Mike Kuchar Filmes

Playwright and performance artist Marc Arthur paves a color-saturated path from 'awake consciousness' to sleeping 'dreamscape'.

An angry trollop and a self-doubting college kid collide in his cramped apartment for an episode of claustrophobia and self-analysis.

A contemplative, static walk in the woods.

High above the far horizon, a beacon burns cold, bright and calm.

Be careful when you go out into the surf in a skimpy thong... the current can be treacherous and turbulent as is the human heart!

Offer a pagan god only simple flowers of spring and the sparkling diamonds and opals of morning dew strung on the threads of the spider... and fear...

Dialogue taken from the Bible is put in the mouths of three souls in a modern apartment, who must deal with a "fall from grace."

A club for misfits who descend into a psychedelic underworld. Made at the San Francisco Art Institute.

An early masterpiece by Mike Kuchar, in which Babette tells all, leaving no turgid stone unturned.

"A Tub Named Desire," the first movie with Donna Kerness, does not exist anymore, except for one 8mm print that was in George Kuchar's possession....

Looking for "Mr. Right" in all the wrong places makes for a tragic comedy.

The windy adventures of a dog in a sea of grass beneath blue skies.

The dialogue for this production, featuring Cupid, is taken from the pages of a personal diary found under a chair.

"...will somebody lend him their sins, because his old worn out ones have become tiresome."

From the green ooze of a haunted forest arise lonely shamans in red gowns alongside twisted creatures from nightmarish cartoons with the long...

From here to there.

Part one of Mike Kuchar's Heat Rash series: This audio, visual laxative empties the mind of inhibitions to allow the spectator entrance into the...

From the elephant house of Bronx Zoo to the eight story tall Tabonga Terrace apartments on Sedgwich Avenue, living Mammals scream for their place in...

A young man yearns for a mysterious lover.

In the serene zone between twilight and dawn, a lullaby of thoughts floats beneath a blanket of stars.