Arts Vanity: Trevor Sucks—The Movie

(Camera opens on Trevor’s bed. There lies a giant man-bun, with two little legs sporting white Converse. Cue “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves. Man-bun springs out of bed, begins brushing face, arms, chest, and back. Man-bun then brushes teeth—they’re incredibly white, for a man-bun’s. Turns to camera.)

MAN-BUN: Hi! I’m Trevor, also known as Man-Bun Levin. You know what I hate? Fascism! Also conditioner—that stuff’s the worst. Did you know I’m from Cleveland? Spoiler alert: I am!

(Man-Bun Levin starts strutting out of his spacious Mather single. Waves good-bye to his suitemates. They do not wave back. One, craven-eyed and twitching, menacingly waves a pair of clippers. Man-Bun laughs, blows him a kiss. Cue Kanye West’s “Gold Digger.”)

MAN-BUN: These flowing locks are a blessing and a curse. A blessing because when I whip my head back and forth, my hair spins like two helicopter blades, and I can float to class. A curse because sometimes small children accost me and use my locks as a jump rope. They also call me “Hairy Potter” and “Prince Hairy” and “Hairy Connick Jr.” They also play tug-of-war with my head; whoever wins, I lose. It was never like this in Cleveland, though. I’m from Cleveland.

(Man-Bun Levin arrives at Social Studies 10. Goes on 30-minute rant about Tocqueville, economic inequality, and quality Spotify playlists. He finishes, turns to his peers for opposing opinions. They do not respond, since they are tangled in his hirsute body. Cue “The Scientist” by Coldplay.)

MAN-BUN: But… really. Did you not know I was from Cleveland? Ha! That’s crazy. Because I am! I am, guys. It’s in my blood. No, really—my heart is shaped like Ohio. It’s a serious issue. (Sighs) I guess what I’m trying to say is… Donald Trump. Is. The. Worst.

(Man-Bun Levin engorges a pile of septuple-stuffed Oreos. Begins crafting pitch email. Sun sets, begins to rise again. Man-Bun Levin is still crafting pitch email—it is 20 pages long. Cue “High and Dry” by Radiohead.)

MAN-BUN: Here’s the truth. Beneath this mountain of hair, I’m just a fleshy, sentient man. And beneath this flesh, I’m just a smaller, fleshier mountain of hair, with a perfect GPA and a passion for Europe. Not the continent—the band. I’m from Cleveland, guys.

(Camera lingers on Man-Bun Levin’s face-hair. Pans out—he’s in Progressive Field, immersed in a sea of a thousand Hillary Clintons, singing the entire Beatles discography in three-part harmony. Camera cuts back to Man-Bun. He turns, winks at camera. Credits roll.)

—Shaun V. Gohel is the outgoing film exec. He thinks Survivor and Sour Patch candy are great. He thinks Trevor is fine.