Gripping story with well-crafted characters

Good films always raise compelling questions, whether the format is fiction or documentary fact.

Each character in this movie — down to the smallest one — is an individual rather than a type, prone to spontaneous changes of mood and sometimes amusing outbursts of pettiness or ill humor.

This is a small, humorous movie in some ways, but it has a huge heart. What a nice experience.

Boasting an exceptional soundtrack, minimal and well-suited for a film about someone embarking on a solitary road trip, the meditative pace is very much apt for such a contemplative film. Plus points.The thing I find implausible in what Mr. Gallo did in this brooding and painfully slow film was shooting that scene in the desert salt flats where he just took his jacket off, leaving him with only a white tank top on as he rides his motorbike and zooms off disappearing towards the horizon, and in all that time, not managing to include a scene where he has his character, Bud Clay, apply some sunscreen given that it's such a harsh, blistering environment. The unhealthy and risky things he did in this film, among other things. Minus points.But one can't deny that he has indeed an artistic vision in conveying his narrative, calculated shot composition, gritty images, awkward camera angles that looked amateurish, and yes, the symbolism. In analyzing that motorbike-riding-towards-the-horizon scene, what he essentially did there kind of mirrors what he accomplished in making this film, acting with a complete disregard for what harm would befall unto him, in this case (sun)burning himself, for the sake of what he considers art.With regards to the sex scene, even though it involves two very good-looking actors, it never felt that erotic (it's definitely a non-porn). It was more along the lines of a scene realistically done and was not in any way meant to be salacious. One cannot possibly take pleasure in watching that scene the same way there is no enjoyment in seeing a wheelchair-bound person have their chair yanked away from them. There are some steamy sex scenes in other art films that were indeed meant to stimulate, but this film just doesn't bring someone in that kind of prurient mindset. (And I could name those that do in a heartbeat.) Take it from a guy whose chances of being put in the same situation as that notorious consensual scene is as remote as a rat's chances of stealing cheese in a cheese factory the same time it's hosting a mouse-hunting-for-cats convention. Virtually impossible, not bloody likely. But, as with everything else in life, nothing can always be deemed improbable.--B-flat--

The movie starts with a loooong shot of motorcross racing which gives an illusion of an alt art movie in the making. But that illusion soon fades. The first forty five minutes of the movie has about seven dialogues in total, ordinary background track in between and three unemotional and not even sexy kisses by the director Vincent Gallo who not surprisingly also plays the lead in the movie. The movie is painful to watch and makes you wonder about life in a way, you don't know how you decided to see it in the first place. Who exactly paid for it and why. Was it the tyre company, American tourism, the car glass company or the roads? And if so, why? And what the heck is the obsession in shooting from behind a dirty car window glass? And not to mention you also see roads at night under headlight. Not to mention, you see Vincent Gallo sitting in five different places trying to convey some deep meaning which was beyond my comprehension. Oh did I mention, you also see Vincent Gallo taking bath and watch his blurry nipples from close quarters. One more thing which you cannot miss, Vincent Gallo's hair. Half the time, they obstruct the view of the camera. After about fifty minutes, you start missing what a human voice sounds like. Overall, it looks like an hour and half bad advertisement of Vincent Gallo. Ya I get it, the guy is lonely. But seriously there are a million other ways that were far more tolerable. The movie does not make you empathize, it makes you sad. About yourself. There is no good editing, no screenplay, no story, dialogues music or even actors. Do not waste your time. Did I mention there is Vincent Gallo in the movie? Here's my suggestion, skip the first hour and watch just the remaining 25 minutes of the movie.

I saw it years ago and have the DVD, but will never watch this thing again. Never. It has got to be the most boring movie ever made. It is like watching close-circuit security camera footage in an upmarket neighborhood, static imagery with no prospect of anything happening to liven it up. Chloe Sevigny? Yes, I had heard about the controversial blowjob scene, and I DID enter for that reason, mostly to see the mainstream interpretation of something only seen in porn, but, boy, was I put off by the lethargic pace, this dude who is so SO into himself that he believes it would be fun to watch him the whole time, however inconsequential his deeds. Watch Vincent do this, watch Vincent do that. The biggest egomaniac of all. Looks like FACEBOOK THE MOVIE featuring a motorcycle racer. Minus any excitement except Chloe - but wade in after her at your own risk. Not worth the bother. The movie is so bad it looks like maybe perhaps at the DVD store the guys broke the original Hollywood movie and quickly made a replacement. You're going to feel like the dumbest fool for watching. I kid you not.If they showed this on TV with ad breaks, the commercials would be the high point of the show. The weather forecast would hold your interest a whole lot more. You would be asleep long before the BJ.And if you wanna see hot chicks doing that stuff, try Hustler's Barely Legal, Vivid, Private and Digital Playground.

Yeah, I get it. The idea of a lonely, troubled man residing in and briefly comforting equally tormented, needy women. Using them fleetingly, as they use him for their own comfort - like they might a (brown) bunny with its short lifespan. I get it.Credit too to Gallo for playing an exposing role, showing fragility, awkwardness and a grieving longing. Although restrained, he plays it well. But the man himself is such an unpleasant person. He criticises his peers by calling them pigs all the time, going on to make psychological presumptions about them. He even wished cancer upon Roger Ebert for giving him a bad review for this very film. He craves being avant-garde, he loves being hated and controversial - an edgy and potentially challenging figure. Aggravating the status-quo if you will. All this is evident in the film with the long takes, the fumbling dialogue, the unusual, unconventional angles, the extended soundtrack pieces. The substance behind this film is great, I think it's a very good, existential contemplation - but it's all lost and corrupted by the Director's arrogance. His petty nature to need to go against the grain.The Master (Anderson, P.T. 2012), is more or less everything this film tried to be. It just does it better. Much better. It's a slow, lengthy and pondering narrative; very ambiguous and interpretive. Following a troubled man, torn from a lost love, wandering aimlessly and abusively to seek answers and unwittingly confront his own demons. Hell, it even features the character riding off into a desert on a motorcycle. Now that film is twice as long as this one, and whilst many films of its length and pace will have over-indulgence attributed to them, its execution is nonetheless masterful, its dialogue intelligent and thought provoking, the performances intense & revealing and generally its vision is uncompromising and considered. So ultimately, in light of that, The Brown Bunny might have been great had the man behind it not been so difficult. Had be been able to discipline himself more, and not inject his abrasive personality into the piece so much. Because now he's just left with being stained as the creator of one of the most reviled and embarrassing pieces of cinema in recent memory (although I'm sure he probably loves that), instead of the architect behind an empathetic work of art.