I regret missing the kerfuffle at the
Brian De Palma press conference, so juicily reported in this space. In contrast, the
Wes Anderson chat with
Kent Jones, one of the NYFF 45 Director's Dialogues, sponsored by HBO, was about as rowdy as tea time at Windsor Castle. Maybe the spanking new Times Center on West 41st Street inhibited the crowd.
Jones, whose interview style I like a lot, is the un-
Charlie Rose, quasi-invisible, so you feel you're eavesdropping on two friends over lattes (or, in this case, bottled water without a logo). Anderson is smart and self-deprecating -- not a bit twee, like his film
The Darjeeling Limited. I'm not sure what twee means, but it definitely applies to "Darjeeling." "I get accused of repeating myself," Anderson said. "Now I'm defending myself without having been accused of anything," he added to a volley of laughter. And yeah, his too-small suits give him the aura of a Lost Boy from Peter Pan, in keeping with his films. Unfortunately, the chat gave few insights into Anderson's creative process (though the woman in front of me nodded vigorously at his every remark, as if Zarathustra had just spake). "I like to work with my friends, it's a reunion and there's that energy on the set … " Zzzz. "The
Kinks songs are better than the
Beatles … " I check my watch. Oh, and "
Bill Murray's usually reachable in his Winnebago." Just in case you needed to reach him.
Where, when we need it, is the crass and the inappropriate? As in the Toronto press conference for
Michael Clayton with
George Clooney. Some doofus asked Clooney about his new squeeze and how he met her. While the other journos winced, George gracefully ducked the question. But here's the thing: as someone who scours
InStyle at the beauty parlor to check on Ashton and Demi, I for one would have loved to know how George met his g.f. (Or how anyone meets anyone. There's a billion dollar biz built around this challenge, which is compounded by those JDates who never even answer your "Flirt," much less meet). I'm also itching to know more about the Heath and Michelle split. Maybe those poopy nappies ... Bottom line, all that How I Prepared for the Role blather has me nodding off and makes lousy copy. I'm sorry that in Toronto I didn't have the guts to ask
Sean Penn what it was like to hang with
Hugo Chavez.Back at NYFF 45, the session with director
John Landis following his doc
Mr. Warmth: the Don Rickles Project had the Walter Reade jumping. Though Landis's overview of Rickles is pretty hilarious, your laughter may not be heard in New Jersey, as advertised by the jury -- I'd say just Amsterdam Avenue. Thanks guys for including this one. Not only has the comic at 81 kept all his timing intact -- the film makes you nostalgic for a slice of Americana: old time Vegas when it was ruled by the mob and a tummler went by the name Shecky Green. In the Q & A – which consisted mainly of A, since Landis just surfed from one subject to the next – the filmmaker who gave us
Animal House might have been channeling his inner Rickles. Same manic energy. The monologue ranged from such topics as features v. docs ("most docs you find in the cutting room"); to life in Vegas under the Jewish Montreal mob; to the corporations that charge 50 grand for 4 seconds of music. "Don is not a comic," Landis said – "He's a performance artist. He creates an ambiance. He owns the room. Doesn't tell jokes. And he's big at schmearing (that's tipping to you). Landis is the only filmmaker whom Rickles has allowed to film his act. "He's been doing the same act for 50 years," said Landis, "which he pulls out of his ass." Note: if Landis pulled the word "fuck" from his vocabulary, his syntax would capsize.
I wrapped my fest week with one of the many V.I.P. events clamoring for my presence: a lunch at Nick & Toni's for Marjane Satrapi and Vince Paronnaud, the team who gave us the zingy animated closer, "Persepolis." Here's one film brimming with information, ideas, pathos, and humor that's also a crowd-pleaser. Satrapi's face shares the same mischievous charm as Marjane in the film. I got to chatting with estimable indie mainstays
Michael Barker and
Tom Bernard of Sony Classics. My articles well was running dry, and I was contemplating a story on the trainer of the pooch in
Go Go Tales. But the messieurs Bernard and Barker gave me enough ideas to last at least six months.
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posted by Erica Abeel @ 10/13/2007 07:00:00 PM
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