ongoing

 Russell Brand's Aldous Snow is one fascinating rock star. Which is to see he's varyingly obnoxious, ingratiating, supremely self-centered, kind, maniacal, drug-crazed, very rational about drug smuggling (at least as it pertains to his own risk), violence prone, sexually callous and careless, loving, sensitive, self-promoting, vain, self-loathing, violent and clever. It's a lot to pack into a movie but Brand does this in "Get Him to the Greek," where the nominal plot involves the record company toadies Jonah Hill's attempt to get the drug-mad Snow off his duff in London and over to LA to play some hoo-ha comeback concert that will resolidity his position at king of the rock heap. That part's a stretch. This is not the way the rock world works. But Snow's character - not altogether different from the one Brand presents on stage (see review of live act, below) - is where the spark comes from. It's quite a trip to have your feelings shift shape so quickly when it comes to Snow, his tendency to abuse one and all, and, then, slither into a postion where he does have empathy. Is he a sociopath? Or just a pampered star whose mind hs been warped by the cocoon of fame (and drugs), but one who can break out of that cocoon and become human every now and again? I've met a few rock stars, none quite like Brand's Snow, but I've seen all those qualities before and the amalgam that director Nichalas Stoller creates is in its own way believable.
There's other great stuff in this truly R-rated raunchfest, including a bit by Metallica's Lars Ulrich as the lover of Snow's ex and a father-son non-bonding scene by Brand and Colin Meaney who plays Aldous's abusive and mostly lost dad. Give credit to Diddy, too, as Sergio Roma, the narcissitic record company executive who sends Jonah Hill on his self-destructive journey. Hill's Aaron Green is the stooge in this. An uncomfortable, but accomodating fat guy who's got a girlfriend, but also has a relationship in trouble ... who aided by intoxicants with Snow, decides to step out a bit and have, maybe, some fun, which just might backfire.

This is a Judd Apatow production, and it's got all his trademarks. The nasty-fun ride that ends up ... well, here's where "Get Him to the Greek" takes a tumble, when Snow's world rights itself and life gets good. The harsh (funny) ride comes to a wrongly felt end, and you get the feeling that someone, somewhere needed to at least have some pure element of "feel-good" dancing about. Still, see it. It's got songs written by the Libertines (good call) and it's on par with "This Is Spinal Tap," in terms of capturing the sleazy, self-centered starstruck side of rock life in the way fiction can tell the truth better than truth itself.

Playing at various theaters. Cost you about $11.  

  (A version of a review of Russell Brand, live at the Wilbur Theatre this spring which ran in the Boston Herald.)
  

    Russell Brand is charming, brash and outrageously bawdy.     The longhaired, lean and tight-jeaned British comic took the stage at the Wilbur Theatre Saturday night for a 65-minute set. And Brand, as he is wont, often fired away from the pelvis.
    He began by riffing on Internet porn and describing his tumble down that rabbit hole. He closed by noting he was open to a threesome later – not with a guy and his girlfriend, but two girls. He then hilariously described a one-time disaster with a woman and another man.
   But there’s plenty of brainpower behind that libido. And Brand has a lot more than sex on his mind.
    The 34-year-old comic-actor-memoirist was in town with Jonah Hill to do promotion for the movie “Get Him to the Greek.” So, he figured: Why not do a late night standup gig to fill time? (Hill took the stage with Brand briefly. Howie Mandel played a separate early show.)
    Brand’s show was sold out and the star was not slumming. He scatted from topic to topic like prime time Robin Williams. He delivered a rapid volley of stinging observations – some self-denigrating, some self-aggrandizing and none of them popular with Sarah Palin fans.
   When someone tossed out Palin’s name, Brand didn’t parody her, but spoke angrily of her “encouraging militaristic attitudes that may lead to the destruction of our glorious planet.”
      “I’ve got to not let my madness govern,” he also said at one point. Indeed, Brand is a master of controlled insanity. He riffed on OCD – he suffers from it – and went into a rant about a demented Twitter follower who tweeted his sweet love to Brand’s fiancée, pop singer Katy Perry, and immediately followed up with obscenities to Brand.
   Brand mixed set jokes – including a randy jab about “Twlight” he couldn’t fit in at the MTV Video Music Awards – with ad-libs. He knocked the marketing of both Coke (“you’re nothing but brown water and sugar … you’re rotting our guts and you’re rotting our minds”) and Poland Springs water.
   Technological overload and rampant consumerism were key issues. Brand sent up our belief that the next purchase – in his case a pair of slick white boots – would bring everlasting happiness.
    He managed a neat balancing act, being slightly irritating, but ultimately ingratiating. Brand’s brand of comedy has room for childlike wonder and a nod-and-a-wink edge.
    And he could go all linguistic and philosophical on you in a nano-second.
    “Life,” Brand summarized, “is not a postcard of life – ‘Wish you were here.’ Perhaps there never was a here.”

www.mrmovietimesboston.com