Stolen Summer ------------- Went to the premiere in Chicago. The Project Greenlight series on HBO was essentially the making of Stolen Summer. Basically, they had a script search and gave some nobody a million dollars to produce their movie. The film was better than I thought, though it was contrived, manipulative, and sappy. What else would you expect from an insurance salesman (Pete Jones, the guy who wrote it). Pete Jones' opening speech was contrived, sappy, manipulative, and kiss-ass, so I was justifiably afraid. Everyone was saying 'It's so cool that Pete Jones loves Chicago and thanked his wife and kids for helping him out". Sure, that might mean something if it were not totally contrived. Pete Jones sold the hell out of his ass to get this film just like he peddles insurance. Then he has the gall to whine stuff like "they are all out to get me" instead of telling everyone on the entire set to fuck off and get with the program (i.e., take control of the set that you are directing). What a pussy. Anyway, there were some good parts to the film like the conflict between the eldest Catholic son and his father when they are threatening each other, but for the most part the film was lame. I really wanted to hurl when the kid said 'pray to Danny'. Gak! I could hear people all around me sniffing into their lacey hankies when the Jewish kid bought it, but I felt like a heel since the waterworks were dry & I was just shaking my head from side to side thinking 'christ, this is so formulaic'. Other stuff that sucked about this film: -I never bought the whole quest thing. All of the kids I know only give a shite about themselves and nintendo -The eldest Catholic son does not look like the product of two blonde, blue-eyed people. Maybe the mom was breaking up with a Hassidic Jew right before she married Mr. O'Malley Decent stuff about the film: -it shows how kids perpetuate stupidity by latching on to the asinine things that adults say such as 'our way is the only right way & the rest of the people will fry in hell'. -it perpetuates the "stereotype" that Irish Catholic males drink a shitload of cheap beer. btw, couldn't they get an actual beer company to front the million bucks to show their beer label on screen given the number of times you see a beer can on the beach or in O'Malley's paw? The film sold out in every other way, so why should they balk here? At any rate, the theatre itself was really cool- the 'Chicago', one of the oldest and most elaborate I have been in. With cool inlay work including statues and old, nested box seats with red, dripping, poufy velvet trim. I love the old pagan theme theatres with the griffins and golden statues of chicks with offering bowls wearing something flimsy that looks like a wet piece of gauze slapped on and blowing against them, with flowers in their hair and bare feet skipping lightly on the surface of the earth. The House of Blues is cool like that also. The old box seats are amazing with a tier of gilded box seats and then behind those, harlequin doors open onto steps leading to another tier at the crows' nest level that fans out into a whole other floor with big cushy velvety round couches. The premiere party was at the House of Blues with the most fabulous spread of chow that I have ever seen with free Sam Adams and soft drinks. I love the facade above the stage with the various lighted religious icons and symbols saying how all religions are pieces of one whole that is really the same cool thing and that diversity is the true beautiful bonus of it. At this thing, Matt Damon's hand touched my hand (ooh) before he was mobbed by a bunch of fans. This chick came up & stood practically on top of the dude without a word and her friend flashed a picture, then they switched and a bunch more people started doing it saying the most inane things like "I got you, Matt", tapping their camera. Weird. I was was blinded by the first flash and skittered away like a cockroach at the flick of the lightswitch. Did not see Ben Affleck, though I did look for the rumored umbilical cord on Matt but did not see one. At the next premiere party, I am going to write 'W/A' (Writer/Actor) on my forehead in large marker so that people who are looking for directors or producers do not have waste their time talking to me. Then they will know without having to expend time/breath that I am a complete waste of time and they will not have to be disappointed that _I_ can't help _them_ get work. This is called 'Networking', but it could be done much more efficiently, i.e., with my brilliant idea of forehead labels. I really have no problem with people not wanting to talk to me if they are looking specifically for contacts that can help them. It is a networking party with limited time. I can see people moving on after they find out that I am not what they seek. I just have a problem when people are rude about it. I have had to tell some people where it is at on this & have no problem being the tool whereby their understanding of the universe is edified. This chick has the balls to say to me "Oh. This conversation is a complete waste of time. I thought you were so-and-so, the director" (which is stupid because nobody looks like me). I say, "So _I'm_ wasting _your_ time because _you_ made a mistake. If you want to talk to a director, talk to that dude over there; he has a film in Sundance this year". Chick stands there predatorially eyeballing the dude so I say, "If you say 'thank you' (to me), I won't refer to you as 'the dickhead by the fruit tray' in my review". She gives a look that would wilt the scorpion king and bolts over there. Ingrate. A bunch of grubbing, petty fucks who would pawn their grandmother's left nut to get their script produced. Makes me sick. Though I did actually meet some COOL people there (said Sundance guy, a director chick, and another writer, although he was a moody little fucker :-)..), so the thing wasn't a total wash, though they were definitely in the minority in the vast dog-eat-dog pack of kiss-ass cut-throat mediocrity. Also, these groupie chicks were cool. The House of Blues security let them in because they are totally hot and wearing sleazy clothes. This chick had painted-on black pants and a sheer blouse slit to the navel with a ton of beads and a big black furry hat. I'm like, "So are you going to blow Ben Affleck or tell his fortune?" These chicks are asking me personal questions about Matt Damon since they saw me "talking" to him. "Is he gay?" I say, "Shite, I don't know the guy that well (which is true). I always just assumed that he and Ben were drug buddies." "Well, did you get a VIBE?" "Odd, but I didn't get a vibe either way, though he did reach for my hand after his head slid down from my shoulder to my elbow". "Girl, stop, I'm getting moist" (fanning herself and swooning). It's true; these chicks are in complete fanboy revelry oohing and aahing over my embellishments. They are basking in every moment, every encounter, every sighting of, Matt and Ben. What's Matt doing now, what's he drinking, and who is he talking to? More rampant speculation and minute dissective analysis. Then they discuss what celebrities they would do in what order on what drugs (or no drugs) . Then about some salon hair thing, a sale at the Gap, and how they can't believe that so-and-so (that old thing) is here wearing THAT old thing. Just like a pajama party. whee! Viewing parameters ------------------ Since this film is largely a rehash of stuff already seen in other movies, I can't recommend it for independent film buffs. If you like sappy mainstream movies, then check this out. It is a real tear-jerkoff. But if you want to save seven bucks, wait for it to come out on HBO.