The kaleidoscopic Pink Narcissus (1971) follows a young male prostitute as he drifts into a series of opulent fantasies, envisioning himself in an ancient Roman slave market, a matador’s arena, and lush, dreamlike gardens. The hypnotic film, which is an exploration of desire, beauty, and escapism, had, to put it lightly, an unconventional production. It was shot on 8mm, was created almost entirely in a small Hell’s Kitchen apartment, and was shot over the span of seven years, only for the film to be threatened with censorship and released anonymously.

“Such a triumph of low-budget filmmaking is a rarity, and leaves me with only one conclusion: it’s the work of a visionary”

How can a film produced in these conditions turn out to be so good? Such a triumph of low-budget filmmaking is a rarity, and leaves me with only one conclusion: it’s the work of a visionary. That visionary was the late James Bidgood, an artist now known as the forefather of camp photography, with his highly stylised phantasmagorical stills. To learn more about his legacy I reached out to Bidgood’s ex-manager and longtime friend, Kelly McKaig, himself a first assistant director on several films such as Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995).

“Jim was an artist. His headstone lists him as such,” McKaig tells me when asked about whether Bidgood would want to be remembered as a photographer, filmmaker, or something else entirely. “He created in so many different media: photography, film, playwriting, music. He was a genius limited by finance and circumstance”.

While these constraints did not diminish his artistic vision, the reality remained that public recognition and its financial rewards eluded Bidgood for most of his life, leaving him impoverished and restricted to his apartment for ten years. Exasperated by Bidgood’s perfectionism, the distribution company had taken Pink Narcissus away from him to impose their own edits. The distraught filmmaker subsequently removed his name from the final cut in an act of protest. McKaig tells me that after the film’s release, “Jim had a lover from 1974-1984 and put the work behind him. Alan’s death crushed Jim, and it was a good ten years before he could even consider addressing his artistic output”.

It wasn’t until the late 1990s that Bidgood was recognised as the director of Pink Narcissus. “The rediscovery and reclamation of Pink Narcissus came at the right time for Jim both financially and spiritually,” says McKaig. “He wished it could have happened during the film’s original release, but he also would not have given up his time with Alan for anything”.

Having circulated as a piece of uncredited underground cinema, I was left wondering whether Pink Narcissus had received the recognition it deserves. Despite my concerns, McKaig is confident that the film has found its own special place in film history. “I’ve read over the years from more and more artists who were inspired by Pink Narcissus. One of the first examples was a quote from [Rainer Werner] Fassbinder, who said Querelle (1982) was directly influenced by the film. We can all now look at that work and say ‘of course! ’” It dawned on me that Bidgood’s film had significantly influenced queer culture in more ways than I had realised. According to McKaig, it’s “a classic example of a weird little film that has had an incredible influence. Part porn, part experimental film, part diary, it doesn’t fit into classic film history,” but he is confident that “it is being rightfully remembered for its impact”.

“New life has been breathed into the film, unveiling the full intensity of its hypnotic colours and baroque dreamscapes”

For decades Pink Narcissus’ dreamscapes have been dulled by poor image quality, making it difficult to fully appreciate its visual poetry. However, with a 4K restoration having recently been completed by a talented team at the UCLA Archive, the film has been reborn. McKaig tells me that the restoration “was made with a newly discovered 35mm incomplete internegative and a matching 35mm print from a Dutch film archive. Prior to that, the existing transfer was made from an existent print”. When asked why new audiences should seek the restoration, he says that “the colours are so much more vibrant in this version, truer to Jim’s vision”.

“Jim loved the internet,” recalls McKaig when asked what his hopes for the restoration are. “He was amazed and humbled by the new generations of young fans of his work. What began over 60 years ago photographing Bobby Kendall has exponentially grown through the digital distribution of his analogue work”. With the restoration having recently premiered in Los Angeles and a digital release expected in late Spring 2025, McKaig hopes that “successive generations can be exposed to [Bidgood’s] work and use it to create their own lush, beautiful worlds”.

Despite my admiration for Bidgood’s magnum opus, I know that I have always witnessed a version far from its intended splendour. Now, new life has been breathed into the film, unveiling the full intensity of its hypnotic colours and baroque dreamscapes. Audiences can finally lose themselves in the vision Bidgood so meticulously crafted.

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