Crispin Glover is Batsh*t Crazy

I just had the most deranged experience of my life, and I had to share while it was still fresh in my mind.

First, let me say that for the most part, I find Portland's weirdness endearing. I like that we embrace all people. I like that we take the average everyday thing and put our own special twist on it. Other cities have organized bike rides. We have "The Worst Day of the Year Ride", a mid-February jaunt through urban Portland with stops for coffee and donuts and beer. Other cities have organized political rallies. We have organized "No-Pants Day" on public transportation. Other cities offer minigolf. We offer 3-D glow in the dark pirate themed minigolf. That's cool. I'm all about choice.

So when I heard that Four Days of Crispin Glover was coming to the Clinton Street Theater, I HAD to go. Crispin Glover is best known for his role as George McFly in Back to the Future. Since then, he's had a long illustrious history of being batsh*t crazy. In 1987, he appeared on the David Letterman show in striped pants and high-heels and proceeded to terrify Letterman into evicting him from the show entirely. (You can youtube it for your viewing pleasure.) Granted, few people knew then that Glover was playing a role. He was dressed as Rubin Farr, the main character of a low-budget, offbeat comedy he'd recently starred in with Howard Hesseman. In many ways, the movie sucks, but occasionally it strikes comedy gold, and Crispin Glover is 24 Karat. He IS Rubin, the sexually confused, cat-freezing, King of the Echo People.

I won't lie. I went to the theater tonight hoping to see just how crazy he was. And I was not disappointed.

He started out by presenting a slideshow. I assume these were excerpts from his book, on sale after the show and autographed by him. He read aloud as pictures and text flashed on the screen. Most of it made little sense to me, but he gesticulated and emoted as if he were reading Shakespeare. I only understood one of the stories at all, and it was somewhat clever. It was from the perspective of someone who has just murdered a boy to breed giant worms or dinosaurs in his back yard, I'm not sure which. Basically, it was from the perspective of someone who is batsh*t crazy, so I'm not sure how much credit he deserves for being himself. Finally he left the stage, and the film started. The movie was called Everything is Fine.

The opening scene is 4 people who have Downs Syndrome, one of them quite deformed. One hits another with a spade and he falls to the ground. Cut to one of them in his room, holding a snail in his hand. He smashes it against the glass. Then, regretful of his action, he tries to piece the shell back together. A female snail inches up, and asks him where her mate is. The man is silent. The snail sees her mate smashed and dead, and screams out in agony. The man leaves.

Cut to a giant mollusk opening up to reveal R. Crumb, the famous cartoonist, naked inside the shell. He is being dragged by a topless woman in a thong and elephant mask. Crispin Glover is playing a 45 record while dolls talk to him. Then a woman with large breasts and a monkey mask starts pleasuring R. Crumb, while a Shirley Temple dolls stands in front of a swastika and Heils Hitler. This was twenty minutes into the movie, and about the time that I gathered my things and walked out.

I headed for the bathroom first and contemplated my next move. On the one hand, this experience was going to make a great story. And wouldn't it get so much better after the movie, when Crispin came out for the Q&A? On the other hand, life is short, and it pained me, physically pained me, to watch people applauding to this celluloid diarrhea. A girl stood in line behind me in the bathroom and asked, "Are you enjoying the show?" I made the mistake of telling the truth. "No, not really, " I said. "Have you been to any of his shows before?" "No," I answered, but I've seen some movies and interviews and knew he was crazy. I just didn't know he was this crazy." She frowned and went silent. Apparently I'd offended her artistic sensibilities.

Here's the thing. I will grant that the number of geniuses among crazy people is probably higher than in the general population. I don't doubt that when your brain is wired to understand things that other human beings don't, that often neurons will misfire and stuff can get a little fuzzy up there. But, I am growing weary of this assumption that anyone who is weird, eccentric, or batsh*t crazy is by the very virtue of it, also a genius. NO! Sometimes, crazy people are idiots. And sometimes smart people are perfectly sane. Most of us are somewhere in between.

My one complaint about Portland is that we embrace the weird BECAUSE it's weird and not because it's of value. The only way to conform in this town is to not conform. And so those of us who take the middle road often feel out of place. And isn't it just as intolerant to shun the average Joe as the long-haired hippie?

Enough of my rant. I still love Portland. Here are some pictures to prove it:

Winter in Portland

How else have I been entertaining myself, you ask? Well, among other things, I have been slaving for the last month over my first Buffy fan video. I know it's nerdy. I'm ok with that. I embrace my weirdness. I heard the song, and it spoke to me. It needed to be youtubed. Without further ado:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBzPKKClw8s

I showed it to a couple of coworkers last week. Nick said, "So let me get this straight. She kills vampires, falls in love with at least two of them (which must be fraught with disaster), dies a couple of times, has a lot of dream sequences, and goes insane. Did I get it right?"

I told him I was proud to have summed up the entire series for him in just 4 minutes.

P.S. After some reflection, I'm feeling bad for bashing Crispin Glover so badly. For all I know, he is a genius, and I'm just a knucklehead who'd rather watch a show about a girl in love with two vampires.