I saw this short Stan Brakhage movie last night. It's simply silent footage of autopsies. He doesn't film it scientifically; if you're itching to learn the ins and outs of forensics, this isn't the place to start. Rather than filming and editing in a clinical and orderly way that allows us to see the whole process from start to finish, he films and edits like Hillbilly In A Hospital: "Gawsh, look at this! Yow, lookadat! An' you'uns ain't gonna believe this..." But there's a poetry to the way he juxtiposes one body with another, one cut with another.
The main thing I walked away with was a rekindled desire to lose weight. They say beauty is only skin deep, but fat ain't. When they cut into svelte bodies everything inside has a certain integrity; glistening red, almost Christmasy, and artfully balanced. Everything inside looks like it's there for a reason. But when they cut into fat people it's like slicing into a garbage bag stuffed with curdled yogurt. I had no idea how close the fat is beneath the skin. When they open a trim person you can almost hear the tinkly bells of a little soul flying out; when they cut into the fat people it's more like an enormous flatulent discharge. I don't want to end up like that, so I'd better go out into the God-mocking heat and waddle around a bit.