Woody, meet Buddha
An investigation of the new comic mystery, Zen Noir, including a Q&A with filmmaker Marc Rosenbush

IT BEGINS LIKE A CLASSIC MIKE HAMMER STORY: A fedora'd gumshoe detective, alone in a dark room with his standard-issue gun and whiskey. Smoky horn music plays, punctuated by . . . gongs? His narration begins. "The morning fog clung to the city like the desperation of an aging drag-queen. . . . Why do I talk this way?"

That's just the first of many questions posed by the unnamed detective at the center of the new film Zen Noir. Like most of his others, it will not be answered. The film, produced, directed, and written by Marc Rosenbush, is a highly-stylized, smoldering send-up of the film-noir genre, and appropriately, of our ideas about Zen. The Detective (listed as just that in the credits, and played by the very likeable Duane Sharp) is all tough-questions. But he's about to be thrown into a world where the kind of answers he's used to getting never come.

It's a clever conceit. And Zen Noir is a clever, beautiful, funny, and meaningful film.

After receiving an anonymous call telling him to "haul ass to the temple because someone's about to die," The Detective finds himself in a Zen meditation hall. He is quickly sucked in by its resident teacher (known simply as "Master"), and a bald-headed femme fatale in the form of lay-person practitioner Jane. ("What's a lay-person?" the Detective asks. "A person who can still get laid," she replies coyly.) The zendo's practice leader has dropped dead, and The Detective of course has plenty of questions. But his cliched style of speech is at odds with the people here, and his interrogations quickly devolve into rapid-fire rounds of existential Who's-On-First routines.

The more he asks, the less he knows, and soon Jane, Master, and another practitioner known as Articulate Lotus Flowing from the Source -- "You can call me Ed," he eventually offers -- have throughoughly confused him with their Zen-speak. Not to mention the suprising ease with which they continue their weird way of life at the scene of the crime.

Ed (played by Ezra Buzzington) has soon had enough of our intrepid gumshoe, and challenges him: "You want the truth? Something 'real'? Meet me here at midnight, asshole." But Ed's truth turns out to be way too real, and it, along with deepening feelings of love and lust for the wise and sexy Jane (Debra Miller), leaves The Detective overwhelmed. He is confused by death, loss, and even his own identity; now even he doesn't know his name. "Why am I even here?" he asks. "Who am I?" Luckily, such questions are in the resident Master's area of expertise, and he proceeds to teach our Detective a thing or two about the great mysteries of life.

Death continues to assert its presence in the Zendo (no spoilers here), but The Detective soon begins to find solace in his new place of refuge, never leaving for the film's duration. His showdowns with Master (Kim Chan) -- who lovingly uses oranges and blows to the head with a Nerf-bat in the training of his unwitting, 5-o-clock-shadowed student -- go from frustrating and seemingly meaningless to something much, much more. It's like Woody Allen's Play It Again, Sam, but with a twist: this time it's the hardboiled guy in the trenchcoat who's unconfident and vulnerable. And he's the one getting schooled on what really matters.

That probably makes sense. Rosenbush clearly has a bit of Woody in him -- Zen Noir has moments of Allenesque dialogue, angst, and bumbling. And fans of David Lynch will recognize bits of that filmmaker's audio-visual vocabulary in ZN; a fade on a glowing paper lantern seems a direct nod to the famed traffic-lights of Twin Peaks, for example, and composer Steve Chesne's score recalls the vibraphones, strings, and percussion employed by Lynch's musical collaborator, Angelo Badalamenti. Comparisons like these are really only meant as flattery to the film, so please don't get the impression that Rosenbush hasn't created something unique. In fact, Zen Noir has already been recognized with accolades and awards, including Best Feature at the Moondance Film Festival, and same at the DC Independent Film Festival. It's just had its first run in San Francisco, and is about to open in LA.

Despite all that he has going on, Marc Rosenbush was kind enough to make a little time to talk with The Worst Horse -- about the roots of Zen Noir, the challenges of making it, what he's got planned next, and more.

TWH: It's clear that humor and playfulness are factors in Zen Noir. Are people surprised that a movie with "Zen" in the title would take such an approach?

MR: Zen can be very funny! That was one of the things that drew me to it in the first place; it has this sly, almost absurdist sense of humor, but is full of wisdom. A big part of the inspiration for Zen Noir came from reading traditional Chinese Zen dialogues between master and student, many of which read like vaudeville routines. Usually the student asks a question of some sort and the master's answer is designed to shock the student into a sudden state of confusion that can help them see the world from a new, non-dualistic perspective.

One example, which I use almost verbatim in the film, involves the student complaining that he's having trouble meditating because he can't stop the wild jumble of thoughts in his head.  He says to the master: "Please! You've got to do something! Help me still my mind!" The master just looks at him for a moment, then shrugs and says: "Okay. Give me your mind and I'll fix it."

This is exactly the way most traditional comic riddles work: they ask a question that infers a particular premise, but the answer subverts the premise and comes from another place entirely, providing us with an odd kind moment of revelation. "Why did the chicken cross the road?" sets us up to search for some really clever, meaningful reason that the chicken would do so, but the answer reminds us not to overlook the obvious and the practical. It's textbook Zen!

Marc, the film is certainly unusual -- in good ways! You must have some interesting influences.

This could be a long list. On the Buddhist side, Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, an ancient Zen master named Joshu, and a bunch of guys I used to practice aikido with were all big influences. As a filmmaker, I'd have to say David Lynch, Jim Jarmusch and Woody Allen loom pretty large, though there are dozens of other great directors whose work has inspired me. Comically, I'm a huge fan of Jacques Tati and Monty Python, among others.

Probably more than anyone else, Samuel Beckett is my hero. His understanding and compassion for the absurdity of the human condition, the mystery, all the things we never get answers to, were simply astonishing. With the possible exception of Shakespeare, no writer had ever gone there before. And Beckett's recognition that suffering and humor could go together had a huge, profound influence on my thinking and writing. At one point in his play Endgame, a character says: "Nothing is funnier than unhappiness." Some people hate that idea. But it isn't meant in a mean-spirited or mocking way; it's actually full of a deep respect and pity for human suffering, while suggesting the redemptive power of humor. A guy slipping on a banana peel shouldn't be funny; he falls down and it probably hurts. But when we laugh, I don't think we're laughing at him. I think we're recognizing our own human frailty in what happens to him. After all, it could just as easily have been us, and we know it.

What was Zen Noir's production budget? Was it made guerilla-style? Was it funded?

The film was definitely put together in the fashion of a true independent. We shot on a shoestring and there was a certain "guerilla" feel to the production. The exact budget is a closely guarded secret, but put it this way: George Lucas could have funded it out of his sock drawer, possibly out of just one sock.

The film's score is very effective; alternatingly lush and dramatic. Are you pleased with it?

I can't say enough good things about [composer] Steve Chesne. The worst thing you can get as a director is exactly what you thought you wanted. Steve simply transcended my ideas for what the score should be and brought the film to another level.

What are you working on now, or investigating working on?

I'm currently adapting a brilliant satirical novel by James Morrow called City of Truth. In a totalitarian city where no one can lie, the main character has to become a liar in order to save his son's life. It's a funny, sad (sensing a pattern here?) look at the difference between the external, subjective truths the world presents to us, and the the truth inside that we can only discover for ourselves. And, it has flying pigs!

Are there current  filmmaking trends that please or disappoint you?

The whole digital thing is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, digital projection makes it much easier for a small movie like Zen Noir to get seen in theatres, and I think that's great. The downside of digital filmmaking, though, is that anyone with a camera can now be a filmmaker. That provides opportunities, which is good, but in many cases the visual artistry of film is being lost.

Do you actually meditate these days? Or has the scope of such a big project as Zen Noir, along with all your other work, made practice difficult?

My approach these days is to try and see every moment as meditation, not just the formal time when I'm actually sitting on a cushion. Walking, eating, having a conversation . . . I try to do all of these in a mindful, conscious way, staying in the present moment. This becomes even more important for me as the pressures of getting the film ready for release mount, my to-do list gets longer, and I have less and less time. Ironic that the biggest challenge to my Buddhist practice is getting my Buddhist film out into the world. Then again, maybe that's just the challenge I need. It's easy to spout Zen in Q&As, but can I put my Zen where my mouth is? Good question.

How do you feel about the different (and often surprising) ways that Buddhism and Buddhist ideas are manifesting in pop- and sub-culture? Is some people's fear that these ideas might be getting "watered down" justified?

There are some pretty deep ideas in Buddhism, and I can understand why some people feel they might be getting "watered down" in our culture, but I think that Buddhism is pretty resilient. It's adapted itself to some degree in every culture it's encountered for more than 2500 years, but the core ideas have never changed: "Slow down. Be kind. Stay in the present. Look deeply and you'll see that people aren't as separated and alone as they think they are." That shouldn't be too hard to hang onto.

You can see the trailer for Zen Noir, plus much more, on the film's website:
http://zenmovie.com/