I have to admit that I walked out of PEACHES DOES HERSELF an hour into its running time. It's not because I was offended or not into the music. It's just that I'd gotten the concept, was bored by it, and was thinking to myself, "didn't Malcolm McLaren do all this in 1982?" And then, over supper, I realised that he and Vivienne Westwood opened their SEX boutique in the mid 70s and that Sid Vicious was dead by 1982. So adding some LCD Soundsystem angry synth to the balls out gender bending lyrics and teaming it up with some Lady Gaga like performance art isn't really rocking my boat. I mean, kudos to any creative kid who breaks out of a bourgeois Canadian upbringing and makes it to the performance spaces of Berlin. And you cannot deny that Peaches is a ferocious singer and stage presence. There are occasional flashes of visual brilliance. Her guitarist playing light rays like synths, for instance. But in general, unless you're a mad passionate devotee of the artiste, this is, at best, all very teenage rebellion. At worst, the film could be accused of cruelty. Peaches might preach equal opportunities sexual gratification and respect for people of all ages, races, genders and predelictions, but the audience at Sundance London was laughing at the old withered stripper not with her. Peaches had unwittingly created a rather nasty freak show.
PEACHES DOES HERSELF played Toronto 2012 and Sundance London 2013. It does not yet have a commercial release date. The movie has a 80 minute runtime.
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