Ngana

KIRAC’s gonzo filmmaking shatters art world niceties, but their entanglement with Michel Houellebecq—novelist, provocateur, reluctant porn star—turns chaotic. As lawsuits fly and reputations fray, the real spectacle isn’t the film itself but the battle over who gets to tell the story.

I have begun to desire noise. Noise that prompts. Maybe wounds. I want to remember something that feels tangible, and if I have no memory of how this feels I want to create one. 

At a time when all these elements are easily replicated by AI and memed on social media, what is often called Anderson’s “twee” aesthetic continues to be derided as all style and no substance.