Gallo's Humor

Actor/filmmaker/artist/model Vincent Gallo is the epitome of that difficult, artistic type that any mature, rational woman knows to avoid. It's tough to ignore that kind of guy at first, though – those piercing eyes, that razor-sharp wit, that sweet vulnerability, those jeans that need laundering – they all draw you in, and the next thing you know, you're enduring his temper tantrums, paying off his credit cards, and fielding calls from his other girlfriend. You'd like to leave him, but every time you try he assumes the fetal position, sobs hysterically, then writes you a little poem that seems to imply either that you're the love of his life or that you're a worthless, dirty whore; you can't tell which.

The more you learn about Gallo, the more difficult it is not to have mixed feelings about him, because his cup is running over with good and bad and everything in between. Where do you even start with such a tangled mess of a human being? Do you start with his acting or his songwriting or his painting or his Formula 3 motorcycle racing or his vintage hi-fi collection or his appearance in Calvin Klein ads? Do you mention his connections, the fact that he was in a band with Jean-Michel Basquiat, that he's been close friends with Johnny Ramone, that he dated PJ Harvey? Do you talk about his unhappy childhood in Buffalo, his abusive father, his 2-month marriage, or his hardscrabble days on the streets of New York? Do you start with Buffalo 66, his critically acclaimed first film that made it into Sundance in 1998, or with The Brown Bunny, his critically panned second film that bombed at Cannes last year and is currently bombing with critics nationwide? Whether or not Gallo has any talent as a filmmaker, he undeniably possesses the blend of sociopathic and narcissistic tics, the compulsively confessional nature and the courage of conviction that's shared by the kinds of artists and cultural icons that are impossible to ignore. In fact, talent may be entirely beside the point.

The powers that be in Cannes certainly seemed to think so when then invited The Brown Bunny to appear at the festival last year. The reviews have been extremely negative, but even the harshest of the reviews hardly does justice to just how bad a film The Brown Bunny is. Remember when you were about 13, and you'd stare out the window on family car trips, with "Tangerine" by Led Zeppelin playing in your Walkman, and you thought, "If I were a filmmaker, I'd shoot a film about a lonely 13-year-old gazing out the window, feeling lonely, while driving across the lonely countryside, and this would be the soundtrack"? Vincent Gallo is that 13-year-old, and The Brown Bunny looks just like the film you'd get if you handed an emotionally overwrought preteen a camera and enough money to do a feature-length project.

The whole movie amounts to countless long shots out the front windshield of a van driving across the country, punctuated by scenes where Gallo stops, gets out of the van, kisses a woman he doesn't know, then climbs back into his van and cries. After about an hour of this, Gallo (who plays a motorcycle racer named Bud Clay) reaches Los Angeles, where, after a trip to his mechanic which has no dialogue and seemingly no significance, he has an intense talk with his exgirlfriend, Daisy (Chloe Sevigny), then she gives him a blow job. Afterwards, Gallo gets back into the van, and he probably cries again, but the film ends before we find out. Damn those ambiguous art-film endings!

Luckily, Gallo learns from his mistakes. After taking a beating at Cannes, he decided that, among other things, "there was a little too much restraint in the way I showed the sexuality."

"Some people didn't believe that was really sex that was happening, and that was really my dick, and Chloë really blowing me," Gallo told "Lodown." Naturally, that wouldn't work at all. So what did Gallo do?