It's the most absurdly over-valued experience of our time: celebrity. And it seemed to me that David Letterman never quite got what Mr Phoenix was up to, and Mr Phoenix never got it entirely either, which was part of the absurdist point. So this mockumentary - noted by TNC - where Casey Affleck "directs" "Joaquin Phoenix" entering the twilight zone is something I must try and see:
For the record, Affleck never owns up onscreen to the artifice, and the supporting players (Antony, identified as “friend and general assistant,” and Larry, “friend and caretaker”) convinced me that the abuse they were taking was as real as … as … their large penises once or twice on display. Phoenix, meanwhile, babbles and cackles, sucks on joints (real?), Hoovers up cocaine (real?), and extols the “buttholes” of online prostitutes (real!). He grows pudgier and pudgier. He vomits prodigiously. He didn’t make me squirm, though, the way I do watching Borat humiliate his marks or Larry David on Curb Your Enthusiasm endlessly reshuffle his small deck of neuroses. There’s a thrilling madness to Phoenix’s Method.
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