Future Post *50110100x0x0

With the advent of the critical tenets of hypersolipsism, the Free York cinema scene has become a bore, one unparalleled since the height of glam-fascism 30 years ago with it’s strict requirements of the socialist-whore-realist framework. At first glance this return to the slow trainwreck filmmaking ethos of unmediated organic rot which has been sweeping the 4 coasts and post-fire South for the last several months seemed fresh, or at least a fresh regurgitation. But by now the discerning flesh and post-human art communities have discovered it’s crude core to be nothing more than a mute inversion of the principles of the all to familiar Android Pain genre, (or the wider tech-tistic phenomena of robot existentialism of which it is a product). When the post-cameras were turned from the all-white transcendental landscapes, Bleeding Christian narratives, and Particle-Level Realism of the original movement (with such canonical examples as “Three Hours of Orphan Tears: A Meditation” and “Hitler Robot Staring Contest”) which allowed us to contemplate the spiritual architecture inherent in obsessive counting and nuclear flagellation, to the unblinking cybotic documentation of personal acts of cinematic blood letting, something was lost from the medium. How many times do I need to watch 8 hours of a hipster with blood-tattoos vomiting in a badly lit closet? I’ve seen it, a lot. Simply aiming the bottomless red eye of a telephono lens at a mirror while you cut yourself with a piece of metal doesn’t automatically guarantee the documentation of true feeling. When the experience is cybernetically inauthentic the programmed sentiment is as well. The New Human Cinema simply cannot handle the bloated weight of these decadent platitudes. I long for a return to the dreams of hyperstructuralism, like the early Binary “on/off” Movement or the Robot Scream-Siren cycle. Days when early cybot poets could stand in a sterile room with a full platter of film, describing the contents of each frame in exact detail as they spooled it onto the floor. Back when film meant something.

Here are some archival recordings finally reexamined by the Academic Machine due to their inclusion in “FaceDisplace”, the first of the midnight Hammerslam films. As if this over sexed genre hadn’t received enough visibility already, a retrospective is scheduled for next Smarch at MOMA.

Torture Garden - John Zorn & Naked City

I Lead You Towards Glorious Times - Merzbow