Rubbings from a Live Man
November 4th 2008 07:11
While checking out flicks.co.nz, I watched a short and strange film clip online from a documentary called, Rubbings From A Live Man. It’s billed as being a documentary performed by Warwick Broadhead and directed by Florian Habicht. A documentary that’s performed? OK.
The director of this documentary is Florian Habicht, whose name doesn’t mean anything to me, but who’s obviously already well known in this scene. The movie is listed as ‘a flamboyant, tour-de-force exploration of the life and times of the incomparable Warwick Broadhead.” Broadhead is equally unknown to me, but apparently his career as a performing artist and director has spanned four decades. Apparently his work hasn’t ever been recorded before.
I’m never quite sure what a performing artist is. Billy Apple seems to be one. In his case he’s made a career out of promoting Billy Apple, as far as I can make out. Whether
Broadhead is the same, I’m not sure. The clip shows a bloke in some sort of god-like gear seated in front of who knows what. Turns out he and the background are on a fork-lift truck. Out of the woods come a bunch of burly rugby players. They waffle around in front of the ‘god’ and the forklift for a few moments, and then a couple of the most burly lift up the others, one at a time, to allow the ‘god’ to bless them by pouring what looks like sand all over them. Hmmm.
After the forklift backs away, the rugby players go into a scrum, and then suddenly they’ve all stripped off their shirts and, covered in the sand, are waffling off into the distance.
I can’t say this appeals to me as the film of the month (just as certain wines wouldn’t appeal to me if I was in a wine of the month club). The scene has a rather sticky flavour, a little effete, a curious contrast between the earthy and the sublime. Which is probably the intention.
The director of this documentary is Florian Habicht, whose name doesn’t mean anything to me, but who’s obviously already well known in this scene. The movie is listed as ‘a flamboyant, tour-de-force exploration of the life and times of the incomparable Warwick Broadhead.” Broadhead is equally unknown to me, but apparently his career as a performing artist and director has spanned four decades. Apparently his work hasn’t ever been recorded before.
I’m never quite sure what a performing artist is. Billy Apple seems to be one. In his case he’s made a career out of promoting Billy Apple, as far as I can make out. Whether
After the forklift backs away, the rugby players go into a scrum, and then suddenly they’ve all stripped off their shirts and, covered in the sand, are waffling off into the distance.
I can’t say this appeals to me as the film of the month (just as certain wines wouldn’t appeal to me if I was in a wine of the month club). The scene has a rather sticky flavour, a little effete, a curious contrast between the earthy and the sublime. Which is probably the intention.
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