Rize (or, how I learned to stop hating clowns, kind-of).

As of last week, I have been wrapped in an overwhelming personal crisis.
This Sunday, I decided the best way of clearing my mind was to traumatize myself in a totally different way- with clowns.

I have always had the assumption that all clowns were scary ex-cons and annoying dicks, but after a couple of hours watching the David Lachapelle documentary Rize, I guess I've changed my tune a bit. It turns out that, although 100% of clowns are still ex-cons, the krumping variety of clowns is actually pretty alright by me.

The movie is filled with dance battles between hip hop clowns and krumpers, strange birthday parties, and mid-2000's Flii Stylz tracks. There are old men and tiny toddlers and even girls, and there's something so inclusive and positive about the whole thing that makes me just want to run away from home, paint my face, learn how to dance really fast, and attend birthday parties for the rest of my life.
It may not be perfect, but let me tell you: it's significantly better than my current reality.

 ~sarah p. 

p.s. What is it about David Lachapelle's direction that makes everything he touches look so colorful and shiny, and yet so disgustingly filthy at the same time?

p.p.s. Just so we're clear: the standard beer-breathed, balloon animal-making, inappropriate-poking, John Wayne Gacy-type clowns can honestly rot in hell. I still hate those guys.