Whilst you're curled at the fire, drinking Italian chocolate and dreaming of starry nights, here's a little updated reading material to keep you toasty...
On the other hand, given some of the content, you might wanna grab another blanket about now!
Perhaps there's hope yet in the US (and around the world), if tonight's results give a clue.
Some are aware how utterly dire this election was: It was possibly the most telling election in history, being a time-critical barometer for the general disposition of the currently most powerful nation on earth.
Had the elections gone the other way, I firmly believe the US would have finally and inescapably been on a spiral track similar to that little country in Europe, c.1933. Just as their madness began, so too it appeared the US was slowly knitting its very own blanket of night.
But perhaps things are finally coming around, and maybe the mass populace of the US is at long last becoming aware of what's been done to them...and to the entire inhabited earth.
All that remains is to sweep-away the rest of the rotten chaff, and to get on with a new perspective.
Okay, it really is a little early for celebration, but with as bleak as things have been for the last six years, any forward movement is a beautiful thing. Example: Someone in the UK wrote to me this morning and said they'd actually shed tears of joy over this turn of events. See?
Yes, this "small victory" is a ray of sunlight over the tombs, and it's a chance to eliminate the foothold of fascism and skullduggery that's polluted affairs for too long a time.
By the way, I do understand not everyone in the US is happy about this. But I would never design to put tape over anyone's mouth, nor do I want it over mine: Let them have their say.
I mean, those who fall for the likes of Rush, O'Reilly, and especially Coulter are lost causes, anyhow.
What are Rush, O'Reilly, and Coulter, anyway, aside from parallels to that wacky "Balok" puppet from the second episode of "Star Trek"...the one Ron Howard's brother propped-up in the Fesarius' window?
I mean, c'mon! Could they be any more transparent? They're carnival barkers, dude. Totally. They are no more than carefully crafted caricatures, on par with the phony showmen who used to hang out the backs of wagons to sell sugar water.
Anyway, thank God for the change of wind. And let's hope it bears fruit.
A small update on our 35mm short (the one involving the annihilation of Jerusalem via stolen nuclear device):
The film has been post-production insanity, to say the least. However, it's turned-out to be quite a tale, including kidnap by gunpoint (of the editor!) in a brutal evening rain, and a possible act of sabotage by unknown persons at Paramount (studios).
Add to this a few incomprehensible technical issues (that apparently are a first amongst several seasoned editors) and then my being personally obstinate, and, well...we're a bit behind the calendar.
"Lance, there are some things I'm not going to be able to explain to you." - James Bradley
"Lightning Bolt! Lightning Bolt!"
No, it ain't Halloween...
Apparently, this is a group of LARP people (Live Action Role-Players). I'm told the video hails from early 2002, and that the little kilted guy who's busy "casting spells" is actually a middle-aged man.
Wow.
If you look around this so-called "blog," you'll note that I never post this kind of "chain letter" thing.
But in placing the video here, I'm hoping to hammer the cry "Lightning Bolt! Lightning Bolt!" into the global vernacular. Once the expression makes a permanent home in all languages, there will of course be every manner of variation that'll occur, from the skits of Saturday Night Live to the "Robocop-ian" reporting of Fox News.
And just imagine one such variation used in the next INDIANA JONES: Harrison Ford, in his wheelchair, throwing little balls of paper at Lucas while yelling, "Screenplay! Screenplay!"
He meets the General...who simply introduces himself by stating his military rank and title.
He knows who the General is, of course, and wants to know what he wants.
The General says it's thought that in a matter of months, the problems of the day will be solved by a solitary man who will defeat all other competitors.
This man will become very important...not only to France, but to the world.
And then later, to history itself.
The General says, "I'm fond of your determination and foolhardiness, sir. And your humility. Men of your kind are built to handle the tides of extreme fortune quite well, indeed."
He thanks him, but then respectfully asks the General why this conversation is taking place: What exactly is the point?
The General smiles enigmatically, says, "To give you something to think about. Don't give up! I will look favourably upon the man who destroys these age-old barriers. And I hope such a man will also look favourably upon me. Do you understand?"
Yes, he gets it.
He shakes the General's hand, excuses himself, walks away.
In the department of "wildly unanticipated," Paxton came by tonight and took Tom and I out to dinner, along with another cat named Jim, whom Bill had just picked-up at LAX.
Ironically, I knew Jim from my Vegas stuff. Bizarre. Hadn't a seen him since...2001? When I drove he and I from Vegas to LA that time?
Wow. Of course, you know Tom and Paxton are super-old friends. First time I'd met him, however.
Dude, it was like four college guys on the town. Bill even drove! Very well, I might add, though my back is still feelin' the seat, from all the acceleration and cornering.
He's one amazing guy, ol' Bill: Very gracious, incredibly intelligent, and plenty crazy (in the best possible sense). Insisted on paying for everything. Extremely courteous and accommodating to strangers and fans.
But also a man of confidence and opinion, make no mistake.
Oh, this is definitely not the situation I left you a message about, however. Should save that tale for next week, in person.
David Newsom and I took a completely random and totally unexpected lunch this afternoon with Jean-Pierre Jeunet and M Pitof, down at Café du Village. We must have sat and talked for an hour and a half.
I'd never had an exchange with Pitof before now. He's an extremely cool dude, a really smart guy with a blazing curiosity. He and I swapped numbers and e-mail, and I do want to talk with him about the movie of Joel Peissig's and mine, the one Jean-Pierre didn't want to do (see here). However, I find myself much more interested in just hanging and drinking with Pitof, with zero "business" bullshit to pollute.
Not often I have this kind of chemistry with someone I just met.
Which was funny: While explaining to Pitof (who's a stunt-pilot, by the way) about the mentioned movie project, I noticed JPJ leaning forward, incrementally! The more excited Pitof and I got about the discussion, the more JPJ seemed to be thinking, "Hmmm. Perhaps I should have another look?"
"This One? Yes? Maybe? Eh, Can I Sit Down Now?"
Hahahahahaha! It's an amusing thought, but no, he has quite enough to do, and besides, we thought of it first.
Sitting in this kind of extended intimacy with Jeunet, I found it intriguing that his oddly comedic mannerisms and energy reminded me a lot of my own. It's true that we have a similar, twisted sense of humour (remember his insanely funny New Year's e-mail?), but there was some other parallel going on. Something intangible, and fundamental. Something in the eyes.
Not to mention the nose. No, really. Compare his and my nose. Separated at birth, I tell you.
Then, there was trouble: In an embarrassing moment, Newsom and Jeunet were in the middle of a chat about the old days in New York city, when Sian Heder (David's awesome girlfriend, obviously) walked up with her pal, a guy whose name...
Whose name...
Whose name...
Okay, I know this guy. Not very well, but he's been around many times, and is in fact a close friend of Sian's. Kind of like her brother, at least by my personal reckoning.
But for reasons I still don't understand, when he approached the lunch table with Sian I could not remember his name! I felt like a complete dumbass because of it, for I kind of figured it I had the responsibility to make the introductions. And I would have, immediately...if only I could remember the guy's Goddamned name...!
Seriously, has that ever happened to you? The universe pulls some kind of instantaneous mind-blank trick, and you momentarily space? Like walking up to a chasm what ain't got a bridge? Temporarily forgetting how to shift from 3rd to 4th?
After the guy kind of stood there for a minute, Newsom finally sensed something amiss and offered-up the intros. To my huge relief.
Zach!!! Of course. God, of course.
Man. How could I forget Zach Quinto? As often as he's about? As memorable a cat as he is? How he reminds me so much of Jeff Forehand?
Anyway, after Sian had been properly introduced, I pointed her way and said to Jeunet, "Madame Réalisatrice."
Jeunet immediately perked-up and asked Sian, "Oh?! You are a director?" Thus began that conversation.
In a minute, a talk between four people turned into a meeting of six. But it was not to last, as we all had to go and get things done. Jeunet closed it by asking Sian to give me a copy of her excellent short film, "Mother," so I could then mail it to him.
And there it is.
L.
P.S. Sian saved the trouble and the postage by getting a copy of "Mother" from the house and handing it to Jeunet while he shopped for shoes, just a few minutes later. Resourceful girl, that one. Newsom's a lucky son-of-a-bitch, did I ever mention that?
THE RETURN of BJÖRK, EINAR ÖRN, and THE SUGARCUBES...
HOT OFF THE PRESSES:
Just got this note from the fabulous Einar Örn (former co-singer of The Sugarcubes) and wanted to pass it immediately along...
=====
This is a press release which we just received, we are stunned, surprised and sugarcubed!
START PRESS RELEASE: "Nearly 20 years ago The Sugarcubes put out on their own label 'Smekkleysa SM' their first single 'Birthday'. This release was the start to the splendid career of The Sugarcubes, and impressive releases of Icelandic artists in Iceland and abroad alike. These first steps made by The Sugarcubes have made and everlasting impact and influence on the Icelandic export of music.
"It is therefore with unbound joy we announce the 20th anniversary concert of Birthday and The Sugarcubes in Reykjavik on the 17th of November. The Sugarcubes will take to the stage for the first time in 14 years.
"All profit from the concert goes back into Smekkleysa SM who will continue to work on a non-profit basis for the future betterment of Icelandic music and artists." END PRESS RELEASE.
Regular ticket sale will be announce very soon we are told.
Wanna go? Check icelandair.net to book your ticket! World domination or death! Yes, thank you!
Dark room, trees in centre. Broken circular wall around trees.
Trees are unnaturally black with leaves of a living silver foil.
There's a hole on the ground in the centre of the trees, with stream water moderately rushing-in from either side. A small shaft here goes down to an abandoned winery.
Very cold in shaft and winery. Water hits polished rock floors, slight misty spray as it runs and collects itself into a tiny crack ringing the room.
Winery and everything else to this point is composed of mostly blacks and extremely dark greys, with varying sheen and texture.
Winery has two-hundred bottles, all of fine vintage.
One bottle is from off-world.
Outside the room: Staircases at sides of steep waterfalls. Stairs go down about 75' (22m) each, then crumble to nothing.
These have no significance, having been part of a project long unfinished and forgotten.
With all the stuff going on of late, a lot of you have asked how Cira Felina Bolla and I actually got to know one-another (as she did seem to come outta nowhere).
A long story, but a good one.
Let's see...
It all started February 2005, on Stage 14 at 20th Century Fox Studios, Los Angeles. During this period, I was often invited out to the set of "House, MD" by my one-time mentor and employer, Roy H. Wagner, ASC (the "House" Director of Photography at the time).
Actually, it all started before February 2005, so lemme roll things back just a bit, to my very first experience on the "House, MD" stages.
===
To preface this tale, you have to understand that I'd never seen an episode of "House". In fact, the only thing I knew about the show was Bryan Singer's involvement, and that it had something to do with doctors.
So, my first visit to the set (January 2005) went something like this: I entered the main area, which was constructed like a hospital interior. After looking around and winding-up at craft services, Roy finally emerged. We took an extensive tour, since I'd managed to arrive exactly at lunch, and he was skipping.
I'd seen and been on a lot of "hot" TV stages before, but these were extremely impressive: Just about every shooting contingency had been considered, and the lighting rigs were equally awesome (no surprise, with Roy in charge).
Roy then left me to myself, and went off to run an errand. While I was wandering the halls, I noticed some guy walking toward me, hobbling on a cane. Decent-looking dude, beard-stubble. Seemed familiar.
He limped closer, gave a smile and a nod, continued on his way.
My first thought was, "Shame about the leg." Then I noticed more people filtering-in, only one of whom I recognised, that being the guy from DEAD POET'S SOCIETY. At the time, I couldn't remember his name...and I still can't.
Roy returns, he and I make-way to "Video Village," the place on a film/TV production where the camera monitors (video taps) are made available for the director, producer, cinematographer, and other above-the-line personnel. And when not in their trailers, the actors typically sit in this area, between takes.
Also here is the beard-stubble guy from before, the one with the cane. He eyes me suspiciously, but eases back in his chair when he sees I'm with Roy.
A few minutes later, the cane-toting actor leaves. At that moment, Roy starts introducing me to everyone in Video Village, as is customary to do when bringing a total stranger into the fold. Conversations follow.
Roy then asks if I'd met Hugh. Hugh, who? Hugh Laurie, the star of the show. I say no.
Then, the cane-toting guy returns. Roy indicates this as being Hugh.
Oh, really?
Roy says he'll introduce me after the next shot. Then everyone clears out to go and get said shot, save for myself and Hugh, who's looking me over curiously.
Finally, Hugh says to me, "So, what's your story?" His accent is sort of Chicagoan, or maybe New York meets Philly, or something.
Okay, normally when a person asks a question like this, it's confrontational, as in, "Who the hell are you?" However, Hugh's tone was inquisitive and journalistic, not in the least challenging.
"Story?" I ask.
"Yeah, story," he says. "Everybody's got a story. What's yours? How do you fit around here? Producer? Writer?"
"No, just an old, old friend of Roy's. Hanging-out all day, catching-up, that sort of thing."
"Okay," he says. "Then, what's your game? What are you after out here in Hollywood?"
From there we got on very well, discussing the various things going on in my world and in his. He was also extremely complimentary about Roy's work (no surprise), and underlined how happy he was that Roy was on the show.
In a few minutes, Roy returns. He says to Hugh, "Hey, Hugh. I'd like you to meet Lance Mazmanian."
Hugh gives one of his wry smiles and says, "Me and Lance go way back."
Anyway, I know what you're thinking right about now:
But Hugh is British.
Indeed, he is. Very. But, he was remaining in character at all times on the set that day. Which some actors do, of course. And it was a total trip to later find-out how extremely different he really is, out of school. Especially since I didn't have a clue.
In fact, for months I actually thought he had a bum leg...for real.
And with that...
===
So, yeah, I met Cira Felina Bolla on a February 2005 visit to "House, MD," and hung with her each visit thereafter.
See, she was on the show as Roy Wagner's apprentice, having been enrolled in a cinematography mentorship via Women in Film. Cira's studies required her to follow Roy virtually everywhere in the "House" inner and outer sanctum. Some call this "shadowing," and the term is appropriate.
After meeting Cira on the set for the first time, she and I hooked-up immediately upon my arriving for subsequent visits. We'd spend all day together discussing film history, light, camera moves, and coffee. Sometimes, "House" cast members would join us. Or, "House" crew (like the bad-ass herself, Troi Horton).
One day, these "meetings" of ours finally spilled-out into reality, via the Bourgeois Pig and Karma Café. And we discovered an excellent personal and professional chemistry between us.
The rest is (ongoing) history.
For my portion, Cira is a rare force in this world, and especially in the business of movies and TV. Her spirit is something like a pair of shining suns, her mind like a steel trap.
And Christ, can she cook!
Add to this an excess of talent, the gift of diplomacy, a masterful sense of collaboration, and a knack for producing...
Back in 1992, I used to go to his place once a week or so, to help him out with a few things. We enjoyed an excellent rapport, got along smashingly.
A lot of late nights together, as it were.
It was not to last.
You see, on a particular visit to his studio (one crystalline Los Angeles eve), I caused LC to lose a huge stash of his personally-created, digital still-life images.
These were his "gems," as he called them: Nudes, table-settings, portraits, landscapes.
His originals.
The only copies on earth.
All of them painstakingly crafted using the latest Macintosh tools (of the era).
All gone.
Forever.
Oy...
These works were incredibly precious to him, which I certainly understand. God only knows where they might've ended up by now: MoMA, LACMA, Musée du Louvre...
Without a doubt, Cohen shared an equal portion of the fault, though I totally admit that I should've been more careful.
It really didn't matter: He was utterly devastated. Mortified. Enraged.
In a fit of tears, he threw me out...and I've neither seen nor spoken to him since.
Understand that at the time I had no idea who the guy actually was, even after all the hours together: To me, he was just some artistic older cat who'd cut a few obscure vinyls back in the day.
And yes, I was seriously bugged about the situation, angry with myself and with him...since, as I say, we were both to blame for the file fuck-up.
Not until 2006 did I come to realise what Cohen's work has meant to the canvas of musical history...this when, sitting at the Sunset 5, a trailer for LEONARD COHEN: I'M YOUR MAN hit the screen.
I am back from the country that dub tom selleck movies - try pairing him up with kevin kline and you'll have a great evening. I am not used to it, so only amused and not able to focus really. sun was good! I can't believe how warm it can get. have no talent for it, but it was fun for a while. recommendations: tomatoes and coffee. I am telling you. it doesn't get any better.
