Chicago Rot Status Update #2

Shame on Us.

As many of you are probably aware, we made a promise back in January to be more dutiful in our updating of you, our infinitely patient, exceedingly attractive fans. And as you may have noticed, shortly after making that promise we promptly ignored it, opting instead for the old, familiar comfort found in our natural state as recluses, drunk with seclusion, hopelessly under the influence of romanticized notions about being practitioners of some secret, abstruse art. The objective truth of the matter is that we’re actually just squalid assholes with computers and an odd outlet for our obsessions, but we work in a world of creating fantasies for others to enjoy, and it only seems fair that we should be afforded the chance to entertain some of our own. Why should you guys get to have all of the fun?

But it is not our intention, miraculously supple fans, to harangue, or to laboriously detail the finer points of fiction-indulgence. One can reasonably assume that you are here specifically because you possess that particular capacity and are eager for something to sate your discerning appetite. Either that, or you are here because you possess a very geographical- and putrefaction-specific fetish, in which case, while I applaud the specificity of your derangement, I feel obligated to inform you that the excitement you felt when you first saw the words “Chicago Rot” is about to diminish significantly.

To everyone else, meaning our fans (each one of you worth a thousand thousand Ti West fans in terms of every metric yet devised except “shittiness”), we have some fabulous news to share – we are close. Uncomfortably close. If our proximity to completion of the film could be measured in socially disreputable invasions of private space, Rot would definitely be asking us to stop looking down its shirt. It might even have a kubotan at the ready in case we try to get fresh, which is likely a prescient preemption, because we’re stronger than this film and Brant is pretty good with knots. It is a skill that has proven its worth in a truly surprising number of filmmaker-ing situations, so to any young(-er than us) aspiring(-er than us) filmmakers out there, I suggest you put down the collection of Bazin essays you’re not reading (even though you should) and pick up a boy scout manual.

We are not yet at a point where we have exact completion or screening details, however, the temporal vernacular of our conversations is that of days and weeks, not months and years. But do not despair, (insert further flattery of our fans), for the conclusion of our audacious cinematic endeavor is imminent, and as inexorable as the phases of the moon or Tarantino’s autumnal “Suckling of Unfamiliar Toes”. And when the aforementioned exhibition details reveal themselves to us, you can be certain that however you found this update will be precisely how you find that information, so do not bother watching the skies for our signature carrier pigeons. Unless that’s how you got this update, in which case, yeah, keep an eye out.

And since we’re as excited as a Tarantino in autumn about the progress, we are going to scour the far edges of our nostalgia for this whole process by going through our vast archives of behind the scenes photos (including many by the incomparable James Richards, a.k.a. Sweet James, a.k.a. Sweet Jimmy Dicks) and videos (including many by no one of note) to bring you all a comprehensive overview of the past five years in the short weeks we have left of this indelible creative experience. This retrospective will endeavor to showcase our many hardships and victories in a tone ranging from solemnity to irreverence, and above all, will feature the many, many unsung heroes of the Rot adventure. It is an oft-lamented fact that so many people’s hard work bringing a film to life goes more or less unrecognized, even though their contributions are as vital as anyone else’s. So we will be bringing this memorial reverie to you through the eyes of these invisible stalwarts of the film industry who beatifically throw themselves into arduous obscurity with startling alacrity. Without them, Rot would not exist. Or it would suck.

But it does not suck, because these people are real and they brought some serious talent to our shabby-but-ambitious table. And because it does not suck, it’s time to start getting fucking excited for this movie again. Rot is real. Rot is the new flesh. And Rot is almost ready to motherfuck your life.