Club

I’ve been going to clubs for over twenty years in New York. When I was young, I would head into Manhattan with high school friends from Queens, and we’d go to the Tunnel, to the Palladium, to MK and to the Underground, among others. I had this Willi Wear suit that my brother had given me, I’d slick my hair back and don a tie, and tell everyone that I was 23. I was 16. I never needed ID, because one of my friends was a promoter and everyone thought he was 25 (he was 16 too).

Last night, I went to the newest incarnation of the New York club scene, the very exclusive 1Oak, which is a pseudo-acronym for One of a Kind. It’s a kind of a super-club, having been created in partnership by some of NY’s biggest club promoters, the guys who own Butter among them.

We were out for my friend Ryan’s birthday. Going out with Ryan typically is a good time, because (1) he is always in a group of a few guys and a dozen or more beautiful women, and (2) because of his relationships at these clubs, like 1Oak (which is supposed to be the hardest door in NYC), we rarely if ever pay for a drink. I’d met him a bit earlier at Bagatelle, in the Meatpacking district for a dinner for his birthday with perhaps ten or twelve friends. After some drinks (I didn’t eat but it looked tasty), we stopped by Kiss and Fly (which occupies the old Aer space) next door, having been escorted through the Bagatelle kitchen (Goodfellas Henry Hill style) and through a door that led into the club from the restaurant (next door) to the KNF VIP area. We guzzled some Veuve Clicquot for half an hour, and then were out the door and over to 1OAK. In tow at this point, jammed in a few cabs, were perhaps five guys, maybe ten or fifteen girls, and a huge mammoth of a fellow that turned out to be Michael Olowakandi, former NBA center and number one draft pick. I didn’t let him know that he’d been a bust pick for me in a fantasy league years back. Doubt he would have been interested. Nice guy though.

We met a bunch more people inside 1OAK, and went to a table next to the DJ booth. There was more champagne, more women and some very good spinning going on. It was one thirty when we got these, we didn’t leave til perhaps four fifteen, and after some drama, I didn’t get home til five forty five AM or so. Outside of the enormous Michael O. and a little end of the night fisticuffs (which I helped break-up), the night was pretty standard. The place is nicer looking that many clubs, more interesting design-wise, but like I said, I've pretty much seen it all over the last twenty years or so. But its really all about the crowd, and beautiful russian models sitting on my lap and asking me if I mind. This place did fine with both, so I was OK.

I have to admit I am a little worn out today, and depending on her schedule, I may be meeting a photographer, D, who I’d met last weekend out at Sway, tonight for a drink (she has an opening so it’s a play it by ear thing for tonight). I like her fine, but I think I’d be just peachy to meet up over the weekend instead.

Nice to be back in NY, at least for a bit.

Bare Faced

Been thinking about it for a while, and just did it. Lost the goatee. I've had it for years (either that or a beard). Had a mustache only for a week or so when I'd played a country cop in "Hot Baby" but other than that, its been pretty hairy (sorry).

Feels weird to be bare-faced, but I think I definitely look younger without the mostly-pepper with some salt goatee. For whatever thats worth.

BTW, I am not stoned in this picture. Not a dear in the headlights either.

That Personal Connection

OK. So I am so over Tony Parker.

I realized over the weekend that over the past six months of agony or so, agony which I cannot really write about directly, professional agony which has crept into most every aspect of my life, personal, financial (especially financial), that I’d become boring. A boring blogger. (More boring?)

A blogger friend, Rachel, who likely always has been more entertaining than me in print (is online print?, I digress), because she is a better writer, had posted recently about dating someone who read her blog. When I’d read this, it sent me back to look at my blog, to a period of blogging in Sept-Oct. 2006 when I was dating, briefly, someone who was reading my blog. (You can search "Curly" in this blog and find the string of posts if you're curious - they go from hilarious to awful, especially the comments). I was also reading hers, and it got messy.

But when I was sending Rachel specific details about the perils of this situation, and went back into my own blog to determine the dates of the posts relating to these dangers, I discovered specifically something that I knew unconsciously. I used to be funnier. I used to be more entertaining (Again, online, I won’t say that this fits my in-person persona).

I did some reading, going through past posts. From a year ago, from longer ago. It was more interesting back in the day. I think part of the reason is that I took a little more care with the posts. I also think that to some degree, the posts had a continuity, a storyline that flowed through posts over time. Not every post, but touchstone ideas to which to return as a reader. It was more a story of my life, and less a collection of unconnected crap.

But in that last thought, though, is perhaps the biggest difference, I think. I post movie reviews and obits and other entertainment related tidbits and oddities, but I’d lost more of the personal side of my blogging. It wasn’t about me (not that I am so wonderful and everyone wants to know about me). And I imagine a decent portion of the folks who wander by here wander by because of the contents’ relationship to the movies and the business of which they are a part. That’s fine.

But perhaps why people read blogs like mine, the biggest reason, is it’s a connection. Its not the closest connection, to be sure, but it is one, to people who you can learn something about at a distance. And it’s the personal stuff that draws us. Proof? I’ve always had more regular readers when I blogged about my personal life. Actually, I’ve gotten the very most readers when I’ve blogged about bad things happening in my personal life (I think misery definitely attracts attention).

So, with my previous entry as proof of my intent, I am going to do my best to include more of myself in my blog. And maybe, if I can, to blog a little bit more. We shall see how it works out.

I hate Tony Parker.

I hate Tony Parker.

Unbelievable. I am in a fantasy basketball league (that’s the dorky, perhaps, yet not unbelievable part). I make it all the way to the finals for the first time (I’ve been to the finals multiple times in baseball and football leagues, which are equally dorky- although like ten million Americans play fantasy sports so I am not alone in my dorkiness). And then, I’m beset by unexpected injuries. One player sits out the whole week. And another misses a game, and yet, halfway through this afternoon, Sunday, I am in a great position to win.

And then, Tony Parker. Yes, Eva Longoria’s husband, has an impossibly bad game (at least according to the rules of our league). If he had even had a game halfway decent, half his scoring average, I cement a win first place, bragging rights and an additional four hundred dollars.

On top of that, even so, my opponent is having a somewhat dreadful Sunday himself, and so it comes down to Allen Iverson. I am clinging to a small lead. Iverson is facing one of the worst teams in the NBA, a team his should blow out. Instead, he plays the whole game and as regulation winds up, I still have my lead. But the Nuggets cannot put away the Sonics, and the game ends regulation in a tie. And sports fans, you know what that means? Overtime.

They go to overtime, of course he scores some more, and I’m in second place. No extra 400 (I did win 850 or something like that) – no passing go.

But wait (Live bloggin here), the punishment continues. The first overtime has just ended in a tie, sending the game into double overtime. Now I should point out, a player can actually lose points by missing shots, so that he could end up with less points after second overtime then he had after the first. Right now I am still in second. He’d have to miss a few shots in 2OT and then I’d have a chance. Basically, what wounded me when they tied after the regulation has just wounded my opponent when they were tied after the first OT>

He just missed another one. It’s a virtual tie now. But I know this. I know how its gonna end. Its just a tease. If the game ended right now, its my win, by .25 points. Now realize that this is a two week playoff. And it we’ve both scored 2000 points or so (each). And its down to the end, and a quarter of a single point. In the 24th week of the season. So its that kind of tease.

He’s just missed again. I cannot believe I’d have a chance. This is a loss. It’s a loss until its game over. And now, he’s just missed two free throws. That’s another minus two.

I cannot believe that this could possibly go my way. Down to 1:19 left (unless they end in a tie for the third time). I’m still ahead. Barely. One basket by AI and I’m behind again.

As a good friend of mine says, “Sucks balls.” She means it too. Its gonna suck balls for one of us. Probably me.

Down to 16 seconds now. And it’s a five point game so it looks like this is gonna be it.

Down to 10 seconds now. A missed shot by Denver, Seattle going to the line. And Iverson just scores a layup. See – always fucks you in the end. That last two pointer, unbelievable. I am now behind by .25. Gonna lose on the shitty meaningless two pointer with five seconds left.

This is the worst loss – so much worse having witnessed the whole thing. I should have just turned it off. This was like watching someone taking your fingernails off.

Looks like that’s it. Unless the box scores are revised – Im losing by a fucking quarter of a point.

Like I said, I hate Tony Parker.

Charlton Heston, 84

Charlton Heston, the square-jawed movie star who won an Oscar for his portrayal of Ben-Hur and was famed for a number of other epic films, died Saturday night at the age of 84. Though an official cause of death was not initially released, the actor had announced in 2002 that he was battling Alzheimer's disease, and had withdrawn from professional appearances after the diagnosis. An actor at first well-known for his portrayal of historical figures -- in addition to his role as Ben-Hur, he also played Michelangelo, El Cid, Moses, and John the Baptist -- Heston's fame later in life was highlighted by his polarizing views on gun control, as the actor was elected president of the National Rifle Association in 1998 and vigorously defended the rights of gun owners throughout the country. Indeed the role of political activist, which he embraced throughout his life, almost overshadowed his impressive acting career, which started in theater and television before graduating to the silver screen.

Born in Evanston, IL, Heston was the son of a mill owner who found his life's ambition in acting and found his first big breaks on the Broadway stage and in the nascent medium of television. He made his debut in the 1950 film noir thriller Dark City, and within two years headlined (alongside established stars Betty Hutton and Cornel Wilde) the 1952 Best Picture Oscar winner, The Greatest Show on Earth, directed by Cecil B. DeMille. Though he continued to work in a number of lower-profile films, including Ruby Gentry and The Naked Jungle, it was DeMille who in 1956 gave the actor one of his most iconic roles, that of Moses in the Biblical epic The Ten Commandments, a sweeping, captivating, over-the-top film that pioneered cinematic special effects with its parting of the Red Sea, and in its depiction of the turbulent political lives and love lives of its stars -- Heston, Yul Brynner as the Pharoah and Anne Baxter as the woman torn between them -- became the quintessential studio epic of its time, favored as much for its close-to-camp emotional broadness as well as its impressive scale. Heston did a 180-degree turnaround from that statuesque role with 1958's Touch of Evil, the Orson Welles thriller that remains a classic to this day in which he played a Mexican narcotics officer drawn into a lurid drug ring. Heston won his Best Actor Oscar in 1959 for another lavish, larger-than-life historical epic, Ben-Hur, which with its famed chariot race and story set against the backdrop of ancient Rome won a record 11 Academy Awards, a feat not equalled until Titanic's similar win in 1997.

After Ben-Hur, Heston's status as a star was firmly cemented, and throughout the 1960s roles in such films as El Cid, 55 Days at Peking, The Greatest Story Ever Told (where he played John the Baptist), The Agony and the Ecstasy (his Michelangelo going up against Rex Harrison's Pope Julius II), and Khartoum followed. He found another legendary screen character in 1968's Planet of the Apes, as an astronaut who finds himself on a futuristic Earth now populated by evolved simians who have enslaved the human race. As with his other roles, Heston perfectly balanced the camp aspects of the story with a gravitas that helped ground the sci-fi thriller with a modern-day resonance that helped audiences identify with the hero's plight. (Heston briefly reprised his role in the sequel Beneath the Planet of the Apes). The 1970s saw the actor again in futuristic roles in The Omega Man (based on the same story as last year's I Am Legend) and Soylent Green, as well as the disaster epics Airport 1975 and Earthquake. Heston's later film career was made up primarily of thrillers (Gray Lady Down, Two-Minute Warning, The Awakening), television appearances (most notably in Dynasty and its spinoff, The Colbys), and cameos in a variety of high-profile films (Wayne's World 2, Tombstone, True Lies, Hamlet, Any Given Sunday, and the remake of Planet of the Apes, among others). By 1978, Heston had received the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award, the Cecil B. DeMille Award from the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, and a lifetime achievement award from the Screen Actors Guild; on the down side, he also regrettably won a Razzie award in 2002 for his supporting performances in Cats & Dogs and Town and Country.

Heston's film career often became overshadowed by his political activities. In the 1960s he was an early, vocal and visible participant in the Civil Rights movement; joining Martin Luther King's march on Washington. In the 1980s and onward, as the former president of the Screen Actors Guild and onetime chairman of the American Film Institute he championed conservative causes and campaigned aggressively against gun control, becoming president of the National Rifle Association in 1998 and speaking out against then-President Bill Clinton on the subject. Becoming yet another icon, Heston found himself revered and reviled by supporters on both sides of the issue and became the surprising center of a highly emotional culture war, using his fame to speak out in favor of a number of conservative issues (he changed his political stance from Democrat to Republican in the late 1980s). Using his position as a Time-Warner stock holder he castigated the company for profiting from the sales of an Ice-T album which included the song "Cop Killer," reading the lyrics to the song aloud at a stockholder meeting. His career as gun-control opponent reached an apotheosis with his appearance in 2000 when he vowed that they could take his guns when they pried the weapons "from my cold, dead hands." Later, in Michael Moore's 2002 Oscar-winning Bowling for Columbine, a visibly diminished Heston refused to answer Moore's barrage of questions regarding gun deaths, particularly for the callousness of Heston attending an NRA meeting in Denver shortly after the nearby Columbine school massacres. A year later, Heston received the Presidential Medal of Freedom and he officially disclosed that he was battling Alzheimer's; he consequently withdrew from public life.

Heston is survived by his wife Lydia Clarke, to whom he was married 64 years, and their two children, Fraser Clarke Heston and Holly Heston Rochell.

LA Splash Magazine

David Rabadi's interview with me, at LA Splash Magazine...

here

I Am Legend

Just a few words.

Many of you have already seen this (584 million worldwide) so I may be preaching to the choir. But I am not writing for those of you who obviously would have been attracted to something like a Will Smith action apocalypse zombie movie. You know who you are.

I am writing to those of you who would never consider seeing a movie like this based on the seven to ten word blurb that is used to market a movie like this in 110 countries around the world.

THIS MOVIE IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS.

What it is, is an intriguing character study of a man's reaction to isolation. What it also is - an amazing performance by a leading man who just seems to get better with age, and like Pursuit of Happyness, one that is not a simple extension of his prior, enjoyable but less impressive work. Will Smith is amazing in this movie, playing a role that you've never seen him play. There are two moments of emotional performance that are just classic (legend?) - I wont mention them so as not to spoil them, and you'll know them when you see them.

There isn't a lot of blood (very little actually), but there is a lot of story telling, and a lot of surprises, and pathos, and emotion.

See it. It really has something for everyone, and is one of few recent blockbusters (Ratatouille, being another) that really deserves that big an audience.

Bulgarian Idol - DONT MISS IT!!!!

Out For Blood.

No, its not the title of a new movie on which I am working.

Someone stole my wallet at the gym today. I am not in New York, I am in Los Angeles.

I am now an illegal immigrant. I have no wallet. I have no ID. No credit cards. And no cash. Thankfully, I still have my phone and my keys. Otherwise, it would be even worse.

Ive cancelled all my cards. While canceling my AMEX, the operator told me my card had just been used at a gas station. Fucker took it right to the pump to gas up.

I am literally furious. I cannot replace anything I’ve lost from L.A., except my AMEX (which they will send anywhere) and my license (Dave is sending me a duplicate license I had in my apartment in New York). I’ll have to convince someone I know to cash a check for me – for tomorrow, to get through, that’s what is going to have to happen.

Fun stuff, I know.

Grumps.

Car

I may have slightly mortgaged my manhood to do this, but at least it wasn't monetarily expensive. Yes, I know its kind of a girly car for a strapping youngish fellow like me, but I am a sucker for convertibles and this thing was a great deal and is in nice condition and looks decent for going to meetings where people judge you by this kind of thing. And it gets 33 miles to the gallon supposedly, which doesn’t’ suck for the environment or for my depleted wallet. And did I mention it was cheap. So if it isn’t the most macho of cars, forgive me. Maybe I am getting in touch with my feminine side. Anyway, when you come to LA I’ll pick you up from the airport in it, we’ll ride around with the top down and you’ll get it.

Where’s he been?

My hard drive died out of nowhere two weeks ago. It took them a week to figure out that the data was totally unrecoverable (ugh) and then it took another week for me to get my computer back with a new hard drive. I have it back, and its somewhat glitchy. I am paranoid now about losing more data, and I am even more paranoid about not having the computer for any further length of time.

Life has been pretty normal the last few weeks, despite the lack of computer. Well, its been normal for not having a computer, which is agony. Agony, I tell you. Agony. Enough (ok).

I am back now. I don’t have much to say right at the moment, but here’s a few snippets.

• Met George Clooney again the other night at the Stone Rose. He and I were both head bobblingly buzzed, and he kept telling me to get home saft. I hope he wasn’t telling me to leave. He was pleasant as he always is. I think he should run for governor.
• I had a weird LA club experience last weekend, which involved me being repeated kissed on the mouth by a young, comely lass whose acquaintance I’d never met. She was going to kiss me on the cheek after I took a picture for her and her friends, and I demurred. After four kisses over a ten minute period, she vanished.
• I’ve joined a gym in LA, and been very good about going. My roommate is a workout fanatic and I’ve been ten days out of twelve or thereabouts since I’ve joined. I’m feeling pretty healthy and mostly sore as a result.
• The hovel improvement works continue to mount, but more is still necessary. I am eagerly awaiting a new bathroom floor to take us out of the nineteenth century (seriously).
• I am also shopping for a car. For those who don’t know, LA is the used car capital of America. What I mean by that (and since I am the one who decided it’s the capital, this meaning is quite important) LA is the best place in the United States to buy a used car. Why? Good question. Because (1) everyone in LA has a car, (2) everyone wants a new car every two years, (3) so there are tons of cars for sale, making it a buyer’s market, and (4) the dry weather means that cars don’t rust, or have many of the other problems associated with wet and cold weather. I am thinking, convertible.

That’s about all for now.

Grumps

Finished Product

Well, it came out pretty well. Not my best effort ever, but a solid showing.

Now I Know Why Italians Have Big Kitchens

Trying my best to make lasagna in the hovel. Its not easy. Few pans, no counterspace, no cutting board (um, yeah), no pot covers. Multitasking like hell on every piece of cutlery and pottery. Its in the oven now, we shall see.

Grumps

Sex In The City Trailer

At risk of losing my status of card-carrying member of the He Man Woman Hater's Club, I watched the trailer for the Sex and the City movie. And it looks pretty funny. Decent. I'm not holding my breath waiting or anything, so don't get carried away.

And don't get me wrong, this doesn't mean I am going to go see it when it comes out. Its almost definitely a cabler for me. But having had, shall we say, an aversion to the concept when I heard about it being made, I have to reverse field a little bit. I tend not to like TV to Movie movies, and this one sounded a bit like squeezing the last drop out of the lemon. It may be, but I suppose that doesn't by itself make it a bad movie.

Grumps.

"My Brother" at the 2008 Image Awards

We won.

No we didn’t. But hey, at least we were nominated. John Sayles’ Honeydripper, which I haven’t seen, won the Best Indie Film Award. I am totally cool with losing to John Sayles.

The Awards were fun, and long. We did the red carpet (myself, and the four main cast members other than Vanessa). Did a few interviews, like Extra. Don’t know if they’ll be anywhere online.

Night before, at the party, got to hang with Vanessa for a while and catch up. She stayed for a while, usually she makes an appearance and she’s gone.

At the Awards themselves, the crowd was pretty stacked : Denzel (won twice), Vanessa (won), America Ferrara (won), Tyler Perry, bunches of famous folks. And the honorees were Stevie Wonder, who performed, Aretha Franklin and Ruby Dee. Quite cool.

But by the afterparty, I was a little tired of being in the Tux. I stayed for an hour or two at the Beverly Hills Hilton (which was quite a drive from the Shrine Auditorium which is way south and east of Beverly Hills).

Anyway, I am parablogging, which means that this is perfunctory and not a great post. Sorry bout that. Here's a pic of Christopher Scott and I from the afterparty.

It comes out on my birthday!

I spent much of my youth watching Indiana Jones movies, or waiting for Indiana Jones movies to come out. From the first of the movies, my closest childhood friend, David Brandewiede and I would ditch school when these movies came out (also for some others, like Gremlins, I remember ditching). We'd gather whatever money we had to buy tickets and head to Roosevelt Field mall in Garden City to see the opening day matinee. It was tradition, and there was very little discussion about which movies deserved us to ditch. We were very much on the same page (or, er, frame...of mind) on that, and there was no doubt, the Indiana Jones movies were at the top of the list. Raiders was 1981, and Temple of Doom was 1984. These years were primely influential in my wanting to be a storyteller, a filmmaker.

Watching this trailer, I got a euphoric excitement that felt like childhood again. Glee, I'd call it. The Last Crusade came out in 1989. Its been almost 20 years, but it looks like they've still got it.

The Great (and Grumpy Fave) Roy Scheider, RIP 11/10/32-2/10/08

They dont come any cooler. From Jaws to TFC to Fosse to Marathon Man. He will certainly be missed. And remembered.

Image Awards Brunch

Heading to the NAACP Image Awards Nominee’s Brunch to accept the nomination on behalf of “My Brother.” Seems weird that Tony Lover isn’t here, but I guess that I’ll be an acceptable subsitute.

This sets off a whole week of Image Awards stuff, the pre-gala, the Awards show, and the gala itself. Should be fun. I have my suit on today, got a tux for the Awards show (even though our category’s awards, Best Indie Film, isn’t part of the televised show on Fox, grump grump.)

Smell ya later.

Greg

Back in LA

Yes, I’ve left New York again on a one way ticket. I came yesterday morning, took some god-awful 6AM flight. The flight was super-bumpy, but I had some valium or something similar, so I was entirely freaking out despite the fact that it felt like the plane was literally skidding sideways across the sky at moments (mostly over Colorado). Scott D. and I grabbed the same flight. Got to my place in Hollywood, and then took a nap for a few hours, woke up, ran to the grocery store to stock up a bit on essentials. I took a few calls on various projects on which I am working, dealt with some work drama (since I have no personal life, I have little, if any, personal drama), and got to bed early.

Still jet-lagged, I woke at about 6:45, with the clear feeling that I would be sleeping no later (I am a late sleeper, and 9:30 is not out of the question on a regular night). Still, waking up in the chilly bungalow in LA early in the quiet AM wasn’t so bad. I finished two long neglected screenplays, did some other catchup, and its not quite ten AM. Had a little breakfast, and I’ll be jumping into the shower shortly to get ready for a meeting with Jonathan Shestack’s company (Airforce One, Dan In Real Life) about yet another project we’ve been putting together with those folks.

While the hovel has improved with some nice wine-colored paint since I went to NY in early January, courtesy of bungalow-mate Mike, it still needs more work. The paint job definitely helps though, and I got upgraded with a fancy car rental even though I paid for a compact. So things are OK. I am more pleased with being back than I thought I would be.

Lets see where the day takes me – gonna be a busy one.

Grumps.

Tellmehowitends

Gotta love it. How can you not. Rachel, ok, maybe you didnt love it, cambridge dweller that you are.

The streets are full of revellers. They are loud and happy and less rowdy than you might expect.

Woo hoo. Its over, the NY GIANTS are SUPERBOWL CHAMPIONS.

Not at all grumpy.