Will Lyman

THE ANGEL TAPE

I first watched the Angel Tape in the employee lounge at a Blockbuster video store, which was essentially a carpeted hallway leading to the handicap accessible bathroom—corporate had come in and furnished the hall with a water fountain, a row of lockers, and a sunken-in burnt orange futon to try and bump up their worker satisfaction scores. I can’t recall exactly when I first saw the tape, but I know it was there, in that hallway, on the futon.

The tape presents a familiar style of pornography, whereby an older man with a camera approaches a younger man and offers him money in exchange for innocuous things: telling a sex story, flashing his buttcheeks, or shoving his hand down the cameraman’s pants. They chat, the younger boy feigns refusals, straightness, then eventually he allows himself to be persuaded by the increasing cash offers. They go to the woods or a motel room and he blows the cameraman, lets him fuck him. The whole charade lasts twenty minutes on the brief side, around an hour for the longer seductions. The Angel Tape is almost an hour. And unlike its contemporaries, it’s been entirely wiped from the internet. I’ve tried ardently over the years to search for a copy or a memory of the video (chatrooms, sex shops, the attics of old queens), but I’ve never found anything with the same ease as I did in Blockbuster, just stumbling across it.

The tape was in Gene’s locker, in his backpack, in a stationary box which he’d emptied and filled with loose CDs; ANGEL was written on the disc in magenta Sharpie. Gene worked the register during the week; he was an unassuming guy who’d given me my first job and who, memorably, pronounced “video” like he was speaking Spanish, despite his ginger hair, his skin that looked like Caesar dressing, and his lack of a discernible accent on any other words. He brought the videos to work everyday, but he never mentioned them. He was the type of lonely older man who you imagined had all sorts of private rituals and shames. 

In the middle of the Saturday shift, around three or four in the afternoon, he’d go on a smoke break and walk the entire perimeter of the strip mall parking lot, even past the P.F. Chang’s and Planet Fitness. This gave me enough time to head to the back, watch a few of the videos, and return to the register. I suspected he knew, given the obviousness of these walks and how he never once called me on the randomly-appearing scratches on the discs. Gene gave me my first job, and as such we had a sort of fragile mentor-mentee dynamic would have been disrupted and deeply tainted by open acknowledgement of our video trading. I’m not proud of the arrangement, but I’ve always put my curiosity over my moralism. And I don’t want to harp on Gene; I just wonder about his life sometimes.

The Angel Tape is my real point of inquiry. It is not that it changed my life or broadened my horizons—this would be too easy and classifiable—rather, it’s that the tape has been a memory of mine for longer than most things: my first love, my senior thesis, funerals, promotions. It benefits from its obsolescence, the Streisand effect. In my twenties I used to be able to perfectly recite the dialogue at any odd moment, so I never thought to write it down. But as time goes by I lose the plot, I try and recite the words but they’re different.

Everytime the video makes a cameo in my dreams, it chops and changes. Often I imagine if I found it in its original version, I would be disappointed.

I have attempted to recreate the Angel Tape below:

‘ANGEL’ TAPE

A note: 

Our protagonists, GRIZZLY and 21, occupy an unnamed city. The architecture switches from functionalist to baroque to brutalist, suggesting Eastern Europe. GRIZZLY speaks with a faint Irish accent while 21 sounds Slovak, strengthening my original hypothesis. Yet at times they break into plain, American English—heavy Rs and snarky vowel sounds. There was a period of time where I believed this to be a sort of play-act and that GRIZZLY and 21 were actually in Chicago or Pittsburgh. Doubts remain.

The tape begins with our heroes getting kicked out of a supermarket. GRIZZLY holds the camera, which is trained at the square of a young boy’s back, 21. They mumble to each other inaudibly as they pass through an aisle that holds paint thinner, tweezers, and leather moisturizer. They speak to each other in a tone that suggests intimacy but not familiarity; I would venture to guess that they met only a few minutes before the camera went up. 21 is still too nervous to allow his face in the shot, so GRIZZLY films the square of his back, then when they reach the end of the aisle and the boy turns around, he films the tops of his shoulders. The pink glow of a butcher’s display sits behind them.

GRIZZLY speaks to a man off-screen. We become aware that they are being led toward the door.

GRIZZLY

21

No pictures? I’m not taking pictures. I’m filming.

GRIZZLY grunts, the camera shifts as if he is nodding.

Ok. We will go outside.

(Turning to 21) Can we continue this outside? I can’t film in here.

Sure, let’s go smoke a cigarette.

A cigarette? Ok. Let’s go.

21’s shoulders turn abruptly to the right. The light increases in the room as they near a set of sliding doors. GRIZZLY continues exchanging words with the man off-screen, a store employee. Before they leave, the camera jerks and GRIZZLY’s arm is seen setting a black basket atop a pile.

Let’s put the basket back.

They exit. 

That’s unbelievable. They are afraid we will film them to death. 

They stand just feet from the entryway to the store. GRIZZLY pans the camera to the store manager, a slender Korean man, who is watching them disapprovingly from the window. Outside it has just snowed. The customers that enter and exit the store around them are heard by the crunch of their boots on the ice.

Did this ever happen to you?

No, not getting kicked out of a store.

The camera pans to 21’s face, which is visible for the first time as he lights a cigarette with a blue filter. He is undeniably beautiful: overgrown brows, deer-eyes, a smatter of acne that’s more charming than it is distracting. 21 makes eye contact with the lens, flinches, but doesn’t move out of the way. Throughout the following exchange, he continues to nod and smoke, making skeptical eyes at the camera when he can.

That’s the first time for me.

I’ve started talking about this in the shop already. 

Why did I actually stop you? I’m busy with my own project.

21 nods in recognition.

I’m very curious with young people’s opinions. 

I’ll spot them on the street and try to talk to them. 

And I’m always giving them some questions. 

All sorts of questions about life: what are they doing? 

If they study, what are they interested in? And so on.

Can I ask you some questions or do you have a problem with that?

Not really, but I would like to know. Why are you filming this?

I’m taping this for myself, me and my friends. We are making movies like this

You look young. Are you gonna tell me how old you are? Are you?

Twenty-one.

That’s quite young. And do you study or work?

I study. I am busy. Last year.

And what do you study?

Is that necessary?

No, it’s your own choice.

I’m a medical assistant. I’m a future male nurse.

I’ve never seen a male nurse before. 

Is it the official term a male nurse or is it just a nurse?

That’s a tough one.

21 takes a long drag and glances down the road. It’s silent for a moment. GRIZZLY is waiting for something too, you can hear it in his huffing breath that vibrates the camera. Then 21 flicks his head back to center, coughs, and answers.

The term male nurse is not an official term, officially it’s medical assistant

OK, assistant it is. 

And how do you spend your free time?

I like music. 

I’m listening mostly at home, with volume up the roof, or I’m with my girlfriend.

GRIZZLY snorts.

And your girlfriend? She studies in a medical related school as well?

No, she does not. She does something else.

And you’re living together or you live separate?

We live separate.

And to live on your own or with parents?

I live on my own.

So you’re independent?

(In agreement) That’s fine.

You and your girlfriend… Do you watch a lot of shows? Shows with singing?

Where people sing? Like TV shows?

No. You don’t know those competition shows? 

No.

Where they get up on stage and they sing for money? Could you do that?

No, I don’t think I have what it takes.

Why do you think people do it?

Some people are going there to make money 

and some are for success in that business. 

But the majority I think is doing it for the money. 

The only important thing to them is the money.

21 shrugs, tosses cig. Again, he glances down the road before returning to the camera. He looks hapless without something to do with his hands, so he shoves them in the pockets of his puffer jacket, which is stark black against the glass and snow.

If someone comes to you to say: I got some serious cash here.

It’s implied that GRIZZLY takes out cash, though the camera doesn’t pan down to show it. There is no way to tell which currency is exchanged.

I will give you all of it or a part of it if you do some humiliating task. 

What would you say to that?

Humiliating?

A terrier dog butts into frame. It is sniffing the bottom of a cement pole near 21’s feet. The camera focuses in on the dog without comment, but quickly returns to the boy.

I would say no because I’m not in financial need. I would say no.

Yeah?

Because I don’t need the money so bad.

I’m not in debt or anything.

So you would tell me to get lost?

Yeah.

Let’s go a little further, we are talking about it already anyway. 

There is something else I wanna ask you.

They walk a little further, past the cement pillar and down a long brick sidewalk, at the end of which seems to be a body of water. This pivot of the camera reveals to us that the entirety of their conversation, and the supermarket, is on a large, steep hill. They are midway up the hill. 

Let me ask about porn shows. Or girls flash their tits for $1000 or something.

21 starts laughing and keeling away from the camera.

You watch those?

21 attempts to look disgusted, though he is unconvincing. 

Yeah, you do.

The boy shrugs and gives the camera a toothy smile. It is at this moment where it is most unclear whether he is an actor or not. There is a certain dustiness to him that suggests he’s a real person. GRIZZLY makes a hum of approval, then continues.

You cheer for those girls?

Yes, I did (laughing). It’s an interesting show.

And what if I asked you to do something like that. 

I’ll say something like lift your shirt or show me your underwear and I’ll give you $1000.

Laughing, laughing.

I wouldn’t do that.

So you like to watch it, but won’t do it?

Exactly. 

That’s nothing for me. I don’t wanna do something like that.

OK then.

There is silence.

Seriously, I mean it.

Sounds of paper shuffling indicate GRIZZLY is flashing the wad of cash. 21 trades some serious eye contact with him while a line of five people exit the store, hauling overflowing paper bags. 21 nods towards the road, and the two begin walking uphill.

21 walks ahead of the camera. Whenever he puts weight on his leg, his right knee begins to twitch. He does a little dance to avoid putting weight on it, which GRIZZLY films.

Bad leg?

Bad knee. Then it makes a bad hip.

GRIZZLY snorts.

Bad hip. Does it get in the way when you’re with your girlfriend?

No.

Come on, come on.

Ok, yes a little.

21 turns around, entertained. He gestures to signify cumming, waving his hand in the air near his crotch.

When that happens it pulses. Hurts.

Bet it hurts her more.

They laugh together, leaning back then forward. There is an ease between them that is palpable.

You go out a lot?

No, I don’t like dancing.

Oh, come on.

I’m serious. My hip.

So you don’t dance.

Not at all.

You’re all fun I see. 

What if I give you $1000 to show me?

My hip?

Yeah.

No.

2000?

No.

OK, I’m in a good mood. 3000?

They turn the corner and begin up the street running along the windows to the supermarket. As they pass, you see that there is nothing on the shelves. Neither GRIZZLY nor 21 seems to notice. 

I’ll give you 3000 to look at your hip for 10 seconds. What do you think?

Man. I don’t know.

Their walk is interrupted by a woman in a red coat, who approaches them and grabs GRIZZLY’S arm. The camera shakes, then stabilizes as the woman takes a step back to address both of them. 

(HER) Do you know where I can find Reva Street?

(GRIZZLY) That sounds familiar. But I can’t remember. I know it is somewhere in the neighborhood, but I don’t know where.

GRIZZLY and the camera turn to 21 for his answer. The boy shakes his head “no.”

(GRIZZLY) There is a hotel nearby. They will help you at the reception desk.

(HER) OK, thank you.

You’re welcome.

The woman in the red coat walks away, down the road presumably toward the hotel. Both of the men are staring at her. 

So this girl interrupted us. Should we do it? For 3000?

21 turns back to the camera, brighter in the face than before. His eyes click down to the lens, remembering it’s there, and his smile reincorporates itself into his face.

After seeing the pretty girl, maybe we should.

What nice blue eyes she had, right?

She was pretty.

I don’t know what my girlfriend would say to this.

I told you: it’s a private video only.

Over there is a church. They wouldn’t like this proposition.

Funny.

What do you think?

21 nods a ‘yes.’ 

 You know someplace nearby?

They turn back to the road, which stretches ahead of them. Along it, a bulldog is chained to a pedestrian crossing sign. The dog stares directly at them, unflinching. 

(To himself) That dog is giving us the evil eye. 

21 doesn’t notice.

I don’t know such a place here.

OK, I’m following you anyway.

I really don’t know any place right here.

Next to that wall, maybe? Next to that old lady with that horrific coat.

There is a lady across the way. Her coat isn’t really horrific, ill-fitting at best, but the comment makes 21 laugh. GRIZZLY is encouraged.

Or we could go there and come over that ladies coat.

21 is silent. The camera returns to the lady with the coat. She turns around as if trying to hear something, but the camera moves away. From here on, everyone else captured in the lens looks lost and unsure of their direction.

So you’re offering something like this to everyone?

No, only the people I like.

Where are you from?

Pilsen.

Someone I loved was from there.

Not anymore?

No.

Was it bad?

Still a little sensitive.

My mom says sensitivity should be annihilated.

GRIZZLY is silent for a rare beat, before turning to face an alcove off the street. There are two doors with reinforced windows and a metal box on the wall with various last names next to buzzers.

We can go to this part?

21 shakes his head ‘no,’ then they continue until they reach a similar alcove, over which it reads in black lettering “MARTIAL ARTS CENTER.”

Here they would kick our ass.

Here watch out, there is some guy with a dog.

There is a park nearby where a man is walking his dog. It looks identical to the terrier from outside the supermarket, except it is kept on a bright red leash. The two are looking around nervously.

 (watchfully) He is coming now.

Some kids over there.

That guy is acting pretty suspicious.

Wait.

He’s going away.

You got your chance. Come on, this is your chance.

In the Martial Arts alcove, 21 pulls down his jeans and boxers and shows the round, white bone of his hip. It’s unspectacular, but GRIZZLY seems to get a thrill out of the sight of skin. 

Enough?

Wait a second. You’re too fast.

The camera zooms, getting a good look. At the very top of the patch of skin, where 21 holds back his jacket, you can glimpse the tail of what looks like a tattoo. 

All right.

21 covers up.

Wasn’t so bad was it? You just made yourself 3000.

Can I close my zipper?

Sure, or you can walk around with an open zipper. It didn’t kill you.

Thank you.

Listen, I still got a lot of money here.

The cash crinkles.

I like the collaboration with you.

21 bends over and laughs at the floor, heaving.

You think everything is funny, don’t you?

They continue. A minute passes where the two are laughing, avoiding looking right at each other for fear of laughing more. The camera lingers on the snow, which is graying and grimy. When at last it steadies, the two compose themselves. GRIZZLY films 21’s elated, pink face.

What if

No, no. No.

What if we go to that hotel and we find that pretty lady?

That’s too much.

$5000.

You won’t leave me alone?

I won’t.

Will you do that for 6000?

Or I will offer that to the young lady and you will have bad luck.

There is another, different lady with a different dog.

Look at the little dog.

The dog is in frame before scampering off, abandoning its owner. She doesn’t seem phased. As this is happening, a wind moves in very suddenly. GRIZZLY and 21 look at each other blankly. 

It is freezing.

My hands freeze. I’m not even talking about the rest.

The sun is also going down. 21’s face is golden and full.

But over there is a restaurant. 

Let’s just drink a cup of coffee first, OK? 

I think they offer accommodation as well. 

We could do it there eventually if no one else will find out

OK, no problem. I will follow you. You know where to go. I don’t live here. I’ll have a coffee.

You’re paying.

Yes, I am.

Did you expect something like this?

The camera lands on 21, who still has his dignity about him. He doesn’t seem like a victim in any way. The tape is miraculously absent from most perversions. 

21 is being convinced, but he is driving the conversation as equally as GRIZZLY. He speaks with a jutted hip, a sparkle in his eye that conveys curiosity and comfort.  

No.

The camera cuts and resumes after some time has passed. 21 is inside an elevator, which has mirrors on three sides. The doors are about to shut in front of GRIZZLY, but 21 stops them with his foot.

Was it number six? 

We get our first and only glimpse of GRIZZLY in the mirror. His chest and hair is visible, though the camera blocks his face. GRIZZLY is smaller than his voice and intentions would imply. He is plain-dressed, wearing a thin peacoat and a red buckle belt. There is a bulge in his jeans.

He pans down to show the room key, which is a brass turn-key on a plastic chain, colored cobalt. The camera returns to 21. It’s close in his face, and in the reflection you can see that the two are standing toe-to-toe.

So how was the coffee?

The coffee wasn’t good, cheap stuff.

Yeah?

It was a really good one, don’t lie.

Honest, good coffee.

Do I look like someone who likes cheap coffee?

As the elevator reaches the sixth floor, the pressure changes. We watch 21’s back as he emerges into a carpeted hallway. 

After you.

There are three doors in the hallway, labeled ‘A’ ‘B’ and ‘C.’ The walls are a creamy, Easter-yellow. There is also a horn going off on the floor. It’s audible, but muffled—like there’s a fire behind one of the doors. It plays throughout the rest of the encounter and is never recognized.

I have B.

21 takes the key and unlocks door ‘B.’ It is entirely dark, with just the sound of the alarm to guide them, before GRIZZLY takes the key back from 21 and places it in a slot next to the light switch, which illuminates the room.

With light, I can see you better.

GRIZZLY switches the light on and off by placing and removing the room key.

They have keys for everything here.

21 walks forward into the room. There is a pocket kitchen which leads to the bedroom. There are two cots. The walls are the same shade of yellow as the hallway.

Look what a nice little room.

I’m not really excited about this room.

I still have some doubts.

OK, let me take some clothes off.

GRIZZLY does just this. 

The walls look like lemon in here.

The camera sits impatiently on 21’s back.

So should we go for it?

21 sits back on the bed, bracing his arms. There is a big pale light in the corner that keeps flickering on and off. 

I’ll loose this up. 

 GRIZZLY takes off his belt and sets it on the bed behind 21. Apprehension spreads across 21’s face, but it is gone before you can read it as fear.

21’s shoulders drop. He turns, looking as if he is smoothing out the bedsheet with his hands, but in actuality he is bracing himself. The boy lays down on his stomach.

I have a surprise for you.

Off camera, GRIZZLY flashes something metallic. We glimpse 21’s reaction, daunted, but he avoids looking directly above it. The object is above the camera. 

It’s so big.

Are you afraid?

No.

The light in the corner syncopates with the muffled alarm, then it joins with another sound. It appears there are dogs barking in an adjoining room: two of them. One is loud, the other soft. The two invisible dogs alternate barking so it sounds like a little growling heartbeat.

GRIZZLY pulls 21’s pants down to the ankle. His pale little asscheeks are in full view, and with it we see the tail of the tattoo from earlier. It spreads up from his hip to his spine. It is the tail of an Angel. The tattoo is large, intricate, and sits right between his shoulder blades. The angel is stylized like a video game character: flowing gauzy fabric and a watchful, angular face.

That’s a pretty lady.

The camera pans down from the Angel to reveal that GRIZZLY has tied his belt around 21’s thigh, right below his groin. 

Look how good you are.

Look at me up.

21 remains face down while GRIZZLY begins. The object comes into frame, and we see it is a bone saw. GRIZZLY begins to cut at the skin just below the tourniquet while the symphony of accommodations play on: the alarm, the one-two dog barks, the inaudible way the light chimes in. 21 makes no noise.

GRIZZLY grunts.

The first cut is mesmerizing. Surprisingly, there is no blood. You can see the dart of skin as it is torn to tags. The silver of the saw blade disappears. The white sheets of the cot are unsullied.

It hurts.

I know.

GRIZZLY’s hands are in full view, wielding the saw with an expert’s fluency. The camera remains angled as if it is GRIZZLY’s line of sight, though it is unclear how it is being held into place given that both of his hands are in use. The saw gets caught in the toughness of the muscle. GRIZZLY grinds it there, and you can feel the grain of the muscle. 

It hurts.

Don’t worry we will make it.

We’ve got this far already.

The second cut hits bone. GRIZZLY grunts, putting his weight into it. 

The bone is tough.

I drink a lot of milk.

There is a crack: a splinter then weakening. Another crack follows and GRIZZLY looks down, temporarily dizzy. I like to imagine his head was pounding, or his heart. He takes a deep breath, then an arm disappears to wipe sweat off his brow. There is a final lingering shot of the angel on 21’s back, looking right at you.

GRIZZLY returns to the wound. A clean slice through the rest of the meat. Below the hip, 21’s leg is gone.

There is a prolonged postcoital period where GRIZZLY flops on the cot next to the boy. The camera fuzzies and refocuses on the popcorn ceiling. Another sound joins: GRIZZLY and 21’s breath catching up to them. After minutes, the camera returns to the bed and the discarded leg, bloodless. 

Crushed it.

21 is conscious. He sits up, looking not at the camera, but up at GRIZZLY. There is the same zeal of his first stare into the camera. He is smiling.

Thank God. That is so much better.