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Josh:
Sep. 2, 2001
"Non, Don, Non!"
I think maybe it was a few moments ago, when
I mixed my Metamucil with Evian, that I truly felt I had arrived
in France. Although _this_ moment is pretty cool as well, with "The
Sopranos" playing on the TV with French subtitles. ("C'est
débile!" Tony Soprano just grunted in disgust.) Jake
and I are staying at the fabulous Normandy Barrière hotel
in Deauville, France, where our film is going to show later today
(it's 3:20 a.m.) as part of the Deauville Festival of American Films
(or maybe it's American Cinema). We took an Air France jumbo jet
over here from San Francisco, leaving on Friday evening and arriving
in Paris on Saturday afternoon. Jacob and I were in aisle seats
about three miles apart on a totally packed plane. My seat, as usual,
was about two-thirds the width of my actual self, but I made myself
fall asleep for most of the flight.
Our Town Car driver took us at 110 mph past
Paris (tip of Eiffel Tower!), a sixteenth-century castle (battlements!),
and some sheep (Baa!) as Jake and I alternately slept and woke and
slept in the back seat. Deauville, a coastal resort, is lovely and
balmy and occupied by very rich people and those who serve them.
After a long, fitful nap in my room I hazarded a walking tour of
the area surrounding our hotel. Our "publiciste" (my coinage)
had given us V.I.P passes to clip on our shirts, so I clipped mine
on and headed out. Changed $60 for about 3 million francs. Went
next door to the big casino. Passed a "dinner theater"
where showgirls were prancing and men wearing spangly pink vests
were lip-synching. Went through an enormous atrium where hundreds
of people were playing the slots. Then into an "exclusive"
party thrown by Universal Pictures for "The Fast and The Furious,"
a film I had not yet caught at my local art house. Had a couple
of canapés and orange juices mixed with Perrier. Watched
beautiful people enter and look quizzically at scruffy me before
moving quickly away. Had ironic/rueful thoughts about the concentration
of wealth in this town versus the suffering of the many. Ate a couple
pieces of what my people would call lox, and headed out of the casino.
("Holy shit!" Carmela Soprano just exclaimed.Subtitle:
"Mon de Dieu!")
I saw, in the deep dark night, a red carpet
a couple of blocks away, gleaming under spotlights. Turns out it
was outside the enormous theater that "Haiku Tunnel" will
be playing in. At that moment, "The Fast and the Furious"
was showing (strange that the screening would be at the same time
as the party thrown for it, no?) -- and people with little disposable
cameras were standing behind ropes, apparently waiting for stars
to depart the theater along the red carpet. It was an eerie scene,
with the fans behind the ropes, and cigarette-smoking limo drivers
idling nearby, and burly armed guards flanking the red carpet itself.
Our publiciste had told me that my V.I.P. pass would get me in "anywhere!"
-- so, after kind of loitering with the fans for a few minutes,
I ducked under the rope and moved toward the red carpet. A guard
immediately intercepted me, as fans and limo drivers alike awaited
by imminent arrest or decapitation. Trembling slightly, I held up
the pass attached to my shirt-pocket. "Does this get me in
here?" I asked the sentry. He examined it, then quickly nodded
yes and returned to his post. As I, alone, walked the red carpet
into the building, I heard a driver exclaim something that sounded
like the French version of "Good goin', fella!"
I caught about the last half of "The
Fast and the Furious," but the part I saw was plenty fast and
contained as much fury as you might hope to find in an entire movie.
It was also très loud. And the theater was packed. I tried
to imagine "Haiku Tunnel" playing there about 14 hours
later. There are fewer fast cars in "Haiku Tunnel" than
in "The Fast and the Furious."But there are, I think,
many more _words_ in "Haiku" (a typical speech in "The
F. & the F.": "No, Don, No!" -- which the subtitle
seamlessly conveyed as "Non, Don, Non!"). ... Will there
actually be people there at our screening? Will the subtitles convey
the nuances of our script? (In Europe the film will be called "I'm
Just a Secretary," by the way.) And why was I enjoying "The
F.& the F." so much? Maybe Jake and I should have put a
couple of car races in "Haiku," and some gunfights, instead
of settling for a single exploding envelope-moistener.
These thoughts occupied me as I strode back
to the hotel, where I ordered a snack and coffee from the 24-hour
room service and -- not having anything smaller in French currency
-- tipped the guy what I think (to judge by his expression) was
way too many francs. Now, fortified by my Meta-Evian cocktail (which
is, by the way, part of my strategy to undo the Imodium that got
me through the Air France flight), I will attempt a (nearly) full
night's sleep, and try not to obsess about this afternoon's French
première. (Yes, that's right, Jake: "première"!
I've figured out how to do _that_ accent, as well! Be very afraid.
...)
-- Josh
K.
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