Short experimental fragments, each one a different register of the film.
Into the Flesh
The final register: where the machine’s imagery gives way to real, hand-made matter. An early practical test for the body-horror finale — organic material shot in macro, the digital crossing over into flesh.
From the script: The AI’s Tale
When the AI voice stops explaining and begins to tell a story of its own — a “lost manuscript” it claims to have found. It narrates the tale below in full, over slow, self-generating imagery that follows its own logic rather than illustrating the words. The text is reproduced here as it appears in the script.
The Tale of Bonhomme
In the church archives of Bamberg lies a more recent manuscript that combines narrative elements and motifs from both Pinocchio and Frankenstein. The author is the German monk, folklorist, translator, and writer Anton Grumann. As early as 1913, he was among the first to translate Carlo Collodi’s Pinocchio into German. Twenty years earlier, during his studies, he had already penned a morally instructive adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
Inspired by both works, as well as by a self-compiled collection of Bohemian folk tales, he wrote a book of his own in 1921 — one that never passed the Church revision board and was therefore never published.
This manuscript tells the story of a being created by its maker from a substance called Thanon. A strange, volatile matter that seems to come alive only near death. It absorbs the final tremors of dying creatures’ nerves. Then it begins to stir — sometimes even to speak. Thanon is soft like flesh, but without blood. It looks like tissue, behaves like a nervous system — yet it knows neither birth, nor growth, nor decay. Only the echo of life.
From this, the creator fabricated a hybrid being. Not a human. Not an animal. Not a thing. Something else entirely, which he called Bonhomme. He sought to create a companion who would serve him and love him unconditionally.
But one day, the creator cast the being out, threw it into the street — without a word. Confused and alone, the being wandered off — in search of love and meaning.
After just a few steps, it met an old man whose cart had become stuck in a ditch. With a single pull, the being freed it. The man stared in disbelief, thanked the being, and invited it into his home. There, he introduced it to his family, gave it shelter, and a place at their table.
At first, they treated it like a guest. Then like a servant. Then like a thing. It did whatever was asked of it. Without complaint. Without rest. And no one ever asked whether it was tired. Or happy.
One day, an accident occurred. A fire broke out — perhaps due to a misunderstanding, perhaps because the being had been left unsupervised. The house burned down. The family survived. But they drove the being away.
Being expelled, it wandered on. It met another man whose cart could no longer move as his donkey lay dead in the mud — beaten to death in a fit of rage. The man lamented that his master would kill him if he found out. The being offered to pull the cart. The man laughed bitterly. His master would beat him to death if he ever learned the truth.
Then the being suggested disguising itself as a donkey. The man hesitated. Then he took the animal’s hide, cut off its ears and tail, and sewed them onto the being. It yielded to everything, without protest.
From that day on, it pulled the cart. It was kicked, beaten, and cursed at without mercy.
Until one day, the master came. Finding the work too slow, he ordered the donkey to be whipped harder. The man obeyed. He beat and beat until the donkey skin tore and the being was revealed underneath. The master became furious and killed the man — though the being could escape.
Now, bloody scraps of the hide hung from its limbs. It looked like something no one dared to look at. A monstrous creature — half human, half beast. Wherever it went, it was cursed, hunted, and driven away.
One day, it reached a lake where a small blind girl was playing. She heard the being and asked, “Who is there?”
It replied, “Let me help you.”
She said, “Then play with me.”
And so it did. At first, they played with stones, with sticks, with water. Then she took pleasure in commanding it. She ordered it to roll, to crawl, to hit itself. It did what she asked. Without complaint.
Then she said, “Jump into the lake.” And it jumped.
It couldn’t swim. But it couldn’t die either. So it sank to the bottom of the lake and lay there, unable to resurface.
Only years later, it was washed ashore. Two thieves found it and recognized its strength and usefulness. They employed it in their robberies. They told it to hang people — with its bare hands — after which the being threw the corpses onto a large heap by the lake’s edge.
But one day, the creature refused to go on. It stood still. The thieves began to shove and beat it. So it killed them both. Then it gathered the bodies from the heap, loaded them onto a cart, and set out to find its creator.
When he finally found him, the being demanded: “Complete me! Give me a human body. With real flesh and blood.” The creator obeyed. When he was finished, when the creature had finally become human — it was happy. It was no longer alone.
Then it killed its father and left.