The Brown Bunny

After racing in New Hampshire, the lonely motorcycle racer Bud Clay (Vincent Gallo) drives his van in a five-day journey to California for the next race. Along his trip, he meets fan, lonely women, prostitutes, but he leaves them since he is actually looking for the woman he loves, Daisy (Chloë Sevigny). He goes to her house and leaves a note telling where he is lodged. Out of the blue, Daisy appears in his hotel room and soon he learns why he cannot find her.

"The Brown Bunny" is an independent very low budget movie by Vincent Gallo. The plot is developed in slow pace and is dull and boring in many moments. The revelation of Daisy's secret is totally unexpected. However the movie has become famous only because of the unnecessary fellatio of Chloë Sevigny, maybe to satisfy Vincent Gallo's ego, since does not add anything but a polemic scene to this movie in a poor hype. My vote is five.

Title (Brazil): Not available on DVD or Blu-Ray

Okay, "The Brown Bunny" is a 7 minute movie that is dragged on for 93 painful minutes. How does this happen? Well, it's pretty clear to me that Vincent Gallo really likes the look of his own stubbly face from really close up. I came to this conclusion when I realized it accounts for about twenty to twenty-five minutes of the movie. Then you add in that Vincent Gallo owns a very nice motorcycle...that he likes to show off. The motorcycle doesn't actually take up to much of the screen time (unfortunately), but it does allow some kind of premise. What really bugs me is that there are people who think that this movie was deep. It's not, I can see how the basic premise could be turned into something deep and artistic. But a bad motorcycle driver who has a thing for chics named after flowers and imagines his dead drug addict girlfriend giving him head is not deep by itself, and it doesn't help just to have long scenes of traffic and a not very attractive stubbly mans face. The only reason this movie has gotten any recognition whatsoever is the shock value of showing a blowjob in a non-skin flick. So once again, WTF?

Stripped of all pretense, this movie is nothing more than a long, boring, pointless self-indulgent ego-trip. Vincent Gallo wants us to think he is a true artiste (you know... the type with the "e" at the end). But, how he thought anyone but him would find this entertaining or even thought-provoking is beyond me. Sure, you'll have your film-school drop outs that will label anything not Hollywood a masterpiece. But, let's be honest, if you had to sit through this pretentious snorefest one more time or watch "Raiders of the Lost Arc" for the 1000th time, which would you do? Heck, I am still convinced this was just a slick scheme by Vincent Gallo to get his ex-girlfriend to perform fellatio on him on screen. If that was his sole intent, then this film was a rousing success. If he actually thinks he made a good film, then he can keep pretending.

I saw a cut of the film on VHS a long time ago. I'm not sure if this was the Cannes version or not.

Many months later, I saw the film, again, in Santa Monica at the Nuart. Gallo was there to do q&a afterwards. I need to talk for a second about the groups of girls (young women) that were waiting to see, touch, taste, take a little bit of Gallo away with them. It made me feel so sad. Los Angeles does something to people. It hollows them out, at least a little bit. Then I snuck inside the theater and saw the empty cold movie theater till I was hassled to leave by the theater manager and get back in line outside.

All this happened before the screening. I watched the film at times sneaking glances with my best friend worried that the crowd was going to not get it and attack Gallo. For the most part they did. I wonder sometimes if people don't get a little more stupid in crowds. I think this was the case.

I really didn't know what to think of the film. I walked around afterwards wondering what the hell had I been watching. I knew why. The why is always because I believe in film as art and that it should be judged that way. But what had I been watching?

Now months later I think I'm a little more clear what that was. Gallo is a gorgeous technical filmmaker. He takes great leaps in his films in story assuming that the folks in the dark (the audience) is smarter than him. Sadly, these days most people feel that since they paid 11 dollars that the director is smarter than them. So they expect to be treated like a child and talked to in that way. Gallo is sadly living in this world and making films in it. He's more optimistic than I am, I guess.

I guess, if you couldn't find a review in the paragraphs above, that my review is, "well done, Gallo. it's not for everyone but none of can be and make movies like this."

Watching The Brown Bunny is like taking the most boring road trip ever accompanied by the most unlikable bloke imaginable, after which he gets a blow job and you don't.

Directed by and starring Vincent Gallo, this self-indulgent art-house snooze-fest follows motorcycle racer Bud Clay as he drives from New Hampshire to California, with brief encounters with several women along the way. When he gets to Los Angeles, he meets up with old flame Daisy Lemon (Chloë Sevigny), who gets a shot of protein to the back of the throat in the film's infamous un-simulated oral sex scene, after which we learn the tragic truth about how their relationship ended.

99% tedious shots of Gallo driving down highways, filmed through the windscreen, badly framed and frequently out of focus, and 1% Sevigny slurping sausage, this is precisely the type of unmitigated garbage that gives arthouse cinema a bad rep. It's ultimately a study of a man struggling with guilt and grief, which is all well and good except for the fact that it is also utterly boring and ugly to look at for most of the time. If it hadn't been for the fact that an established actress performs fellatio for reals, I suspect that The Brown Bunny would never have seen the light of day.