no.w.here present two films by Kenneth Anger and Standish Lawder as part of SPNM's Sound Source event at the new Kings Place music venue.
You may not have heard of Raymond Scott, but you've heard his merry melodies underscoring the antics of Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd etc since your childhood. The music of his 'Quintette' was used by Carl Stallings, Music Director at Warner Brothers, to give their cartoons that unique madcap sound, influencing artists from John Zorn to DJ Spooky. Yet Scott led a double life as a maverick inventor and experimentalist, also developing the first musical sequencers (developed by Robert Moog), an early pioneer of electronic music that pre-dates the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, Brian Eno and Kraftwerk by a decade. This event features both sides of Scott's music, led by the brilliant Stu Brown Sextet, and includes a new short documentary by Scott's son along with other pioneering film from the ‘60s.
Although Raymond Scott never scored cartoon soundtracks, his work was adapted and used in over one hundred animated features and he is strongly associated with this world. In two films by Kenneth Anger and Standish Lawder curated by no.w.here, seemingly benign cartoon archetypes are dissected, re-appropriated and re-considered.
Kenneth Anger, USA, 2005, 10 min, sound
Kenneth Anger is perhaps the most widely known experimental filmmaker in the world. His latest film reflects his enduring obsession with the entertainment industry and the celebrities that orbit around it. Mouse Heaven
sits somewhere between a tribute and a scathing critique. In it Anger shows us the world's largest collection of Mickey Mouse memorabilia accompanied by a bizarre musical soundtrack including The Boswell Sisters and the Proclaimers. Outraged by the legal 'ownership' of this archetypal character, Anger chose to make a film that Disney couldn't legally object to, by depicting the company's own merchandise.
Standish Lawder, USA, 1969, 6 min, sound
Standish Lawder entraps a pack of Walt Disney's cartoon dogs in a seemingly endless four second mobius strip. Made using a homemade optical printer fashioned from a coffee can, the benign original is elevated into its own filmic reality through various degenerative processes and manipulations. An equally repetitive wurlitzeresque soundtrack affirms the perpetual urgency of the image.