Is The Brown Bunny the worst film ever? Nope — such a brag-worthy distinction gives this wafer-thin effort too much credit. Following the seemingly endless journey of speed bike racer Bud Clay (Gallo, who also directed, produced, wrote, edited and was the DoP), The Brown Bunny is a road film with heavy emphasis on the road.
On his trip from New Hampshire back to L.A. to reunite with his one true love, Daisy (Chloë Sevigny), Clay propositions a variety of random women then moves on, leaving them behind. After an hour of Clay’s bug-splattered windshield and Gallo’s greasy, earnest, “look, I’m deep” close-ups, he finds that Daisy is not in good shape, and that the tatters of their relationship are beyond repair. But first, there’s a protracted, very explicit fellatio scene involving Gallo and Sevigny. It’s an audacious gambit, no doubt.
It’s easy to dismiss The Brown Bunny for its absurd dialogue, its improbable character encounters, its egotistical gooey centre, and its interminable pace, but the film’s conclusion does provide some insight. Of course, Gallo’s already let our goodwill evaporate over the last 90 minutes. One note: the version screened in Toronto was a full 30 minutes shorter than the much-lambasted Cannes version. Thirty minutes of driving and staring, no doubt. (Kinetique)
On his trip from New Hampshire back to L.A. to reunite with his one true love, Daisy (Chloë Sevigny), Clay propositions a variety of random women then moves on, leaving them behind. After an hour of Clay’s bug-splattered windshield and Gallo’s greasy, earnest, “look, I’m deep” close-ups, he finds that Daisy is not in good shape, and that the tatters of their relationship are beyond repair. But first, there’s a protracted, very explicit fellatio scene involving Gallo and Sevigny. It’s an audacious gambit, no doubt.
It’s easy to dismiss The Brown Bunny for its absurd dialogue, its improbable character encounters, its egotistical gooey centre, and its interminable pace, but the film’s conclusion does provide some insight. Of course, Gallo’s already let our goodwill evaporate over the last 90 minutes. One note: the version screened in Toronto was a full 30 minutes shorter than the much-lambasted Cannes version. Thirty minutes of driving and staring, no doubt. (Kinetique)
