From Dada & Surrealist Art by William S. Rubin: "Among Surrealist techniques exploiting the mystique of accident was a kind of collective collage of words or images called the cadavre exquis (exquisite corpse). Based on an old parlor game, it was played by several people, each of whom would write a phrase on a sheet of paper, fold the paper to conceal part of it, and pass it on to the next player for his contribution. The technique got its name from results obtained in initial playing, 'Le cadavre / exquis / boira / le vin / nouveau' (The exquisite corpse will drink the young wine).... These poetic fragments were felt to reveal what Nicolas Calas characterized as the 'unconscious reality in the personality of the group' resulting from a process of what [Max] Ernst called 'mental contagion.' At the same time, they represented the transposition of Lautréamont's classic verbal collage to a collective level, in effect fulfilling his injunction -- frequently cited in Surrealist texts -- that 'poetry must be made by all and not by one.' It was natural that such oracular truths should be similarly sought through images, and the game was immediately adapted to drawing..." (Drawing samples from exquisitecorpse.com.)
In 1990, editors of RAW magazine invited cartoonists to take part in a comix variant called The Narrative Corpse. Each of the 69 artists was asked to write and draw three consecutive black & white panels that were then forwarded to the next cartoonist on the list. Each partici-pant was sent a three panel grid accompanied by a character sheet for the simple stick figure (Sticky) that would act as the unifying central protagonist. The cartoonists were only allowed to see the three panels that immediately preceded their own. An example:
I suggest here one method for employing the Exquisite Corpse in cinema. Let's call it 23 Skidoo because its contents are 23 short con-secutive films. Why 23? Well, it doesn't have to be, but I happen to like 23. I like the myth of it, how it's become fraught, however self-fulfillingly, with a sort of synchronistic significance. Technically, as you'll see, there's 24 films. One could then perhaps argue for the number 24 -- because film works at 24 frames per second, days are 24 hours, etc. -- but, either way, if the end result comes close to feature length, it can then be fitted for a traditional indie release, although it seems to me more suited for digital distribution (say, like Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog by Joss Whedon).
A rough draft of the rules:
1) Each short film features a song and lasts only as long as the song with the optional exception of a brief bridging scene to aid in transition to or from the inherited section. No sound but the song is allowed except during this transitional scene. Such transitions are hoped to be unnecessary, however, and thus discouraged.
2) Each filmmaker is only allowed to see the section that either precedes or follows their own, depending on which they are given. No filmmaker is allowed to alter or collaborate on any other section's writing or directing.
3) Each short must be about lovers and at least one of the lovers must be derived from the inherited section. Frank depiction of consensual sex is permitted.
4) Each short must contain at least one minor character, making for a minimum of three characters per section. Each short must also derive at least one prop from the inherited section and add a new one. Any contemporary setting is allowed.
5) Each song must be chosen by the filmmaker and be roughly standard radio play length. Songs with previously existing videos or films, songs written and/or performed by the filmmaker, ad jingles, and national anthems are strictly forbidden.
6) Each filmmaker is given the same budgetary restrictions and time limits for shooting and editing. Producers determine production budget, schedule, and the order in which filmmakers play. The "story" begins with the central section, provided here, then continues for eleven linked segments in either direction.
The rules follow the same logic employed by The Narrative Corpse. Cartoonists used a stick figure because it's the most basic and any cartoonist in any style could draw it. I would argue that marrying moving pictures to music is basic to -- and, in fact, the beginning of -- cinema. Songs also limit length in the same way the cartoonists were only given three panels. The option to replace one of the inherited lovers allows for the inclusion of various races, ages, types, physiques, and sexual preferences. Theoretically, some extremely talented actor could make it through the whole cycle as one or many types of people, but this is as unlikely as it is unwanted.
The central section (working title: Pretty Vacant) is itself a gimmick, what I refer to as a pallindrama, a scene that plays the same forwards and backwards. As such, it provides a true fulcrum, leading to the end and back to the beginning of the overall film with the same momen-tum. So as not to limit the geography of the game, the setting is a type of place that can be found at the edge of just about every city, a recognizable architectural cliche. Likewise, the "characters" are presented as archetypal outlines awaiting further development by the next two players. Complexity thus accrues in both directions. Because it's highly improbable that the next two players will create the same characters from such blank slates, this section's literal stripping down of the characters' identities makes their transformation nearly inevitable. A person enters a revolving door and exits as a new them. Think of it structurally as the shape of an hour glass:
The hour glass on the left represents the central section which starts the game. The lines emanating from it are the two paths of 11 films each, one moving forward into the future, the other backwards into the past. My proposal, represented by the hour glass on the right, is to shoot the same exact scene again using one lover from each path's end (scenes 1 and 23), thus creating a loop which can play endlessly and be entered at any point. How this works will be better understood after reading the central section's script. The scene is essentially a classic tryst at a seedy motel.
SECTION TWELVE - "PRETTY VACANT"
CUT to:
EXT. MOTEL - MAGIC HOUR
The neon sign changes from VACANCY to NO VACANCY.
CUE MUSIC.
WIDE on the twilit lot of a no-tell motel on the edge of an unseen city. A spectral sin zone, as dingy as it is cheap. Just a few cars.
Among them, a battered TAXI CAB with empty beer cans on string tied to the back fender below a misspelled cardboard sign:
J U S T M A R R E D
By the ice machine, we find TUX, a homeless man still sporting the tattered tuxedo he wore for the wedding at which his bride-to-be failed to appear. He's been drunk ever since. He steps up to the dumpster, lifts the lid, revealing:
A rummaging ALLEY CAT who looks up at
TUX, his face ruddy, dull, impassive.
CLOSE on the cat's eyes, glowing slits of guarded tenseness.
DISSOLVE to:
INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
The TV FLICKERS with bad reception.
As the only interior light source, the TV static has the random flashing effect of an electrical storm, temporarily illuminating the various objects that litter the room. In a horseshoe-shape around the bed, we find: Emptied sacks from sex shops, department stores, pharmacies. A random batch of PARTY PROPS and their packages, the more bizarre still left unopened. Liquor, condoms, fruit, candles, wigs, hats, Halloween masks, handcuffs, silk scarves, sex toys, pills... Evidence of extreme sexual activity and altered moods. In this moment, however, they’re unneeded.
LOVER GIRL and LOVER BOY lay side by side in the bed, staring at the ceiling, naked, glistening with sweat, exhausted, eyes vacant. They slowly turn and look at each other. As if hypnotized, Lover Boy rolls over and lays on top of Lover Girl.
LOW ANGLE as she lazily drags her heels up his legs then wraps her legs around his waist. He thrusts in.
HIS HAND grips the sheets, clenches into a fist.
HER HANDS slowly drag her nails up his spine.
She leans her head back, closes her eyes. He slides a hand under her neck and lifts her head off the pillow, out of frame.
THEIR FACES meet against the backdrop of the blinds, the neon glow outside leaking through the dusty slats. As soon as their lips meet, the lovers darken into silhouette for a LONG, SLOW, TENDER KISS.
Then it all REVERSES:
The kiss parts and light falls back on their faces...
her head slowly lowers onto the pillow, then she opens her eyes...
her nails drag down his spine...
his hand unclenches...
he pulls out and her legs unwrap from his waist, then her heels slide down the back of his legs to the end of the bed...
he rolls off her and they lay there side by side looking at each other, then they both turn away and stare at the ceiling...
the TV flickers, illuminating unused sex toys...
DISSOLVE to:
EXT. MOTEL - MAGIC HOUR
The cat returns to rummaging in the dumpster...
Tux closes the lid, steps back by the ice machine...
a “Just Marred” sign on a taxi...
the motel lot (dusk light now dawn light)...
the sign changes from NO VACANCY to VACANCY.
END MUSIC.
Preliminary experiments show that the reversal looks terrible if done simply using the same footage run backward. The actions must be duplicated in reverse by the actors for the same duration as the forward half of the film. The kiss, however, lasts longer and occupies its own space without need for mirrored motion since it is the center, the heart, what the lovemaking builds to and falls away from, the fleeting intimate connection that cannot be kept from collapsing.
As for this section's thematic responsibility in exploring the lives of lovers, it is inspired both by Wilhelm Reich's Orgasm Formula (charge, tension, discharge, relaxation) and by the following paragraph from legendary rock critic Lester Bangs' 1981 fictional fragment "Maggie May" which in turn was inspired by the hit song by Rod Stewart and can be found (along with the greatest essay about The Troggs ever written) in the book Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, the best introductory collection to Bangs' work:
When they were done dogfucking they sprawled back awhile to rest and pant and contemplate just exactly what they mighta forgot to try. Licking assholes? They talked about it but agreed it was finally neither’s style. Mild B&D/S&M? Well, both were tired. So they tried something really daring, truly avant, beyond the pales of known thrash: they snuggled up for warmth, and hugged and kissed, with full passion but also gently and tenderly, sometimes just barely grazing each other’s liptips (which really reactivated the lust-postules in both bodies), for about twenty minutes. They kissed. Like kids, which was what he in fact was, and made her feel like all over again, which was the best feeling she’d had in years if not ever. When fully reprimed, they fucked once more, a long, slow, languorous workout in nothing but the Missionary Position, and when at last they came it seemed as if some timeless primal river was unleashed headwaters between the two as they writhed in one slow sliding tangle of YES from the core to YOU and no other... it was almost like some sort of, well, religious experience, mystical somehow, certainly elemental, the mindless melding of two principles always drawn together yet always warring everywhere, no confluently conjoined once in lifetime-memorable rapture among all manner of fucks high and low and every pitstop in between but this was one of the few ever that anybody’s lucky enough to get which really actually on some intangible certainly beyond verbalization level matters... what you keep on looking for every time you lie down, and suspicion or nerves or reminiscence of some past lover who warn’t so hot or drug-numbness or outright hatred or simple bone-weariness or god knows whatall else seems to come between you and it every time damn near... and True Love has nothing to do with it, on one level it’s nothing more than pure chemistry, though on a level a high degree of in-front mutual trust helps plenty, and finally maybe it’s just dumb luck: THIS TIME.You'll notice no specific song has yet been chosen for this section. I suppose any number of songs would work, though I've tended to imagine an instrumental. It's not necessary that the song has the same reversible structure and I'm not sure if such a song exists. Feel free to offer suggestions. For my part, I'll pitch this one:
Just Another Sucker on the Vine (MP3) by Tom Waits
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