TWINS (1988) is a film about paternal twins with vastly different traits, the result of a failed genetic experiment.
12/08/09 | Film


by Chris East

“I heard somewhere that bears were coming and that is why I fashioned the spear from a broken piece of the kitchen door.”

The small person sits with his arms crossed tight on his chest. A defensive gesture in some ways.

The bigger person just looks in and around his face and sighs. Splinters and wood shavings cover the floor. The carving knife has been scraped blunt.

“You know there are no bears here. And there are no wolves either,” says the bigger person.

“If there are no wolves then why is the house we live in made of bricks and not straw or paper or twigs? The wolf cannot blow down bricks and cement can it? I think it doesn’t matter anyway because even if a wolf did come and try and get in our solid house I have a spear to use against it now I have made one.”

The small person has spent his afternoon cutting out pictures of dog’s heads from the stacks of magazines and newspapers he has collected. In the past week he has cut all the pictures of boats and shoes from the same magazines and newspapers. He has not decided yet what to do with these cuttings, but they are all in categorized envelopes awaiting further instructions. They are marked ‘Sailing,’ ‘Shoes,’ and ‘Barking mouths’ with black felt pen. The bigger person looks at the envelopes spread out on the kitchen table and feels pity and curiosity and worry and then walks to the work surface and begins preparing a meat sandwich only for himself.

The small person walks around in a circle. He stops, draws five sharp breaths in through his nose and blows out through his mouth and says, “I read somewhere that if a bear attacks, you should curl up in a ball and pretend that you are dead and it will leave you alone; but then I read somewhere else that if you pretend you are dead then a bear will definitely eat you because bears are lazy and would rather not have to chase you.”

“Well I read 80% of all bears are really vegetarian or vegan and shop at whole foods and have read ‘No Logo’ twice,” the bigger person says.

The small person runs off to the bedroom and starts moving around furniture. He does this when he is upset. He is upset. He can be so insensitive, the small person thinks to himself. The wardrobe is pushed in front of the narrow curtain-less window, the only window in the room. The bedroom is dark. The small person opens the door of the wardrobe and climbs inside where there is more light. Using a pocket knife he has cut two small holes in the back of the wardrobe behind all the shirts and dresses and other clothes. He looks through the holes and sees the driveway and front garden of his house.

The bigger person sighs again. He eats the meat sandwich he made. The meat is salty and he bends double to drink water straight from the cold water tap on the kitchen basin. The scraping of heavy wood on carpet has stopped. He picks up his purse and puts on his jacket and boots. The bigger person opens the front door confidently and walks to the car confidently and gets in and reverses off the driveway and confidently drives away down the street and around the corner.

The small person can no longer see the bigger person and grows just a little.