At last comes film critic Glenn Kenny’s set diary from Steven Soderbergh’s The Girlfriend Experience, in which he plays a character whose job is described as “internet escort reviewer”–halfway between pimp and customer. Kenny is a tremendous writer and a very sarcastic man with some previous experience dealing with porn stars, dating back to his Harold Hecuba days. Still, mostly the whole thing plays as comedy–his wife, his mother, his father, and nearly even his therapist crack up when he tells them he has a sex scene with Sasha Gray; then comes the Rocawear windbreaker and the inevitable moment when art and life get inextricably blurred:
“Well there’s not much specific I’m allowed to tell you. I just want to get a sense of what you can bring in terms of clothes and such. I think this guy certainly has a lack of vanity and a certain…disregard for style. He’s not quite up to date…”
I e-mail him a picture of myself taken at Cannes earlier in the year. I’m wearing a rather loud red Rockawear windbreaker and a Silver Surfer t-shirt.
“Yes, ” he says when he opens the e-mail. “There’s something there.” I mention that I own a pair of black Doc Martens AND a pair of black Converse low-tops.
“Perfect. This guy should definitely dress too young for his age.”
I contemplate shooting myself.
And so on.