John Frusciante, Old Dirty Bastard, Frank Zappa, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Michael Cera, Willem Dafoe. All these people, I’m sure don’t smell bad, but I’m equally sure that at best they wash every other day. After watching Buffalo ’66, I’ll add Vincent Gallo to the top of the list.

I love Buffalo ’66. As a writer, director, editor, and lead actor, Vincent Gallo is Buffalo ’66. By transitive property, I love Vincent Gallo, even though I know nothing about him. I found a video from a few years ago on YouTube where a fan caught him in Paris and asked for an autograph. The guy really stayed out of the spotlight.

Cinema is often seen as a collaborative art, but when it isn’t collaborative and it’s the expression of a single person with a very specific vision, it becomes more personal and therefore more unique. Only Vincent Gallo could have made Buffalo ’66, and the same can’t be said for many other directors and their films. It must be incredibly satisfying to be Vincent Gallo.

Update: I’ve discovered some things about Vincent Gallo and I don’t love him anymore. I would have been better off in my ignorance. I would have preferred to keep loving him. Maybe now I like Buffalo ’66 even less. I thought I could separate the person from the artist, but maybe it’s not that simple. Being Vincent Gallo isn’t so satisfying if it leads you, among other things, to sell your sperm online.