cre•mas•ter

In panning Matthew Barney's Drawing Restraint 9, Paddy Johnson of Art Fag City offers the following definition of the "cremaster," the structure after which Barney's original film cycle is titled: "a thin muscle consisting of loops of fibers derived from the internal oblique muscle and descending upon the spermatic cord to surround and suspend the testicle." I've only ever seen that explanation cited—I think it's canonical.

But how instructive is the alternative biological definition of a cremaster—a hook-shaped structure that a caterpillar creates to affix its chrysalis to a support? Working under this alternative notion, if only for entertainment purposes, I can find one convincing application in the series: in the final segment of Cremaster 3, the epilogue-ish passage called "The Order." (If you haven't seen the film, I'm probably going to lose you, but nevertheless I'll try to provide some very brief context. For the very curious, this short section of the film—and only this section—is available on DVD. I understand that the DVD cut is an "enhanced" version and doesn't appear exactly as it does in the film, for whatever it's worth.)

"The Order" follows The Entered Apprentice (Barney) as he performs his final ritual toward ascension or absolution, having failed the formal test toward the Sublime Degree of Master Mason that makes up the bulk of the movie. Staged in the ramped atrium of the Guggenheim, TEA must succeed in a challenge, level by level, overcoming an obstacle on each. Low-fi 3-D text introducing the hero and minibosses reinforces the video game feel of the piece. The time clock in this contest is provided by sculptor Richard Serra, who—in an adaptation of Serra's own notorious Splash series—slings molten vaseline down the Gugg's ramp from the topmost floor. TEA scales these levels and retraces his ground, nominally accomplishing tasks and facing along the way a Busby Berkeley–inspired chorus line (who also appear in Cremaster 1); The Entered Novitiate, played by the purrfect Paralympic Aimee Mann; a battle of the bands between 'core groups Agnostic Front and Murphy's Law; and a sculpture of a Loughton Ram. (Eric Doeringer and Google can fill you on the suggested mythology of all the various characters.)

It's a distinct departure from the rest of the series for a variety of reasons that are neither here nor there. But problematically, this epilogue mostly lacks the focus on (relatively) nonlinear sculptural processes—a criticism you might apply to Cremaster 3 as a whole, which is altogether more cinema than sculpture, but to this part in particular.

Mentally insert third arrow to pupa labeled "Matthew Barney"

The notion of the Guggenheim as "chrysalis" is not merely inviting because you get to say that butterflies inform Barney's stag film. No, it's the obvious and emphatic narrative that emerges in the atrium, practically a humanist script for the cycle of life: TEA's first challenge is the mommy line of Rockettes, whose significance in Cremaster 1 is inarguably neonatal; Agnostic Front vs. Murphy's Law is good clean dirty punk-rock adolescence; Mullins plays the bride stripped bare. A man's calling comes in the form of Barney's sculpture, and finally, cresting the development cycle, is the master, Barney's peer and his better. As a space the atrium even loosely analogizes a cocoon. (The Gugg's certainly served as such for Barney's career.)

Aaaaaand as you might say of a Matthew Barney or a Zadie Smith, I've come this far with my flight of fancy and can go no further, having no good strategy for ending it, except to say that 1) without having even seen DR9 I know I can emphatically agree with AFC's Johnson that Barney should employ neither CGI nor Björk, and 2) that I will enjoy watching this entry gradually descend, testicle-like, down the page, the (0) comments note speeding it like an anchor toward oblivion. If I've contributed a timewaster on the order of Matthew Barney Versus Donkey Kong, I'm pleased with the fruits of this afternoon.

NB: Around the date of the release of Cremaster 3, I did attempt an earnest analysis of the Cycle for a publication, only to be rewarded by the editor with the print subtitle, "It Takes Balls To Make Art This Weird!" Maybe I have lingering issues.