Mike Kuchar Movies

A trip to Boston to visit a local filmmaker in his studio is followed by a journey to the cinematic facilities of SUNY College in Purchase, NY, and...

OverRiped words from the lips of an OverExposed boy decorates this litany in pink with purple bruises.

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 "painter" casts out the demons that haunt his canvases and who creep into his bed at night.

A 16mm black and white remake of an 8mm color film done years earlier, this time with students enrolled in a 'dramatic narrative' summer workshop....

Mike Kuchar'ss lyrical portrait of everyday life, from making art to making love, all as the Vietnam War rages.

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!

Two souls, one aged, the other young, contemplate flowers, fairies and earthbound angels sent to tempt and tease.

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

...They'd rather climb to the stars, than give their souls to a soulless world

“I shall walk softly on the Earth but make the footprints deep”. A young man contemplates the inevitable passing of time, and the...

Portrait of American filmmaker Mike Kuchar, shot in New York (United States of America) on December 2, 1988 at 7:30 PM.

A desperate, married woman meets a mysterious man who she blatantly desires. Through some twists and turns, things do not go over as well as she...

They walk through "life", sometimes with no "compass" in hand and become "lost".

Amid the silence of a pastel hued room, a soul, fully-fleshed, gathers secrets whispered by the moon over his cool bedsheets.

An evocative 16mm short shot during a visit to Nepal.

"...Deep in the garden of the Artist's heart, ghosts of bygone worlds arise on gothic wings, calling forth delicious languors."

Relationships don't end... they linger like ghosts.

In the depths of night lurks a beautiful fever that heats a man's blood.

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...