Tweet
The John Malkovich collection AKA UNCLE KIMONO - fashion hilarity
source: http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/Co...d=1107298214221
John Malkovich plays ... dress-up?
Latest strange role: Fashion designer
VINAY MENON
As with any John Malkovich project, it takes a minute to wrap your head around this.
So read carefully: The actor has summoned a crew from Fashion Television. They spend three days in Italy, documenting a peculiar show he's planning for Uncle Kimono, his new line of men's clothing.
Why peculiar? Well, instead of using models, Malkovich has enlisted 20 judo fighters. The documentary, which is at once fascinating and bizarre, is called John Malkovich: Flipping Uncle Kimono (Citytv, 10 p.m. tonight).
Riddle me this: Why do fashion designers dress so strangely? When we first meet Malkovich, he's wearing a white shirt, white socks, cream sneakers, and white trousers that are about six inches too short. He looks like he just mugged a sixth grader.
Malkovich is greeted by Francesco Rulli, his business partner, and introduced to FT producer Howard Brull, our intrepid narrator.
On Day 1, Malkovich fits the judo fighters. We're off to the headquarters of Mrs. Mudd, the name of his fashion house.
Malkovich also names his garments. There's the Japanese Spy Suit. The F---ing Commie Sweater. And let's not forget the Nervous Breakdown Jacket.
The Girl's Collar Sweater, Malkovich explains, is "the kind of thing a guy can wear if he wants to get, you know, punched in the face."
Now there's a new marketing strategy. The Proletariat Pantaloons: Perfect for political protests, casual dining and, you know, getting kicked in the crotch.
On Day 2, Malkovich is driving to the Uncle Kimono factory. During the trip, we learn about his wife's eating habits, what his kids think about him and the pinched nerve in his shoulders.
Why we're visiting the factory is not entirely clear. Though it does allow us to watch Malkovich goosestep across the floor, arms crossed, eyes scanning.
Brull asks Malkovich if he plans to participate in the show. His response: "I wouldn't last long in a judo contest unless I had a baseball bat."
[Pause.] Time to put on my This Celebrity is Freaking Me Out Cardigan. [Play.] During the return drive to Milan, more talk about the pinched nerve.
"Yeah, my Chinese guy asked me what I'd like to do about it," Malkovich says. "I basically said I'd like to actually take a big butcher knife and stick it right in the nerve."
Yeah, that should help. It would also give you a chance to wear the Bleeding to Death Galoshes as the Chinese guy rushes you to the nearest hospital.
At the rehearsal, Malkovich is choreographing the fight sequences. As the judo warriors-cum-models kick, punch and body slam each other, he nods with tacit approval.
"John is a very sophisticated man," observes Rulli. "He has his very spiritualistic moments. But there are certain times, you can tell, (when) he really appreciates seeing people beating the s--t out of each other."
Then it's hours to showtime on Day 3. Workers hastily assemble the stage. Malkovich is doing interviews with the local press.
"I have been a fabric collector for a long time," he tells one Italian reporter, who seems to be wondering if "fabric" is a synonym for "human bones."
As the fashionistas and glitterati gather outside, the air is charged with excitement. Or, perhaps, fear.
"Imagine if I was an extraterrestrial and I arrive on Earth and I see how people present their clothes," says Rulli. "I would ask myself, `Why do people always do it the same way?'"
Right. Because that's the first thing an alien would do ? scrutinize the European catwalks. Anyway, dude, if you were an extraterrestrial, John Malkovich would put on his Freedom Fighter Ascot, club your oversized green head and gut you with a hunting knife.
The crowd is ready. Malkovich drives ? yes, drives ? toward the stage.
"I don't like public things, weirdly enough," he tells the camera. "I don't, strangely enough, like being a public person."
Really? So you decided to become an actor? Then a fashion designer? This is your plan for privacy? This is what you're telling us? All right. Just checking.
The show begins and the well-dressed judo squad engages in hand-to-hand combat. Surprisingly, nobody is surprised. Malkovich, wearing a CIA-like earpiece, directs both the show and the FT crew.
"Not a single broken button," he enthuses, as the fighters thwack! and splat! on the stage like bags of rotten tomatoes.
When the madness stops, Malkovich mingles with his admirers, bathing in the heady glow of broken-English praise. The judo belligerents gather in a circle and in unison shout, "Flipping Uncle Kimono!" It comes out: "Freepinunkkakeeemohnoh!"
Being John Malkovich may be strange. But, clearly, it's not as strange as being with John Malkovich.
source: http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/Co...d=1107298214221
John Malkovich plays ... dress-up?
Latest strange role: Fashion designer
VINAY MENON
As with any John Malkovich project, it takes a minute to wrap your head around this.
So read carefully: The actor has summoned a crew from Fashion Television. They spend three days in Italy, documenting a peculiar show he's planning for Uncle Kimono, his new line of men's clothing.
Why peculiar? Well, instead of using models, Malkovich has enlisted 20 judo fighters. The documentary, which is at once fascinating and bizarre, is called John Malkovich: Flipping Uncle Kimono (Citytv, 10 p.m. tonight).
Riddle me this: Why do fashion designers dress so strangely? When we first meet Malkovich, he's wearing a white shirt, white socks, cream sneakers, and white trousers that are about six inches too short. He looks like he just mugged a sixth grader.
Malkovich is greeted by Francesco Rulli, his business partner, and introduced to FT producer Howard Brull, our intrepid narrator.
On Day 1, Malkovich fits the judo fighters. We're off to the headquarters of Mrs. Mudd, the name of his fashion house.
Malkovich also names his garments. There's the Japanese Spy Suit. The F---ing Commie Sweater. And let's not forget the Nervous Breakdown Jacket.
The Girl's Collar Sweater, Malkovich explains, is "the kind of thing a guy can wear if he wants to get, you know, punched in the face."
Now there's a new marketing strategy. The Proletariat Pantaloons: Perfect for political protests, casual dining and, you know, getting kicked in the crotch.
On Day 2, Malkovich is driving to the Uncle Kimono factory. During the trip, we learn about his wife's eating habits, what his kids think about him and the pinched nerve in his shoulders.
Why we're visiting the factory is not entirely clear. Though it does allow us to watch Malkovich goosestep across the floor, arms crossed, eyes scanning.
Brull asks Malkovich if he plans to participate in the show. His response: "I wouldn't last long in a judo contest unless I had a baseball bat."
[Pause.] Time to put on my This Celebrity is Freaking Me Out Cardigan. [Play.] During the return drive to Milan, more talk about the pinched nerve.
"Yeah, my Chinese guy asked me what I'd like to do about it," Malkovich says. "I basically said I'd like to actually take a big butcher knife and stick it right in the nerve."
Yeah, that should help. It would also give you a chance to wear the Bleeding to Death Galoshes as the Chinese guy rushes you to the nearest hospital.
At the rehearsal, Malkovich is choreographing the fight sequences. As the judo warriors-cum-models kick, punch and body slam each other, he nods with tacit approval.
"John is a very sophisticated man," observes Rulli. "He has his very spiritualistic moments. But there are certain times, you can tell, (when) he really appreciates seeing people beating the s--t out of each other."
Then it's hours to showtime on Day 3. Workers hastily assemble the stage. Malkovich is doing interviews with the local press.
"I have been a fabric collector for a long time," he tells one Italian reporter, who seems to be wondering if "fabric" is a synonym for "human bones."
As the fashionistas and glitterati gather outside, the air is charged with excitement. Or, perhaps, fear.
"Imagine if I was an extraterrestrial and I arrive on Earth and I see how people present their clothes," says Rulli. "I would ask myself, `Why do people always do it the same way?'"
Right. Because that's the first thing an alien would do ? scrutinize the European catwalks. Anyway, dude, if you were an extraterrestrial, John Malkovich would put on his Freedom Fighter Ascot, club your oversized green head and gut you with a hunting knife.
The crowd is ready. Malkovich drives ? yes, drives ? toward the stage.
"I don't like public things, weirdly enough," he tells the camera. "I don't, strangely enough, like being a public person."
Really? So you decided to become an actor? Then a fashion designer? This is your plan for privacy? This is what you're telling us? All right. Just checking.
The show begins and the well-dressed judo squad engages in hand-to-hand combat. Surprisingly, nobody is surprised. Malkovich, wearing a CIA-like earpiece, directs both the show and the FT crew.
"Not a single broken button," he enthuses, as the fighters thwack! and splat! on the stage like bags of rotten tomatoes.
When the madness stops, Malkovich mingles with his admirers, bathing in the heady glow of broken-English praise. The judo belligerents gather in a circle and in unison shout, "Flipping Uncle Kimono!" It comes out: "Freepinunkkakeeemohnoh!"
Being John Malkovich may be strange. But, clearly, it's not as strange as being with John Malkovich.
