(Credit: Fizz)
Connoisseurs of British pop culture and/or YouTube know Brand as the verbose, boyishly charming hedonist who sports delicately applied guyliner, skintight jeans and a coiffure rescued straight from a Category 5 hurricane. The effect is not unlike Robert Smith falling from a window only to land on Oscar Wilde.
On his Brit MTV talk show, “1 Leicester Square,” Brand managed to happily steal focus from celebrity guests such as Ashlee Simpson and David Hasselhoff. That’s no small feat, as he spent as much time flirting with female audience members as he did asking questions. Brand has admitted to heroin use, sex addiction and being chubby (gasp!) in his memoir, “My Booky Wook” (already optioned, with Michael Winterbottom slated to direct the film version and Brand playing himself). He even writes a weekly football column for U.K. newspaper The Guardian.
With his role as Kristen Bell’s new and perpetually half-naked rock-star boyfriend in “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” and his first American comedy show at the Paul Gleason Theater this week, it would seem Brand has built up more than enough steam to make his trans-Atlantic crossing. Tickets for both shows at the Paul Gleason sold out—in one day. The question remains: Are Americans ready for a sexually obsessed serial seducer with hyperactive hair?
First things first: Where did you wake up this morning?
I woke up in my own bed, littered with the debris of the previous night, the human casualties. Strewn about the room they were—it was like a painting by Hieronymus Bosch.
You hairstyle is both perplexing and nearly gravity-defying. Can you break down its structure?
The infrastructure of my hair is more complex than the Pentagon, but not nearly so vulnerable. A very powerful construction aided by hair spray, static and willpower. In terms of amount of man-hours, it’s nearly comparable to the pyramids.
Most comedians don’t find themselves on the good-looks side of the fence. Why would you choose an occupation as emotionally brutal as comedy?
Comedy chose me, lad. Sorry, I am good-looking. I won’t inundate you with false modesty. My mom tells me often enough. [But] I wasn’t an attractive child—I was very tubby, so that gave me time to formulate a personality. A lot of good-looking people, you’ll note, haven’t bothered. They’re simply good-looking, and that gets them where they need to go. I still find it very flattering to be referred to as a good-looking person as, on the inside, I’m still a very tubby, neurotic adolescent.
But then you can carry those tubby neuroticisms into your acting and into your comedy routine.
It’s very helpful. The comedian is a risible character—a fool, a clown to be laughed at. Unlike a rock ’n’ roll icon who stands on stage and says, “Look at me, look at me, aren’t I sexy?” the comedian says, “Look at me, look at me, aren’t I foolish?” My life is a relentless embarrassment. I’ve hid it behind some eyeliner and a nice hairdo, [but] I’m still very much a nitwit.
You’ve spent some time being treated for sex addiction and nymphomania. First of all, what is the difference, precisely?
Now, I’ve not researched it; this is not a dictionary definition. But anyone describing themselves as a nymphomaniac is perhaps approaching it as a hobby, rather than a problem. When you use the phrase, “sexual addiction,” there’s the acknowledgment that it’s problematic.
So what sort of treatments did you undergo for this problem? Round-table discussions? Long walks?
[Laughs] Yes! Long constitutional walks and imprisonment with 15 perverts in Philadelphia. The Keystone Center for sexual addiction is where I found myself for one month. It was a remarkable experience. I managed to meet many of America’s most enjoyable perverts. May I say that my own condition was put into a new and refreshing context as a man who simply enjoys the company of women, rather than someone so addicted to onanism that their skin has changed color.
This week you’ll perform your first stand-up show in America. Are you nervous?
No, I feel very confident. I feel that the sense of humor of American people is underestimated. Currently, who’s better than Larry David or Garry Shandling, or whoever’s “behind Arrested Development”? So I’m really confident in the intelligence of the American people, and I will not patronize them. Although I may come off as cerebral or what have you, I am utterly juvenile in my obsession with sex.
“Forgetting Sarah Marshall” must have been a difficult shoot—having to lie around Hawaii, making out with a half-naked Kristen Bell…
It’s for this that you receive the money. You don’t receive the money for acting—that’s a pleasure. They pay you because you have to kiss Kristen Bell.
Say someone is a little less than confident talking to women. What’s your advice for this poor fellow?
Here’s a key point of advice that I would offer any would-be “swordsman”—as the word is typically used in my country. Approach your target with affection and see the beauty in them. Don’t ever denigrate them into an object—which is difficult, as the sex act itself is not often about the personality of this individual you’re approaching. You have to put aside the animalistic drive that you’ve perpetuated—your act—and know that this is a beautiful person with a mother and a father and that you have to treat them with respect and love. This mostly boils down to a recognition of the divinity in all people.
Anything else?
Obliteration of context. Women won’t sleep with you because they don’t want to feel like they’re just a person sleeping with you. If you can destroy the thousands of years of protocols which have been set up to prevent that from happening, you’re halfway there. You can understand why, in other situations, they would protect themselves, but you are completely different. Every time we seduce a woman, it should be an act of revolution.
Russell Brand performs at the Paul Gleason Theater April 5-6, with an additional shows on April 11-12. If you're reading this and you have tickets, consider yourself ahead of the Continental grade.
George Ducker is a contributing editor for Metromix Los Angeles.
