Do You Believe in Magic?

To answer The Lovin’ Spoonful’s eternal question; Yes. Yes I do. Especially after attending a screening of Sarah*lightofmylife*Silverman’s Jesus is Magic. In fact, you can go right ahead and label me a eunuch ‘cuz this movie was so goddamn funny I laughed my freakin’ balls off. Actually I was only laughing on the inside. On the outside I was crying. Crying from clenching my stomach so hard to stop me from guffawing like a maniac. There were only 4 of us at the screening, I didn’t wanna seem “rude”. Either the 3 others were dead inside, or they were robots, or robots who are dead inside. Either way I didn’t hear so much as a chuckle or a rusty jaw clamping down.

Our fearless leader Eric will regale you next week with his review of Jesus is Magic, but in the meantime you’ll haveta settle for my pre-school girl giddiness viewpoint on this.

Directed by Liam Lynch (Tenacious D: The Complete Masterworks) and written by Sarah*runawaywithme*Silverman herself, the film presents her sold out Los Angeles show from September 2004, with some music & dance numbers and some backstage slapstick peppered in throughout. Co-stars her sister Laura*meh*Silverman (Freeze Out) and Brian Posehn (The Devil’s Rejects) as friends, and Bob Odenkirk (Melvin Goes to Dinner) as her manager.

Sarah*bearmychildren*Silverman has a dirty, dirty mouth. She makes no excuses and she doesn’t pull her punches. Sticking it where it hurts with subjects ranging from licking jelly off her boyfriend’s man-parts to why strippers should be role models, she lulls you into a false sense of ‘I’m-just-kidding-attitude’; she’ll say something edgy and un-PC, then act ashamed about what she just said, and finish it up by coming full circle by saying what she really means. With sweet yet vicious aplomb. And it works.

Sometimes the segue from stage presence to song & dance routine isn’t always super smooth, but those dull parts are few and far apart. Especially if you already know how crass she can be, you become a little numb during the movie, even jaded at her subject matter, because you realize early on there is no one’s toes she won’t step on, even her own. But you’re still basically sitting there anticipating whatever trash will come out of her mouth next, hoping to memorize it well enough to impress all your co-workers around the water cooler the following day. And if you really hate your job, it just might help get you fired.

Backed by her band, The Silver Men, Sarah*letmeclipyourtoenails* Silverman is a surprisingly gifted singer-songwriter. Sure, her subject matter revolves around ailing seniors and Jews driving German cars, but Holy Christ are those some catchy tunes! Her melodic hooks and even her amazing voice are very reminiscent of Jill Sobule, and if I didn’t know any better I would accuse her of ghost-writing all the songs (She also looks very um, “dateable” in her little 1960’s getup).

She’s sexier and more lady-like than the most uppity high class snob trophy wife, but I’m willing to bet she can also pee standing up like the best of us. Best of both worlds, she is. Which brings me to my last hoorah: 100 pesos to whoever brings me the head of Jimmy Kimmel. Jimmy Kimmel must die. He is the dirty floor to my buttered toast. The Hordak to my She-Ra. The Baron Zemo to my Captain America. The Old Towne Tavern to my Cheers. The Murdoc to my MacGyver. Hell, the Murdock to my B.A. Baracus. He thinks he’s so great with his sense of humor and his millions of dollars, I really wanna knead his face in with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly.

I took the liberty of living out my retarded fantasies by superimposing my face over fat Kimmel’s really fat body (I thought dark colors were supposed to be trimming, chief). Of course, I couldn’t paste my real face for fear my dashing good looks would break the inter-web, so I opted for a comical caricature of myself instead.

Here’s me and Sarah, uh… “out”, I guess… I got her that stylish tuque. For no reason. Just because. I don’t need special occasions to surprise my lady friend with gifts. That’s the kinda guy I am.

Here we are at the premiere of Jesus is Magic. See how perfectly she fits all nuzzled into my neck? Case closed.

And to answer The Lovin’ Spoonful’s other timeless question; Yes, I’ve had to make up my mind.