Thursday, April 16, 2009
L-O-V-E is spelt J-C-V-D
Let’s make one thing very clear: Jean-Claude Van Damme is no David Hasselhoff. And I mean that as the hightest possible compliment.
The comparison is there to be made: both The Hoff and JCVD have a sort of kitchy appeal. Both have enjoyed (or in JCVD's case is just beginning to enjoy) something of a comeback by taking the piss out of their own respective images.
And yet, while merely typing the words "The Hoff" fills me with a nameless terror, tapping out "JCVD" fills me with nothing so much as a burning desire to be thrown about like a rag doll.
Have you read The Hoff’s biography? I have. (Actually, Lindsay, I still have your copy. Apologies.) For those who haven’t read it, let me tell you right now that it begins with The Hoff single-handedly waking a boy from a coma. Yeeeeeeah I’m not even joking. For me that incident right there pretty much sums up both the book and the man: fucking preposterous.
Compare that, then, to JCVD’s brilliant turn in his latest movie, aptly titled JCVD, in which he manages to be both an incredibly sad and extremely amusing a caricature of himself, even while delivering the most comically timed roundhouse kick you’ve ever seen.
Yes, reader, you can see where this is going: I am madly in love. With JCVD.
It’s not just the movie – that was merely the beginning of the romance: the bit where you fancy the pants off someone but aren’t really sure if you actually LIKE them very much.
But the love between JCVD and I has moved past superficiality and onto something incredibly profound and - gosh dare I say it - DEEPLY spiritually. And it’s entirely because I bloody caved to the inevitable and joined Twitter.
Now, before you get all Oh Kate You're Terrible, I must insist that I jumped on the Twitter bandwagon purely for work purposes. Honest. And although my opinion on the whole thing still remains undecided, JCDV's presence has made it all worthwhile. Because, my God, the man can twit.
Sidestepping the fact that half his tweets are in French and I don't speak a lick of it (although actually I rather like those ones too, for which I invent my own saucy translations) the rest are pure gold. They range from the comedic (“Let’s all blame Steven Seagal for Mondays”) to the curious (“if you talk to the liquid soap while you clean the dishes it will be less concentrated”) and all the ones where you kinda suspect he is almost certainly on seven different types of crack ("The bee that leaves the hive can't make honey, but is free to become aware of the world around").
I laughed, I swooned, I said What The Fuck?
The only thing I did not do is go back and rewatch Wrong Bet. Because, while JCVD may be awesome, that movie is... not. Seriously, I'm not ending on a joke: just do yourself a favour and don't see that movie. Ever.