[Editors note: I recently interviewed ‘anti’ comedian, German-Iranian filmmaker, and ‘Creep From The Middle East‘ Sina Khani. Now, in the first of what will hopefully be many occasions when Sina turns writer for Felten Ink, he reviewed the recent film and output from Keeping it Real Art Critics (KIRAC). KIRAC is an art collective founded in 2016 by Stefan Ruitenbeek, Kate Sinha and Tarik Sadouma. Together and now with a bigger ensemble, they work to produce and write films, talks, events, poetica, and artistic schooling.
Before we go further and for more context, I’ll let KIRAC themselves explain a little:
“KIRAC is in search of love, in the form of truth. To achieve that, it uses that sincerest and most impossible enlightenment fetish of all: dialectics: the belief that the truth can and will emerge only from reasonable discussion. This implies that discussion and criticism is always permitted and that in the end, each opponent really is an ally in this overriding search for truth.”
And with that, Sina, take it away, vent some spleen, as they say]
Dear readers, I recently witnessed the premiere of the highly anticipated new Kirac film. If you missed it, here is a brief summary and an explanation of why it is the worst, dumbest, and most random film I have ever seen.
1) Kate Sinha
The film opens with a male voiceover informing us that there are no subtitles. Then, his girlfriend Kate Sinha patronizes him, telling him that his voiceover (for a different, undisclosed film, presumably) is terrible. So mean. When the voiceover actor asks her why it is terrible, she interrupts him with random gossip fresh off her phone: Sandra (who?) is bored with her life in Canada. It’s too cold there, and her husband is a jerk. “So she is coming to Amsterdam to live with your editor Bram.”
That is literally all we get to see of our once deep, profound, and almost believably intellectual Kate Sinha. What happened to her? Is she okay?
2) Sandra Who?
Wow. A new character in the Kirac family saga is being introduced. Yaaay. Sandra Soliman. Middle Eastern hottie. Great. But is there anything about Sandra that makes her interesting? Let’s find out if this one came with a brain. Let’s check her IQ.
Sandra is single. Sandra is broke. Sandra starts an OnlyFans channel and makes 40 Euros. IQ test failed.
That’s all of Sandra. And we are 10 minutes into the film.
But wait. We know a similar story—the story of Jini van Rooijen aka Jini Jane. Why are they telling it again? What makes Sandra more interesting than Jini? Nothing. Jini at least wasn‘t just a pretty face. She also once put a radish into her asshole, then pulled it out and ate it. Jini had talent. And I miss that. Not even a nipple with this Sandra girl. Not even a bloody goddamn nipple. Nothing.
3) Coitus Interruptus
After the voiceover critique, Sandra’s story is abruptly interrupted by a third completely random storyline. We see a seemingly talentless, spoiled Dutch brat begging a reluctant rich man for 50 Euros to make a drawing or direct a theater play, or something like that. It’s very unclear, but then again, also very unimportant.
4) The Brat
The brat is named Melchior Koch. He is a young, ambitious, self-proclaimed artist, though no one has ever seen any art from him other than some videos about himself and his friends and some drawings of, yes, himself and his friends. And an interview with his friend Michiel Lieuwma that is torturous to watch or even listen to.
There is no hard proof of his talent, yet somehow, famous art collector and multi-millionaire Philip van den Hurk is interested in him. I know for a fact that Philip is a cool guy because I have worked with him. He plays my father in the upcoming episode of Creeps From The Middle East. Europapa.
So, anyway, van den Hurk pays a visit to Melchior Koch’s atelier to find out if he is worth investing in. Unfortunately for Koch, he does not leave a good impression. He performs a one-man show on his little Ikea carpet and makes a complete fool of himself. And that, my dear reader, is not only deeply, deeply pathetic but also the worst act I have ever witnessed in my life. And I have seen a lot of bad ones.
At this moment I realised that Melchior Koch had just killed narcissism for me.
5) The Beggar
I am not joking; this is how Melchior Koch tries to convince the potential investor. He claims his show is inspired by “Puccini’s opera,” followed by “Da Vinci’s Homo Universalis,” who is then “trapped in a cage as Che Guevara awaiting his death penalty.” But the death penalty is not what we typically think of. No, the death penalty is being fucked in the ass by a volunteer from the audience. What?! What is happening?
No one is going to give you money for this, boy. This operation does not look like it’s built to succeed, and subsequently, it doesn’t. No one likes this show. It’s a shit show, literally and figuratively. There was almost no way to see this coming, except maybe by thinking about it.
But I guess this counts as a film scene. Why not?
Kirac has changed. Especially now. Without Tarik Sadouma as the main protagonist, the fire has gone out. Sadouma made Kirac controversial. Radical. Almost paradoxical. But necessary.
He made Philip van den Hurk have to fight to buy his paintings. Philip had to travel to Cairo, Egypt only to see Sadouma’s work and even pay entrance to be allowed in his studio. He had to take a beating in Greece and go through numerous ordeals to get what he wants. In Kirac 28 he is portrayed by the director as just a rich man without personality or mystique. It’s a shame that he has to deal with beggars.
Here is my prophecy: Kirac 27 will be the death of Kirac. You can quote me on that.
6) Tuna
They all agree on one thing: performance is clearly not Melchior Koch’s forte. So, to give the impression that they haven’t wasted the potential investor’s time, they try to find something useful for Koch. Here’s another completely random idea: Let him make the soundtrack for the previous film that we have never seen. Kirac 27. The Michel Houellebecq one. Heck yeah. This kid can sing about being broke and having cans of tuna for lunch. So he’s the perfect man for the job.
Melchior Koch is happy with this new job opportunity and smiles like he means it. He takes out his guitar, and they all do a little sing-along and have a great fucking time. It’s cute. I needed this.
Now would be the perfect time for a fade out. But there is no fade out. There is another scene, and it is spectacular. Are you ready?
7) Anal Sex
Remember the poor voiceover guy from the beginning of the film, whose wife was super mean to him? Well, his name is Stefan Ruitenbeek. And Stefan Ruitenbeek has had enough of that Melchior clown, with his ridiculous theater ideas and his silly performances.
So he takes him to the park and fucks the shit out of him.
No, I’m joking. That would actually be impressive. In reality, they only make out like cute little harmless teenagers, and that stands symbolically for this entire film: too safe, boring, insignificant, irrelevant, superficial, forgettable… You get the point.
And this, dear readers, is the end of Kirac 28. Fade out. Finally.
