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(Aber alle ausser mir wissen das natuerlich alles schon)

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(Janet Maslin/New York Times)
October is early, but not too early to acknowledge Harmony Korine's Gummo as the worst film of the year. No conceivable competition will match the sourness, cynicism and pretension of Mr. Korine's debut feature. Turned loose with a camera and the Emperor's new clothes, the writer of the vastly better Kids creates an aimless vision of Mid-western teen-age anomie, complete with drugs, garbage, dead cats and neat tricks like turning off Granny's respirator. When It comes to boy wonders exploring the cutting edge of independent cinema, the buck stops cold right here.

werner herzog: Tell me about your upbringing.

harmony korine: If someone asked me what my father did, I wouldn't be able to answer. He would leave for long periods of time, and sometimes my mother would disappear too. It's not that they weren't good; they were just doing something else and I didn't know where they were. But I liked them when I saw them, and when my father came home he'd bring money and presents, so that was nice. I recently asked my dad what his profession was, and he wouldn't tell me. There were other things I didn't know, so I asked my mother to send my birth certificate to me so I could find out my real age and make sure everything was legitimate. I got it a month and a half ago and it said my father's occupation was fur trader, but I've never seen him wear fur or heard him talk about it. Maybe he's embarrassed by it, I don't know. Anyway, my parents let me do whatever I wanted, and I was mostly off on my own.

Das denkt er sich nur aus, sein Vater ist Dokumentarfilmproduzent.

Korine: Yeah.

Letterman: Harmony Korine.

Korine: It's a new kind of movie. I just want people to know that things need to change. We can make films differently.

Letterman: You represent the avant-garde.

Korine: I am a commercial film maker. I am a patriot. I hide in trees. All right. All right.
(Dave and Harmony shake hands and audience applauds)

Verkehrsunfall!

"As for Korine, consider his recent antics, which may have gotten him permanently banned from the Letterman show. I have it from one unconfirmed but close source that after being bumped for the second time in two weeks, this time in favour of the world's largest pumpkin, Harmful threw a tantrum in the Green Room and shoved Meryl Streep, causing Letterman to opine: "That kid's a hothead. He's not coming back on this show again." In my humble opinion, such a guest is exactly what Letterman's tired show needs and, after Music of the Heart, Streep could use some shoving."

The houses they filmed in were left untreated. "You haven't seen people as poor as this on film in America for a long time," says Chloe Sevigny. "There was garbage piled this high and bugs everywhere. The crew were so worried about the bugs and everything that they wore white asbestos suits."

Chlo� used to hang out with New York's infamous Club Kids, the glammed up teens who formed the nucleus of the early '90s club scene. "I never actually was one because I had short hair and dressed like a boy. But I know all of them. I knew Michael Alig and I knew Angel, the one who was murdered. He would never sell me drugs because he was saving them for the cute boys. The whole scene was really nasty though. There was a strict heirarchy and I was kind of at the bottom."

Now making enough money to do things his way, Alig started organising Situationist art events in the form of impromptu "outlaw parties". He and his merry band would just turn up and party in a public place, generating chaos and disorder. They set up detour signs on the Washington Bridge and broke out the vodka, handing drinks to astonished commuters; to celebrate the birthday of Disco 2000�s club mascot, Clara The Chicken, Alig and 100 others in blonde wigs, chiffon, hot pants, feather boas and platform shoes boogied on the platform of 34th Street subway station. These events rarely lasted more than 30-45 minutes before the cops arrived and broke them up, generally with good humour. Home video tapes showed the NYPD laughing and wishing Clara The Chicken a happy birthday as the party engulfs the next downtown train.

By early 1995, the sheer volume of hard drugs had completely soured the scene. "It�s a lot more drug-oriented today," complained Limelight doorman James St James (now a successful promoter in his own right) to the Village Voice. "It�s like everybody�s on a self-destruction binge. It�s all about who can get the most fucked up, who can get their stomach pumped the most times." Quoted in the same piece, Tunnel and Limelight playmate Kenny Kenny was similarly disillusioned: "There�s not enough fabulousness in the after-hours clubs any more," he noted. "It�s much more hardcore and nihilistic. It�s like people are looking for beauty in horror."

And then he went and killed Angel Melendez. Angel Melendez was an alleged drug-dealer. He had been living with Alig and Robert �Freeze� Riggs for only a few months. Angel was supposedly saving the profits from his deals in order to become a filmmaker. Alig revealed to Lambert that no one liked Angel and that the scene never missed him. On Sunday 17 March 1996, Freeze heard Alig and Angel arguing in one of their apartment bedrooms. Within twenty minutes Angel was dead. Freeze had struck Angel over the head with a hammer; Michael had poured drain cleaner into Angel�s mouth; both had placed duct tape over his mouth until he was dead. Both had undressed Angel and placed him in their bathtub, where it remained for five to seven days. Some say parties were thrown during that week, with people stumbling onto the corpse.

Moment, ein Clubkid mit Fluegeln, das keiner richtig vermisst, umgebracht von einem halbirren Szenegott, das habe ich doch schon mal irgendwo gelesen?

In Ms. Hustvedt�s new novel, What I Loved, just published by Henry Holt, her stepson, Daniel Auster�Paul Auster�s son by his former wife, the writer Lydia Davis�makes a thinly veiled appearance.
In 1998, Daniel Auster, then 20, pleaded guilty in Manhattan Supreme Court to stealing $3,000 from a deceased drug dealer named Andre (Angel) Melendez and received a sentence of five years� probation. Melendez was not just any deceased drug dealer�his death became a tabloid bonanza when his killer turned out to be a downtown party promoter named Michael Alig.

While Daniel Auster was never implicated in the slaying, he admitted to being in the apartment while it happened, according to a 1998 Reuters report of his courtroom plea.

"Bill loved his changeling child," Ms. Hustvedt writes, "his blank son, his Ghosty Boy. He loved the boy-man who is still roaming from city to city and is still reaching into this traveling bag to find a face to wear and a voice to use."

Last year, Paul Auster told a reporter for The Guardian that his son "is currently finding himself�ask me again in a couple of years."

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Introducing myself to a cool tattooed kid on Avenue B after taking his portrait... "By the way, my name's Ned." The kid replies "Hi, I'm Daniel Auster."

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