Mike Kuchar Filmes

A music-filled tour of Christmas good cheer overtakes this gastronomically oriented excursion through the winter season of discontent and yuletime...

Two men and two women attempt to re-assemble the scattered pieces of life's puzzle.

A young man yearns for a mysterious lover.

The comings and goings of the late underground filmmaker, Curt McDowell—and the people and activities that came and went along with...

A short film by George Kuchar.

There is a garden in the dark hunger of his psyche where forbidden fruit grows.

A girl with two male companions in a room is a space where the mind's eye wanders!

An epic tale of love and loss. Made using voicemails the Kuchar brothers left on her home answering machine, the artist reveals George and Mike in...

“It glows with the embers of desire! It smokes with the revelation of men and women longing for robust temptations that will make them sizzle...

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...

A 'poet' and a 'painter' discover a malign muse, but their fear and anger keep them young.

Provides a rare glimpse into the world of George and Mike Kuchar, underground filmmaking brothers from the Bronx. Get to know the Kuchars, casually...

Earth's "garden" is fragrant with temptations but has far too many "thorns". He got "stung" and fell...got up...and fell, again and again!

A ripe lad embarks on a raw correspondence with his mirrored image, and thus: the dialogue is "fleshed out" to its full potential.

Paint drips and body fluids ooze in this "tell all" and "hide nothing" documentary about two San Francisco males.

Waiting to die and waiting to live is the same thing to him that chants: "Let me not be mad... let me not be MAD... LET ME NOT BE MAD!"

A vain, self centered mother competes with her daughter in the world of carnivorous men and sleazy movies.

He made some 'love'....where has it all gone? --Mike Kuchar

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

...What once was for him "real," is now but a "dream," --for the day comes when we find ourselves stranded with memories.