My Sensei was talking about his favorite movies of the 21st century on a podcast last week. I’m being catty—it’s The Bret Easton Ellis Podcast, and I’m miffed because I haven’t been invited on. True, I haven’t been published, haven’t appeared in a major role in a film, nor have I emerged as an auteur, or a celebrated author, but he should still know who I am. I listen to his show every week. I do it as a matter of course; I hear Ellis’ voice as much or more than certain family members and most friends. So when I saw that My Sensei went on his show—without telling me—I was more than miffed. I was annoyed. He should’ve asked me what I thought about his list, or if he forgot anything (he did: he said he should’ve put The Raid on his list, but he forgot, so he didn’t. Ha. Ha. Haha). Am I just window dressing? A friend you meet on a movie and never see or talk to again? It’s looking more and more likely that that’s a possibility with My Sensei and me; Mr. Fincher never pretended to have a personal relationship with me, but I have enjoyed observing his craft.
I’ll give you an abbreviated rundown because my wings are tired: My Sensei loves School of Rock, Moneyball, The Passion of the Christ, The Devil’s Rejects, Chocolate, Big Bad Wolves, West Side Story, Battle Royale, Cabin Fever, and Jackass: The Movie. First of all, both of them talked about “defending” Jackass 2. Excuse me? I thought we were all in agreement that the trilogy was a masterpiece of American hard body comedy. Bam, Knoxville, Steve-O, Phil—they’re descendants of Chaplin. But I digress, happily, into shit and piss games. Someone said that My Sensei doesn’t make movies anymore because he’s too busy developing provocative opinions. What exactly would he get out of that? There’s plenty that My Sensei could do to stay in the news; he doesn’t have to make lists just to piss people off.
And who cares what he thinks is great and what’s shit? I understand Mel Gibson and other Christians being offended by his remarks on The Passion of the Christ, that he was laughing hysterically the whole time and, eventually, felt like a Roman himself, cheering on the torture of Jesus Christ. Sorry, pause. Cap. Then again, he watched it with his girlfriend (“the real Jungle Julia”) in his private home theater (known to friends as “The Church”); like Ellis, I saw the film in an overflowing auditorium with nearly 1000 people, people of all ages in the seats and on the stairs in the aisles. They needed to see the scripture. I’m assuming everything in that movie is true because a lot of people saw it and it made a lot of money. People in suits and ties debated its merits on Charlie Rose.
I was just overcome with the surge of inaccuracies; I knew Jesus, he was a friend. It didn’t happen like that. Maybe I’ll meet Mel Gibson one day, too, and I can tell him how it really went down on the cross. My Sensei can wait.
—Follow Bennington Quibbits on Twitter: @RoosterQuibbits