral, I would say. There’s titles that come and go, and people are gradually coming to terms with the fact that they don’t actually own anything, you know, in terms of films, and these films disappear… at the whims of the corporations, whoever’s…or the streaming service. What can you say about piracy as preservation. If anyone has an immediate thought on that? I don’t know. Liz, do you have anything to say about piracy as preservation, in any context?

[Elizabeth Purchell] With the types of films that I have worked with in the past… there are films that have been out of circulation for decades. The last known video release of them was, you know, in the early ’80s to the early ’90s, and that’s it. Film elements for most of those films are non-existent. They were destroyed or thrown away or are just lost and MIA. I mean, that’s a big thing that I’ve been working on this past couple of years, is getting more into the film preservation angle of it – tracking down prints, commissioning restorations, working on things like that to make sure that, you know, these films… can still exist and, you know, get them in front of people again. This anthology series that I just wrapped up the other day was, you know, kind of the biggest form of that. We commissioned a new restoration for it. We showed five films on 16mm for the first time in 40 years. Some of… Three of those five were films that we found in the last year and a half. So, that’s how that’s how recent, like, some of this stuff is happening, and… I think the biggest thing for my stuff is just kind of making people aware that this stuff exists, and then, you know, hopefully if they’re curious viewers like I try to be, they’ll want to see more of it or they’ll want to see, you know, “If this exists, what else is there?” That’s kind of been my guiding principle for everything I do in film is, you know, “If this exists, what else is there?” I want to see all of it. I want to know what it is. And I mean, I guess kind of following up on what Katie was talking about, I think this kind of material works so well presented theatrically. This past series was the first time I’d ever seen my film in a theatre, despite me making it three years ago, because of the pandemic. And I think it’s… it works so much better than watching it at home on a streaming service or on YouTube. I mean, also the fact that I can’t put my film – on any streaming service because… [She laughs] ..a lot of hardcore content, but…it’s exciting to see…films like Earth II and Terror Nullius and all this new work being presented theatrically or in galleries or… in public spaces where people can react to it the way they should.

[Sean Welsh] Fantastic. I mean… I guess I’ll throw that question open to anyone. Anti-Banality Union, in terms of… I don’t know if you have a viewpoint on piracy as preservation, particularly. You don’t have to be drawn on that if you’d prefer not to be.

[Anti-Banality Union] Well, I mean, we don’t really do any kind of archiving ourselves, but… Yeah, the thing about streaming, it’s weird. Like, there’s films that are, you know, people have seen, they might want to rewatch them, but, like, now we don’t own anything any more. And now it’s not on the streaming service, so… I mean, Pirate Bay is really a public service in that regard and, like, really is, like, a way of preserving… you know, access to this sort of common cultural heritage that we have. I mean, it’s interesting because this is all very mainstream stuff, but it can just become… ..inaccessible for, you know, whatever reason. Um… I also do want to shout out, DVD.com still exists.

[Katie Rife] Yeah, it does!

[Anti-Banality Union] We can still get discs…

[Katie chuckles]

[Anti-Banality Union] ..which is one way that we make our work. The way that we acquire material. Yeah, um… But yeah, I mean, I don’t… I don’t know if I have much else to say about that. Yeah, I mean we think that… Yeah, piracy in general…is, yeah, it’s great, and everyone should have access to this material, you know.

[Sean Welsh] Did someone have their hand up? Katie, were you going to…?

[Katie Rife] Yeah.

[Sean Welsh] Yeah, please do.

[Katie Rife] Oh, I just had a few thoughts about the whole piracy angle. Um, when I… When Everything is Terrible was first starting and I was really heavily involved with the group, it was a really interesting time because… you know, when… when I first got the inspiration to do this, this was done primarily on VHSs and DVDs that were distributed through the mail. It was, like, very old school and the internet wasn’t really involved. And so, when Everything is Terrible… I think we were the first ones to have, like, a dedicated website to found footage mixes. I’m not sure about that, but I think we were. And so, we started right after YouTube started. So, YouTube was brand-new also. And so, it was very much, like, all this piracy stuff rose alongside us, and the stuff that we were featuring was nothing that was backed by any kind of major… We never discussed it out loud, but it was kind of understood that we would never touch anything that somebody might have a copyright claim on. [She laughs] Like, you know, an active… backed-by-attorneys type of copyright claim. We did get a couple of cease and desists in our day, but… So, it was all rising alongside us, and the kind of stuff that we were working with was not stuff that people pirated all that much. But when we started making full-length mixes, a very interesting development happened, which was people were pirating our mixes, our mixes showed up on Pirate Bay. And so, we kind of… I personally felt… There was part of me that was like, “Well, fair game.” I mean, you know, that’s what we’re doing, so… But what we did… But at the same time, like, you know, we were really scraping together… ..like, just buying all the tapes and all the time you put into it, you kind of want to recoup something from it. We would like for people to buy the DVDs. So, what we ended up doing was, we took the first Everything is Terrible, Everything is Terrible: The Movie, the very first full-length tape, and we ran it through a VCR three times, re-digitised that, and uploaded that onto Pirate Bay ourselves. So, you could watch it, but it would look like shit. And then it had a tag on the end that said where you could buy a better-looking copy of Everything Is Terrible: The Movie. So, that’s how we handled Pirate Bay in the early days.

[Sean Welsh] We’re going to run out of time relatively shortly, so I want everyone to feel like they can, like, chip in… and say, like… I guess we’ve touched on it a wee bit already, but how do you recognise… you know… if we can separate the art from the artist to an extent? How did you recognise what’s quality work in terms of found footage, given that, again, anyone can do it? So-called supercuts are reigning supreme, the listicles… What makes you recognise…? What jumps out as… the voice, perhaps, of the editor? How do you recognise good work in this context, or is it purely, you know, the entertainment value, something that catches your brain and draws you in?

[Katie Rife] I, personally… Something that happened with the work that we were doing in the late 2000s that I feel kind of ambivalent about is… posting these things just to make fun of them. I personally am mostly interested in found footage work that, number one, creates a narrative like I was talking about before, and, number two, has some sort of interest in the material beyond just, “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha,” like, mockery. I find that a little condescending. And so… Just, yeah, anything that takes a… either, you know, clearly takes a work seriously. And, like, in the kind of archiving work that Bret does, you know, it’s done with respect. And, um… A lot of the kind of supercuts online are just pure… pure mockery, and I want something that digs a little deeper than that, either through respect for the material or transformation of the material, like what Anti-Banality Union or Liz does.

[Bret Berg] My… This is maybe tangential, maybe not. But my favourite… new thing to see on YouTube… is corporate versions of supercuts. There is a Rodney Dangerfield official YouTube account, and they are uploading in 1080 all this, like, archival stand-up and cable specials and stuff. And sometimes they’re going, like, “Every time he goes ‘he-he’ on The Tonight Show,” and it’s, like, five minutes long. That’s kind of fucking amazing. And somebody is being paid to do that. To me, that’s the most interesting work, and that’s where the true new talent is. They’re getting… They’re young and they’re getting sucked up into, like, weird corporate archival gigs and doing things like that. Or one of the best found footage pieces I’ve seen in recent memory was the game show channel, Buzzer… about, like, seven years ago… had a couple 30-second spots… that were found footage. Like, they were, like, awesome punk singles. They were so good because they were musical. They actually, like, made, like, a Bobby McFerrin style… [He vocalises rhythmically] ..like, this weird… beat-boxing vibe with footage of Family Feud and Let’s Make a Deal and stuff. That stuff’s cool. That is fucking amazing to me. And it’s, like, people who are… presumably younger people who are being given these weird new-media jobs who get to do that. That’s what I like to see out of, like, the current crop. TikTok is whatever.

[Elizabeth Purchell] Getting paid to do found footage – must be nice.

[Bret Berg] Must be fucking nice. And that’s why, like, they’re… they’re really good at it because they’re probably, like, working at trailer houses and get to segue into that or something. On that note, when I first… the first time I ever came across, like, that corporate form of supercut was in… ..Live Free or Die Hard… which I think was… I forget when that was exactly… 2014 or whatever…2013… But there’s a…there’s a sequence that’s like a CNN concatenated-style, sort of, like, ransom note that is, like, cut together from presidential speeches. And it’s really great. But it made me happy to see that somebody had been… probably paid decently to make something like that for, you know, to just act as a plot device in a… Bruce Willis vehicle. Another weird thought is that, in some ways, the E! cable channel is an unsung hero of the found footage saga because of The Soup. Not Talk Soup with Greg Kinnear or John Henson, but in the Joel McHale version of The Soup, because they had… they were doing killer supercuts on that show all the time. And they had to metadata tag their own captures probably. They had a whole team of people working on it.

[Sean Welsh] So, I guess I want to go back to Anti-Banality Union. Like, not to end on a grim note, but… there’s a grim prognosis which your film Earth II, which is going to close the festival… is particularly relevant to, deliberately so, clearly. If it’s not too open a question, what do you hope… not to overwhelm this with a lofty question, but what do you hope it can achieve, your film? What is its role, and will you continue to…? You’ve been working together so long in different configurations. Will you continue to do that, and what’s next?

[Anti-Banality Union] Uh, I can field that. Well, in terms of what the film could accomplish, I mean… I think a lot of film-makers tend to overstate their… ..impact that they can have. I mean, we think it’s… we think it’s an entertaining film, and we wanted it to be something that… people who were maybe like-minded could watch and, like, feel some kinship or, you know, some sense that they… that they’re not the only people thinking about these things. But beyond that… You know, I mean, we really felt like we wanted to make, like, a blockbuster that was for our friends, like, a blockbuster… like make our own blockbuster that could… ..that could speak to the topics that we felt we wanted to speak to. But, you know, while still using this form that we felt was very powerful but, like, not really accessible to most people. So… [Phone alarm chirps] You know, beyond that, um… Yeah, what are we working on next? I mean, we’re going to keep working in this form, probably, because it’s very… I mean, number one, it’s fun to do, to be honest, but also we’ve just kind of programmed our minds in such a way that we can’t not think about media this way. So, we’re probably just going to keep doing it. We do have a couple of projects in the works. One is a period piece. That will hopefully come out… in less than five more years. We’re hoping to finish it before the sea level rise forces us out of New York City. So, yeah, I mean… I don’t know, Earth II does sort of have perhaps a grim prognosis. I mean, we feel like it’s fairly realistic. We didn’t want to do something that was too hopeful because, you know, we just wanted to respect the audience a bit. But we do feel like it does leave the door open, like, there is some hope there in the end. I mean, the way we see it, you know, life finds a way, so to speak. So… I don’t know. I mean, I guess no-one in the audience has seen it. So, I guess you’ll see what I’m talking about when you watch it.

[Sean Welsh] I mean, just for clarity, when I was talking about the grim prognosis, I meant for life on earth, rather than one that was imposed by the film itself. Just because of everything coming out of COP27, it seems like the right couple of weeks to be… focusing on it. So, yeah, hopefully life does find a way.

[Anti-Banality Union] Actually, yeah, to that… Sorry, just to clarify a bit. Yeah. I mean, the way we see it, it really feels like there is no… I mean, there is no way that… Well, let me put it this way. We’re in the midst of the end of a particular way of life. And, you know, it’s up to us to determine what will replace that. But, you know, we can’t… this can’t continue. Like, you know, we’ll see if… what replaces it is better or worse than what we currently have.

[Katie Rife] Coastal Americans are welcome to come to Chicago. If we reverse the flow of the Chicago River again, which we already did once… the lake will flow away from us. You’re all welcome to join us in Chicago.

[Sean Welsh] Well, I guess we’re close to wrapping up. If anyone has any final thoughts on the future of footage or the college film… or can tell us what they’re up to particularly? I don’t know, Liz, you’re still working on the trailer show, I think. Is that what’s next?

[Elizabeth Purchell] Yeah, no, um… Things are finally starting to kind of come together with that, as the version I showed last night hopefully shows. It’s something I started at the beginning of the pandemic, and… A, I kept finding trailers. I have, I think, over 250 gay porn trailers at this point. So, it was like, how do you narrow that down and how do you make it work in a way that’s… entertaining and also not boring and not just, “Here’s a trailer, here’s a trailer, here’s a trailer, here’s a trailer.” So, I think I finally kind of cracked the code, and I hope… the final product comes out good and that people like it and, you know, we can get it out there. It’s been… I feel really reinvigorated after this series I just wrapped up in New York, and it’s been very… cool to see people looking at this film I made three years ago and, you know, liking it, and… finally, I think, starting to get to see the things that I wanted people to see within it, that it’s not just, like, a documentary or whatever, so… we’ll see what happens next.

[Sean Welsh] And, Bret, I’m sure you’ll continue Museum of Home Video… interminably, forever.

[Bret chuckles]

[Bret Berg] Yeah. It is a train that’s left the station. So, it’s every… I do a livestream every Tuesday night at 7:30pm Pacific time on MuseumOfHomeVideo.com. It’s a two-hour plus… I don’t know, VJ session of things that I’ve cut, and then things that I’ve found. Yeah, hopefully we’ll get on tour next year. We’ll do some live shows next year.

[Sean Welsh] It’s been an absolute honour to host you all for Weird Weekend III, and hopefully we’ll see all of you as part of the programmes in future years. But thanks so much for being part of this one, and have a good rest of your day.

Full details of Weird Weekend III’s Squint: Cinema From Cinema strand, which was hosted at CCA Glasgow, 29-30/10/22, are available here.

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The Reptile House Weird Weekend III Writing

Oppressed by Ghosts of the Mind

Still from The Otherside of the Underneath, a white woman wearing a bridal veil looks into camera

What’s it like being mental? I know this seems like a crass and antagonistic question to pose, but for some who suffer from various clouds of mental health issues (like myself), its something I always feel is on the tip of other people’s tongues if only they could flick it off. What does it look like to them? The Other Side of the Underneath, feminist surrealist Jane Arden’s 1972 film about a group of girls’ visions, therapy, nightmares and exorcism from “schizophrenia”, filmed in South Wales and, reportedly, with scenes filmed as the cast members peaked on LSD, is a raw, extreme piece of British psychotronica that feels filled with fumes of anxiety and banshee-delivered primality.

Beginning with a piece of prose on the screen about consciously awakening from a metaphoric coma, a rebirth from the celeste of mortal darkness, we’re  instantly given a series of visual textures that defines the rest of the experience. Coal black muds and barren grass greens. A wind-whipped, poisoned air that will chloroform you before the cloth does. Industrial, rural textures of quarry town plumes. Mineshafts and flowers. Chimneys and horses. Isolated and cold. Smashed mirror handovers like fragments of the mind are gifts. From house, to church, to dream, to hillside, the film feels that pastoral chill across its forehead. The camera close enough to the girls in the home to be distorted at the extremities of the screen, close enough you can feel the heat off their eyeballs. Even the sound design coalesces with the misama on-screen. Doors creak open and merge into cello string screeches. A character’s vision of herself in a corner comes to play the aforementioned instrument as she scores her own mania:

“One cell, Multiply”

“One cell, Multiply”

As the strings are plucked. The film’s identity becomes at one with an incantation of hysteria that never leaves, even after the sound/visuals part from one another. There’s a genuine, beatified surreality to everything that normally you’d scoff at an artist for (and it does feel closer to pretentious at times) but the honesty and frightening lack of leash here makes it a true experimental, in-camera rage of catatonia and fear. 

Arden’s filmmaking-as-therapy sees her making an endurance for audience and crew, as her catharsis of making art becomes antagonizing. This is meant to be a document of hysteria. Every scene filled with howls, wails, glassy tears and screams are like opening a vein to god. The girls, Arden’s real life theatre troupe, named Holocaust, are forced by character and, by extension, reality, to confront, hit and be intimate with themselves (and Arden’s husband Jack Bond, who appears briefly). Even Jane herself is inserted into the film as a therapist, making everything feel blended across interpretation. It’s a perverse, chaotic sentiment that turns the film into something almost confrontationally personal. 

There are scenes of therapy that are catastrophically helpless, oppressed by ghosts of the mind. Visions of demons by bedside, sheep as protection totems, feather showers on wedding days that collide as funerals, contradictory displays of sexuality that wax and wane from euphoria to self-flagellation. The lack of true cohesion gives off a miasma so acrid that it clouds the mind. Even as it descends into Farmland Elvis sing-alongs, Cabaret nudity and Religious Martyrdom, the films sense of razor-edge frenzy never stops, and its dischordancy might stay as a constant refrain in your head long after the film ends. 

Still from The Otherside of the Underneath, a white woman in a wedding dress yells

As one of the of the characters states in the aforementioned therapy scenes, “Under each of us is all the pain. All the love. All this pain, its so simple. Just empty it out, there’s no change.

The girls’ lack of diagnosis or closure is the fear that all of us have. An ear-gnawing rat that keeps us up at night on that fine line between sleep. What if I’m never better? Will those circles around my eyes be embossed forever as rancid trophies, or will I be crucified as a public cause? And something like The Other Side of the Underneath can only say, “What an obscenity”, as you see a projection of yourself on-screen.

The Reptile House

The Other Side of the Underneath screens at Weird Weekend III, 12:30 on Saturday 29.10.22, part of the House of Psychotic Women strand. Buy tickets here.

The Reptile House is the alias of Findlay, which is the nickname of the author himself. A banner under which all collective writing, art, submissions and soon-to-be-screenings is nestled. Reflected in the dark terraces of The Reptile House is cinematic pain and oscillations coming from old Adidas brochures. Always open to collaboration. @antibloom

Poster for The Other Side of the Underneath, featuring woman wearing only rags, crucified and wailing. Text reads, "The Other SIde of the Underneath, A film by Jane Arden", followed by review excerpts
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Weird Weekend III Writing

The Death of the “Lolita” Myth

Still from Triple Fisher, featuring outside-courtroom news scrum, woman speaks into several microphones

In the current climate of media, there has been an astronomical rise in true crime content. Big budget programmes about serial killers that inspire children’s Halloween costumes, podcasts detailing murder investigations that gain the listenership to affect, dozens of documentaries a year about horrific events beamed into our homes through Netflix and other streaming services. These compilations of tragedy and horror often reduce real pain and loss to pure sensation, turning the deplorable into entertainment. In Don DeLillo’s 1985 novel White Noise, he theorises on why so many are drawn to spectacles of tragedy. His thesis is that human beings are so interested in the grotesque manners of death as a way to alleviate their own anxieties about eternal darkness. Death is often so random and meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but in the world of true crime, death is explosive and unforgettable. Death has a meaning in true crime, even if that meaning often boils down to being the unwilling provider of late-night entertainment. Instead of true crime making it hard for people to sleep or go outside, it often seems to act as a calming supplement for its most regular consumers, in the way that car crashes provide stimulation to the characters in DeLillo’s world. 

True crime largely oscillates between three major areas. The first is the examination of serial killers, the mindset and deeds of murderers like Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy compel a bizarre amount of people. The second is the mystery, where a documentary or a podcast take the audience through the potential outcomes step by step, either revealing the truth by the end or allowing the consumer to theorise their own murderer. In the case of the hit podcast Serial, the outcry of millions of outraged listeners has actually contributed to the overturning of a murder charge. The third is the more bizarre crimes. The kind of crimes that immediately take the observer by surprise, the ones that could be scattered in headlines for decades and still incite shock and awe. One of the most famous shock and awe cases is Lorena Bobbitt cutting her husband’s penis off, which has inspired numerous documentaries examining every detail of their relationship, even 25 years after the dismemberment. 

While it’s true that true crime has reached new heights with the rise of podcasting and streaming services, the sensationalist fascination with depravity has been with us as a species for a long time. The case of Amy Fisher and the reaction to it from the television industry are living proof of this. The lurid tale of an underage girl shooting her boyfriend’s wife in the head, Fisher’s case fell firmly into the third designation of true crime media, a crime that was so compelling that three different television networks produced their own version of Fisher’s lustful murder. These three TV movies (The Amy Fisher Story starring Drew Barrymore, Casualties of Love: The Long Island Lolita Story starring Alyssa Milano, and Amy Fisher: My Story starring Noelle Parker) and the case itself have been largely forgotten by time, as new scandals and stories have dominated the airwaves.

However, filmmaker Dan Kapelovitz has resurrected these three forgotten artefacts of early ’90s pop culture, forging a singular narrative by splicing footage of the films together. Sometimes Amy Fisher’s face will change halfway through scenes, sometimes her parents will change, and occasionally all three Fishers will converge together in a single frame. The limitations of these films’ portrayal of Fisher and her lover Joey Buttafuoco are evident. Kapelovitz cannot change the intent from all three dramas to demonise Fisher, with at least one of the films depicting her as a crazed sex maniac who has purposefully sabotaged the life of her much older boyfriend. The misogyny is omnipresent in how her relationship with Buttafuoco is framed, and especially in the sequences following her murder of his wife. The frequent transitions between films during the second half amplifies how nasty these pictures were towards Fisher, with her descent into violence and madness being told with a perverted glee from all three initial filmmakers.

Drew Barrymore as Amy Fisher, with long brown hair, smiling

The sudden transitions from actress to actress, and most importantly, the quality in video production, take a little while to settle into. Having a shot of a crazed, beaded actor snorting cocaine behind the wheel of his car within the first couple of minutes, before suddenly cutting to another film’s shots of an insane asylum, was a particularly sobering way to start this experiment off. Yet, for decent stretches of the 75-minute runtime, the chopped nature of the presentation becomes almost irrelevant, as the tragedy of Fisher’s story dominates everything. There are moments where the constant switches start to blend together, where Fisher and Buttafuoco and all of the other characters in this story become unified figures, before Kapelovitz performs another trick in the editing booth to keep the distinction in the audience’s mind. 

Triple Fisher does not reveal the hidden merits of these three individual films about the murder, in fact, it makes them all look terrible. There is little artistic merit in these pieces on their own, but Kapelovitz has found a way to make them mean something together. It is such a damning showcase of the way that the vultures within true crime media operated around cases of tragedy like this, and makes it clear how little things have changed in the last 30 years. A version of Fisher’s story told today would likely be more sympathetic and introspective about how she was manipulated by Buttafuoco, go further into her being a victimised underage girl instead of a malicious jezebel. But it would still likely end at the same conclusion of exploitative gawking, as most true crime seems to. DeLillo might have been right in 1985 when he wrote that “Only a catastrophe gets our attention. We want them, we depend on them”. After all, if you’re reading this, you’re interested in the catastrophe too. 

Logan Kenny

Triple Fisher: The Lethal Lolitas of Long Island screens at Weird Weekend III, 13:15 on Saturday 29.10.22, with a recorded introduction from director Dan Kapelovitz, part of the Squint: Cinema From Cinema strand. Tickets here.

Logan Kenny is an autistic, bisexual writer from Glasgow, full time student, occasional podcaster. Has written for Cinematary, Little White Lies, The Film Stage and a few other places that you might have heard of. Big fan of Winnie the Pooh

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The Reptile House Weird Weekend III Writing

If the World Does Go On, It Will Not Go On For Everyone

All art is theft. It’s how you disguise the crime that makes it your personal own and how it rests on the political scale. From tactile artifacts to even phrases you use, there’s some coalesced, malleable composition to it all, like a hot mould of glass ready to be shaped. In a cultural arena, this idea is even greater in its capacity. Cover songs, porn parodies, remakes, remixes. Directors of films stealing shots from other films where shots are stolen from other films, and now, in the Internet Age, it’s basically an industry of its own. From nascent days of videos like The Fartrix to our frightening new fatally dystopian love of DeepFakes, It’s always been an endless bread-fold of ideas that never seem to be unanchored from someone elses. Anti-Banality Union’s new film, Earth II, is a newer (r)evolution of this cultural economy of repurposing: a climate crisis mixtape of familiarity and fear.

Earth II collages and recontextualizes actors, characters, scenes and films that we know to turn them into a narrative equating to a 90-Minute Warning. Keanu Reeves is splaced in from films like The Matrix and Johnny Mnemonic to become awoken to the impending doom of capitalism preservation over nature. Will Smith shown from films like I,Robot and Independence Day is recruited as a tool of the bourgeoisie. The editing of these new storylines out of old material creates new narratives. Incantations of the past now rendered anew as real life consequence as real life newsreel footage is edited onto TV screens and in radio. It’s tonally funny and ominous as films like They Live, A Perfect Storm, The Purge, Elysium and others are inserted. Creating chaotic, falsified feelings of bigger budget intention, like a true facsimile of creation. It’s a jarring piece of cyberpunk art that feels like a socio-political comment on our consumption of fear. As if the only for modern audiences to metabolize our world is to infantilize ourselves in nostalgia. These memories of warnings and visual echoes are our only grasp on looking to the future. Getting news stories from SNL or stock trading tips from TikTok while furiously refusing to look up. Earth II is invading our looking down too.

Structured in three loose parts, we have scared warnings to begin with. TV slots, boardroom meetings, external shots of a world as now. Skyscrapers from Lethal Weapon loom across a world surviving, to the fire, floods, storms disasters, and panic (added from things like the scariest part of Jumanji), then into a new Great Reset colony where utopia is just a word. Wealth gaps are even more catastrophic, worker lives reflect our own doom as Amazon Warehouse flesh-droids and the only way to end the obscenity is to blow it all up. If the natural world doesn’t come for us, please blow it up for us, Matt Damon.

“If the world does go on, it will not go on for everyone.”

It’s a true essence of punk ideology in this medium and a politically entertaining piece of near-nihilism that feels less of a warning light on the dashboard but a million car alarms in the night, harmonizing into the Jaws theme. The torrid Earth without us will sing on, but that means you’ll never get to watch First Blood again.

The Reptile House

Earth II closes Weird Weekend III, 21:30 on Sunday 30.10.22, part of the Squint: Cinema From Cinema strand. Anti-Banality Union join us for the Squint: Cinema From Cinema panel, 17:00 on Sunday 30.10.22. Tickets here.

The Reptile House is the alias of Findlay, which is the nickname of the author himself. A banner under which all collective writing, art, submissions and soon-to-be-screenings is nestled. Reflected in the dark terraces of The Reptile House is cinematic pain and oscillations coming from old Adidas brochures. Always open to collaboration. @antibloom

Categories
Weird Weekend III Writing

No Woman Is An Island

A still from The Other Side of the Underneath in which a newly-wed bride is screaming

Between 1967 and 1979, Jane Arden and her partner Jack Bond (in various combinations) wrote, directed, and produced three features. The second of these was The Other Side of the Underneath (1972), developed from the critically and financially successful stage production A New Communion for Freaks, Prophets, and Witches (1971). Enjoying runs at Edinburgh’s Traverse Theatre and London’s The Open Space, the show had been a collaborative production devised by “Holocaust”, the UK’s first all-female theatre group. Included amongst their ranks were the multi-media artist Penny Slinger, Shakespearean actress Sheila Allen, and feminist critic and “underground” theatre practitioner Natasha Morgan.

A detail from the Holocaust Theatre Group’s manifesto shows the actresses re-enacting moments from the show, accompanied with provocative words such as “exploit,” “submit,” and “collude.”
Detail from Holocaust Manifesto (1971).

Despite this success, between 1983 and 2009, the Arden-Bond films were unable to view in Britain. Some even believed them missing, whilst many of those involved in the making of these deeply-personal and often-fraught productions had yet to rediscover a platform or desire to talk about them again. Consequently, the films were neglected in both writing and conversation. Even in the immediate aftermath of their resurfacing and restoration in 2009, discussion of the Arden-Bond films remained sparse. It has only been gradually across the past decade, and predominantly only in the last four years, that more writing has started to emerge on this work, thanks mostly to work of feminist groups such as Another Gaze and Invisible Women, and to PhD candidates invariably connected to these initiatives.

In many ways, it is this sense of unearthing something “forgotten” that has fuelled the revived interest in Jane Arden and her collaborators. Accounts from scholars and programmers often recall their first, tantalising discovery of Arden’s work, and the obsessive connecting of dots that followed. Susan Croft, for instance, recounts her happening upon a scuffed and faded copy of an Arden play text in the now-defunct radical London bookshop, Collet’s, back in 1981. It was to be a ‘significant, joyous’ discovery, that would in no small part inspire her Unfinished Histories project, salvaging and preserving memories from a bygone era of experimentation and rebellion.

My own “origin story”, as it were, bears many parallels with Croft’s. I first encountered Arden by chance, whilst browsing a second-hand bookshop on the Great Western Road in Autumn 2018. Not a complete work, merely a provocative title – “Vagina Rex and the Gas Oven”– listed in a catalogue of plays included in the back pages of another, tangentially related text. It was enough to spark four years of internet rabbit holes, email interviews, and convoluted inter-library loans.

From performance of Jane Arden’s Vagina Rex and the Gas Oven (1969) in the Drury Lane Arts Lab. Photograph by Peter Smith.

In the limited writing I devoured both in the immediate days that followed and in the subsequent years, as increasingly more became available, I observed two interesting trends. What caught my attention was that, although these two trends could be observed in almost every single response to these films, the two ideas seemed to be in complete opposition to one another.

The first was a frequent tendency to identify the films of Arden and her collaborators as completely unique, as divergent from British Cinema. ‘What do you think of when you think of British film?’ begins an introductory note for Arden and Bond’s final feature. ‘Probably not the 1979 puzzle picture that is Anti-Clock.’ Even Jack Bond himself appears to have adopted this stance when he proposes (somewhat audaciously) that his work with Arden is ‘not in a context.’ The films are positioned as something alternative, outside of history, perhaps even a little dangerous, and they are marketed consequently. After all, isn’t that part of the fun of watching a film at a “Weird Weekend” festival? That sense of stumbling across some hidden, esoteric gold; of entering in to some rare, in-the-know club? 

The second trend, equally prevalent, was the desire to make comparisons with filmmakers working before, alongside and after. Contemporaneous reviews of Separation and The Other Side of the Underneath were laced with references to Accident (1967)and Blow-Up (1966), to Bergman and Fellini, whilst more recent writing has considered resonances with Derek Jarman, Alejandro Jodorowsky, and Maya Deren. But how could a film be so unlike anything else and yet so similar? How could one critic (here unnamed) claim an Arden film was ‘so unique’ and yet ‘so quintessentially of its time’ in almost the same breath?

It begs the question: just how other is a film like The Other Side of the Underneath? For British Cinema scholar Julian Petley, not that much:

‘the vaunting and valorising of certain British films on account of their “realism” entails as its corollary […] the dismissal and denigration of those deemed un- or non-realist. […] [There’s] another, repressed side of British cinema, a dark, disdained thread weaving its way through the length and breadth of that cinema.’

As we start to trace that thread and connect those dots, it becomes clear that, without diminishing the astonishing power or achievement of The Other Side of the Underneath, this film was not born in a vacuum. Rather, the work of Jane Arden and all her collaborators emerged from and fed back into a vibrant network of people, institutions, and ideas. As Penny Slinger – a member of Holocaust and “Visual Consultant” on The Other Side of the Underneath – would be the first to remind us, collaboration is an essential component of art, and ‘no woman is an island.’

A still from The Other Side of the Underneath. We see the actress Penny Slinger’s face reflected in the vagina-shaped shard of a mirror.
Still from The Other Side of the Underneath (1972).

Although The Other Side of the Underneath may have gone unseen for almost thirty years, this does not mean that those involved in its making were obscure figures. By the late-1960s, Jane Arden was already pretty notorious: infamous in London’s “Underground” scene, and recognisable to many due to her outspoken appearances on television on panel shows such as Not So Much A Programme, More A Way Of Life. Certainly, her reputation was such that Jim Haynes felt her a safe (or should that be a profitably “unsafe”) pair of hands to commission a play he hoped would bring audiences in their droves to raise funds for the iconic, if financially unviable, Drury Lane Arts Lab. The result was the much-lauded Vagina Rex and the Gas Oven (1969), co-directed by Jack Bond.

Anecdotally, Arden was even a subject of gossip in certain circles, with her husband Philip Saville’s affair with the artist Pauline Boty rumoured to have inspired the multiple-Academy Award-winning film Darling (1965), starring Julie Christie.

Similarly, artist and actress Penny Slinger was gaining a public platform by the end of sixties, and across the seventies could be seen on talk shows and cultural programming. Both Slinger and Arden were interviewed and invited to write in a range of mainstream and “underground” publications, including Cosmopolitan, The Observer, Spare Rib, and International Times [IT]. As well as helping their ideas to reach large readerships, these newspapers and magazines also often featured commissioned or reproduced pieces of poetry and visual art.

When the Holocaust group held their first meeting in 1970, not only did these women already have a platform, but they were incredibly focused and organised when it came to their mission. They even released a manifesto, as the British “Free Cinema” movement had done before them in 1956 (although a radical feminist desire to ‘explode’ the language of the patriarchy means its content often tends towards oblique poetics).

A detail from Holocaust’s manifesto reads “We, the historical vehicle for forging alchemy, must explode the language that has trapped us, and reveal the meaning of an imploding world.”
Detail from Holocaust Manifesto (1971)

To understand the contexts from which The Other Side of the Underneath emerged, we must also explore the crucial role played by the “Underground” venues in which Arden and Holocaust’s work was staged, such as the Drury Lane Arts Lab (1967-69) – subsequently the Robert Street Arts Lab (1969-71) after closure of the original – and The Open Space on Tottenham Court Road (1968-1976). These were spaces where one could expect to run into such legendary figures as David Bowie, John and Yoko, and William S Burroughs. More crucially, these were also spaces where artists like Holocaust’s members could share their work, network with other artists, and keep a finger on the pulse. In a recent account, David Curtis elaborates that we cannot underestimate ‘the vital role played by the Labs in the development of [their visitors’] chosen art forms, as artists came together around a common vision.’

The venues not only had an impact on the ideological development of the work that emerged from them, but also influenced their aesthetic development. Early productions, such as Jeff Nuttall’s no.14 – The Cage Show (1967), were described as ‘characteristic of much that followed on the Lab’s stage in their mix of aggression, physical performance and improvisation.’ There is the suggestion of a distinctive Arts Lab aesthetic, an idea developed in a description of Portable Theatre’s Inside Out (1968) from the following year, which was ‘cinematic, in the sense that it consisted of a number of short scenes with blackouts.’ This, Tony Bicât writes, ‘became the house style.’

These characteristics can be observed in Arden’s work across mediums. Improvisation, aggression, and physicality all converge in the “group therapy” sequences of The Other Side of the Underneath, where (under the influence of LSD), Holocaust members were invited to delve into repressed trauma in extended sequences which often climax in overwhelming outbursts of pain and emotion. We can also observe an affinity with the ‘cinematic […] short scenes’ common in Arts Labs shows in The Other Side of the Underneath’s attention to montage and episodic vignettes.

A still from The Other Side of the Underneath. Six women in white Victorian gowns are gathered for a group therapy session in an derelict room.
Still from The Other Side of the Underneath (1972).

The UFO Club was another popular hotspot of the ’60s “Underground”, whose personnel overlapped with the founders and administrators of The Arts Labs. The UFO also facilitated an exchange of talent and wielded an aesthetic influence on Arden’s work. The liquid light projections of Mark Boyle, for instance, which regularly featured at both The UFO and The Labs, are also to be found in Arden and Bond’s Separation (1967), where they provide integral structural and artistic meaning to the film. Even following her collaboration with Boyle, his influence remains in Arden work. In The Other Side of the Underneath,we see lights projected on top of the performers as a means of visualising the subject matters (hetero-patriarchal authoritarianism, for example) which have oppressed the characters/actors.

Furthermore, a visit to The UFO or The Arts Labs was often an overwhelmingly embodied, multi-sensory experience. One could expect a raucous live band (such as the one we encounter in The Other Side) playing alongside projections of Mark Boyle’s lights, whilst simultaneously some experimental Andy Warhol films and recorded sitar music competed for attentions. When Jack Henry Moore, a ‘key countercultural figure involved in London’s psychedelic UFO club’, co-directed Vagina Rex, it was little surprise that the production ‘overwhelmed the audience’s senses.’ All this perhaps informed Arden’s penchant for rapid cutting and montage; for her combinations of various film stocks and tapes (most evident in Anti-Clock); for her particular attention to the expressive potentials of synchronous and asynchronous soundscapes; as well as a tendency to feature screens, and projections, within screens.

A still from Separation. Psychedelic “liquid light” is projected on top of the protagonist, Jane.
Still from Separation (1967).

The label “Underground” that became attached to these venues and artists is also perhaps misleading. By 1970, the success of the Labs had inspired a mushrooming of similar hubs across Britain, which Richard Neville argued helped to further spread and popularise their aesthetic styles: ‘it is by interlacing the country with such outposts of cultural revolution that the Underground has consolidated itself.’ Indeed, sites like The Labs, The Open Space, and UFO contributed to a slackening of boundaries between what was considered dominant and what was considered “counter-” culture. As theatre historian and Channel 4 executive Peter Ansorge notes, ‘between 1968 and 1973 [The Arts Labs] played as vital a part in the life of our subsidised theatre as the Royal Court, National or Royal Shakespeare Company.’

Peter Brook, then co-director of the Royal Shakespeare Company, was often known to pop a head in and stand at the back for performances at The Arts Labs, and was rumoured to have attended a performance of Vagina Rex. As Sheila Allen recalled, ‘that’s where [Brook] went most weeks to find out what was new,’ and it is fascinating to note the various ways in which Brook and Arden’s works appear to influence one another, with their shared interests in cruelty, in Brechtian songs, and in placing large demands on their audiences.

A still from The Other Side of the Underneath. Sheila Allen performs a striptease, wearing hot pink lingerie, suspenders, and stockings.
Still from The Other Side of the Underneath (1972).

Furthermore, many of the key figures working in these venues and alongside the Holocaust group hailed from institutions that could hardly be described as “underground”. In fact, quite the opposite, with many being educated and first meeting in prestigious cultural institutions such as the University of Cambridge and the Slade College of Art. The Chelsea College of Art alone provided three members to the Holocaust group: Liz Danciger, Susanka Fraey, and Penny Slinger.

We might speculate that it was in one of the arts schools that Sally Potter could have first encountered the Holocaust group, as she was regularly performing in their spaces with the “Group Events” collective in the late-60s. Perhaps Potter attended a performance of Vagina Rex whilst involved with the early days of the London Filmmakers Co-operative, then housed at the Drury Lane Arts Lab at the same time as Arden’s play was being performed. Is it conceivable that the vision of the all-women crew on The Gold Diggers (1983) might have taken its cue from the Holocaust project?

In resisting the desire to single out The Other Side of the Underneath as an isolated, anomalous film, we instead insist upon its firm place in the British cinematic and cultural canon. Hailing from a period which is often conceptualised as a series of ‘success waves: anger, satire, Swinging London, hippiedom, Hollywood-led cosmopolitanism…’ perhaps we might consider the achievement of these women as belonging to, if not a fully-fledged movement, then perhaps an additional moment, with a thread of influences and influencees that mark the film as both urgent and important.

Matthew Gray

The Other Side of the Underneath screens at Weird Weekend III12:30 on Saturday 29.10.22 at Centre for Contemporary Arts, Glasgow, part of the House of Psychotic Women strandMatthew Gray will join us to introduce the film. Get your tickets here.

Matthew is somehow making a living doing their dream job of reading scripts and supporting emerging screenwriters. They also love to write about and programme films, with a particular interest in those mavericks and outliers that don’t quite conform to our dominant narratives of British Cinema history.

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The Reptile House Weird Weekend III Writing

Oh, Come, Load Until Your Plate Wobbles

Still from Gwaed ar y Sêr. of old wizened man conversing with child, in the dark. Subtitle reads, "You're not afraid of old Shadrach, are you?"
Grey Evans as Shadrach Smith, in Gwaed ar y Sêr

Any form of regional genre film should be first in the queue for restoration and rediscovery. It’s a hardline motive that should be baked into national film culture. So many important visual, social, personal and, of course, regional affectations are crystallized in these movies that their value is close to priceless. As Indiana Jones says, “It belongs in a museum!” The dialects and humour of these pieces of art being trapped in amber then shelved to mould is one of our biggest crimes as modern filmlovers. Especially films like Gwaed ar y Sêr (Wil Aaron, 1975), a Welsh-Language horror/dark comedy, shot in preserved county Gwynedd and budgeted to £6,000, funded by the Welsh Film Board. Obscurity doesnt come much greater and its execution doesn’t come much funnier (and ironic) to how outsiders are perceived and dealt with by a town’s natives.

In the fictional town of Gruglon, shot beautifully chilly and pastoral, crowned novemberishly in fog and hill, the community routinely has children’s choir shows and recitals in the town hall, and to boost the area’s stature and dignity, they’re bringing in Welsh celebrities to take part in a huge county variety show. Featuring real life celebrities such as folk singer Dafydd Iwan, radio DJ Hywel Gwynfryn and rugby kicker Barry John in the lineup, it’s a cause for excitement and gossip. What transpires, fairly rapidly, is a murder mystery as, one-by-one, the line-up begins to be murdered by a mysterious and malevolent set of pranks and booby traps. Led by Shadrach, the conductor of the children’s choir, the dynamic changes across power lines as the children of Gruglon become less angelic and more, to quote Chief Inspector Bevan, “Little Devils!”

Still from Gwaed ar y Sêr, of men conversing with young bespectacled boy, holding a ball, a throng of children behind him. Subtitle reads, "You think you're a clever little boy, don't you, you little bastard?"
Chief Inspector Bevan (Wynford Elis Owen) menaces children, in Gwaed ar y Sêr

It’s powerfully interesting to see how celebrity is metabolized in a small town. For the adults, it’s a time to be excited. For the kids (as quietly boorish but playful as they seem), it’s seen as the way to steal their spotlight. Why should the men from the radio and TV impress our town more than us? Let’s re-enact their death at lunchtime, “Playing on the eternal beach of childhood,” states the rector. Gilded into this 57-minute exploitation black-comedy are themes of rural religion as seen through serpentry and purity, the blinkered lens of youthful innocence, mine life hangover and town-life rumour. Totems of Welsh life, projected through the eye of sinister horror’s needle.

It’s also a gas, especially at this time – I cannot think what it would’ve been like to be in mid-70s Wales and see Barry John blown up by a football filled with dynamite or see children your age, speaking Welsh tongue, getting to enact some sort of wickedly fun and punitive revenge on adults. As for things like the police, who feel like they’ve been airlifted from another film into this one, have huge American affectations such as their own theme tune and affectionately have jovial nicknames, or Eleanor “Telynores” Dwyryd overfeeding a police officer with cake, the whole thing feels like an abstract transmission from a valley that was sent decades ago, and only until now have our strangest receivers been powerful enough to decode it. 

Still from Gwaed ar y Sêr of a young policeman, asleep in an arm chair as a woman stands over him, holding a jar of mead. Subtitle reads, "Well, well, he's sleeping like a baby!"
Eleanor Dwyryd plies a policeman with mead, playing herself, in Gwaed ar y Sêr

As the film ends and your signal fades, the children’s voices rings out in their final chorus onstage. Angelic, pure, serene. An almost alternative dimension to where they were during the events, attentions once more angled towards them in their glory as they sing:

“Do not reject me, good Jesus.

Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth

Ry’n ni yma o hyd

The Reptile House

Gwaed Ar Y Sêr premieres for the first time with English subtitles at Weird Weekend III, in a double bill with O’r Ddaear Hen, 12:00 on Sunday 30.10.22, part of the Outwith strand. Get your tickets here.

The Reptile House is the alias of Findlay, which is the nickname of the author himself. A banner under which all collective writing, art, submissions and soon-to-be-screenings is nestled. Reflected in the dark terraces of The Reptile House is cinematic pain and oscillations coming from old Adidas brochures. Always open to collaboration. @antibloom