WENLEI MA: Russell Brand’s arrival to court for sexual assault allegations is on brand with fall from grace

It was dinner time and the busy intersection of King Street and Enmore Road in the Sydney suburb of Newtown was pumping.

Throngs of pedestrians were crossing the road both ways, running to the train, rushing home or just on their way to something better. But all those time-crunched bodies took a second glance at the tall man walking down the street, his hair piled high, his strut confident.

It was hard to miss Russell Brand. Even in the alternative neighbourhood of Newtown where a lavish hair-do and eccentric leather outfits were not uncommon, Brand still cut a striking, distinct figure.

It was March 2009 and Brand was, later that night, to perform stand-up at the famous art deco Enmore Theatre to almost 2000 people. When he returned to town a year later, he would be upgraded to the now demolished Sydney Entertainment Centre with its 10,000-seat capacity.

That was the era of Russell Brand, global superstar.

Brand had been a comedic personality in the UK for almost a decade, but it was his Hollywood break-out in the 2008 movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall that launched him internationally.

He was the perfect foil, a chaotic British rock star who was contradictorily cool and ridiculous, and whose presence stole every scene. He was a unique, brash and effortlessly himself personality.

That star-making turn coincided with something less illustrious. Six months after the release of the film, Brand had prank-called Andrew Sachs, the elderly Fawlty Towers actor, then 78, and told him live on radio he had slept with his granddaughter.

Yeah, real funny. In the ensuing uproar, he quit his broadcast show. But it didn’t matter because the Americans couldn’t get enough of him. He got his own Forgetting Sarah Marshall spin-off movie, Get Him to the Greek, in which he was now the lead.

He also met Katy Perry during that production and, together, they were a power couple who attracted outsized media attention. The romance was, however, short-lived. Just over a year after a Hindu marriage ceremony, Brand told Perry he was divorcing her … via text message.

Brand appeared in big movies, wrote a follow-up tome to his 2007 My Booky Wook and even hosted BBC documentaries about addiction and recovery.

But the very thing that made him appealing, this unadorned, unmanaged, provocative cheek, was also the thing that gave him an air of ick. Edge can be sexy and charismatic and also extremely not, and at the same time.

The Brand brand had already been waning when his name re-emerged in the headlines in 2023. In September of that year, multiple media outlets published allegations from four different women who accused of Brand of sexual assault including rape.

The night before they were made public, Brand posted denials against the allegations on his social media, but by the end of the month, London police confirmed it had opened investigations into the incidents.

A few days later, so did the Thames Valley cops, this time for alleged stalking and harassment. A month later, Brand was sued in civil courts in New York by an anonymous actor who claimed he assaulted her in a bathroom in a movie set.

That was followed by the BBC confirming it had received five complaints about his behaviour during his time at the public broadcaster’s radio arm.

If Brand’s global rise was fast, the capper to his downfall was even quicker. The “bad boy” had become the bad boy.

On Monday, Brand, now 51, fronted a criminal court in London for the start of a trial in which he stands accused of rape and sexual assault. He has been charged with three counts of rape, three counts of sexual assault and one of indecent assault.

The seven incidents are alleged to have happened between 1999 and 2009 in the UK. There are six female complainants. One alleged incident was said to have taken place at a political party conference.

He has denied charges, and has previously said in an online video that he had “never engaged in non-consensual activity”. He pled not guilty to all the charges.

Walking into court with his wife, Laura, dressed in a blue-grey suit, a white shirt with an upturned collar and a cravat, Brand seemed unmoved. Day one was jury selection and the overall proceedings are expected to last up to 10 weeks.

It’s been more than 15 years since Brand was hailed as a naughty breath of fresh air on the Hollywood scene. The celebrity who turned up to court this week barely resembles the unfiltered guy who gave what-for to George W. Bush, railed against economic disparity and large corporations and for the environment.

Brand had been a regular poster on YouTube for a decade when, during the Covid pandemic, his tone changed.

In 2021, he started to post videos about conspiracies involving vaccines, shady economic cabals and even the Ukraine war.

He started to use emotive, sensationalised words – “Lies! Exposed! Leaked! Bombshell!” – and alleged that there were plots to control populations and went after Anthony Fauci, the American medical advisor. He now interviewed people such as former Fox News host Tucker Carlson.

Like many other internet personalities, the more Brand leaned into extremist, right-wing content, the higher the engagement on his videos. His follower count more than doubled within a few months, and his videos were attracting views in the millions. Outrage clicks, and the tech companies have no qualms about exploiting it.

He also announced he was converting to Christianity, and had Bear Grylls baptise him in the Thames River.

It’s difficult to tell whether Brand’s migration to the right is sincere or commercially opportunistic.

But, certainly, he is more likely to find a cohort among those buying into his latter-day antics to support him through this trial, a fanbase primed to believe every man accused of sexual assault is a victim of feminism, than the mainstream audience who turned up to his shows at the height of his cultural power.

How the mighty has fallen.