As this is my first entry here on the indieBlog, I’d like to say that I’m really enjoying the job so far. It’s definitely, like, my sixth or seventh best job ever. How could it not be? All the burnt coffee I want (free!), girl-dates with Darrien (also free!), more tickets to films at the Los Angeles Film Festival than anyone else I know (take that!), and the adoration of several totally uncreepy indie filmmakers who like to call and let me know they’re looking at my picture as we speak. (That’s great! Please do that more!)*
ANYWAY, so after work yesterday, I had my first of three girl-dates this week with Darrien. We were to attend the Opening Night Gala Screening of The Devil Wears Prada.
After inhaling some vaguely chicken tasting skewers down in Westwood, DMG and I cut through the back of a press line, where we saw Adrian Grenier. (See how he’s lovingly caressing the arm of my glasses while he tells me a secret in that picture?) Inside, we met up with some friends from The American Pavilion.
Then the speeches started.
Now, I’m sure this comment will come back to haunt me when it’s my own film premiere, but come on. Is it necessary to delay the screening even more so a room full of people can clap for Intel? And Target? And PopSecret? Apparently. (There should be a suggestion box for these things. I vote for one blanket clap at the end.) The director, David Frankel, was able to keep it to a manageable length. Nothing flashy (after all, this isn’t Vegas and he isn’t Celine Dion or Jesus) and funny enough. After his introduction, security paraded the attending cast down the aisle, right past me. I very nearly gave into the devil (DMG) on my left shoulder, who tried to convince me it’d be a good idea to leap onto Adrian. (It’s better to be wanted for acting like a psycho than not be wanted at all, right? Right?) In the end it was the angel (security guard) on my right whose presence convinced me to keep my hands to myself. For now. The movie was exactly as I expected it to be, cute and entertaining, with an excellent performance by Meryl Streep.
After the film, my date and I went to the party, where I marveled at her ability to pick people I should know out of a crowd of hundreds. She gets into this zone, and you can almost see her internal rolodex flipping furiously. The party itself was well attended and certainly well stocked with the traditional liver-pickling fare, where DMG created a new drink. I don’t remember what was in the cocktail, but I do remember I finished it in record time. We mingled and I was schooled on many of the players in the business before we decided it was time to go home. Tonight we see The Descent at the Ford Ampitheater.
Ok, well that was relatively painless. You can look forward to more posts by yours truly, because that’s what God wants, the way he wants Jessica Simpson to sing and George W. Bush to be president forever and ever!
*Internet sarcasm!
