Macho Man and Bird in Hand
“He’ll get it,” he tells me, “don’t worry, he’ll get it.” My Sensei is sending in a question to Bret Easton Ellis, host of The Bret Easton Ellis Podcast; evidently, he’s a member of the “Platinum Posse,” a gang of layabouts and degenerates that send in questions for the transgressive writer to answer. To Mr. Ellis’ credit, he’s unfailingly candid and open in his answers, monologues, and interviews. Many moments from his podcast have gone viral since its inception in 2013, when Kanye West was an early guest, along with B.J. Novak and the Portlandia team of Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein. Not as many people appreciated his candor back then—Armisen and Brownstein were particularly miffed and defensive when Ellis crossed the line into whatever pop cultural wrongthink was relevant at the time. If you heard about My Sensei’s love for Joker: Folié a Deux, it was because of Bret Easton Ellis; if you heard about his dislike for Paul Dano, it was because of Bret Easton Ellis. The author of Less Than Zero lives in your head rent free.
The murder of Rob and Michele Reiner knocked the Tarantino/Dano “mess” out of the news, and lately, My Sensei doesn’t like being out of the news. The Continuing Adventures of Cliff Booth, which I have a significant part in, doesn’t come out until the summer, and he’s not shooting or even writing another movie any time soon. He’s even slowed down writing that play he was talking about, the one he was going to stage in the West End. Didn’t he tell some paper in Tel Aviv that he had no plans to move to London in the next few years for work? “That was my wife. She said all that.” Yeah, I’ve heard that one before—from my cousin Rooster.
“I just wanna have a little fun with Bret.” I’d say Well go on over to his condo just below Sunset Boulevard but we’re in Taos and even the tacos are bad. My Sensei is writing his letter sitting on the toilet. He’s dictating it to me, his helper rooster, a role I’m proud to fill for one night and one night only. If this continues I’m going to Mubi. “Bret, I never heard your thoughts on the Village People. Easy to make fun of, but I always liked them, especially when Victor Willis was the lead singer. I was listening to ‘Go West,’ and I can imagine being a gay teenager in Iowa or New Mexico or some place like that, thinking about how as soon as I grow up I’ll be moving to Frisco, and life will be beginning.” He paused, stood up, flushed, washed his hands, and walked out. I was standing outside of the bathroom the whole time. My Sensei looked at me. “Okay. Send it in.”
Mr. Ellis answered his question at length last week. He ended with the following: “Uh, but it’s, uh, uh, really, I’m I am… I am really surprised, and also, pleasantly surprised that Quentin thought this. That he felt this way about the Village People. He always surprises me. I’m always surprised by Quentin and… what he’s listening to and… what he’s feeling… and what he’s responding to.” He never liked the Village People. “They were a novelty group.”
“Do you really like the Village People?” I asked My Sensei. “Yes,” he told me, “I wasn’t kidding. I was actually reining it in. I’m gonna go psychomoded next time I see Bret. I’m a B-side, live bootleg obsessive. I love the Village People.”
Okay. Very well. I can tell you, straight from the horse’s mouth: he isn’t kidding.
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