Photo by Chris Nieratko
Dir: Tom Sizemore
Do you know why Tom Sizemore will go down in history as one of America’s finest actors? It’s because he refuses to be typecast and he’s not afraid to commit to a role. One would be hard-pressed to imagine how Sizemore could trump the box-office success of films such as Natural Born Killers, Heat, Saving Private Ryan, or Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man but Sizemore, the consummate chameleon, found a way to not only satisfy his yearning to create a believable character and still sell units by directing his own indie feature, The Tom Sizemore Sex Scandal.
In Sex Scandal Sizemore plays the leading role of a limp-dicked, coked-out, sex-addicted misogynist who locks himself in a hotel room with five hookers, a lot of drugs and alcohol, five video cameras and a can of whip cream. Of the 50 plus films Sizemore has appeared in, this is hands-down his most convincing role. Looking into his eyes you really feel as if he is coked out of his mind. Watching him struggle to attain and maintain an erection, you truly believe this is a man who wants to have sex but can’t. Seeing Sizemore perform oral sex on each whore in the room, some whose vaginas look more than slightly contaminated, you are convinced of the desperation of his character. As a director, Sizemore weaves together a fantastic story without giving too much away. What is unsaid is almost as poignant as what is. We deduce that his character has been wronged by a woman, most likely one named Heidi, since her name is tattooed just above his penis. His character also alludes to a run in with the police, an event that seems to be what drove him to his broken state. On the verge of tears, Sizemore tells the camera, “Fuck the LA police department. Fuck them. I hope 22 cops die tonight and they all have a lot of children.”
His hopelessness is so pure and tangible that I think it’s safe to say there may be an Oscar nomination coming for his performance. Not to downplay Sizemore’s craft or to try and solicit myself but the other night I put on a performance of my own that also deserves a nod from the Academy. November 1st is my favourite day of the year. It’s when all the leftover Halloween costumes get marked down 70 to 85%. I make the rounds to all the costume shops, scooping up anything that fits me, my wife or my nephews. We like to play dress up at my house. It’s not odd to see me and my two young nephews in the supermarket dressed as The Hulk, a vampire and a cowboy. This year I came across a Spider-Man costume for $2. Sadly it was for ages 10 to 12; but for $2 I said it was worth it to at least try it on. So I bought it, took it home, got drunk with my wife and then attempted to put on the costume. Do you know how when The Hulk transforms from Bruce Banner all his clothes just explode? That’s what happened to the costume. I basically tore the poor thing apart. Arse hanging out, camel toe, shoulder uncovered; I was the most amazing Spider-Man the world has ever seen. That little fucker Tobey Maguire better watch out because I’m coming for his job.