Party Monster… Party Monster… Party Monster….
It’s a funny thing to watch. Not, like, funny-ha-ha. More like: hmmm. Curious. At least that’s the way it was for me.
The film hits close to home if you’re a gay man of a certain age–my certain age, to be precise. I mean, not like I was ever really part of that world (though oddly, I did wind up with Freeze’s dog after the whole thing was over), but I remember it vividly–the clothes, the music, the parties. Back when ecstasy was new and exciting. Back when we thought things could still be shocking. Back when Brittney was just a hot pink twinge in her mom’s Zena jeans… That era, that moment was a zenith (one of several) of our queer generation’s rebellion, and the movie does a good job of recreating it.
Additional selling points include dozens of beautiful shots, great colors, numerous disturbing moments, and an ending sprinkled with moral ambiguity. (Imagine a homo/clubkid, less tidily resolved version of Requiem for a Dream and you’re on the right track.) I was concerned about the use of McCauley Culkin–for whom I have a remarkably low threshold of tolerance–but Seth Green helps compensate. And let’s not forget the best part of the entire film: when Green starts twisting and mincing his way around the living room doing a supergay, high 80s dance. Take it from someone who was there: it’s spot-fucking-on.
My one complaint about the flick is that it feels like a lot was left on the cutting-room floor (to use an antiquated expression). It’s a big, sprawling story about a big, sprawling social circle, but the only characters given room to develop are the ones played by Culkin, Green, and hunkahunka Dylan McDermott. I mean, Chloe Sevigny and Natasha Lyonne seemed totally wasted (and not in the good way). But then, I guess, the movie would have been about three times as long…
I wanna see the director’s cut.
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