It was great. Cameron Crowe never misses his mark. Vanilla Sky still sits on top of my list. He’s got heart and slaps it out there. It’s the one fault I keep hearing…reading over and over in the reviews. Why? There’s vulnerability when you go for the emotional throat. It’s a roll of the dice. If you hit it right, you create something memorable, something that doesn’t come and go on its “numbers.”
People wonder what’s wrong with the movie “industry.” I’ll tell you. Fantastic Four opened to 60 million. Liz Town pulled 11 million. I understand my bias…that I would likely stand up for anything Crowe did…but Fantastic Four was shit in a plastic bag with a yellow ribbon. And that’s being generous.
Wanna know the result? Fantastic Four becomes a franchise. The sequel comes summer 2007. The third installment one year later. The next time Cameron Crowe wants to make a film, his climbing hill gets steeper. Troubling indeed.
But every now and again, a film comes along that shifts perspective. For instance, Crash. Here’s a small film…an original voice. Initially, it opens on a few screens, slowly picks up steam and becomes this huge hit. Critically and commercially. Great! Right? I should be happy. Movies like Crash broaden the perspective, right? It proves there may yet be hope for the masses…
But I hated that fucking movie.
So that solves zero. Fuck. Okay. The blanket problem is Orlando Bloom. It’s not that I dislike him…he’s just not the guy I’d want at the plate in the bottom of the 9th with the winning run on second base. Maybe in a few years, maybe. He’s good at slapping doubles down the line. I’ll give that much. But when it comes to taking it out of the park, it’s always a fly ball to the warning track. He’s not yet the star this town makes him out to be.
Kirsten Dunst is. And it has nothing to do with my sexual orientation.
Tonight, at Whole Foods, I fell in love for 7 seconds. I didn’t see her face or figure, just that she was wearing a red hat. That’s all it took. Why? Go see the movie and you’ll quickly wonder or understand…but at least you’ll have a point of reference.
She was sparkling. Ms. Dunst, that is.
Anyway, that’s enough about Liz Town. Onward to the so-called “sweet life.” I was at the gym right around the time I decided a change of direction was necessary. New job, new apt…all that good stuff. I’ll tell you about my gym.
Equinox, West Hollywood. It’s nice. Beautiful, successful people. Upper/middle echelon LA. I sneak in through the back door, but only in terms of success…of course. Some of the people are even quite decent. Not that I’m judgmental…
It’s also pretty gay. A straight man may even fall into the minority. If you’re from another part of the country, particularly outside of a major city, that may be hard to believe…but it’s true.
One day, I was doing curls. I don’t know if it’s my baby face, or some kind of friendly pheromone I give off, but I’m approached quite often. And yes…by men who want to be more than friends.
“You know, when you’re doing curls, let your hand fall and your wrist drag. My trainer told me years ago and it makes all the difference.”
He went on about my blessed genetics. Sometimes, I forget my height. At least I think that’s what he was talking about. We spoke small before I dropped one of my trademark exit lines. I thought it might have been a little presuming of me to come out and say I appreciate the interest, but that I’m really not interested in…dick. At least not anyone else’s.
So a week and a half passes. Something like that. My time frame is a little foggy, but I do know that I met him before I decided to shake my life up. I’m giving my month’s notice from the Tower Bar this week and have been looking for apartments. Rent in LA is very expensive. I wanted to find a place in the hills, a guest apartment. Something of an escape from the mainland down below. But realistically, that’s not realistic.
So anyway, I had been looking on Craigslist. Something I vowed against since my early Hollywood days of freelance gigging. There was a posting -- live-in assistant -- Sunset Plaza.
I live behind Sunset Plaza. It’s the area that has grown into my LA nest. I have no interest in leaving any time soon. So, I replied. Photo, quick bio…figured I’d wait and see. If you have ever been on Craigslist, you know it’s a zoo.
I’ve also made posts from my days with the Lingerie Bowl. You have no idea how many people reply. To a post like this, I’d stab in the ballpark of 500.
An e-mail came the next morning. It went something like. “Holy shit, you’re that kid from the gym. I was telling you about the wrist trick.” This was Wednesday.
Yesterday, I was up at his house…pitching. I told him about my new project, the one I’m writing. Personally, I feel like it’s a curse to give out anything more than not much while you’re in the process...so I didn’t. More than anything, it was a meet and greet. Feel each other out. In this town, when you pitch…you’re pitching 40% what you’re working on. The other 60% is about you. Behavior, mannerisms, vibe. Since I’m comfortable with who I am and the impressions I leave behind, it’s comforting to think I already have 60% in the bag. But then again, what do I know?
Plenty.
Oh, and I forgot. He’s married, has 2 kids and 2 gorgeous Huskies. I didn’t know real dogs existed in this town. It’s all these little fucking rodents. Dogs I would just as soon punt as pat.
We shot ideas, talked about the state of movies. He had some well-connected ideas that I thought were solid…exciting projects that are about to get off the ground. But right away, I could tell he had been broken. One of his initial confessions was that after all his time in this town, he has learned to focus on what sells. He gets his hard-on talking about the ultimate example in high concept/cash out pitches. Liar, Liar. A lawyer can’t tell a lie. My hard-on comes from writing stories that I think would stand out from the heap of high concept cash ins. The kind that I want to see. The kind that I want to write about. It sounds like we would be miles apart and would have a hard time working together. I don’t think so.
He’s seasoned, I’m green. I think the key to my success will fall somewhere in the middle. Closer to my side than his, but still in the middle. He’s already found success. Quite a bit from the looks of things. Still, that doesn’t mean you jump ship and head East when in your heart…you know paradise lies west.
Anyway…
Private apartment, private entrance. And the place is…yeah, kind of nice. Like spiral staircase into a tower room, nice. Jacuzzi, grill, patio. I’m not sure what else I could ask for. I wanted new job…a new place. Here it is. I’m moving out December 1st. The position opens right after Thanksgiving.
I’m not saying it’s mine. But things seem to be progressing rather fast. It’s time for a change. What more could I ask for…and this quick?
You know me…plenty.
And you’ll be the first to hear.
