The House in Bury


Now I’ll pay him twice his wages, he can have the house in Bury, he can have my car…

Cliff Twemlow and David Kent Watson’s GBH is a film that transcends everything we know about cinema. The art of GBH is it’s desire to be made, the passion that creates necessity and produces a film against expectation, one that mangles every foregone conclusion frame by frame, a film that devours the language of action film and regurgitates those cliches as an art form comparable to JG Ballard’s car crash sculptures or Gustav Metzger’s destructive art as imagined by John Waters on brown acid. These are no Tarantino re-spins of cinematic legend, GBH is not demanding an audience to be in on the irony of the unctuously replenished scene, GBH is a film being born every second of it’s frame as it was imagined and played, as a film should be, but only this film could be. Watch it and adore every second of it’s innocent art.

The house in Bury is where we all want to be, the ugliest house ever built, but what dramas unfold there?

This is the m4sk 22 musical tribute to lost love and lonely nights at the House in Bury.