Imagine my surprise when I discovered that My Name Is Bruce — Bruce Campbell’s sendup of, well, himself, which I’ve been holding my breath for for about a year — is opening here in New York on Friday. I just happened to accidentally see the film listed in the programming schedule, which is emailed to me once a week, for the Landmark Sunshine Theater, an arthouse that goes in for a lot of midnight movies and other cult stuff. I never heard a single word from anyone about screenings, or received even so much as an alert that the film was opening. Fortunately, the publicist is sending me a screener now, which is a good thing, because the Sunshine is a major pain in the ass for me to get to.
The trailer? I love it. When Campbell says, “Kid, I made a movie in Bulgaria — I’m ready for anything,” he’s referring to The Man With the Screaming Brain, which almost made me lose faith in Campbell, it was that terrible — when they talk about comedy not being pretty, that’s the kind of thing they’re talking about. But if he’s ready to make fun of it now, I’m ready to listen.
“He’s the protector of bean curd!” God, I needed that laugh.