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un Projects

Femcel: a short film about art and nothingness

by

INT. EVANGELINE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

EVANGELINE (mid-20s), dressed from the neck down in her  fursona — a Pink Husky Dog Fursuit in Shibari bondage — paces around her room. She sits at her desk and stares into the glowing ring light affixed to her phone, which stands ready to record. In the background, the documentary All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace flickers on a large LCD screen, muted with subtitles. Evangeline pays no attention. She watches her video reflection as she reaches over and places the husky headpiece on.

INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.

Inside a small but busy art opening, several grotesque AI generated artworks adorn the walls, blown up to massive  proportions. Free cans of Bang energy drink (Cherry Blade  Lemonade flavour) are fished from an ice bucket. The crowd is  edgy and mostly very good-looking in an effortless but not  effortless way. A nervous hum fills the air.

Evangeline crosses the room, dressed coquettishly in a little  white dress, cardigan and glasses. Absorbed in the room sheet, she accidentally knocks into an anthropomorphic furry  sculpture with a massive erection, spilling her drink.

EVANGELINE

Sorry! Shit. Shit. Sorry!

Evangeline pulls a tissue from her pocket and wipes the  sculptural cock tenderly. Suddenly, as if possessed by an overriding impulse, she makes a beeline for the bathroom.

INT. TOILET CUBICLE. NIGHT.

Evangeline sits down on the toilet and pulls out her phone.  She tweets: "surrounded by giant furry sculptures pulled  straight from the DeviantArt hivemind. horny or nah?" She  posts the tweet and lets it sit before quickly deleting it.

Instead, she posts: "sentient art technologies, memetic  discourse, parapolitical critique - none of these words are  in the bible". She flushes the toilet and takes a deep breath  before exiting the cubicle.

INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.

Evangeline is sardined between excited gallery-goers in fake  Balenciaga, waving their vapes as they talk. She snaps a few  iPhone photos of the art.

BLUE CHECK GIRL, an emaciated micro-celebrity in a Praying  ‘main character’ cap, is caught candidly in one shot. She  locks eyes with Evangeline and they share an awkward, knowing  glance.

Evangeline approaches the exhibiting artist, RIVER (late-30s), tattooed and dressed in an expensive bomber jacket and distressed cap. He stands talking to an ART BUYER sloppily  dressed in an ill-fitting suit jacket, jeans and loud yellow  Nike Dunks. They discuss the art.

RIVER

(Speaking to a handful of admirers)

For the contemporary zeitgeist, it 

seems that the demarcation between 

highbrow and lowbrow art and culture 

has become rather tenuous. The idea 

that certain things are culturally 

significant while others are not has 

lost its hold on our collective

imagination.

We see an early 2000s render image of a Sims 2 themed Puss in Boots, snarling and pissing in the mouth of a BDSM furry. The two figures are surrounded by a cheering crowd of teenagers wielding AR-15 rifles.

ART BUYER

Mmmmm, you can really see these as 

hybrid beings plucked from the anals 

of mythology -

RIVER

Sorry, do you mean annals?

ART BUYER

(Laughing)

Oh yes, of course!

(Gesturing at the artwork)

Alternatively, we can see their 

envisioned futures, embarking on a valiant quest for enlightenment. But I also feel like there's a quality of

nihilism too?

RIVER

(Shrugging)

I stick my finger into the arsehole of 

existence, and it smells of nothing.

They all chortle knowingly, and Evangeline interjects.

EVANGELINE

And boredom is the root of all evil.

RIVER

Pardon?

EVANGELINE

Kierkegaard, right?

RIVER

What?

EVANGELINE

I think you were quoting Kierkegaard. 

You know, existence, boredom, 

nothingness?

RIVER

Did I?

EVANGELINE

I mean, I agree, it's very nihilistic. 

Desperate kids in the burbs, nu-metal 

and guns... I think this piece is a 

metaphor for the overproduced art 

world. And the use of raw amateur 

technologies feels like a throwback to 

simpler times. While it also provokes 

the ‘culture war’ discourse, it's 

certainly not the first time we've 

experienced one.

RIVER

Interesting. And because of this, 

there's an underlying feeling of 

impotence towards making true, 

revolutionary critiques. We feel

trapped by the ambiguity and obscurity of an unidentifiable, centralist 

monster called authority.

EVANGELINE

(Smiling)

An anti-fascist artist taking on the 

neoliberal Leviathan! Is your art 

going to save us all?

RIVER

(Going for a handshake)

River.

EVANGELINE

(Pointing to a nearby exhibit wall label)

I noticed.

Beat.

RIVER

You look insanely familiar. Have we 

met at Shoreditch House or something?

EVANGELINE

I think it was Hinge.

RIVER

(Coughs on his vape)

Ah. Greta?

EVANGELINE

Evangeline.

RIVER

That's the one! How have you been?

EVANGELINE

Yeah, good, busy. I'm working on a new 

piece at the moment. Kind of inspired 

by the alchemy of language, technical 

virtuosity, and visual seduction.

RIVER

Riveting.

EVANGELINE

Yeah, I'm also looking into notions of 

camouflage and self-censorship...

River is distracted by an important-looking guest.

RIVER

Will you excuse me? One moment.

Irritated, Evangeline darts away, back towards the bathroom.

INT. TOILET CUBICLE. NIGHT.

Evangeline swings the cubicle door shut, takes a seat and  tweets: ‘art? just another black pill’ with a photo from the  gallery. She thinks for a second and then deletes it. She  types another one: ‘who do I have to fuck or suck to get my  first solo show?’ and hits post. She uploads a cropped  screenshot of a Hinge profile that reads, ‘My therapist would say I: need to stop dating nietzschean red scare sugar babies’ with the caption: ‘kill thyself’. She posts it and locks her phone.

INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.

Evangeline hurries back into the throng of patrons, grabbing  another two Bang Energy cans from the ice bucket along the  way. She approaches River and hands him a can.

EVANGELINE

Sorry about that. I was busting. So 

what are you reading at the moment?

RIVER

Um, I'm actually rereading Hemingway.

EVANGELINE

Awesome. So I was thinking, you kinda, 

like, left me on read.

RIVER

Sorry, pardon?

EVANGELINE

On Hinge. You sort of never replied to 

me. Ghosted me or whatever.

RIVER

Oh, I'm sorry. I've been super busy 

leading up to the show, you know, that 

London hustle, sig-

EVANGELINE

-sigma grindset? Yeah, it must be hard

work making furry porn on Cuckjourney.

River's face contorts.

EVANGELINE

No, sorry. I mean -

RIVER

I am sincere when I say that AI 

represents the anarchic psyche of the 

internet and, therefore, reveals our 

own present-day reality.

EVANGELINE

Of course. What I meant to say is -

RIVER

Believe it or not, we live in a 

Baudrillardian hyperreality. Anyway, 

I'm sorry I never replied to you. It's 

just, at this point in my life, I 

really need to take my art seriously.

EVANGELINE

Absolutely. Me too.

RIVER

Life's a project, right? Keep at it!

Evangeline brushes past River and through the crowd. She  begins furiously typing a tweet: ‘Computer art is  r*trd*d[1] [2] [3] [4] ’ and hits post. She drafts another with a slight smile. ‘AI could never replicate the farce of art. We are  safe.’ She posts it and sculls a Bang. She tosses the empty can aside, and it clatters noisily across the floor, creating an awkward, confused silence in the room.

Evangeline strides over to the furry sculpture and knocks it  to the ground. In one deft movement, she straddles the shiny,  plastic erection of the beast and begins slowly grinding on  it. The onlooking crowd stands and watches, aghast but intrigued.

Evangeline touches herself, ripping open her dress, grunting  and moaning in a theatrical display of pleasure. She picks up  a Bang and pours it all over her face and body. It mixes with the blood that begins to trickle from her legs, gathering in a puddle on the floor.

7. 

The gallery-goers start filming on their iPhones, flashes  going off periodically. Evangeline dismounts the sculpture  and snaps off its anamorphic penis, wielding it like a  microphone as she leans down to interrogate her audience.

EVANGELINE

Why are you here?

BLUE CHECK GIRL

Um...

EVANGELINE

Why are you here?

ART BUYER

I... uhh...

The Art Buyer looks to someone else for an answer.

EVANGELINE

(To River)

Why are you here?

River stands there in silence, maintaining eye contact and  stroking his chin furiously.

Evangeline resumes making love to the beast. Her moans grow  louder, and her pace quickens. The gallery audience murmurs  excitedly, growing into a confused cheer as Evangeline moves  faster.

Evangeline begins squealing and contorts in a full-body  orgasm, concluding with a roar that seems to come from both  her and the sculpture. She slips off the statue and  collapses, panting in the puddle of Bang and blood.

The audience stands in silence, looking around. River is  motionless and wide-eyed. Tears streak his face. He wipes his eyes quickly with his sleeve.

INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.

A few hours later. The gallery is empty of people except for  a lone cleaner among the sculptures. She devotedly scrubs the  dry, congealed blood on the floor with a mop.

THE END.


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