Tunga’s
House Bar
Written by: Los Super Elegantes
Luisa: Milena
Muzquiz
Tiago: Martiniano
Lopez-Crozet
Tunga: Paul Gellman
Cornelia: Jenna
Curtis
Ernesto: Josh Birch
Jackie: Livia Corona
Tunga’s Mother:
Ellen Taylor
Tunga wears white pants, white shoes with red paint spots and a tropical shirt. He sits in the center chair while everyone else is sitting around him and scattered around. There are bottles, glasses and ashtrays on the coffee table.
Narration (voice
over): Tunga, the most important contemporary artist in
Tunga’s voice over: The attempts to find the heterogeneous in the
exotic have been many for a long time, Gaugin went to
Jackie plays the guitar and sings in French
while Cornelia cries desperately. Luisa and Tiago sit next to each other and
translate the lyrics of the song…
Luisa: She says she
is heart broken.
Tiago: She is going
to leave him. He doesn’t understand her.
Luisa: She will not
come back.
Tiago: She wants to
kill him.
Luisa: She must
leave before it’s to late.
Tiago: She’s going
to jump off a cliff.
Luisa: No, she should not jump off the cliff.
Jackie (singing): Je suis
morte, je suis morte.
Luisa: She’s dead.
Tiago: What a sad song.
Cornelia immediately gets up and casually
gets a whiskey and serves herself
Ernesto: What was it
that Bataille said about the bones and the muscles? Was it that the bones
followed the muscles or did the muscles follow the bones?
Cornelia: I actually
prefer if the skin shapes the bone, I find that more interesting.
Tunga (speaking in French): Lu sou e sulvant a
le muscle, Le grand architecture de La fille e garcon.
Tiago: That is to
say, the bone enwraps the muscle it is the architecture of a girl and a boy.
Luisa (writing): When we went to
Cornelia: …but this is not
possible, unless the arches are the rib cage.
Tiago: I love
perversity, children are perverse, then the parents teach them that perversity
is wrong and the traumas begin.
Tunga: we rrrreally
must escape the decadence, it stands for decay.
Luisa: I see the
decadence as excessive.
Tiago: No. Let’s use
the sun as an example. The sun is excessive. It is a mass of energy and light,
and the sun is definitely not decadent.
Jackie: Decadence is the trash heap of western
civilization. Do you think decadence exists in the primitive tribes of the
Cornelia: We are not
using the word correctly. I see decadence as a decline.
Parrot (from
outside): You’re not using the word correctly.
Tunga: Decadence is
the latest step and Deka-dance is the latest club. Let’s all listen to the
Deka-dance song. It is actually my song.
Tunga’s song starts (this is the narration
that goes with the song):
Tunga: Tungaism
is about the invention of a language. It is not about the work, but making use
of this language to discuss it. Tunga spaces are instruments of expression in
unique moments of experience; I call my house, “quasi-tropical Tunga space.” I
wanted to surpass the open with the supra-open.
Let’s take a tour of Tunga space. The bathroom: notice that the floor is
made of straw. I had Japanese workers design the flushing system. Each day I
release my bowls into this pit of excrement. And now, let’s walk to the
study. Notice the books on the wall: De
Sade, Delueze, Leutremont, Julia Kristeva.
Chorus (singing): It’s Tunga’s House,
Tu-Tu-Tunga’s House.
I’ve been walking
down these corridors…
Tunga gets an idea, (blindfold scene)
Tunga: I have an
Idea! Freedom. A big spectacle.
The power of imagination.
Ernesto: What?
Tunga: Imagine.
Imagine everything you can imagine
Jackie: Who will perform?
Tunga: Us.
Cornelia: What are
you doing?
Tunga: I imagine.
This is the spectacle
The sound of streetcars begins. Tunga puts a blindfold on and walks into the street. Everyone follows with blindfolds on.
Tunga (yelling): Imagine everyone, just
imagine.
The sound of streetcars.
They walk around, while people yell at them.
Tunga: Free the passions.
Everybody: Free the
Passions!
Tunga: Free expression.
Everybody: Free
expression!
Tunga: Forbid
prohibitions.
Everybody: Forbid
prohibitions!
Tunga: Smoke, glide,
fly.
Everybody: Smoke,
glide, fly!
Tunga: Open the prisons.
Everybody: Open the
prisons!
Tunga: Under the
cobblestones is a beach.
Everybody: Under the
cobblestones is a beach!
Everyone takes off the blindfolds and starts walking back to the house. Tunga’s mother is there organizing.
Tunga’s Mother: Hi
everyone. Welcome, come, come, let’s have some drinks it’s Tunga’s birthday.
A dinner table is set and everyone is sitting
drinking and talking
Tunga’s mother places the chicken on the
table.
Tunga sees the chicken and throws it to the
floor.
Tunga: Dinner is
served.
Everyone starts clapping and laughing.
Tunga’s mother (yelling): Bravo, bravo! I’ve invited
one of the most important dancers of our times.
A ballet dancer enters, and begins to dance
to Tartini. Another song mixed in begins and Tunga’s Mother walks to a
different light and begins to wash the dishes. Luisa and Tiago follow her.
Tunga’s Mother : Another
birthday together with Tunga. All those kids… they are so creative so
intellectual, but I see a fault. Something is falling between the cracks. Tunga
keeps expanding, but he doesn’t realize that he is actually working against the
ideas of the supra-open. And who am I?
In 1967, I wrote a famous essay, “Concrete Feminism in Tropicalia.” I need to
go back to that… keep writing, just keep writing.
Luisa and Tiago come into the room.
Luisa: It so nice to
see you again. Do you need any help?
Tunga’s Mother:
Actually, can you grab those plates for me?
Tiago: You look a
little upset, is something wrong?
Tunga’s Mother: Yes,
there is something wrong, very wrong. I’ve been neglecting my career. Do you
guys remember the essay I wrote in 67?
Luisa: Of course, it
is mandatory reading in all the universities.
Tiago: Actually,
they did a piece in the weekend supplement of the
Luisa: Have you written anything since then?
Tunga’s Mother: No, I am falling through the cracks. I
haven’t written at all.
The sound of the police
Tiago: What is that?
Luisa: Is that
really the police?
Tunga’s Mother: Yes,
they have been cracking down the neighborhood, that’s why we created the
Barhinna Neighborhood Watch Committee, but it doesn’t really help. The police keep coming. We don’t even know
what they want.
Luisa: Do they have to be so aggressive?
Tiago: They have
been asking Tunga to stop expanding the house, but he just can’t stop.
Tunga’s Mother: I’ve warned him about this. The building
permits are very strict in this area.
A loud knock on the door is heard
Voice over: This is
the police. Is anybody in there? We have been looking for you.
They are aggressive and throw the door down. There is a big fight. The sounds of the fight are in the background. Tunga throws the table, gun shots, etc. When the sounds of the fight fade out, everyone stays lying on the floor. As Tunga gets up, the final narration starts.
Final narration
(voice over): What happened? Are they dead perhaps, or just about to die? Finally, the moment of truth. Or was life truthful all
along? The beauty of art is mystery. What happened here? Where did Tunga go?
Are you for Tunga or the Police? Is this bloodshed absolutely necessary?
Tunga’s narration:
Well, I think that something went wrong. I was finding the heterogeneous in the
bottom of the well. We are still living in the episteme, to use a foucaultian
term. We were assimilated, gutted out, transformed into the utilitarian, like
the toothbrush, shiiika shiiika, shiika. Jean Luc
Goddard flies on the
The last song begins. Tunga walks over to the glass door and begins to paint his signature on it passionately (in red paint). All the other people get up from the floor and start talking, laughing and walking away arm in arm (as if they are leaving a great party).