Someone mentions getting sober.

“When I get myself – cleaned up and straightened out, I'm going down and get a ship and I'm going to wind up in South Sea islands. That's where I wanna go!”

It's December 6, 1969 and just like that, the 60s were over. It started out great, the West Coast edition of Woodstock. Santana, Jefferson Airplane, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, a 300.000 strong crowd and, of course, The Rolling Stones on the final leg of their US tour. And, of course too, Hells Angels armed with motorcycle chains, sawed-off pool cues and $500 worth of beer, hired to stop fans from climbing the stage. And not in the least due to its proximity to Frisco, lots of bad drugs mixing with that crowd.

“Well, The Rolling Stones tour of the United States is over. It wounded up with a free concert at the Altamont Speedway for more than 300,000 people. There were four births, four deaths and an awful lot of scuffles reported.”

– Stefan Ponek, KSN Radio

Even before a single note had come out of Mick's mouth, someone had punched him in the head. More scuffles, Grace Slick begs the audience to keep their bodies off each other unless they intend love. The Grateful Dead, regular deployers of peaceful Angels security, wisely forfeit their performance. The Stones open their set, the final set of the day. By then, the Angels are far into their $500 beer bounty, and the audience far out of their mind. Meredith Hunter, high on drugs, had brought a gun. And the Angels did what they were ordered to: stop anyone from getting close.

Feeling rather peckish.

“Are the birds gonna eat us, Mommy?”

– You want a leg or a breast?

– You make the choice.

Arnold Laven's The Monster That Challenged the World is one of the earliest, if not thé earliest, example of this peculiar movie and television trope: the coroner's lunch break.

– You boys care for a sandwich? Got tuna fish and minced ham on rye.

– No, thanks.

– It's nice and cold.

Having some cold cuts over some cold cuts never gets old. Or appetising.

American artist Matthew Barney dreamt of playing #AmericanFootball at Yale. His body, too short for the demanding game, became his personal battleground by way of torturous prosthetics and art performances testing its endurance. A fascination with biology – he considered medicine as his profession – is a recurring motif in his art. This will teach us that stage 1 of the cremaster cycle is the moment when the cremaster muscle – the muscle in the biological male responsible for the ascent and descent of the testes – is at its most ascended or undifferentiated state.

 

Cremaster 1, the second of the five part Cremaster cycle (1994—2002), is set at the Bronco Stadium in #Boise, #Idaho, Barney's hometown. Due of his personal connection with the place he was able to secure the stadium for a lush musical revue, complete with chorus girls and Goodyear #blimps. Instead of cheerleading yells and the crushing noise of chronic traumatic encephalopathy, we find ourselves quietly poised in an airship high above the field.

 

In each airship there is an ethereal woman (both played by gender-ambigious Marti Domination), arranging and rearranging grapes in intricate shapes, illustrating the development of the foetus from non-gendered to male. Below on luminous blue AstroTurf, the chorus line follows the same patterns.

 

Cremaster 1 is arguably the most accessible instalment of the cycle. Everyone, even if not familiar with the name Busby Berkeley, recognises the kaleidoscopic choreography. And those who have never watched a game of football in their lives, may pick up the subliminal patterns created by men dressed to overemphasise their already excessive masculinity.

28 is no age to die, regardless if your name is Susan Superstar or Edie Sedgwick. But it happened, right during the wrap-up of Ciao Manhattan. Edie was gone, just like that, snuffed like so many of the other #Warhol Superstars. What did remain was footage, so much abandoned footage shot in the 60s when those stars were shining at their brightest. That footage, set in glitzy black-and-white Manhattan, is where Edie and Paul America race around town on amphetamine. Or see a doctor to get shots of some sorts.

“Speed is the ultimate, all-time high. That first rush. Wow! Just that burning, searing, soaring sense of perfection.”

– Susan

And there's colour footage too. Susan, topless, semi-(un)consciously dragged around the floor of her empty pool-turned-Superstar-temple. She babbles, drinks, dances around in her panties. And she ODs. Like Edie would even before this movie had seen the light of day.

 

They snuff so fast, these bright Superstars.