(no subject)
It was supposed to be a monumental occasion.
Jay Barnes and I went to PS1 last night to see the first screening since 1995, and the first American screening ever of "Watch The K Foundation Burn A Million Quid."
Read about the movie here. Trust me, it's a great story, and I don't want to minimize it by giving it an insufficient description here.
It was supposed to be a monumental occasion, and it ended as a complete failure and a total joke. But maybe that's kinda perfect, given the movie and people responsible for it.
+++
I arrived to find Jay staking out seats on the stone steps in the courtyard, in front of a projector and screen and large amplifier setup. Steven O'Malley of SunO))) was going to be providing musical accompaniment for the film, and the huge stack of amps made it clear we were in the right place. Though we were disappointed find that this taking place outside (since we'd spent the day helping friends move to a new apartment), we sat around for an hour, shivering, killing time until showtime. At 7pm, with no introduction, the music kicked in and the movie started.
The entire courtyard was filled with people drinking and huddling to stay warm. It was encouraging to see such a big turnout, though I suspected that most were there just to see it as part of the "Defamation of Character" exhibit, and not exclusively for the reasons that I attended.
The very first scene in the movie is two guys huddled around a fire, slowly tossing money in, with no clue as to who's whom or where they're doing this. You can't even tell what kind of building/room/campfire they're inside of. It's very Blair Witch Project style (though I've never actually seen that) -- Super-8 handheld camera trained on a couple people doing something at night. no audio track at all. Purely visual, and very confusing.
The movie stretches on, and nothing changes. It's just two guys continuously tossing money into a large fire, sometimes bundles at a time, sometimes bill-by-bill, stirring it all up with a stick, while one guy filming them. Every now and then the camera angle changes, or zooms in slightly at a stack of cash. And all the while it's being soundtracked loud, low-frequency, modulated, electronic wall of noise from the massive amps.
Abruptly, at about minute fifteen, the film stops. But the music continues. One by one, bearded hipster/rocker/skater types begin to nervously scurry up and swarm around the projector like a pack of mice, trying to fix it (found out later that the sound from the speakers disrupted the laser mechanism on the dvd player and it had to be reset). Eventually someone presses the right button and it starts again, except it goes back to the beginning of the movie. Getting pretty annoyed (like the rest of the crowd), Jay and I walk around the courtyard to warm up and see things from a different angle. Jay had his fill and took off, but I stuck around.
Even though it was clearly going to be a major letdown, I had anticipated this all week and felt determined to watch the whole thing, all 55 minutes of it. At this point I realized that the movie was pretty aptly titled. Mrs. Drummond and Cauty were not lying -- you could literally watch the K Foundation burn a million quid. Nothing more, nothing less. And I had the idea that if I ever meet Bill Drummond and tell him that his movie was ridiculously boring, he'd say, "Of course! What did you expect?"
Since I'd seen the first part of the movie already, I went inside to warm up for a bit, and then came back out to continue watching. Around 7:40 (approx. minute 15 of the 55 minute movie) the music ended. Most of the remaining crowd got up and headed for the exits, leaving about forty people on the steps. A woman came to the front and announced free beer and dj sets upstairs on the third floor. Sounded good to me, but not yet -- there was still movie to watch. I did run upstairs to use the bathroom and get a free beer, though, and quickly return to my spot.
Ten more minutes went by, and there were about 25 people left watching the flick. At this point (minute 25 of 55), security began coming around and asking everyone to clear out. They were going up to each group of people and saying you either have to leave or go upstairs, but you couldn't stay in the courtyard. The guard came up to me and asked me to leave, and I tried to negotiate/argue with him for a bit, pointing out that movie was still running, and I had come a long way to see it. He bristled, but left me alone for a bit. After a short while, there were about five people left outside watching, and security came by one more time. At this point he wouldn't take no for an answer and I got up to go motion like I was going inside. When I stood up some guy standing behind me asked how far I had come to see this, having overheard my earlier conversation. I explained to him it was just a ruse and that really I had only come from as far as Brooklyn.
This guy and I ended up talking for a bit, and we realized at this point (minute 30 of 55) that we were the only two who were determined to watch this in its entirety. Everyone else capitulated and went inside or left. We marvelled at the sheer absurdity of the situation: the exhibit continues to play, but no one except the security staff is allowed to watch it! And they're certainly not interested! It was really a challenge by now. We weren't going to be denied. This was bigger than us, bigger than the museum itself. We had to bear witness.
So very, very strange. How could the museum allow this? Did they order it? How embarrassing for them!
So this guy and I teamed up, and continued to slowly back our way though the courtyard, every few seconds getting yelled at by the staff to keep moving. They were really getting annoyed at us for making their jobs difficult. We made it inside the foyer and pressed our faces to the glass doors to continue watching, which lasted all of fifteen seconds before were ushered out of there. We headed up to the party on the third floor, hoping to find a window though which we could keep watching. We did, but we were really far away at this point (minute 35 of 55). Then it clicked -- through the window I spied the first floor cafe which opens up onto the courtyard, and we hustled down there, dodging security staff on the way. The guard wouldn't let us through the hallway to the cafe, so we had to go through the courtyard, where the security guy said, "you again?!" But we convinced him we were with people inside the cafe and we made our way in. We squeezed next to a crowd of people, positioning ourselves between them and the window. And thrilling me by placing us right in front of a toasty radiator. Ahhhh, warmth. No one bothered us anymore. We leaned on the windowsill, pressed to the radiator to thaw out, and watched ten more minutes of movie.
Gazing out onto an entirely empty courtyard, save a few guys sweeping up the trash. So surreal. An art exhibit, but no one can see it.
And then the final death knell for the flick. Minute 45 of 55. The lone remaining security guard ambles to the projector, lingers in front of it for a few seconds, fiddling with the controls and casting his shadow across the screen, and finally kills it.
And so it goes that "Watch The K Foundation Burn A Million Quid" has still never been screened in its entirety on American soil.
+++
This guy and I ended up talking for a while afterward, he calls himself Paul, and it turns out he's sort of friends with Gimpo from the K Foundation. He'd traveled to England a few years back to ride in Gimpo's van for the M25 Spin, and has stayed in touch with him ever since. Perhaps he's our last great hope for arranging a full viewing of this movie one last time.
Jay Barnes and I went to PS1 last night to see the first screening since 1995, and the first American screening ever of "Watch The K Foundation Burn A Million Quid."
Read about the movie here. Trust me, it's a great story, and I don't want to minimize it by giving it an insufficient description here.
It was supposed to be a monumental occasion, and it ended as a complete failure and a total joke. But maybe that's kinda perfect, given the movie and people responsible for it.
+++
I arrived to find Jay staking out seats on the stone steps in the courtyard, in front of a projector and screen and large amplifier setup. Steven O'Malley of SunO))) was going to be providing musical accompaniment for the film, and the huge stack of amps made it clear we were in the right place. Though we were disappointed find that this taking place outside (since we'd spent the day helping friends move to a new apartment), we sat around for an hour, shivering, killing time until showtime. At 7pm, with no introduction, the music kicked in and the movie started.
The entire courtyard was filled with people drinking and huddling to stay warm. It was encouraging to see such a big turnout, though I suspected that most were there just to see it as part of the "Defamation of Character" exhibit, and not exclusively for the reasons that I attended.
The very first scene in the movie is two guys huddled around a fire, slowly tossing money in, with no clue as to who's whom or where they're doing this. You can't even tell what kind of building/room/campfire they're inside of. It's very Blair Witch Project style (though I've never actually seen that) -- Super-8 handheld camera trained on a couple people doing something at night. no audio track at all. Purely visual, and very confusing.
The movie stretches on, and nothing changes. It's just two guys continuously tossing money into a large fire, sometimes bundles at a time, sometimes bill-by-bill, stirring it all up with a stick, while one guy filming them. Every now and then the camera angle changes, or zooms in slightly at a stack of cash. And all the while it's being soundtracked loud, low-frequency, modulated, electronic wall of noise from the massive amps.
Abruptly, at about minute fifteen, the film stops. But the music continues. One by one, bearded hipster/rocker/skater types begin to nervously scurry up and swarm around the projector like a pack of mice, trying to fix it (found out later that the sound from the speakers disrupted the laser mechanism on the dvd player and it had to be reset). Eventually someone presses the right button and it starts again, except it goes back to the beginning of the movie. Getting pretty annoyed (like the rest of the crowd), Jay and I walk around the courtyard to warm up and see things from a different angle. Jay had his fill and took off, but I stuck around.
Even though it was clearly going to be a major letdown, I had anticipated this all week and felt determined to watch the whole thing, all 55 minutes of it. At this point I realized that the movie was pretty aptly titled. Mrs. Drummond and Cauty were not lying -- you could literally watch the K Foundation burn a million quid. Nothing more, nothing less. And I had the idea that if I ever meet Bill Drummond and tell him that his movie was ridiculously boring, he'd say, "Of course! What did you expect?"
Since I'd seen the first part of the movie already, I went inside to warm up for a bit, and then came back out to continue watching. Around 7:40 (approx. minute 15 of the 55 minute movie) the music ended. Most of the remaining crowd got up and headed for the exits, leaving about forty people on the steps. A woman came to the front and announced free beer and dj sets upstairs on the third floor. Sounded good to me, but not yet -- there was still movie to watch. I did run upstairs to use the bathroom and get a free beer, though, and quickly return to my spot.
Ten more minutes went by, and there were about 25 people left watching the flick. At this point (minute 25 of 55), security began coming around and asking everyone to clear out. They were going up to each group of people and saying you either have to leave or go upstairs, but you couldn't stay in the courtyard. The guard came up to me and asked me to leave, and I tried to negotiate/argue with him for a bit, pointing out that movie was still running, and I had come a long way to see it. He bristled, but left me alone for a bit. After a short while, there were about five people left outside watching, and security came by one more time. At this point he wouldn't take no for an answer and I got up to go motion like I was going inside. When I stood up some guy standing behind me asked how far I had come to see this, having overheard my earlier conversation. I explained to him it was just a ruse and that really I had only come from as far as Brooklyn.
This guy and I ended up talking for a bit, and we realized at this point (minute 30 of 55) that we were the only two who were determined to watch this in its entirety. Everyone else capitulated and went inside or left. We marvelled at the sheer absurdity of the situation: the exhibit continues to play, but no one except the security staff is allowed to watch it! And they're certainly not interested! It was really a challenge by now. We weren't going to be denied. This was bigger than us, bigger than the museum itself. We had to bear witness.
So very, very strange. How could the museum allow this? Did they order it? How embarrassing for them!
So this guy and I teamed up, and continued to slowly back our way though the courtyard, every few seconds getting yelled at by the staff to keep moving. They were really getting annoyed at us for making their jobs difficult. We made it inside the foyer and pressed our faces to the glass doors to continue watching, which lasted all of fifteen seconds before were ushered out of there. We headed up to the party on the third floor, hoping to find a window though which we could keep watching. We did, but we were really far away at this point (minute 35 of 55). Then it clicked -- through the window I spied the first floor cafe which opens up onto the courtyard, and we hustled down there, dodging security staff on the way. The guard wouldn't let us through the hallway to the cafe, so we had to go through the courtyard, where the security guy said, "you again?!" But we convinced him we were with people inside the cafe and we made our way in. We squeezed next to a crowd of people, positioning ourselves between them and the window. And thrilling me by placing us right in front of a toasty radiator. Ahhhh, warmth. No one bothered us anymore. We leaned on the windowsill, pressed to the radiator to thaw out, and watched ten more minutes of movie.
Gazing out onto an entirely empty courtyard, save a few guys sweeping up the trash. So surreal. An art exhibit, but no one can see it.
And then the final death knell for the flick. Minute 45 of 55. The lone remaining security guard ambles to the projector, lingers in front of it for a few seconds, fiddling with the controls and casting his shadow across the screen, and finally kills it.
And so it goes that "Watch The K Foundation Burn A Million Quid" has still never been screened in its entirety on American soil.
+++
This guy and I ended up talking for a while afterward, he calls himself Paul, and it turns out he's sort of friends with Gimpo from the K Foundation. He'd traveled to England a few years back to ride in Gimpo's van for the M25 Spin, and has stayed in touch with him ever since. Perhaps he's our last great hope for arranging a full viewing of this movie one last time.