tooknap press

A documentary film of Jim Henson: aerial shots of his compound, a farm on top of a mountain, footage shot from a helicopter of his final collpase on the tarmac. A long carpet of trashbag vinyl covers the lawn. During the burial scene, his body is placed in a stained wooden box, then pushed over the side of a rowboat. It starts to sink, but each time it reaches the bottom the coffin lid pops up, and his body floats to the top of the waves like a jack-in-the-box, his arms outstretched, always unfolding into the same stick figure.

Afterwards, Warhol's superstars dance in a hazy prayer circle with their favorite Muppets. Viva wears Grover around her neck; Brigid Berlin, Cookie Monster. Other, miscellaneous Muppets pop up and down in the foreground and on the horizon, appearing and disappearing from view.

On a break from shooting, I walk Truman down to the sea, and plunge up and down quietly. The beach is deserted except for a few forms in the distance; I walk home barefoot through a series of makeshift boutiques and hairdressing sinks, flip-flops dangling between two fingers like Jeremy Irons at the very end of Damage.