Irreverent: an interview with Napoleon Brousseau (July 2013)
Napo: Kim Kozzi and I met in the winter of 1974 sorting mail in Ottawa, I talked her into going to the Ontario College of Art, she was in first year and I was in third.
I graduated in 1976 and went back as a teaching assistant for Gary Michael Dault, waiting for Kim to finish. In the final year, I took film classes with John Cool and video with Denis Pike. Later after graduating, Kim and I lived at 2 Berkeley Street near the Funnel. We wanted to make films, the idea was that the films would be a setting for our art works, paintings, clothing, I guess it was a primitive branding attempt. When people saw our films, they would see our art and lifestyle at the same time. The first film we ever did together was called Flowers and Numbers (8 minutes silent, 1976). It was very basic, there were two alternating topics: beautiful flowers and elegant numbers. Close up, a flower comes onscreen, followed by a number and so on. That’s basically what the film was.
Mike: How are the numbers related to the flowers?
Napo: Flowers and Numbers came out of discussions with (writer/artist) Gary Michael Dault on creating with flowers juxtaposed with numbers, an elegant symmetry which possibly could generate meaning. The film was shown at the Funnel I believe, it was silent and was more of a meditation than entertainment. I continued shooting silent film whenever I had the money to buy film stock and more importantly, pay the processing cost.
I used to go to the Salvation Army and buy really primitive machines, regular 8 and super 8 silent cameras. I remember once having a temper tantrum and smashing the camera with instant regret. Embarrassed, I picked up all the pieces and glued them back together and found it still worked. So I started breaking them down and playing with the gears, cutting off the pull-down claws to produce visual stutters or using a dimmer switch to control the power supply while shooting. I even built an waterproof housing so I could shoot underwater.
The big start for us Fastwürms was in 1979. When my friend Rick Gorman went to art college he had shared a room with Donald Sutherland, and later, in the early 80s Donald used to drop by Rick’s studio. Donald liked our work and wanted to support our films, his contribution of equipment made it possible for us to start making films the way we wanted. One morning I was at my studio window when a limo pulled up in front of the studio and the chauffeur got out and started unloading boxes. I could see Kim shuffling them all into the freight elevator that opened into my studio, and when I lifted the door, I realized all the boxes said Elmo. We started opening them up. We had an Elmo sound super 8 camera, Elmo editing equipment, splicer, and a dual sound projector that could also record, complete with microphone and a short boom. We were completely set up, just like that. We took it all out of the boxes and said this is crazy.
For about a month we didn’t do anything, we’d look at this stuff and were totally terrified. Finally, I had a dream about a movie I wanted to make. I woke up and wrote a script called Zig Zag (7 minutes 1980). A poor quality print is online if you want to see it (http://www.napob.com/#!videos). I said to Kim: “I think we’ve got the first film we could make.” Kim did the camera work, and I did the editing and sound. Zig Zag is about my life as a security guard at the Art Gallery of Ontario. During the day I’m in a uniform watching for touchers of fine works of art, by night I’m the artist living illegally, fearing eviction in this horrible industrial zone. There was a car wrecker across the road, and trash compactors lined up down the street. The only action I would see outside my window were hookers giving blowjobs, and people dumping cars or smashing and burning them. It was a crime scene every night, with the distant giant smokestack of the Hearn Power plant billowing dioxins and the roar of the Gardiner Expressway.
We could record directly onto either track of the film, we usually kept the wider track and recorded over the second track.. We would look at the film and if it didn’t work, we’d rewind and make a new soundtrack. We kept changing the sound until we had exactly what we wanted. The sound was all done live, we had record players going, and tape machines, and voice over, musical instruments, television audio.
Whenever I would come up with something, Kim would come up with something, we were dueling with each other using film, sometimes even making short movies messages to one another. Kim made Brioche du Carêmes (5 minutes, 1980) or Hot Cross Buns, where she shaves her armpits into crosses to the sound of Noro Moralles. We also shot Gone Fishing (5 minutes 1980) the same week, where she guts a fish on a blue leather couch, everyone once in a while flashing the camera. The movie ends with her writing “Gone Fishing” on the door to her studio with a large bleeding fish. Those were our first three films as Fastwürms.
We had heard about this place called The Funnel where you could bring films to open screenings. There was one night during the month I believe when the screening room of the gallery was open and you just left your films with the projectionist and took a seat. To our surprise, people were more than impressed with the films we presented.
We weren’t part of the inner circle of the Funnel, we got along with everybody, but we were outsiders because we weren’t up on the local film scene. After that we went to the open screenings and then started going to all of their screenings. It was great meeting Kenneth Anger, we watched Scorpio Rising (1963) and realized how rough and tumble it was, hearing him talk about film really fueled us. I also clearly remember the Beth B films from NYC being shown at the Funnel, films that also had that Fastwürms kinda manic energy. Watching movies at the Funnel really helped, it was a very New York kind of place, when you were inside you didn’t think you were in Toronto anymore. It was a very east side thing, it seemed remote and quiet, anonymous, and nobody cared what you where doing. You were free to become anything you wanted to be when you were on the east side of the city. The west side had this persona factor, an odd divide of the city.
Another aspect of my film education came from the international film festival, I was staying with Rebecca Baird and her brother Kenny. One day I came home and Kenny was busy with a silver pencil forging a fake film festival pass. He had borrowed a silver pass from a friend and we were impressed comparing the two, if you laminated it no one would ever know. So we all sat down and started making silver passes. At the 1980 TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival), we saw every movie at the festival, maybe five movies a day. I believe that year was focused on Godard and the New Wave. We loved Godard’s approach, it inspired a lot of our films, and the following year it was focused on Fassbinder and the German underground filmmaker Lothar Lambert who inspired the umlaut “u” in Fastwürms. We got it into our heads that we had to make feature films in super 8, that became our goal.
Dai Skuse was living at 2 Berkeley and eventually he became the third member of Fastwürms. I had been auditioning drummers for my band “ArtBoys” and Dai was working photographing his friend Geoff Stewart as he auditioned for bands. After that Dai would come by and photograph Kim or me at work in our studios. Kim and I thought he was the straightest person we knew, so when we had a new film we’d ask Dai to come over and have him watch the movie. His reaction was our general public barometer and we’d tweak the edit. His first participation in a Fastwürms film was in Suicide Re-entry where he played the hit man who shoots the ramp crashing go-go girl.
Mike: Can you talk about what it means to build a set?
Napo: From the beginning we used our studios as film sets. We would use our most recent paintings, then paint the walls and the floors to create optical distortions, at one point I had removed all the windows in my studio at two Berkley to shoot Suicide Re-entry. I remember it snowing in my studio. We would use mirrors just off camera with Christmas lights to create a floating ambient light, most of our outdoor work was done at five in the morning to get that sunrise light. We also used the Leslie Spit for our industrial nature settings.
Suicide Re-entry (18 minutes 1980) shows Kandis K running down parking ramps downtown at night dressed in a little plastic raincoat. She smashes up against the big gate at the bottom of the ramp, which created a large crash sound, she then turns around and says a line. The quotes were from Hollywood tabloids like the National Enquirer, we were using Cut Up techniques to formulate our scripts. “That’s the last time that fu** witch speaks to me,” then we’d cut to a scene of someone committing suicide, someone slowly bleeding from in a bathtub while another person carefully tiling the wall with macaroni bologna slices. The soundtrack was Apollo astronauts from the first lunar mission talking with mission control about switching buttons. It was very structured and precise, one ramp then a suicide scene then another ramp run.
We built two sets at the Funnel. The first installation was called Be My Magnet and that was for a film I was doing about an alien. The set for Be My Magnet began with my painting “Decade Decay” a 12 x 18 foot painting that covered an entire wall of the gallery. In front of it was a red dance floor made with a piece of red cardboard and fifty coats of paint. Then we built a little couch, and Lena Spoke who worked for Malibars (costume house) made an alien costume based on Close Encounters of the Whatever Kind. It was the bubble-headed guy with long fingers. I put up a white plastic curtain around the set that ran from floor to ceiling, so you couldn’t get close to the paintings or the alien on the couch. I cut UFO-shaped slivers peep holes into the plastic so you could watch the alien. The opening doubled as a film shoot. The audience were on one side, while we filmed from both sides of the curtain. Inside, the alien is waving at everyone while on a loudspeaker a commentator announces a draw to spend an evening with our guest, the alien. We spoofed on Kenneth Anger’s film Fireworks (1947) because the alien had a huge dick with a sparkler firing from it. Everyone had tickets, but there was no winning ticket. The footage from Be My Magnet was mixed with Kim’s Form Follows Food into the final version Fauves Get Land Legs (54 minutes 1983-84). What happened, and it seemed to happen all the time, was that we had things we wanted to do on our own, and then we’d converge, and all the footage would come together.
When we showed Zig Zag at the Funnel, John Porter was blown away by what we were doing. He was our inside man at the Funnel, he spread the word, and told the others: we’ve got to have them here. It wasn’t that difficult to get a show. A lot of what they had been showing in the gallery was wall art. Nobody was building sets for super 8 movies. We put a lot of energy into our sets, the costumes, the props, and the unique locations.
A year later we did another installation at the Funnel called “Fishhooks to You”. I was still living at 2 Berkeley, around the corner from the Funnel. On Eastern Avenue at Berkeley there was a warehouse that made cake toppings. Chocolate chips and marinated cherries would arrive in forty-five gallon drums. One night I found a drum of chocolate, so I shoved it on its side and rolled it to my studio where it sat for months. When we had an opportunity to build a set at the Funnel I thought, why don’t we just grab stuff from our studio and the halls of the building and bring it down there and spread it out? Then we’ll put up the white plastic, you used to buy this ten foot wide plastic and once it was hung it would create a beautiful effect. It was a quick way of taking over a space. Light could go through it, but it wasn’t translucent. We spray painted all kinds of tags on the walls, then Kim and Martin Stock and I spent a whole night slathering everything in chocolate.
When people came in they could smell chocolate but couldn’t see it. There were chairs covered in chocolate, we shot a few scenes there but never used the footage. Often we would set up stuff and shoot it but it wouldn’t go anywhere because we were shooting without scripts. That’s why I was inclined to sit down and write shooting sequences with possible dialogue. Often we had to get up at four in the morning because we liked the colour of the sky just as the sun was coming up, usually there’s a kind of dampness that’s unique and looked gorgeous on Kodakrome.
You can tell always who is shooting in our films. We made a movie called The Crucifixion of Vincent Van Gogh (30 minutes, 1982). Andy Paterson played Picasso, Lena Spoke played his nagging wife, Kandis K was Tom Thompson and I played Van Gogh. It was an art history mishmash. The Picasso scenes were shot outside Andy’s apartment on Adelaide near Parliament. Kim gave gum to everybody who was in the shot, and she was also chewing gum. I remember the footage came back with everyone chewing like cows, and the camera is moving up and down because of the chewing too.
The films were so well received at the Funnel that it started a frenzy of filmmaking and in 1980 we completed Chino Chu Chu (18 minutes 1980), Suicide Re-entry (18 minutes 1980), Universal Colour Systems (18 minutes 1980), and A Few Notes on Eradicating the Star System in American Cinema (40 minutes, 1980). (Universal Color Systems can be seen here: http://youtu.be/wdmIPI77-5s) Every few weeks we’d make a new film, turn up at the Funnel, and show it at an open screening. A typical open screening might bring out fifteen or twenty people. As time went on and people liked our films the audience got bigger until one day someone approached us to present all our films, a mini retrospective. That screening was packed, it was amazing. By then, we had lots of long movies, most were around twenty minutes, and we had a couple of one hour movies.
We shot a film called Chino Chu Chu (18 minutes, 1980) at the Art Gallery of Ontario where I worked as a security guard. The gallery was closed and I asked my supervisor if we could go around the galleries and look at art. Sure, no problem, just be cool. Once we got in there we pulled out the cameras and shot footage of me walking in front of the paintings, stopping and snapping my fingers and saying, “Snap out of it,” and then falling on the floor face first. A walk by Andy Warhol’s silver Elvis, then drop to the floor, one painting after another. The alternate footage was Kim, Kandis and I arguing at the Leslie Spit, the movie ends with Kim cawing like a crow.
We were irreverent with everything we approached, Mr Peanut (Vincent Trasov) once told us we behaved like parentless children, maybe that’s why we weren’t tighter with people at the Funnel. We could be abrasive even with people who were nice to us.
Triggers and Scanners (17 minutes, 1981) was a major film with many actors, I believe eight or nine people and elaborate settings. I had been eyeing a cross-shaped hole the city was excavating across from our warehouse. The film begins with people in the hole with binoculars watching the skies. We filmed inside partially built buildings along the Esplanade, we shot night scenes at the Metropolitan restaurant after they had closed, and everything was on the sly. We searched out empty warehouse spaces because there were so many vacant buildings in the city and no one to check up on you. You could walk into a building and kick in a door and over the period of a week rebuild it into a set, then show up one night and shoot your stuff and leave or move in. It was very wild. Triggers and Scanners deals with alien visitation, which I was very interested in at the time. The film is a series of tableaus of people waiting and looking to the skies, a voice-over alludes to the coming visitors vacationing in our skies. There is a very energetic dance by Kim Kozzi who is dressed to represent me.
We wanted to make feature-length movies. I remember sitting around with all of our equipment thinking that most of the films at the Funnel were short like National Film Board films. We wanted to take on Hollywood, we wanted to make a super 8 movie that would blow everyone out of the water though we had very limited story telling skills. Of course it eventually happened, I remember there was a Brazilian filmmaker who made a super 8 feature, much later came the low budget The Blair Witch Project (1999) which was rough and cheap. I was always a Jerry Lewis fan. I was reading “The Total Film-Maker” by Jerry Lewis. I could see the possibilities of making features, especially if you had a decent camera and a great story. It was just a question of content that would keep people’s interest, which we weren’t very good at because we were so scattered. Our films are in the tradition of super 8 films I guess, they just sort of drift. You get a good warm feeling but you don’t know exactly what the message is. We never got there.
Mike: Did audiences have more patience in the eighties?
Napo: You could torture people for hours and I believe this is due to the nature and context, these were Art Films, if it was tedious it was because it was important. There were times at the Funnel when you’d see films that were too much, you’d be begging them to turn it off. Some screenings could be so painful and our films were also guilty of this. If our movies got boring we’d cut the scenes really short, we always sacrificed the story. Many times when we edited, we kept the shots short, sometimes ridiculously short, our inside joke was: keep it the length of a worm. In Alien Love (5 minutes 1981) the entire film is a time-lapse of a sunrise with a burning alien in the foreground. Somehow, the soundtrack managed to carry the visual confusion.
Mike: Did you show anywhere else but The Funnel?
Napo: John Porter approached us and said you have to give me some of your films; I want to bring them on tour with me to Europe. We had a Fassbinder parody which we dubbed in German for him called The Bitter Tears of Betty and Wilma, better known as A Few Notes on Eradicating the Star System in American Cinema. It featured Betty Rubble and Wilma Flintstone from the cartoon series. After the Flintstones show is cancelled, Betty and Wilma become bag ladies and set out to kill Hanna Barbara by using voodoo. We built a fire in an alley off Queen Street and filmed them poking needles into a Hanna Barbara doll, trying to finish him off. When John came back he gave us a long list of screenings, we were amazed at all the top destinations our films had been seen at. We also showed our films at the Ann Arbor Film Festival.
In Toronto we did a screening at the Cabana Room, and at the Cameron’s Alien Lounge on the second floor, but most of our screenings were at The Funnel.
What happened with The Funnel that really pissed us off was the incursion by the Censor Board into the spontaneity of open screenings. That totally wrecked everything, there was a lot of anger about it. People had to hand in movies this week to show them next week. Because the films were original and not prints, we worried about films being destroyed carelessly, because the Censor Board wasn’t really equipped nor had the mind set to be respectful of super 8 art films. There was nothing dangerous, there was nothing subversive or offensive about these films, it was simply the censorship board trying to squash The Funnel.
I remember we decided to take all the underexposed film we had cut with brief outtakes and edited this monstrous reel and brought it in for the Censor Board. We tried to convince other filmmakers to do the same and bog down the Censor Board with boring content, so they would abandon the whole idea. But no one wanted to rock the boat, and even such pranks were a distraction and we simply started having screenings in alternate locations.
That went on until 1983 when I wrote the last script called Murder Clinic. We shot all the footage but it’s never been shown. We didn’t get close to editing it. By 1983 our impartial audience David is always with us, and now we’re starting to use him in scenes because I wanted to work behind the camera and control what we were recording. Often we would throw Dave in, or we would shoot a scene where I’d be dressed a certain way and then in the following scene I’d give all my clothes to the next person and they’d pick up my role so I could get back onto the camera.
Dave influenced our way of making films by suggesting we use found footage. He found out that we could go to the library and take out 16mm films and re-film them. We started recopying parts of old National Film Board films. The first film we created that way was called T-Bone Bank (14 minutes, 1985) which showed what to do in case of nuclear war. This was intercut with footage of Inuit hunting and cutting seals open with an AC/DC soundtrack which abruptly stopped and switched to the Guess Who. We put the two piles of footage together, it was different and exciting but slowly we stopped building sets and depended on other people’s footage. That’s where I think we lost momentum.
Meanwhile Ydessa Hendeles of the Ydessa Gallery discovered that we made art, films and installations, we were a whole package, so she signed us up and slowly we focused more on the actual product, the art, and less on the films. In 1984 with the inaugural “Snow She Bones” installation at the Ydessa Gallery we shot footage of my parents discussing a bank robbery to help my fledging career, which was followed by footage of them buying weapons. That footage never went anywhere, though it was funny, entertaining and a new direction.
Our focus was on making a twenty-four hour movie called Franco’s Bedtime Stories. We had just finished Wurms On The Lamb (50 minutes, 1984) which was mostly stuff I had shot off the television screen along with super 8 feature length films we had found in the clearance bin at Henry’s. It was a detective story with Kirk Douglas, it had subtitles with it. With our twenty-four hour film we didn’t get very far, maybe we had three or four hours. We wanted to do a twenty-four hour screening at the Funnel but it never came to fruition and then I moved to New York.
Initially we were happy copying other people’s films because we had become paranoid about “film magic” taking over. We started noticing that what we were shooting was manifesting in our lives as events. The Tibetans use prayer wheels and flags, as wind moves through the flag, it spreads prayers through the world. When you’re spinning your prayer wheel, every time the prayer in the cylinder goes around one revolution the prayer goes around the world. I believe playing a movie over and over is like repeating a prayer.
Our first realization of this form of sympathetic magic first appeared in a film called Universal Colour Systems (19 minutes, 1980) that was about colour and cancer. We built a set in the warehouse at 2 Berkeley after finding a big rack of paint chips and hauling it into the studio. We shot the counterpoint scenes at Splash Gallery in Ottawa which was part of a beauty salon. I copied the lines from the first shoot in Toronto and we repeated them again. In Ottawa, Kevin B played me and I played Kim. We took both versions and cut them together and added a lip sync of Ertha Kitt’s “C’est Ci Bon” over dialogues about war. We cut up both shoots into separate bags, then re-edited them by alternating locations. Our films where influenced by mindless, banal television and structuralism. I had never heard the words structuralism until Michael Snow talked about it at the screening of Rameau’s Nephew… (1974) at the National Gallery. I also had started reading Godard on Godard. The content would hold the viewer’s interest long enough until we betrayed the narrative with an abrupt shift. We liked playing with polarities and structure.
Universal Colour Systems was the first time we experienced the “film nagic” problem. In the film we talked about different ways that colour and light work together, it was intercut with arguments about who had cancer. Kandis K would always end the argument with “No, I’ve got cancer.” She was our main film star and we kept coming up with more movies for her. She was always ready to do any scene no matter where or what time of day. After shooting the film she got some kind of lump on her lip and we started paying more attention to what we said.
Our most freaky film magic moment came with the film Polymer Rabbit Launch (13 minutes 1981). My rabbit Bic proved our film magic theory when my studio was broken into and everything was stolen, and the rabbit was gone. Someone wrote in blood across my studio door “We Ate Your Rabbit.” Who were these people? I wanted to make a film about this rabbit. I told Dave to meet me at the studio where everything had been smashed and stolen. On my way there I thought that the rabbit’s name is Bic, so I would get two Bic lighters to light the scene because all the power was off in the studio. I’ll hold them up like big ears when I talked.
Still on the way I found this crumpled mask of an old man’s face by the side of the road. I thought I would wear the mask to represent the faces of the thieves, with the Bic lighter ears for lighting. We shot all these scenes in nearly total darkness. You only hear voices and movement in the dark and then these flaming ears appear and a twisted mangled face, and I deliver a line “He was emerged from this point here” three times, and then the lighter goes out so it’s dark again and you hear all this other talk and shuffling in the dark. We shot five or six apparitions, with the final one being Dai wearing the mask lit by the flame ears jumping eight feet down from the loft.
We needed another part to the film but had nowhere to shoot. By that point I had to find a new studio and had moved to 44 Dovercourt. There was a huge empty studio in the building, so we kicked in the door and put on our own locks and took over the space. We built sets and then got everybody together to shoot the final scenes for Polymer Rabbit Launch. We had Kandis K, Kim’s sister, holding her arms up over her head while wearing a big shaggy sweater creating a shadow that looked like a giant rabbit’s head. The shadow moved over piles of straw and we added some voice-over and music. The final scene showed the rabbit Kandis repeating the jump scene, it’s completely dark and then you see the ears and hear a voice screaming and a crash of someone landing on the floor, the film ends with credits on an injury board we found at the entrance to the building. And that was it.
That fall we were at the Festival of Festivals lined up to go see a movie when I saw my jacket. That guy’s wearing my jacket, and he used to live at 2 Berkeley! We recognized the people who had broken into my place. But a lot of time had gone by, and I was glad I had got rid of all that stuff even though the death of Bic warranted a thrashing; but I wasn’t interested in confrontation, so I let it go. I saw their faces and recognized my clothes; they were all wearing parts of my life.
The same people moved into 44 Dovercourt, into the same studio we shot the last scene for Polymer Rabbit Launch. In the middle of the night, the guy who had broken into my studio fell out of his loft bed and landed on his head and got facial paralysis for a year. His face looked like the old man mask I had found. That made us think we had to be more careful making movies, it’s like some kind of magic ritual where you can actually make things happen, weird stuff just like the irony of Chris Reeves playing Superman and winding up in a wheelchair. Filmmaking brings together energies that can wreak havoc at times. It’s the dark side of films, the Hollywood Babylon ritual magic side. We found that as we made more films, events we projected would manifest around us.
Before I moved to New York we started our last film Murder Clinic. Murder Clinic was going to be our first feature-length narrative based on a script I had written. Kim and Dai once came to New York to work at Area, but we didn’t shoot any film. Murder Clinic was about a murder consultant who falls in love with a death therapist. It’s set in the future when murder is legal, but you have to have an entertaining narrative if you want to get off. The general population undergoes death therapy by taking ketamine to experience death, so everyone calms down; there is no death anxiety. It’s a kind of romantic comedy. While people in the background are killing each other (or themselves), in the foreground the central couple talks philosophy and love, loosely based on Masculin Féminin (1966), the Godard film, Godard mashed with Woody Allen. Kim and Dave have the footage, we never edited it down
When I left Fastwürms in January 1991 it was a nasty ending and took about three years of litigation with lawyers because there was so much work we had created. How do you split that up, or decide who owns what? I got a lot of the films I’d scripted, though I had to let go of the films that have a lot of my work in them. I have video copies of those films. I am unsure whether they could be projected, though amazingly they are in good condition, the video copies have deteriorated, especially the sound.
I’d like to go back to making films, and I’ve started working with my daughter. When she was a kid we used to shoot at the Leslie Street Spit a lot. She’s fifteen and loves video and is an amazing editor.
Fastwürms Films Filmograpy
Flowers and Numbers 8 minutes, Silent, 1977
War Widow, 5 minutes, 1978
Zig Zag, 7 minutes 1980 (collection Napo B)
Brioche du Carêmes, 5 minutes, 1980
Gone Fishing, 5 minutes 1980
Tito Tito, 4 minutes 1980 (collection Napo B)
Alien Love 5 minutes, 1981 (collection Napo B)
The Spray, 13 minutes, 1981 (collection Napo B)
Suicide Re-entry, 18 minutes 1980
Universal Colour Systems, 19 minutes, 1980
Chino Chu Chu, 18 minutes, 1980
A Few Notes on Eradicating the Star System in American Cinema (The Bitter Tears of Betty and Wilma), 40 minutes, 1980
Polymer Rabbit Launch, 13 minutes 1981 (collection Napo B)
Triggers and Scanners, 17 minutes, 1981 (collection Napo B)
I Feared I’d Be The Main Course, 6 minutes, 1981 (collection Napo B)
The Crucifixion of Vincent Van Gogh, 30 minutes, 1982 (collection Napo B)
Fauves Get Land Legs, 54 minutes, 1983-84 –French version (collection Napo B)
T-Bone Bank, 14 minutes, 1985
Franco’s Bedtime Stories, 1985
Murder Clinic, (unfinished) 1986