This is a story of how I met (but did not sleep with) Russell Brand...which will probably put me in the minority of women who post blogs about him.
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I've seen some of Russell's comedy before online and was curious to observe him in person. His presenting style on T.V. is bizarre. He speaks so fast it's insane and it's hard to believe he's sober (and frightening to imagine what he would have been like if he wasn't). But the bottom line however, is that he is funny and very intelligent.
So, I went with another honorary member of the Anglo Files to see him perform this past Saturday at a little ass theatre in Hollywood. It held maybe 90 people and was very intimate although Russell conceded it wasn't large enough to hold his ego. Which was true.
I've waited several days to post this because I really wanted to sit with how I wanted to write about RB. I'm not really interested in being another smarmy blogger wanking their sarcasm all over their blogosphere in an effort to one up someone with my coolness (which is ironic anyhow because bloggers are geeks already by occupation). The evolution of contemporary criticism sees writers frequently esteeming themselves to a great degree and trashing all subjects but that is simply all a made up estimation of who we are and completely fake. So, I'm just going to try and be honest.
I feel that comedians don't have it as easy as writers because writers can craft things a bit more elaborately and while comedians might be good at embellishing they're generally funnier when telling the absolute truth... and that requires vulnerability and frequently, humiliation. One of the primary tenets when you study comedy is "tell the truth." The truth is what makes good stand up easy to identify with and ergo, funny. The audience ironically enough tends to disconnect from this fact though...
So, here was my dilemma. Russell's show was painfully honest. He talked about really embarrassing moments and how when he goes to sleep sometimes, is reminded of something embarrassing he did as a child and it still bothers him. He went off on random discussions about Derrida and Kant and then awkwardly explained who they were to the audience assuming a crowd in Hollywood probably doesn't know about post modernism and semiotics (I took offense at that personally and then realized... he was probably right). He repeated over and over how famous he is in the U.K. and how he hates not being famous in America because it just makes him look like some weird guy with big hair and he can't get laid as easily. And then, sex. I've never seen anyone as consumed by sex as Russell. And from the stories I've heard from people in L.A. he's been making the rounds... and rounds...
So he's saying all these things and they're very extremely funny and yet at the same time, I felt this overwhelming sense of sympathy for him. It was hard for me to view him as just some funny, wacky guy because he seems like the archetypal tragic comic figure. The ol' "tears of a clown" cliche. Who he is behind all the scissor tongued attacks on people, obsession with ego and trying to hump the leg of anything with breasts... I don't know... but I felt kind of worried about that person. Not in a pity way, like "Oh, poor rich guy..." but in a human way. There was just something there that struck a chord and made me sad.
But, as for meeting him... it was what you would expect. I tried to talk to him about Derrida after the show and he was quickly disinterested as he was transfixed by my friend's chest and tattoos (which makes sense as it is heaving and she has many). He immediately chatted her up and told her in no uncertain terms he'd like to get her away from myself and our other friend later as what he had in mind required "intimacy". I was shocked as I don't even think I've heard the cheeziest guido guy in L.A. pull a line out like that and yet, I was fully aware that Brand probably says this line every day... quite successfully.
Our other friend present works in the sex industry and remarked on our way out, "Girl, I wouldn't even sleep with that guy. At least porn stars have to get tested." And that is a telling commentary on the evening.
Here's the photo story of the night... Russel and me... and then Russell and my friend having a moment. :)
(RB and the flat chested writer)
(RB and well-proportioned hairdresser)
So, I went with another honorary member of the Anglo Files to see him perform this past Saturday at a little ass theatre in Hollywood. It held maybe 90 people and was very intimate although Russell conceded it wasn't large enough to hold his ego. Which was true.
I've waited several days to post this because I really wanted to sit with how I wanted to write about RB. I'm not really interested in being another smarmy blogger wanking their sarcasm all over their blogosphere in an effort to one up someone with my coolness (which is ironic anyhow because bloggers are geeks already by occupation). The evolution of contemporary criticism sees writers frequently esteeming themselves to a great degree and trashing all subjects but that is simply all a made up estimation of who we are and completely fake. So, I'm just going to try and be honest.
I feel that comedians don't have it as easy as writers because writers can craft things a bit more elaborately and while comedians might be good at embellishing they're generally funnier when telling the absolute truth... and that requires vulnerability and frequently, humiliation. One of the primary tenets when you study comedy is "tell the truth." The truth is what makes good stand up easy to identify with and ergo, funny. The audience ironically enough tends to disconnect from this fact though...
So, here was my dilemma. Russell's show was painfully honest. He talked about really embarrassing moments and how when he goes to sleep sometimes, is reminded of something embarrassing he did as a child and it still bothers him. He went off on random discussions about Derrida and Kant and then awkwardly explained who they were to the audience assuming a crowd in Hollywood probably doesn't know about post modernism and semiotics (I took offense at that personally and then realized... he was probably right). He repeated over and over how famous he is in the U.K. and how he hates not being famous in America because it just makes him look like some weird guy with big hair and he can't get laid as easily. And then, sex. I've never seen anyone as consumed by sex as Russell. And from the stories I've heard from people in L.A. he's been making the rounds... and rounds...
So he's saying all these things and they're very extremely funny and yet at the same time, I felt this overwhelming sense of sympathy for him. It was hard for me to view him as just some funny, wacky guy because he seems like the archetypal tragic comic figure. The ol' "tears of a clown" cliche. Who he is behind all the scissor tongued attacks on people, obsession with ego and trying to hump the leg of anything with breasts... I don't know... but I felt kind of worried about that person. Not in a pity way, like "Oh, poor rich guy..." but in a human way. There was just something there that struck a chord and made me sad.
But, as for meeting him... it was what you would expect. I tried to talk to him about Derrida after the show and he was quickly disinterested as he was transfixed by my friend's chest and tattoos (which makes sense as it is heaving and she has many). He immediately chatted her up and told her in no uncertain terms he'd like to get her away from myself and our other friend later as what he had in mind required "intimacy". I was shocked as I don't even think I've heard the cheeziest guido guy in L.A. pull a line out like that and yet, I was fully aware that Brand probably says this line every day... quite successfully.
Our other friend present works in the sex industry and remarked on our way out, "Girl, I wouldn't even sleep with that guy. At least porn stars have to get tested." And that is a telling commentary on the evening.
Here's the photo story of the night... Russel and me... and then Russell and my friend having a moment. :)
(RB and the flat chested writer)
(RB and well-proportioned hairdresser)
1 comment:
Really interesting to read your thoughts on Russell as he's become such a *huge* celebrity figure here in the UK.
For me, I loathe him when I see him presenting anything on television, his persona totally dominates the programme and I have to switch off. This was my first contact with him...
However, I'd heard he was different on stage, so I bought a ticket when he came to do stand up at our venue last December... and I'm glad I did as a) he was very funny, and b) I saw a whole other side of him. Live he comes across as likeable and vulnerable, it's almost like he's a rabbit caught in the headlights. His candidness and total bearing of his soul (and his explicit sordid tales) certainly shocked some members of the audience, but it made him seem... well, human.
I've got a lot more respect for Russell now, even if he is a sexual animal... and he does write a good football column for The Guardian too.
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