9/24/22
Newsletter107
The Crack of Dawn
In 1990-91 I wrote for Film Threat Magazine. One month I wrote the cover story about the Oscars. At some point thereafter, I received a phone call from a British woman who was the talent coordinator for a British talk show, Tonight With Jonathan Ross, the British version of The Tonight Show. The British woman explained that Jonathan Ross would be broadcasting from L.A. for a week leading up to the Oscar telecast, and would I care to appear on the show as an “Oscar expert” (Jonathan read Film Threat). I said sure. She then questioned me for a half hour about the Oscars, then said they’d be in touch. They called back, said I was booked, and the taping would be at whatever time. A week later she called back to say I was unbooked; they didn’t need me, they had Ringo Starr instead. I asked, “What does Ringo know about the Oscars?” She said, “He doesn’t. He’s Ringo.” OK, fine. Two weeks later I’m smoking weed with my buddy when the phone rings and it’s that same British woman. Ringo cancelled at the last minute, was I still available? “Sure,” I said, “when?” She said, “Right now. We’re in a limo on our way to pick you up.” I showered and dressed as fast as I could and the limo arrived.
The show was being taped in the backyard of a huge Beverly Hills mansion. I arrived to find a big film crew and sixty seated guests. I was told to wait in the green room, which was the guest house. There was a huge spread of deli meats and I made myself a sandwich, watching the frenetic hubbub around me and thinking, “I’m a fucking guest; I don’t have to set up equipment.” Just then Michelle, the art director on my first two movies, saw me, stepped up and asked, “What job are you doing on the show?” I grinned and said, “I’m a guest.” She looked stunned, “For what?” I said, “I’m an Oscar expert.”
Michelle left to do her job, then another of the show’s guests stepped up beside me. It was Jamie Lee Curtis attired in a full-length, tight-fitting, blue dress. She had recently made the movie Perfect (1985), regarding having a perfect body, and she did. We shook hands and she had an iron grip. She couldn’t have been more pleasant as we watched this big crew set up. Another guest was young Dennis Leary. The next thing you know I was hustled into the mansion, to a waiting area with Jamie Lee Curtis, where a PA stood waiting with a walkie talkie. Please keep in mind that two hours earlier I was smoking weed with my buddy. I was petrified. Jamie Lee went on before me and knocked the crowd out upon her entrance – she looked great. The PA pointed at me and said, “You’re on.” I went out and gave my predictions for the 1991 Oscars. I logically deduced and stated, “Silence of the Wolves can’t win, it’s too violent. I mean, Silence of the Lambs,” which got a good laugh, at my expense, but a laugh’s a laugh. Therefore, in my completely stoned reasoning, I went on to declare that the only possible choice for Best Picture was Beauty and the Beast. Then, thank the gods, it was over. I still have it on VHS.
Of course Silence of the Lambs, or wolves, or whatever, won Best Picture that year. Given the choice, I’d still take Beauty and the Beast.
Little town, in a quiet village/Every day like the one before/Little town full of little people/Waking up to say, “Bon jour, bon jour.”
That’s the first song in Beauty and the Beast.