More Morris

He takes to the tube in First Person

Too bad that literature's essential delusional obsessives, Dr. Frankenstein and Captain Ahab, aren't real persons, because Cambridge filmmaker Errol Morris (Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred Leuchter) would surely have coaxed them on camera to expound on their fevered quests. Morris did the next best thing for his innovative, idiosyncratically entertaining Bravo television series, First Person (Wednesdays at 10:30 p.m.), by uncovering modern-day equivalents.

The March 15 program, the memorably titled "I Dismember Mama," celebrated Saul Kent, a gentle Norman Bates type who severed his beloved mother's head and froze it away for a better tomorrow, when she can be brought back with a young person's body. The April 5 "Eyeball to Eyeball" episode showcased Clyde Roper, a nicely kooky scientist who has spent much of his adult life seeking his own Moby Dick: a real-life giant squid, 50 feet in length, a species he is certain crawls on the ocean floor by the millions. So far, no squid!

Each half-hour program consists of one odd person in an intense Q&A probe with the equally odd Morris, the interview enhanced with kitsch "found footage" visuals and subtle, moody music from Caleb Sampson (written before his 1998 death) and John Kusiak. My favorite episodes to date are "Eyeball to Eyeball," the March 8 "The Killer Inside Me," a macabre program about serial-killer groupie Sondra London, and the March 29 "The Parrot," a Morris live-cartoon classic about someone's Polly-in-residence who's the only witness to a murder.

According to Morris, First Person has been picking up its audience week after week and probably will be renewed by Bravo. That's good news. In the meantime, you can still catch three programs on Bravo this spring, and two of them are prime stuff.

"Mr. Debt" (April 26) asks, is lawyer Andrew Capoccio the shyster-of-shysters and should someone pull the plug on his 800 number? Or is he a crusading Ralph Nader, a David in the wilderness championing the interests of beleaguered consumers who are being bilked by greedy capitalists? Morris keeps all possibilities open, and the Fred Willard-like Capoccio is lots of fun to watch. Even if he's a total huckster, it's edifying to see him attack banks for promiscuously issuing credit cards to the very people to whom they refuse loans. If you are in deep-dung credit-card debt, Capoccio wants you! His sneaky specialty: countersuing the bank that's suing you!

"Master of Disguise" (April 24) starts out smartly, with Antonio Mendez, a CIA mole for 25 years, talking proudly of his first disguise, when he dolled up as a girl for a high-school prom. But as Mendez details his actual CIA adventures, Morris's program stumbles. The Laos tale is incoherent, the Iran one runs down, and Mendez's sagas of Moscow in the Cold War just aren't that interesting.

"Crime Scene Cleaner" (May 1) finds First Person back on track with the confessions of Joan Dougherty, an amiable hairdresser who, after doing market research, reinvented herself with a more interesting profession: she's an official cleaner-upper after a deteriorating body has been found. When the police and the ambulances have moved on, she'll come into an apartment, mop up the spilled blood, get rid of roaches and maggots. The place will sparkle like new, and she'll even hide from relatives the deceased's embarrassing porno.

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The Chlotrudis Awards, named for two cats, Gertrudis and Chloe, are humorously titled, encouraging an obvious Freudian slip. But the actual awards are no joke at all, as I discovered at the Sixth Annual Chlotrudis Awards Ceremony on April 8 at the Harvard Divinity School. Although there was lots of jest and good humor at the well-attended event, the Chlotrudis people are serious and ambitious in their intent: to provide a grassroots alternate Academy Awards in which those independent-spirited films, both American and foreign, that Oscar almost always ignores are duly honored.

Who are the Chlotrudis people? Regular citizenry from about the Boston area who have been brought together by their love of unusual films. For five years, they've voted their own Oscars. They have a nominating committee of 18 who meet and argue for hours. This year, the nominations appeared on their Web site (http://www.chlotrudis.org/), and more than 400 people voted on the Web.

Some of 2000's more unusual winners: Spike Jonze, Best Director, for Being John Malkovich; Frank Griebe, Best Cinematographer, for Run Lola Run; Magnolia for Best Picture. Actress Helen Mirren got a special award. "Helen is daring and confident," explained presenter Gianna Gifford, a librarian at Simmons College, "and sexy in a way no personal trainer can get you sexy!"

A great evening, professionally run. "You always worry that it will really work out," Chlotrudis's energetic co-founder, Michael Colford, told me at the end, even as he was envisioning a larger venue for next year's ceremony. "The only thing we've lost is that when it all began at my Melrose apartment, we had a red carpet running down the street . . . But one step at a time."

Gerald Peary can be reached at gpeary@world.std.com

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