I was surprised that I laughed when I watched this. Manson has a fine sense of timing as a lay actor, and a great sense of humor/irony, which together betray an obvious understanding of psychology and human behavior. In those terms, he is very much a shadow comedian, the comic’s evil twin, a real flesh and blood Joker who knows how to manipulate, shock, or even get laughs with a well-delivered punch that tells ironic truths…even as it’s breaking your ribs.

Each punch carries a double meaning; the faces he makes are a calculated critique of America’s media circus and its fascination with deconstructing him—but then—we remember what he is famous for, and so then comes the second meaning: a megalomaniac killer showing off—showing us he is unknowable because he is insane—a superficial act that plays the very circus he is simultaneously critiquing. For a moment we *think* we know him because he’s familiar…he’s been on TV…but then we witness just how at ease he is with what he is…a monster, there, sitting in his chair…then suddenly lunging forward. All hit at the same time. A “real” comedian playing for a paying audience couldn’t pull this off—not even close. Any subtle monsteresque threat a comic could muster would dissipate in the safety of the distance from the stage to the seats. After all, who really fears being murdered during a comedy show? (Ok, maybe the comic—ha). It would be Grand Guignol at best. It’s macabre to say it, but Manson manages to achieve a complex moment of comedy here that few others could…or would…or, shit, should.