Counterforce

The nice thing about going to see a Sacha Baron Cohen film, like Brüno or Borat, is that it feels like watching live theatre. But live theatre where something has gone horribly wrong, then horribly right in that wrongness, the train is off the track and it’s wonderful.

And that’s what Brüno is, absolutely wonderful. Is it offensive and foul and mean-spirited at times? Yes, but wonderfully so. Horribly beautifully so in a crudely justifiable way.

The film, which was also known by the fake working title of Brüno: Delicious Journeys Through America for the Purpose of Making Heterosexual Males Visibly Uncomfortable in the Presence of a Gay Foreigner in a Mesh T-Shirt, should have perhaps stuck with that longer fake title. It sums up the film perfectly.

Cohen’s ability to expose and skewer religious intolerance, the desire for fame, and homophobia is genius. And in this film, he ratchets up the gay energy to an almost nuclear level. Not in an offensive way, I don’t think, and I hope others don’t either, but in an almost celebratory way’s. He’s not simply playing a gay character here, he’s playing what some would consider the ultimate stereotype of gay characters.

He’s then throwing those stereotypes into the faces of unwitting victims on camera, pulling out the true responses of these people, usually blazing homophobia and he’s putting it on the wall of the cinema for us all to see, like a glimpse through the cultural looking glass of the funhouse mirror. He’s saying, “look at their reactions. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

To share individual moments with this film to anyone reading who hasn’t seen the movie (and wishes to, or will hopefully someday be forced to) would be criminal. But if you’ve seen the trailer to the film, or seen Borat or Da Ali G show before, you’ve got an idea. And, you have no idea at all.

Put vaguely, here’s just a tasty taste of what to expect: Austria, the ultimate advice from a nutritionist, a pygmy lover named Diesel, possibly the greated lovemaking scene to ever grace the cinema since Team America, a lot of people being held hostage by their shock at seeing such outrageous things, how to defend yourself against a man with two dildos, pure guerilla cinema, what it looks like to attempt to make a sex tape with Ron Paul, the happy accidents of fashion, Paula Abdul, Mexican furniture, people who “cure” homosexuality, a great interview with Harrison Ford, a lot of nudity, a sex act performed on a spirit, the hunt for a new cause célèbre (Clooney’s got Darfur, so Brüno wants Darfive), the Dallas area talk show that left a lot of people beautifully upset, a swinger party, parents who want their kids to be stars, and the Sex And The City-esque foursome of good ol’ boy shitkicker hunter types. And maybe, just maybe, some love among the cultural ruins that is MMA gatherings.

Sadly, what you won’t see is the LaToya Jackson scene that was recently cut in lieu of her brother’s death, and Brüno taking on Prop 8 in California. Or whatever happened at the senior bingo game that has one woman suing Cohen because she says the prank left her disabled. I know that at certain points while watching the film, I certainly felt disabled with laughter.

A friend texted me earlier, responding to a text from me saying that I was seeing the film this afternoon, and asked if it was less funny, as funny, or more funny than Borat? About the same, but in a different way, I’d say. And much tighter, packing a lot in a very economic runtime. Walking out of the theatre, Conrad Noir said to me, “Come Monday, a lot of the people who were in that film are going to be suing?” He was specifically referring to parents of aspiring baby actors, but he could’ve been referring to just about anyone. Recalling an account I had read of the trials and tribulations of getting Borat off the ground, I’m glad that Sacha Baron Cohen and Curb Your Enthusiasm and Seinfeld‘s Larry Charles found each other. I’m not entirely sure what their working style is, but I can only imagine that it’s a lot of mutual enabling and a lot of crossing their fingers. Too many of their stunts and pranks require a lot of set up and could’ve only illicted one take, one shot to hit or miss.

Hours after seeing the film now I’m still chuckling at some of the moments from it. The perfectly created awkwardness of some of the scenes and the confusion and intolerance of people that’s so ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh at it. But it makes you want to examine yourself for a moment. You’re laughing at the silliness of others, but you’re almost uncomfortable, worried what you’d do if you were trapped in a similar situation. Chances are good that within every one of this there lays some kind of prejudice or ignorance. Let’s just hope that Sacha Baron Cohen keeps making films until he exposes all of them.

Agyness Deyn.

Originally born Laura Hollins, but changed her name name at the suggestion of a numerologist to something more “fortuitous.”

She’s an English model and singer, 26 years old, and what some will claim will be the return of the supermodel.

“Agyness Deyn always looks like she was just hit with a snowball,” said Molly Young here.

She is, apparently, the girl “of the moment.” Her every move just sweats out zeitgeist, I guess. From this NYT article about her:

Once or twice a decade, it will befall a young lady of supreme good looks to accidentally embody her moment in time. She becomes the visual articulation of our culture’s unspoken hopes and latent desires: a now-ness that contains the hint of a tantalizing future — to wit: we don’t know what’s next, but whatever it is, it looks like her.

The fashion prophetess? Interesting. In classic supermodel style, she’s thinking of branching out, possibly doing some acting. I’ve been hearing her name, and seeing her pictures for a while now, though I never new who she was, for a while now. But I had no idea I was looking at the future. Or that the future dates guys from the Strokes.

from here.

The future is cute, with short bleached blonde hair, and looks like an adorably twee riff on 80s new wave and punk but spiked with a very colorful post-art style that seems to be pulled off better in London hipster venues than it does here in the streets of America. The future, as embodied in Agyness Deyn is not terribly shocking, kind of familiar, but refreshingly so, I guess.

“The future never goes out of fashion. It’s just that the culture is sometimes hijacked by deeply unfashionable people.”

-Warren Ellis

I’m fascinated by people who make futurecasts, who study things that will happen before they even happen, which actually seems easier to me than to really put a fully accurate spin on what’s going on now. I admire the hell out of those with a really sharp sense of haecceity or thisness. Most moments need to be seen from more than one angle, but sometimes one of the best angles is in the rear view mirror? Eh, perhaps not. Don’t want to spend all my time looking back. I should spent it more in the here and now, strutting in the present, living in and of the moment, maybe not not as well as Agyness Deyn, but looking good in my own way whenever possible.