What did they use to say? They used to say something like the most common secret life goal for a person was to ‘write a novel.’ Or that seemingly every American believed he/she had ‘a book in ‘em.’ Do they still say that? I feel like ‘make a movie’ has replaced the never-will-get-to-but-seems-
When you live in a university town, people come in and out of your life on a much more frequent basis than when you live anywhere else. I’ve lived in Ann Arbor a decade now and have had approximately three different groups of friends. Friends go to grad school, get jobs at different universities, move to L.A. to ‘write for TV’…Anyway, I met Horam ‘Rom’ Kim and his wife, Lori Smithey, about a year or two ago. Unlike myself, they are super modest. Or I’m a horrible listener. Or both. I knew they had ‘made a movie’ but I didn’t know it was a full-length film. Or that they were showing it around the country at various festivals. When they invited me to a screening in November I was excited to finally see this ‘movie’ I hadn’t heard much about. I was prepared for anything. I was ready to feign enjoyment, if need be.
Of course, I wouldn’t be writing about it here if ‘feigning enjoyment’ had been necessary. Of course I think it’s a fantastic film. Quiet. Claustrophobic. A little horrific. A little bit comedic. Faintly absurd. Romantic. Unlike anything I’ve seen before.
I asked Rom, who wrote and directed the film, if he minded answering some questions about the filmmaking process. It should be noted the movie consists solely of Rom, his wife, Lori, and some talking fruits and vegetables, and one demonic ham. There are no other actors.
I Love You, Apple, I Love You, Orange (Amazon, Indieflix) is a very quiet, very intimate film, starring only you, your wife, Lori Anne Smithey, and some fruits and vegetables (and one evil talking ham). At what point in your relationship with Lori did you decide to make this film? Had you always known she wanted to act? Or was this something you discovered after deciding to write this screenplay? Did she help you with the story or screenplay?
We were starting a new life together at that point. We had been together all through college and had just traveled across the country and left everything we knew to live in Portland. It was a fresh start. It was scary and exciting. We were suddenly adults and we had our entire lives in front of us.
She's never told me that she wanted to act and I'm not sure she really wanted to be in the film, but I think she was willing to do whatever she could to support me and the project. She had acted in several previous short films of mine, but never in anything like this where she had to be in almost every frame of a 93-minute movie. I think she was more than a little intimidated by the enormity of the role, but that didn't stop her from giving the most truthful and courageous performance that I've ever seen.
She definitely inspired me and supported me in my writing of the screenplay, but it was just me sitting alone typing at the dining room table every day for a year in the wee hours of the night.
What’s your film education and how did it prepare you for making this movie? Did you make short films while in university? Did you work with stopmotion animation?
I didn't go to film school, but I did take film classes at NYU where I made short, weird videos---there was one about a hand that becomes part of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. In addition, I also studied photography and creative writing. It was in school that I learned to write screenplays, edit video, and make my own shorts without a production crew. It's also where I got interested in stop-motion animation. All of my student work had at least some animation in it. I loved how stop motion can make anything come to life. I remember editing in the computer lab watching mesmerized as this creepy butter knife moved completely of its own volition across the screen and slathered peanut butter all over my naked hand.
NYU gave me the basics of filmmaking but making a feature is such a different and huge animal than making shorts that I doubt any film education could adequately prepare anyone for the rigors and endless hardships that come up again and again like the unrelenting waves of the ocean.
What’s it like to make a film with your wife or girlfriend (not sure which you were at the time) in the house in which you live together? How long were you guys filming? How did the filming affect your relationship?
I thought it would be easy. I thought we would just roll out of bed and start shooting every day for a month or two tops and we would laugh every second of the way. But it didn't turn out that way. Filming was hard and often grueling work. We did have some fun but it was demanding work that seemingly would never end. Filming took two long years.
I definitely asked more of Lori than I had any right to, and she gave me everything she had. She is the strongest and most generous person I know. When you go through such an arduous journey together, where you have to put total trust in your partner or risk falling down the chasm, you can't help but build a stronger and deeper relationship, but that doesn't mean that you don't occasionally fall down the chasm and wonder if you're ever going to get out alive.
I became obsessed with making the film, and that was all I ever wanted to do. Lori, however, wanted to do normal things like go outside or live in a house instead of a film set all the time. We had to balance and respect our needs, which was sometimes difficult to do. But we made it through filming, maybe a little bruised, but still intact. We go outside practically all the time now. The fresh air has never smelled so sweet.
You say you were 'obsessed with' the film. Did this affect your relationship with Lori at any point. Say, when she wanted to go do 'normal' things, as you say, or were you conscious of not allowing your obsession with the film negatively impact your relationship or come between your relationship with Lori? Or was she just super understanding re your obsession?
She was understanding of my obsession, she hung in there and supported me throughout from the beginning to the end. It affected our relationship in that it gave us the opportunity to grow and support each other. It was hard for me to have to balance working a full-time job, making the film, tending to daily responsibilities, and it didn't leave much time for sleep. Periods of obsession are a job requirement when working on independent projects. There's no getting away from the obsession, just learning to manage it. I had to have some control or I wouldn't remember to eat, get dressed every day, or go to work.
I think Generation Y, or the Millennials or whatever, maybe more than any other, as a whole, is interested in making films. It seemed somewhat within the realm of possibility. After all the 90s Indie success. Spike Lee. Tarantino. Kevin Smith. Harmony Korine. Wes Anderson. And then more recently ‘Mumblecore.’ How hard was it to realize your dream for this movie? As far as finances, getting equipment, figuring out how to operate it, etc. And what/who were your personal film/director influences?
I owe all these great independent filmmakers a debt of thanks. It's because of them and their wonderful work that I believed that making films was within the realm of possibility for me. I was deeply inspired by the Dogme 95 movement with Lars von Trier and the other Danish guys and all their odd rules that basically equated to keeping their films no frills and low budget. It was incredible to see that a great movie didn't need anything more than story, performance, and theme.
I took their movement to heart. Although I didn't follow all of their rules, I put most of my focus on their core tenets. Our film had no budget. I made a lot of my own equipment---I fully embraced DIY. I taught myself everything about filmmaking through free resources from the library, the Internet, DVD commentaries. I watched and re-watched a ton of movies. In the end, it took eight years to make the film and I wonder now where all the time has gone.
I Love You, Apple, I Love You, Orange had many influences. One was Mark Haddon's novel The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time and another was my friend Kristen Kosmas's play "The Mayor of Baltimore." Here is a list of the film influences in no particular order:
Jean Pierre Jeunet's Amélie and Delicatessen
Tsai Ming-liang's The Hole and What Time Is It There?
Jan Švankmajer's Alice
Kenneth Lonergan's You Can Count on Me
Jean-Luc Godard's Band of Outsiders
Atom Egoyan's The Sweet Hereafter
Paul Thomas Anderson's Punch-Drunk Love
Wes Anderson's Rushmore
David Lean's Brief Encounter
Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation
Lars von Trier's Dancer in the Dark
Henry Selick's The Nightmare Before Christmas
What do you think of the term ‘Mumblecore’ and does it relate to your film?
When I think of mumblecore, I think of Dick Tracy and pornography, low budget films, naturalistic performances, Andrew Bujalski, and pimples. We never set out to make any particular type or genre of film. We just wanted to make our film. But when The Stranger called our film mumblecore, it made sense: we made our film with no money; we were going for more natural performances; and we wanted to ground our film in a recognizable reality that just happened to coexist with talking food.
I don't think I Love You, Apple, I Love You, Orange fits the mumblecore bill exactly, but in essence I think the filmmakers that are associated with the subgenre and I are all striving for something real in our films, at least what I think is real to us, that you don't normally see in most commercial movies. I think we share a desire for a different kind of movie that reflects our lives. We're not looking for clichés. We're looking for ourselves.
How hard is it to get your film into festivals? I know yours played at a few. And what was your experience with trying to get into Sundance, assuming you tried? And how important do you think it is to have a film in a festival or in a series of festivals? Did it help in promoting your movie?
I don't particularly enjoy rejection, so it seemed strange to me that I was willing to subject myself to so much of it. I made the somewhat common mistake of submitting our film before it was ready to go out into the world. I thought it was ready at the time, or at least I hoped it was ready, but, in retrospect, I think I just wanted the madness to end. The good thing about Sundance is that it helped give me a deadline to finish, but after that initial submission it was still a few years of editing before the film actually got done. I'm not a super emotional guy, although I do have a tendency to cry during job interviews and every time I watch Ghost, but when I got that first festival acceptance letter, I completely broke down: I don't know if it was happiness, relief, or surprise. I think it was just the build up of all the emotions that went into making this film had reached this breaking point and finally just came gushing out.
We loved every one of our festival experiences, mainly because of the people but also because we got to see so many amazing films that, sadly, no one will probably ever see. I think it's difficult to have to depend on the whim of the tastemakers and gatekeepers, but people trust them, and we would never have gotten reviews and exposure from major media outlets like The Stranger and City Arts and digital distribution through Indieflix without the help of festivals.
You say you sent out the film too soon, to festivals, because you 'just wanted the madness to end.' rather than, because you were actually 'done' with the process. I worry this is the case with my novel; that i just want to be done with it, with the obsession, rather than, I'm actually done working on it. It's an interesting distinction. But is one ever really 'done' with a book or film? I assume we could go on forever editing/reworking. How do we know when we're 'done' vs just wanting the obsession to end? (Apologies, as I am adding this question in after the initial interview, I'm realizing this is Question 101 at every post director/novelist interview I've ever been to; but, hey, maybe that's for a reason!)
I recently read that a novel is done after you've written it four times, the last time being after having read it out loud. I did something similar with the completion of the film. After finishing what I thought was the final edit of the film, I later sat down and watched I Love You, Apple, I Love You, Orange from the beginning and would stop the film when something didn't seem right. I would then rework that section and continue to watch the film and edit as needed. Once I reached the end, I would watch from the beginning again and repeat the process. I did this until I could watch the movie straight through without wanting to stop. Once I was able to do that. I had to watch it again the next day straight through---I think I may have also done a pass with my eyes closed. But even after all those countless passes, at festival screenings subtle technical flaws would become apparent that I would have to go back and fix. I think it was only after a screening last month that I felt like the film was really finished and I didn't need to hit that mental stop button ever again.
Three of the film’s songs are credited to you. What is your musical background? And what was the process of coming up with the soundtrack for the movie?
I don't really have much of a musical background. My most notable musical achievement is that I used to sing the theme song to Growing Pains in the shower; besides that there's not much to tell. In college I taught myself how to play guitar, and after I could play a few chords I started writing songs that I dared not performe in front of anyone.
When I was trying to figure out the songs in the film, I listened to a lot of Magnetic Fields---mostly stuff from 69 Love Songs and Charm of the Highway Strip. They have the best sad love songs. I wrote a bunch of songs for the movie, but only the song where the vegetables sing to Maggie, which was challenging because I had to sing in three different voices one of which included a female voice, and the songs that are playing during the waltz and the tap dancing scenes made it into the movie. Each of those songs required about 60 takes because I kept messing up.
Most of the music was composed and performed by David R. Lorentz with additional music by Jamie Cooper. For a year, David and I would have these weekly conversations about what the soundtrack should sound like and from those conversations he was able to produce this beautiful music. I don't know if most soundtracks are made this way, but it worked for us.
One of the most memorable scenes in the movie is you alone in a kitchen doing what looks like tap (dancing). How did you come up with this image for the film? And did you take tap as a child?
I was inspired by the dream sequence in Tsai Ming Liang's The Hole and the scene in P.T. Anderson's Punch-Drunk Love where Adam Sandler's character dances in the middle of the supermarket. I think dancing in general is kind of absurd and beautiful. Limbs are just flailing about for no particular reason, but there's something about the movement and rhythm that can be so expressive and emotional. That's why I wanted to have dance sequences in the film. It was also an excuse to dance, because I like to dance and it pains me to think that my dancing days will one day be restricted to weddings and bar mitzvahs. Nothing would make me happier than to be a part of an endless conga line.
I took one ballroom dancing lesson in high school, but no tap lessons. My knowledge of tap is based largely on Fred Astaire and maybe some Shirley Temple movies, Tap, and Singin' in the Rain. I don't think I had ever tried to tap dance before making that scene. I just kind of went for it and asked, what would Gregory Hines do?
Would you say Annie Hall was an influence? For some reason, the second time I watched this movie I kept thinking of that film and how this was a super quiet, super simple/pared down, contemporary version of that movie. Or I could see an influence. Or I reflected back (to Annie Hall). Was Annie Hall anywhere in your mind while writing or making this movie?
I can't say that it was, which is sort of strange because our film had so many influences. Somehow Saturday morning cartoons occupied more of my headspace while writing the screenplay than any of Woody Allen's films---and I love his work, especially Annie Hall. What's even weirder is that as I was reading the Wikipedia plot summary for Annie Hall I kept seeing similarities: neurotic protagonists, questions about the truth of relationships, even killing pests---that's all in our film. So I don't know anymore. Maybe it was an influence. It goes to show I have no idea what my mind is thinking about sometimes.
We've also had our film compared to Roman Polanski's Repulsion, which I know I've never seen before, but the story sounds eerily similar, so much so that I think I may have seen it late at night and just forgot about it. I don't know what's real anymore.
How much, if any, of the scenes/lines are improvised? Did Lori and/or you change any during filming? Or did you stick pretty faithfully to the original script?
I remember thinking that improvising whole scenes would be great and that we should absolutely try to do it, but Lori, for some reason, has no recollection of me ever actually communicating those thoughts. She remembers me being very much against any line changes. She said that I would have her do scenes again even if one word was changed, which is not like me at all. Yes, none of the lines in the movie were improvised, but I stand behind my claim that I could imagine myself being open to playing loose with the script even though the lines were the lines and why would we change the lines when they're already perfectly fine and don't need to be changed? I'm just saying.
Do you have more films in mind and/or are you writing another film? Do you think you will work with Lori for your next film also? Do you think it would be weird to work with an actress with whom you do not sleep at night?
There are some film ideas cooking in my head. I have one inspired by the dancing plague of 1518, which was this mass dancing epidemic that suddenly and inexplicably compelled thousands of people to dance until they collapsed or just plain dropped dead---people actually died from nonstop dancing! I guess our film would be a cross between Footloose and They Shoot Horses, Don't They? but a little more bleak.
I would love to collaborate with Lori on more films and I think it would be great if she starred in every one of our films, but I would never want to force anything. If the next project has a part that would be perfect for Lori then I would hope she would agree to be in it. However, I'm not sure she would be thrilled by the idea of dancing all day and all night take after take after take.
This is a pretty funny question, but, in all seriousness, I think it helped that Lori and I already had a close personal connection, because we didn't have to work on building trust and we had nothing to prove to each other---we could be our true selves without fear of judgment. I would, of course, like to have a similar relationship built on trust with anyone I work with in the future, and I think that's quickly accomplished with a half-an-hour of gentle spooning.
One of my favorite lines is “People have been driven mad by love. Not just pop singers.” Did you or Lori come up with that? And do you think that’s true? Have you been driven mad by love, Rom? Tell us about your experience with that!
When I wrote the line, I believed it to be true. I think I still do. I don't think I'm alone in that belief.
The madness of love never drove me to do anything drastic like glue my eyelashes in the shape of a heart but it did give me a headache. All of a sudden I wouldn't know what was happening to me. One moment I would be sitting there eating a falafel or something and then the next thing I know I'd get this funny feeling that just wouldn't go away. At first I wouldn't know if I was just hungry or what. It was like I had this catchy and repetitive jingle stuck in my head that would go on and on like that old cat food commercial, but instead of hearing meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow-meow, I would get i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove-i'minlove just running on a loop and no matter how hard I tried I was powerless to quiet it.
There are a lot of (amusing) lists in the film (can’t remember exact titles but lists like “things people do to pass the time” and “things Martin will want to know about me”), written by Lori’s character, Margaret. I assume you wrote the lists? Did you write them before, after, or during the writing of the screenplay? Were there other lists that didn’t make the final cut?
I started making the lists early on in the writing process as I felt they were key visual and verbal components that helped me structure the film. “Things to Buy at the Grocery Store” and “Things People Do Together” were a couple lists that had to be taken out due to time and pacing issues---I don't think they were a huge loss.
Okay, I just looked up your bio on ‘the Internet.’ It says you studied film and creative writing at NYU and fiction writing (MFA) at Brooklyn College. Do you still have an interest in ‘fiction writing,’ i.e. novels, short stories, that sort of thing? Or are you primarily focused on screenplays and films?
I'm always going to be writing stories of one kind or another. I Love You, Apple, I Love You, Orange actually started out as a short story about a talking room. Somehow that story turned into a screenplay about talking fruits and an evil ham.
Early on I made the choice to commit myself completely to the film, which meant I wasn't going to do much writing not related to the movie. I just felt like I had to focus and couldn't split my attention to other projects. That being said I never thought I would spend this much time away from writing fiction. I thought maybe a year or two tops I'd be done with the movie and I can start writing that novel, but eight years---mon dieu! I must admit that I did write a few stories during the bottomless pit of despair that was the editing phase---I couldn't help myself.
But now the film is done and I am currently working on a novel about disaffected youth who take a trip to the rodeo, which I realize now kind of sounds like an episode of Scooby-Doo.
Do you ever wish you were living in N.Y.C or L.A. rather than Ann Arbor, Michigan? Do you think you would have more career opportunities in one of those cities? Do you have plans to move to either?
Not really. Both those cities are great, don't get me wrong. I just like being in Ann Arbor right now. When I was a kid I always wanted to live somewhere that snowed all the time and I definitely get all the snow I want here.
There's no question that there are tons more film jobs in New York and LA, but I figure I could make a film anywhere as long as I had a camera. I guess my motto is have camera -- will travel.
We don't have immediate plans to move but I can see us living in one of those cities or some island in Hawaii. Right now, I'm leaning toward Hawaii.
Do you listen to the Bret Easton Ellis podcast?
No, but I do like Bret Easton Ellis or Bee as I'm sure all his friends like to call him. The following is what I imagine the podcast is probably like, but I realize this may be wishful thinking:
Bret Easton Ellis' best friend James van Der Beek: "Hey, Bee, what's going down?"
Bret Easton Ellis: "Nothing much, just buzzing."
This is the kind of breezy banter that I could listen to every day.
Another of my favorite scenes in the movie is when Margaret and Martin are lying on their backs on her apartment floor staring up at the ceiling and Martin says, “Lots of stars tonight.” Were you conscious of this being a funny nod to the ice scene in Eternal Sunshine and other romantic movie scenes in which two characters are lying on their backs looking up at the night sky? I thought your scene was a very charming version of this.
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. Yes, there were definitely a few nods to some romantic movie scenes, but I can't recall which ones exactly. That scene may have been inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but for the life of me I can't remember if I was referencing that movie in particular. I loved Eternal Sunshine though and I wouldn't be surprised if it just slipped into my unconscious brain while writing the screenplay and was then mysteriously erased---just like in that movie that I can no longer remember.
Martin and Margaret don’t seem to drink alcohol, take drugs, or have sex. Why do you think they are so seemingly ‘chaste’? Was there a raunchy sex scene that was cut? Will that be an extra on the DVD?
Maggie is fairly inexperienced in the ways of the world. I imagined her living a very sheltered life that cut her off from many normal experiences. I think she knows about sex but probably doesn't "know" about sex. I imagined her being home schooled. Her mother probably never told her about the birds and the bees, so her knowledge is likely limited to what she's seen on TV and heard on the radio. I think Martin, on the other hand, has the occasional snifter of brandy by the fireplace to unwind and is probably more experienced than Maggie but is just fine following her lead.
No deleted sex scene, but I think a lot of people had questions about the kind of movie that we were making. We would have friends over the house and they would see the film equipment and lights in the bedroom and we would tell them that it was just the two of us shooting the movie. Judging from the looks on their faces and the occasional winking, they had to think we were into some kinky stuff.
What is Martin out doing when he keeps arriving late? Is he up to no good? Or is Margaret just another crazy woman with crazy insecurities and assumptions?
That Martin is pretty mysterious; he could be doing all sorts of weird things. Of course, the same goes for everyone, really. I mean who knows what anyone's doing when I'm not around. My next-door neighbor could very well be running an illegal kangaroo boxing ring out of her basement.
People I know may seem normal, but they could have secret lives that I know nothing about. I believe that one out of eight people I see on the street is actually a secret agent. I mean, you've seen the FX series The Americans, right? Russian super spies living among us. Wake up, people! They’re hiding in plain sight!
Was the use of fruits and vegetables a way to avoid using/paying other actors/actresses? Or were you merely charmed by them? (btw, I noticed upon my second viewing that the banana never speaks and isn’t in the final bedroom scene. What do you have against bananas? Or could you not figure out the accent for the banana?)
Well, fruits and vegetables are so much more easy going and cooperative than actors---just kidding! I love actors! Actually we had a handful of people lend their voices for the fruits and vegetables, but the sound record had too much noise for it to be usable, so then I just stepped in and rerecorded the scenes using my voice---it seemed easier this way. I mean, I was always going to do a few voices, but it was never my intention to do so many. I didn't mind though, because I've always secretly enjoyed doing impersonations. As a kid when I would watch TV by myself I would often try out different impersonations of characters like Pee-wee Herman and Steve Urkel. This is a little more recent and I probably shouldn't admit this, but I was one of those people that would bust out their impression of Borat any chance they got.
I think fruits, vegetables, and food in general have so much personality. We take so much comfort in food that I think it's easy to see them as having human characteristics. There are just so many wonderful food idioms that show how we already personify food as being much more than something we eat: prickly pear, cool as a cucumber, nutty as a fruitcake, the couch potato, etc. Just add a mouth and they're basically the same as you and me.
I don't have anything against bananas. They're a great source of potassium. The banana was supposed to speak---it did have a mouth, after all! I think it just turned out to be one too many voices for me. Coming up with different voices is hard. There are only so many variations of Jimmy Stewart that I could do. But come to think of it, it would've been the perfect opportunity to use my spot-on impression of Scarlett Johansson, but I'll just have to save that one for another film.
Lastly, the ham. How old did the ham get to be by the end of shooting? And has having the ham in the film affected your consumption of ham as a meal?
It got to be a little more than a year and a half old. Looking back we should have thrown the ham a little party when it turned one and gave it a party hat and a little cake. That would've been a hoot.
The ham was not easy to work with. For the first almost six months, it remained largely unchanged, but then all of a sudden it underwent this rapid putrefaction and mold covered much of the backside and some of the front and it stank something awful, which was unfortunate for me, because I had to touch it and move its mouth for hours at a time. The smell was so bad that when I was manipulating it for animation, I would have to hold my breath and then breathe through my mouth when I couldn't hold my breath any more. It got to be pretty ripe.
I don't think I was too affected by my experience with the ham. I eat deli ham almost every other night and I still think Honey Baked Ham is manna from the gods. But I think if I had eaten some of the evil talking ham, it would be a different story. For one thing, I probably wouldn't be alive right now. I'm not a fan of wasting food but I had to draw the line somewhere.
OKay, I lied. The above question was not the last question. This is the last question (unless I come up with another one sometime soon, in which case this will become the penultimate (i just learned this word; feels good/fake using it here for the first time) question(s): how much of Martin is in you? and/or: how much of you is in Maggie?
I think some of Maggie was created from learning to live on my own for the first time in Portland, and not knowing how to live an adult life. I could relate to wondering what people did every day, because my life up to that point revolved around going to school and when school ended I was suddenly thrust into uncharted territory. Everything was new and strange. Millions of people were leading fairly normal lives that looked so easy because they did the same thing every day and here I was struggling to figure out how they did it: how they knew what clothes to wear, how to pick a dentist, what Roth IRA plan to open. It was from that confusion that I was able to come up with some of Maggie's lists.
I don't think I'm entirely like Martin, but he does have my voice and he's a little awkward, which is probably more like me more often than I'd like to admit. And I, too, exterminated a mouse once, but only after our cat left it half dead. I used a different newspaper though---The Village Voice. And I may also like to wear the same things over and over again, but only because I don't like doing laundry. Besides all that we're complete opposites.
okay, final-final-totally-final bonus q: do you have a favorite song feat ludacris? and do you enjoy any r&b?
My favorite Ludacris song is "What's Your Fantasy?" and I do like R&B, particularly John Legend and Otis Redding. What is your favorite Ludacris song and who are your fave R&B stylists? Did you know that Ludacris played in East Lansing last year? He just happened to play this random festival out there and for some lame reason we had to be out of state that day.
damn, no. i did not know. why didn't anyone (you!) tell me? picking a favorite luda song is like picking a favorite ... having just seen Top Five (highly recommend this film that no one seems to have heard of or seen!), however, i'll give you my top 5 luda (or feat. luda) songs (in no particular order):
1. my chick bad
2. get back
4. sugar (gimme some)
and a tie for 5. with wet the bed and sex room, obviously.