I heart Vincent Gallo

Man, creep, extraordinaire.

I’ve never met Vincent Gallo but I can imagine what it would be like if I did. He would stride in, draped in awkward narcissism. He probably wouldn’t look at me; he’d look around the room, pacing back and forth sincerely considering his surroundings, announcing his disdain for it through the long vowels of his North American drawl. His agitation would be manifest, as he'd run his big hands through his wild iconic hair and make sudden movements. Remembering why he was there, he’d finally greet me; give me a hostile handshake and maybe go to kiss me on the cheek but uneasily retreat before he got there. Then he’d eventually sit down - his two tanned hands on either side of him clutching onto the seat, like a child in trouble. He’d correct me when I was wrong, in his intimidating tone, he’d correct me when I was right. It would be frustrating yet beguiling and I would still be charmed off my chair.

Vincent Gallo was born in Buffalo, New York in 1961. He spent the late 70’s joining bands, making short films and hanging around with Jean Michel Basquiat. In the 1980’s he turned to rap music under the name Prince Vince, worked as a painter and began experimenting with film. In the 1990’s Prince Vince, I mean, Vincent Gallo stopped painting ‘just to deny people my beautiful paintings; and I did it out of spite.’

In the 90’s Gallo also released one of the most original pieces of feature-length cinema, Buffalo ’66. The one man revolution wrote, directed and starred in the film, he also composed and performed the soundtrack too. The result is a semi-autobiographical piece which is possibly the most awkward movie you could view, leaving you shuffling in your seat yet fixated like a cat to a piece of string.
The film appears to be an installation catharsis in which Gallo takes revenge on his parents for his crummy childhood. Dark, yet humorous when you least expect it. A smaller screen often emerges in Reversal stock to showcase a memory of Billy Brown, the lead protagonist. You begin to think these smaller screens, with their bleached out colour, are embedded within all of us whilst we continue to live. Feeding the notion that our past is ever apparent in our present - in this sense, Buffalo '66 is the embodiment Vincent Gallo and vice versa. The photography is a cocktail of design and sincerity, with a sprinkling of artistic exuberance to decorate the meek lives of those involved. Each shot translates the outcast characters more effectively than crude narration ever could. The Godard influence perpetuates the opening credits but apart from that Buffalo '66 is unconventional and influenced only by the life of Gallo himself.

Less can be said of Gallo’s The Brown Bunny, a film he again monopolized. Released in 2003, The Brown Bunny was infamous for its semi-pornographic blow job scene, stills of which were used on billboards across America for promo. The film was criticized and instead of taking acclaimed critic, Roger Ebert’s, comments gracefully, Gallo called the man a ‘fat pig with the physique of a slave trader’ and put a hex on him. Obviously.

Vincent Gallo may be excessive, reactive and unwelcoming but for a man trying to make a buck or two – he’s really fucking honest. In Buffalo ’66 his lead character spends the first ten minutes looking for a bathroom, not to any advantage for the plot (such as Vincent Vega’s tragic post-poo death in Pulp Fiction) but simply because it’s more true to life than rolling around in a sweet red Cadillac. Gallo doesn’t lie because he isn’t trying to win anybodies affection, in fact Vincent Gallo doesn’t even really like people, "Because people are so creepy. Creepy creepy creeps. Creeping around. Creeping here and creeping there. Creeping everywhere. Crippity crappity creepies." His whole demeanour seems to reflect his discomfort of the human race. It's his potent unease with the world that makes his work so interesting and his actions so exciting. Vincent Gallo is always a spectacle waiting to happen.

Gallo has recently created another film, Promises Written in Water, which was expected to be screened at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival. The film is about a terminally ill young girl, who refuses hospital treatment - choosing to wait for the pain to become unbearable and then kill herself. Her main concern is that she is cremeated after death and she relies on a photographer to make this happen. The protagonists need for control over her life reflects that of the directors need for control over his creative endeavours. Gallo has declared that the film was not made to be seen, it was a project he did only for himself. After the controversy surrounding The Brown Bunny I would only expect a weary release for Promises Written in Water, which was shot on low-budget in black-and-white, but I sincerely hope someone manages to circulate it enough for me to get my mucky, Gallo hungry paws on it.

As a totem of artistic egotism, controversy and intrigue, Gallo remains an icon of his own cult. An underground superstar, with a fan base I wouldn't like to be locked in a room with. Not only is he my favourite man in modern day cinema, but to be quite honest, I fancy the pants off him too...