I'm still reeling around from yesterday's screening of "Guy" and
laughing about all the fuss over Vincent D'Onofrio, who's trying to act
like an ordinary dude. Here's the scoop on him. He's teamed up with Dan
Ireland in a little production company. You may recall that they made "The
Whole Wide World" before "Guy."
So Vincent is here to promote "Guy," and I go to his room to interview
him. It was like walking through a wrinkle in time and running into Mrs.
Whatsit as a photo-journalist. This strange little woman was begging Vincent
to take off his shirt and stretch out on the bed for the camera. He sat
down cross-legged and looked down to check his crotch. She began filming
his shoes. Nice loafers but not Gucci, y'know? Anyway, she informs us
that she writes erotic poetry and Vincent smiles and acts like this is just
all too normal for words. I videotaped it, because it's only normal in
the context of people pushing stars around at film festivals.
Other than that, they took the press to a fabulous spa for lunch. The menu
had a breakdown of calories for each item, and we were given complimentary
back-rubs and promised more if only we would come back for a day. My body
could use it. Most of the press-bodies were in need, but time-time-time
is not on our side. We ate and ran, but even Michael Musto looked longingly
at the whirlpool and mud-baths we could have indulged in. Musto was at
his boringly best behavior, and nobody wanted to be at his table after he
stood quietly by for a lecture on the history of the spa and the jocks who
frequent it. Why do we keep Musto around if not to turn around such situations?
That's only a rhetorical question, Michael. We keep you around for your
art.
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