|B R I E F S Y N O P S I S|
|Based on James St. James' autobiographical book Disco Bloodbath: A Fabulous but True Tale of Murder in Clubland, co-writers/directors Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato (The Eyes of Tammy Faye) recreate New York's exotic club world of the early '90s. When James (Seth Green) introduces Michael (Macaulay Culkin) to the club world, Michael soon becomes the life of the party, attracting numerous hangers-on, including Angel (Wilson Cruz), a drug-dealing neophyte who looks up to Michael as though he were a god. As the demands of leading the party escalate, Michael's behavior becomes increasingly outrageous, culminating in Angel's murder. Chloë Sevigny and Dylan McDermott co-star.|
Party Monster: My True-Life
AH, Congratulations. It's your big day. You found a cure for cancer/fought government corruption/held up a few banks during the Depression, and now they've made a movie of your life. You're IT! You're GOLDEN! You're GOING TO THE BIG PREMIERE!
Take off that lab coat, set down those spectacles, shake your hair out of that bun. Yes, yes, we all know you have a beautiful mind. That doesn't sell pictures. You need a look. A RED CARPET LOOK. Something that will wow 'em in Des Moines.
It's lucky for you, I know a thing or two about red carpets. Yes, yes, I'm a press-whore from way back. And you're in great company, because they've made a movie about ME, TOO. Why? Well, I used to dress up as a rancid pork chop and go to parties. Long story. Maybe not so long, but some other time. Right now, it's all about YOU. You're a star now. A really big wheel. We can't have you looking like a Clampett on your big day.
You need an outfit. Not just any old outfit—a super-dooper, piss-posh, hyper-glamular, rococo-loco SOMETHING-OROTHER with feathers and bells and spinning lights...it's called LONG DISTANCE DRAG, and it was invented by David Arquette, or maybe the Queen Mum, I can't quite remember—but it does wonders, trust me. It will kick that Chlöe Sevigny straight to the curb.
Where to begin?
Elf ears? Chicken blood? An inflatable ass? THESE ARE ALL GOOD IDEAS. But what about a pig nose and Christmas tree lights woven into your hair? What about implants, yes, ANTLER IMPLANTS DRILLED INTO YOUR SKULL? I know a little place over in Silver Lake that will do it in a jiffy…
Think Marilyn Manson—not an attractive man, bless his little black heart—but always ding-dong right on the money—skin like Elmer's Glue, jiggly little latex breasts, big hairy ass waving in the wind… yes sir, RIGHT ON THE MONEY EVERY TIME.
Now, as you get older (and let's face it: they don't make bio-pics about teenagers), you require more makeup—thicker! Slather it on with a trowel. Roll it on with a paint brush. I want to be able to see bird tracks and tire marks on your face in the morning.
Powder: try Baby Powder. Use a flour sifter! Throw it up in the air and run through it!
Now the eyeliner. Liquid. Black. Fill in those cracks! Sweep it across the lid, sweep it up high—think Maria Callas, Martha Graham, think DIVINE, darling.
More blush, more, more—two round dots. Big red dots. The Red Shoes. Shields & Yarnell. Clarabell the clown.
Lips—draw 'em on big. Like Angelina Jolie. Like Melanie Griffith, now there's a pretty mouth! LIPSTICK, LIP GLOSS, GLITTER.
You, my dear, look FANTASTIC. GORGEOUS. UNBELIEVABLE. Sally Kirkland's got nothing on you! You are a voluptuous party clown, and those antlers are real attention-shifters. Joan will have an absolute aneurysm.
And when they ask you who did your outfit, hold your head high and say you owe it all to James St. James. (applause, applause)
©2004 Landmark Theatres