Well, what the hell did you expect? Last night, Charlie Sheen kicked off his "Violent Torpedo of Truth: Defeat Is Not an Option" tour in Detroit, and the show bombed. Really bombed. In half a decade of professional criticism, I've never seen nastier reviews. Nor have I ever been less surprised to see nasty reviews. (You can read one here, here, here, or here.)
Charlie Sheen -- why am I writing about him again? -- is either: a) far gone into serious self-medication, b) manic depressive, or c) both. I'm guessing "c." And there's not a single ticket-buying American who isn't aware that, while craziness/grandiosity/and/or/substance abuse can occasionally result in really transcendent performances, they more often result in utter shite.
The last link in the preceding paragraph leads to an Aerosmith
performance from 1978, during which Steven Tyler was almost too stoned
to move. It's bad. But at least our stonedest rock stars have some kind
of musical chops to keep things interesting -- some notion, buried deep in
their muscle memories, of what one's supposed to do on a stage. Charlie
Sheen has nothing like that. He's not a comedian, a great dramatic
monologuist, a musician, or storyteller. He's just an addict who gets
off the occasional funny line and whom people have paid to parade his
disintegration. There may be some kind of kinky art to that, but it's
definitely not entertainment. Slo-mo suicides aren't fun.
Sheen's tour is scheduled to hit the BankAtlantic Center on April 23. If Sheen makes it that far. Tix cost $50 to $500. No, they won't be worth the money.
Follow The Juice on Facebook and on Twitter: @TheJuiceBPB.
