The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Zedd
Written: Jan 21 '00
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Vicious, cynical, hysterical, underground camp extravaganza
Cons: Well, if you're looking for polished prose you should go read Will Self... or just shoot yourself.
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| JackieSusann's Full Review: Totem of the Depraved Books |
Since I've written opinions on a couple of lousy autobiographies lately, I thought I'd turn around and give some credit to one done right. Nick Zedd, infamous underground filmmaker from the scummiest side of the 80s and 90s, is everything Marilyn Manson wants to be, but isn't; dangerous, perverse, smart and a little bit insane. This book consists larely of his megalomaniacal ravings about his general superiority to all other humans ("I know I'm not better than you or the next creep. It's just that deep down, I can't bring myself to believe it. I'm sorry, but you maggots really are beneath me and I hate you beyond words") mixed in with a life of mindless debauchery and occasional creativity.
The best thing is that Zedd isn't afraid to let us all know he's an a**ehole. He comes across as a hysterical, narcissistic misogynist, but because he's at least honest about it, it becomes absurdly endearing. He has a heart: not necessarily feelings like the rest of us, but hyperdramatic bursts of emotional catharsis.
I think it's in Gregg Araki's "The Doom Generation" that Rose McGowan says, "We're just too pure for this world". There's something of that about Zedd, as if somebody so intense and uncompromising couldn't but be driven into bitterness and obsession by as banal a soap opera as the world we live in. You can certainly see that in his inspiration, the brilliant underground gay filmmaker Jack Smith, subject of a fabulously ridiculous chapter. ("I never saw Jack smile the entire time I knew him, but he was constantly trying to get other people to laugh. He told me once, 'In Europe I danced with a penguin. I was paid an enormous amount of exotic currency and was treated as royalty. The penguin was inert and feeble and at the conclusion of our dance I inserted my finger into his rectum. I smelled my finger. It did stink.'")
Zedd is *more* of everything than most of us could stand to be; little wonder he doesn't suffer fools gladly. He's a line of flight, an amorphous flow that won't let itself be pinned down by the microdespotisms of capitalism. This book is genuinely amazing, a low-rent Valley of the Dolls for the sexually insane... or something.
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
JackieSusann
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Reviews written: 18
Trusted by: 24 members
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