No, I didn't watch the Oscars. Why would I? I did a pretty miserable job keeping up with movies this past year – I think I saw one, maybe two new films? – so it would have been pointless on that score alone to have sat and watched another sad and irrelevant awards show spectacle. I can simply read (like I'm doing right now) about all the aging white folk who took home awards, you know?But beyond that, beyond all the red carpet pageantry and all the breathless freaking out over that stuff somehow being important, it's this whole idea that what we see in films – people or animations on screen, "acting" – trumps all that just doesn’t sit well with me. This cult of character is next in a long windrow of shit that unsettles my stomach.Why? Because sound makes a film. It's often in the best films that sound (and I'm not talking about soundtracks) is cooked up so realistically and naturally that we can't even tell it's there. Yes, there are Oscars given out for sound mixing and editing. And from the few movie awards programs I've actually seen, it's pretty great to see the nerdery that is the sound mixer or editor’s lot take the stage and not blather off canned platitudes to world peace. They look like actual, honest and decent human beings who work hard at their craft, and seem generally honored to have been given the nod.But even still, you hardly ever see the guy who brings cinema to life, the Foley artist who literally reenacts entire films by himself in dark studios, dicing frozen cabbages (ideal for simulating the sound of some poor sap getting his head chopped off) or pawing at a box of sand with customized coconut-shell gloves (this gives you a nice, distinct horse's gallop), getting the credit he deserves. And that makes me wanna hurl. Why are the so-called sorcerers of sound routinely shafted?In that spirit, and because it's Monday and I'm feeling cranky and decidedly lowbrow, here's a simple DIY Foley how-to, courtesy musician, writer and robotic artist Sarah Angliss, to replicating the variable, offensive sounds of someone barfing their face off in disgust. You'll need one can of baked beans, a half liter of water, one bucket, one mug, one actor friend "with a sterling consternation," a microphone and editing software with reverb. Then you’ll follow these steps:1. Empty beans into bowl. Add water 'til you've got a nice, gloppy broth.2. Scoop out a healthy mugfull of the mixture.3. With your mic rolling and held just under the rim of the bowl, dump the mug back into the bowl.4. Repeat that last step a bunch of times. And mix it up. Pour those beans slowly in pained, strained heaves. Dump them forcefully in violent retches. Really use your creative license, here. Record takes of the mixture splattering against an empty bowl bottom; record takes of the mixture piling onto an already modest pile of glop.5. Record your actor friend doing his best, rawest 'ralph. Really let him rip. Says Angliss: "If you are working with a method actor, you may find it helpful to let him smell or touch the broth at this juncture. Record the sounds he makes. It's especially good if he can imitate the sound of a small piece of onion being stuck in the throat.6. Dump these field recordings into your editing program. Cut and paste the most convincing takes into a sequence of “alternating retches and broth falls.” To really sell the deal, you may want to begin the sequence with weaker, delicate takes, and then build up toward a great, Niagraish climax. Be sure to leave gaps between the retches and the splatterings. Important reminder: You are replicating a gross, unpredictable bodily function – be variable and creative, not a click track.7. Throw on a reverb of about 3.5 seconds. This should have your bluffed barf score similar to that of your standard toilet bowl. Of course, the more spacious and tiled the imaginary room your puker is in, the more reverb you’ll want to layer on.And there you have it. Now get busy. Blowing chunks never sounded so good.Reach this writer at brian@motherboard.tv. @TheBAnderson
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