LIKE ANY PORNO MOVIE, NOTHING HAPPENS, AND THEN THERE'S A BLOW JOB

I feel like allowing for a little interactivity. Like a Madlib. As I mentioned previously, I was "lucky" enough to attend a screening of Vincent Gallo's new film The Brown Bunny recently. So when you've finished reading the following, you can help me complete the following sentence: "I somehow managed to become one of the few people 'lucky' enough to get an early peek at Gallo's latest _______." Fill in the blank with the noun or adjective and noun of your choosing.

According to an announcement made to the 50-odd audience members inside the small midtown screening room, this 90-odd minute version (nearly 25 minutes shorter than the one which caused such a negative uproar in Cannes in 2003) was screening to press and such for only the second time. Even the Toronto Film Festival screenings last year, which were received at least a bit more warmly, did not yet have a final soundtrack and mix.

I've made no secret of my absolute hatred of Gallo's last film, Buffalo 66. That movie annoyed me virtually from the moment it started to unspool, and its irritating dialogue and situations just became progressively more painful until its eventual conclusion. However, I recognize that many misguided folks have somehow been deluded by whatever alien magnetism Gallo possesses into enjoying the movie. In fact, Roger Ebert raved about it (in one of, to me, his more incomprehensible reviews), but when Ebert saw The Brown Bunny in Cannes, he was apparently traumatized, criticizing the movie so harshly that Gallo decided the way to fight back was to put a curse on his colon.

My experience with The Brown Bunny was a curious one. On the one hand, I can see why an extra 20-or-so minutes would cause most audience members, especially those who may be of a more advanced age, to feel as if the deserved a personal apology from Gallo for wasting such precious life moments when they could have been … I don't know … starring blankly at a pebble of sand on the beach. Still, while my friend took several little naps during the first hour or so, I found myself repeatedly amused.

Don't get me wrong: my amusement wasn't due to any real enjoyment of the film but rather due to a continued disbelief at the filmmaking. Between naps, my friend would often sigh; I, on the other hand, would chuckle. I guess having such low expectations coming in as well as a preconceived dislike for Gallo's filmmaking made seeing all these otherwise annoying moments slightly, well … funny.

Here's the other thing: believe it or not, some of The Brown Bunny actually is kind of interesting. Once you get through the interminable first hour, the final 25-30 minutes (which includes Gallo's ultimate narcissistic moment – the blow-job from Chloe Sevigny) is actually not a horrible short film, as long as you're judging as if said short was made by an early-20s NYU or Columbia MFA student with no budget.

Let me share my experience with you, just a little bit. Here's the context: Gallo plays a motorcycle racer named Bud. The film opens with him racing. Then he needs to go to California where he lives and will next race, so he drives cross-country to do so. Along the way, he encounters three different women who's "flower" names (i.e., Violet, Lilly, Rose) remind him of his old girlfriend Daisy (Sevigny), whom he obviously still loves but no longer is with. I say "encounters" because that's really all that happens – an encounter. And he can usually get them to kiss him – without saying or doing anything except asking … one of the times. Of course, none of them can live-up to his ideal of Daisy, so he moves on. He also visits Daisy's parents (next to whom he apparently lived while growing-up) during which we learn virtually nothing. To be fair, though, this is the one and only scene in the beginning of the movie that carries any weight once the film is over. When he gets back to LA, he tries to find Daisy, but she seems to not be at home, so he leaves a note telling her where to meet him. He checks into a motel and Daisy shows up. She gives him a blow-job. The end.

Almost. There's actually more – a twist even – that is not completely unpredictable, but remains slightly satisfying. But the reason the blow-job is all most people know regarding this movie is more because there's almost nothing else to there. Sure Gallo is trying to tell a story of love, lost love, regret, loneliness, isolation, etc., but ultimately he has simply again produced an exercise in boredom. Believe me, I get this film. Everything is very calculated without being complicated. Yet it still makes me want to scream; when I'm not chuckling.

I look forward to hearing how fans of Buffalo 66 respond to this film, although I'm particularly curious to read Roger Ebert's eventual review upon seeing this shorter final cut. I actually don't understand how, if you liked Gallo's earlier film, you wouldn't like this one. There are two elements -- stylistically and thematically -- that are direct descendents of what we've seen from him before.

First is Gallo's predilection to consistently obstruct the audience's view of just about everything, a tendency which I attribute to his considering what's not onscreen more important than what is. He wants to disorient and unsettle us by making us work harder to actually see the movie. This in itself is not automatically a negative, but he never supports these choices with any concrete reasoning. From the opening of the movie -- several minutes of motorcycles going around and around a track during which we sometimes see the track from a distance, sometimes see just a section obscured by a building, sometimes hear the engines roar, and sometimes don't – this is a recurring visual theme. His framing of most close-ups would send cinematography teachers into epileptic seizures as a good chunk of the first 2/3 of the movie is his profile running off the edge of one side of the screen leaving the remainder of the frame to show his car seat. Other scenes are shot through the front windshield so there is a barrier between us and the action; not because anyone from inside the car is watching. As an audience member, one might occasionally find oneself physically moving to try to peer around that door frame or see the pointy chin which isn't within the frame. It's a neat trick, but who really cares. "What's he not telling us?" you might ask. But eventually, you stop because you just don't care.

What probably will make many people care even less are the seemingly never-ending driving sequences. I believe I've read once or twice that this film is Gallo's travelogue of America. So obviously, he considers the highways of this country to be a very boring place. Fine. Many are as the scenery usually encompasses malls, gas stations, fast food restaurants or absolutely nothing at all. But must we really simply stare out the front of the windshield at the barren highway with Gallo, repeatedly, with nothing happening, while listening to some morose 1970s folk rock. I mean, I have a Gordon Lightfoot song somewhere; I don't need to hear the entire 3-1/2 minutes of "Beautiful" while starring at an empty highway in this movie.

The other main theme, which makes The Brown Bunny almost a sequel to Buffalo 66 in my eyes, is also Gallo's most narcissistic. I suppose one might make the argument that in both films Gallo is saying that love and attraction are purely chemical; two people come together instinctually, remain together for the same reason, and their individual actions and conversations with each other are actually meaningless. That's me giving Gallo some big time benefit of the doubt, because I don't buy it at all. Rather, I think Gallo believes he's the universe's gift to women and that everyone is inexplicably drawn to him. That was certainly the thing that bugged me most of all about Buffalo 66. Christina Ricci's entire character made no sense. I wasn't bothered by the fact that Gallo deliberately doesn't tell us anything about her or her background. I was troubled that not once do we see one reason – certainly not in any of his controlling and even misogynistic interaction with her – why the hell she would like him.

Multiply that conceit by four, and you've got The Brown Bunny. First, as he's about to start his cross-country trek, he stops for gas and notices that the young woman behind the counter in the mini-mart is named "Violet." She obviously thinks he's cute as she starts asking him questions, and eventually he invites her on his trip. Of course, she says no. She doesn't know him; she can't leave the shop unattended. But then Bud says, "Please." Pause. "Please." Pause. "Please go with me." Pause. "Please." (I apologize if that's not exact – it’s close enough. Trust me.) And she locks up the store, leaves a note for her parents on the door, and hops into his van. They stop at her house. They make out for a bit. (I throw up.) Then she runs in to the house to get her stuff. He -- as we will eventually understand -- realizes that Violet is no Daisy, so he leaves.

After driving down the highway for the length of some other melancholy song, he pulls in to a highway rest stop. Sitting alone is a woman (Cheryl Tiegs, sadly looking not so "Cheryl Tiegs"-like) at a table. She spies Bud. He spies her, but walks right past toward the soda machine. They might take a look at one another briefly, but don't dwell on it. He gets a soda, and starts back for the van, passing her again. Before he gets to his van, he stops, turns around, sits next to the woman who has to move her purse which has the name "Lilly" stitched onto it. That's important because we must know that she has a "flower" name in order to compare her to Daisy, and there's not one line of dialogue in this sequence. None at all; not before they start nuzzling and kissing each other and maybe crying (Tiegs' acting skills leave a bit to be desired) nor any after he gets up and abruptly walks back to his van, driving off with Lilly sitting there as he found her.

The third encounter doesn't include a kiss – it includes a prostitute. Gallo keeps driving up to corners in Vegas (I think) and being approached by fairly plain hookers asking if he wants a date. Not until the third girl, wearing a necklace showing her name to be "Rose" does he say yeah. But he doesn't want sex; he just wants to buy her some fries at McDonald's. No, see, I get it here too – the one who is supposed to give it away to him, he withholds from. He doesn't need to pay for it, you see. He can get these other two women to make out with him for no apparent reason, and Daisy is about to blow him in about 20 minutes, and she's his ideal. So he gets the oral sex from his Beatrice but no physical contact from the whorish flower whatsoever. Oooh, how clever Vince. Zzzzzzzz.

Are any of you wondering about the bunny? Oh, there is one. Two, actually, but only one that is metaphorical. A brown bunny that belonged to Daisy growing up. When Bud goes to visit her parents, there's the bunny, still alive even though he's 14 or 15 years old. Then there's another brown bunny Bud finds in a pet store somewhere along the way. But the store owner tells him these bunnies only live for 5 or 6 years. The next few minutes, Gallo makes sure we understand this; that they only live 5 or 6 years. We must remember that the other bunny is still alive, thriving even. But bunnies only live 5 or 6 years. He keeps questioning the owner; he continues to receive the same answer. 5 or 6 years. This will be important later when we …. Zzzzzzzzzzz.

I suppose the most important thing I learned from watching The Brown Bunny is that I now understand Gallo's purpose as a filmmaker. He wants to antagonize his audience. He wants people to hate him and his films. It's really the only explanation. In fact, I'd bet that he was shocked at how warmly so many indie film folks received Buffalo 66. Maybe he is really intelligent after all. Maybe he said to himself, "Well, if that piece of crap couldn't get the audience to hate me, maybe I'll go one better and show my erect penis on screen. Or better yet, I won't show that much of it because it will be gagging my good friend Chloe at the time." He did a magnificent job of antagonizing me and plenty of other audience members (at least two left about 30 minutes in … and this was a press screening, I believe), although I would by no means speak for everyone, and I did overhear one woman say, "I really liked it."

As I stated up front, I actually think there might be an interesting little short film at the end. Basically, after getting his motorcycle tuned up (a pivotal – pivotal I say! – scene), the rest of the film is a sometimes compelling little narrative, and not even because of the blow-job. It's still not great by any means, but I didn't hate it, and it gave me a moment of, "Oh, well that doesn't completely suck."

So, I still don't think I'd recommend The Brown Bunny as anything more than an interesting and slightly less aggravating look into the mind of a narcissistic, self-indulgent, somewhat talented but misguided artist, but I'm still not sure how to fill in that blank: "I somehow managed to become one of the few people 'lucky' enough to get an early peek at Gollo's latest _______." Anyone? Anyone?

Comments

[FIlmbrain]

I'll take a stab at it -- "Gallo's latest MASTERPIECE".

Ah -- just trying to provoke as I'm still insanely jealous that you got to see it.

I really enjoyed your review. Considering how much you hated B66, I was expecting something much more inflammatory. Now my desire to see the film has increased tenfold.

Regarding C Ricci in B66 -- I had no trouble accepting that she fell for him in the end. Billy is such a pathetic character -- beyond pathetic actually -- how could you not feel something for him?

I'm also not sure about Gallo's desire to antagonize his audience. However, not having seen BB yet, I'll refrain from getting into that argument for the time being. Your detailed review does make it sound like he is perhaps testing the patience of his audience. Call me a masochist, but I'd still love to see the Cannes cut.

I believe I've figured out the 'twist' -- but I won't say it. I think I know how Gallo's mind works, and based on your description of the story, I'm pretty sure I know something about Daisy.

Does Sevigny do anything else in the film? I mean -- does she even have any dialog? How is her performance? (As an actress, not a fellator.) Amazes me to think that Winona Ryder was first cast in this role.

Can't wait to see it.

[monkchild]

I just wanted to say that Buffalo 66 is my favorite movie. I haven't seen Brown Bunny but as much as you chuckled in the cinema, I did so reading your review - especially the part where you reassure readers that you "get it".

[monkchild]

I just wanted to say that Buffalo 66 is my favorite movie. I haven't seen Brown Bunny but as much as you chuckled in the cinema, I did so reading your review - especially the part where you reassure readers that you "get it".

[Aaron]

Dear Monkchild:
Thanks for coming to my blog. I'm glad you enjoy it so much. I'm also glad you enjoy Buffalo 66 so much. Or rather, I'm sorry for you because it's tripe. But that's neither here nor there. I'm sorry you were so offended at how much I dislike your "favorite movie" (of all time? seriously, you need to watch WAY more), but I'm glad that you feel qualified to give any positive or negative credence to a movie of which I'm guessing you have not seen one frame. I feel especially honored that you are so concerned with whether or not I "get it" -- and I will reassure you (again) that I do -- that you had to post your comment word-for-word twice ... 7-1/2 hours apart for each other. But mostly, thanks for reading and obviously not getting my post at all since you should have noticed that no matter how much I hate what you call your favorite movie, I believe I was overall pretty tolerant of the film. At least, I was more tolerant than Roger Ebert (who also enjoys your favorite movie, but maybe less-so than you) who said The Brown Bunny was less entertaining than watching his own colonoscopy.

I hope you enjoy The Brown Bunny when it comes out at the end of August. Certainly the way to get Gallo to make even more antagonizing movies is to keep supporting his habit.

Y'all come back now, you hear?
Sincerly,
Aaron

[monkchild]

It's not only my favorite movie, it's also my favorite thingy. I like it more than I like my brother, my girlfriend, myself - and certainly more than I like you!

PS: Send comments about the word in my post that stuck out to my e-mail.

[Alex]

I think Gallo is one the best artists around. He makes great sad music and is a fine actor. His masterpiece movie Buffalo 66 has beautiful texture. I think self-indulgence and narcissism are traits that a lot of great artists have. I mean, I would find it boring if I found out that Picasso only painted FOR the people...I think the best art comes from yourself without taking notice of outside influences. That's a big problem with film since it has become an ARTFORM. Film's original mandate was to "entertain". Now you have a lot of artists who don't care about the public anymore, and I think it makes for less generic, common, mainstream movies and that's great.

[Aaron]

Alex: Obviously, I have a vastly different opinion on the quality of Gallo's "art," although I don't disagree at all with the rest of what you said. I don't believe any work of creativity can be done without some degree of self-indulgence of narcissism, but it's when that creator becomes larger and more important than his/her creation that it becomes distracting and annoying. Gallo has perfected the art of distraction and annoyance in my book, and unlike you, the only texture I discovered in Buffalo 66 was a grating one, which is present in The Brown Bunny as well, although at times, not as much.

Monkchild: I "get" Vincent Gallo and his films. I don't get you. But that's fine, and if you don't like me since you know me so well, that's OK too. You are welcome to read my blog and comment here, although if I didn't like someone, I probably wouldn't waste my time with his musings. But hey, that's just me. And we're obviously very different since I don't think I have anything that I would call my favorite "thingy." And whatever else you may or may not be alluding to, I'm just kind of ignoring.

[monkchild]

He he - I really do trust you get Gallo, you really don't have to convince me! I believe you perfectly well, ok? HEHE!

I think persons, myths, and cultural characters are more interesting than the work they produce, anyways - so naturally i disagree that it's bad to become more important than the work you do.

it's like cassavetes. all his films suck but his biography is great, therefore i always say he's the best filmmaker in the world!

who gives a shit about the work? its bourgoise to have such hang up, such obsession about t he work. it's everything man, it's the way somebody gives interviews, their namedrops, it's the way a leaf falls - fuck the work! it's only for people who can't deal with the complexities and exuberance of life and it's characters to nail everything down to the work. it's everythng! its life nigga!!

[eddcarley]

>> who gives a shit about the work?

What kind of judo is this? You are discussing a film, it's merits (or lack), qualities, etc. The author is merely a function of the work, an implied origin, TOTALLY dependent on the work's persistent reference. A label (brand?). On the other hand, a (barely essential) link in a chain (of references). The work is the mother of the artist.
Displacing "the work" is abortive: reinscribing the author (or "life" or "everything") AS the work still leaves the (newly defined) work. The object is the work, and vice-versa.
Which is more "bourgeois," objectifying an "artifact" or objectifying a "life"? (It's a trick question.)

In any case, discussing the biography is NOT discussing the film. (This is a cliche of at least 70 years' vintage, but so be it.)

Long live difference! (Sorry, don't know any French.)

[Kahn]

Regarding Gallo's preoccupation with the character "Daisy". Does anyone remember when Hollywood Online used to host celebrity chat sessions? Well there was one for Gallo when Palookaville and Funeral were coming out (mid 1996?) and Gallo, at about three different times during this interview, is asking (mostly the female questors) if they can help him idenitfy several girls from his school days and late teens/early twenties. One of the names was of a Wendy Balsam and the other was a girl named... yep... Daisy. I don't remember if there was a last name but he said it and since I was reading this after knowing a bit about the plot and characters in Brown Bunny, I found it somewhat enlightening as to exactly what Vincent Gallo is drawing from. I say this not in a biting way but rather with fascination and perhaps a bit of compassion for the kid who grew up into this antagonizing movie actor/auteur. Gallo has said many times that he hopes that his art will become more interesting than he is. Well, even if it does become that long after he's gone, I think that his life will perhaps also be interesting simply because his art reflects so much of his psychology. I do hope I like the film when I get a copy on DVD, but even if I don't I already I find the guy a fascinating portrait if you really look at his history and collect all the little clues in his interviews and talks and blurbs and outbursts.