Quentin Tarantino was up here for the Toronto Festival of Festivals to present Four Rooms and take in films.
At the packed screening of Wong Kar-wai's Fallen Angels, he was there. The reserved seating was full when he showed up with his girlfriend (Grace?) and the film's distributor had to kick two other distributors out of their seats to make room for him (although she told me he said he'd sit up in the upper seats that were empty, but they would have no part of that, even though he would be more than happy to). He sat in the seats right behind me and during the screening his shrill laughter was like a lone beacon to tell other people where to laugh.
You could tell he was enjoying it, especially since he is distributing Wong's Chungking Express, one of the reasons why our theater, Golden Classics (see CdC #2 for more—Ed.), closed because of Hong Kong film rights being snagged up due to his interest.
During the closing credits, some fanboy approached him and Tarantino told him to wait until the film was over before trying to talk to him. Once the lights went up, a mob of fans started flocking towards him with one Cineplex flunkie standing between him and the crowd yelling, "No autographs for security reasons! Give me a break!"
I was the first one up there before the fans started crowding in and I quickly said that I didn't want an autograph and got through!? I went up to the big QT and said, "Excuse me, but back at the '92 Res Dogs press conference, I gave you an article I wrote on HK cinema--"
"Sorry, I don't really remember," he said, quickly brushing me off and nervously eyeing the approaching mob.
"It doesn't matter if you remember, I just want to get copies of my HK fanzine to you. Which publicist should I go to?" As soon as I said that his eyes lit up and he focused his attention on me.
"Oh, that would be great! Tell you what, just go to--" At that point he was cut off and I was washed away in a tidal wave of rabid fanboys and girls on the verge of idol ejaculation.
Not one to admit defeat of any kind, I went to the press office and talked to a friend working under the guise of publicist and he directed me to someone he knew in the guest office who then directed me to the hotel concierge. I took two envelopes (one also for Robert Rodriguez), each containing issue one and two of Asian Eye, plus a pack of Better Tomorrow 3 postcards. Hell, maybe I'll get a friendly little thank you note in the mail!
As soon as I gave the packages to the guy behind the desk, I walked back into the lobby only to see QT strolling out the doors with his blonde and leggy girlfriend. I whipped back to the desk, grabbed the envelope and ran out of the door in pursuit. Two fanboys were stalking the doorway only to get turned away from the "reluctant" star, who told them "No autographs."
Mind you, Tarantino wouldn't have this problem if he had chosen to remain more anonymous instead of sticking his mug all over his own movies. He could also avoid all the bad acting backlash that is surfacing on the media and is bound to reach a fever pitch once he takes up an intolerable amount of screen-time in From Dusk Till Dawn.
One word, Quentin: "cameo." Word up, baby. If you had taken the role of Buddy Holly in Pulp Fiction and let a real actor like Steve Buscemi show you how it's done in the role of Jimmy you might learn something instead of continuing to whine out your lines and pretend you're the tough guy you never were.
So here I am running after him, a good 12 feet between us, calling out, "Excuse me, Mr. Tarantino!"
As soon as he saw me clutching this envelope, he quickened his pace and held out his hands in a "No!" gesture and started repeating, "No scripts. Sorry, I don't take any scripts! I said NO scripts!"
Let's try this one more time.
"It's not a script; it's just my fanzine on HK films. I thought you might get a kick out of it."
Once again, reality and enthusiasm clicked behind those eyes and he apologized, "Oh, yeah, from last night!"
"Would you like it now, or should I give it to the concierge?"
"Yeah, just give it to them and I should get it. That would be cool. Thanks!"
I proudly marched back past the fuming fanboys who couldn't understand why I was smiling when the big QT wouldn't accept my package. Back to the desk I went.
Whether he got it or not hangs in the air but at least I made the effort. Shit! Thank god I didn't have a script! Imagine all the poor midnight screenwriters running away from QT with more tears streaming down their face than Red Sovine, rejected by their hero! "Hell, he was one of us once," the poor broken-hearted scribes must sob to one another. Man, how does QT sleep at night?
Here's the scoop on the ticket system to the Fest. It ran from Sept 7th to 17th with tickets going on sale on the first and, within a matter of 24 hours, most of the films selling out. There are usually rush seats available on the day of but you only get a crack at these if you line up for an hour or two (depending on the show) before the curtains go up. There was only one screening of Four Rooms so tix were in heavy demand.
Press tickets go on sale 3 days after public sales and it was already sold out, so I didn't get one. Oh well, catch the press screening and have a couple of hours to kill before the midnight screening.
As it turned out later, however, the press screening had to be cancelled since the print was not ready the day before the public screening! The screening had to be moved to a bigger theater to accommodate press and sales/industry folk. Signs quickly went up announcing that the screening was a "work in progress." Uh-oh.
The line up for rush tickets was at least 150 at one point and resembled a hockey game with fans in face paint holding up signs asking for tickets. Hmmm. Guess most of these fans couldn't read the "work in progress" signs or realize the obvious fact that it will be released a few weeks later!
But the best part was yet to come.
I had just come out of a 7pm screening of Hal Hartley's Flirt (I recommend sticking around for the first 40 minutes then leaving. You have been warned by a Hartley fan) and had to drain all the bad coffee out of my system when I heard a guy laughing to himself at a urinal.
Usually not one to speak to a man in such a private moment, I was compelled to ask, "What's so funny?"
He held back his laughter in order to zip up and replied, "I just sold my Four Rooms ticket for fifty dollars!" [$40 US—Ed.]
Unbelievable! As I walked down to the line-up of actual ticket holders (the best place for socializing and comparing reviews during the fest), anyone of my friends I saw with tickets I quickly convinced them that fifty dollars a ticket for a work in progress, about to be released in a matter of weeks, was a wise profit to be gained from the unwise.
My friends got between twenty-five and forty dollars and were able to bring joy to obsessed fanboys' faces. Reviews from those who saw it were very disappointing, saying that only the Rodriguez episode was any good.
So, in the end, the fans were able to see QT arrive in limo and paparazzi flash with Drew Barrymore on his arm and ask the most inane questions during the Q&A session.
Fan-gal: "I'm thirty-nine, single and have seen all (What a taxing feat!) your films, many, many times. I would like to ask you if you are free for a home-cooked dinner?!"
QT: "Sorry, I think I'm a little busy." The ever-polite snub!!!
Another fan asked about a project he had heard Tarantino's name involved with and asked about the status.
"Well, maybe if you asked the person who's actually doing it... (giggle, giggle)" he quipped with that little snotty laugh.
Word of Tarantino's rude behavior is already out! Talking to someone I know who works for Edward Pressman who said Tarantino and Wong Kar-wai act like spoiled kids.
Word from the Los Angeles Fangoria Weekend of Horrors has Tarantino scheduled to show up on that Sunday with his name and picture spread all over the LA Times entertainment section.
He showed up almost an hour late, saw the line of fans waiting for him, turned around and left.
"Quentin Tarantino has left the building," came the announcement and the people went berserk!
No more than 10 minutes went by before rumor had placed Tarantino in the dealers' room buying bootleg Jackie Chan (which QT undoubtedly mispronounced with authority, "Jackie Chawn") videos.
Those who asked to take pictures of him were dissed. "If I do it for you I'll have to do it for everyone else."
He allowed people to take pictures of him shopping. Oh joy.
Other star sightings at the Toronto fest were Matt Dillon making a mad dash for the doors after The Big Bang Theory. Oh, by the way ladies, what a paunch the guy has! I bet he has taken a whole slate of courses in order to suck that in and depict a skinny drug addict!
Our local fanzine machine, Glenn Salter, who did the definitive 1992 Harvey Keitel fanzine opus, "You Shoot Me in a Dream, You'd Better Wake Up and Apologize!" (it's worthy of being published in hard-cover), finally got to meet his idol, who was blown away by how they got ahold of information and photos on all the obscure European works during the late seventies and eighties.
Co-author and autograph hound Dave Shaw brought forth a Keitel photo to get signed. Mr. K took a long look, then proclaimed, "This is from Nemo! I don't even have anything from this! Do you mind if I keep this photo?" How could you say no?! Nemo, by the way, is a 1984 French update of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea co-produced by John Boorman and starring Jason (son of Sean) Connery, Katrine & Charlie Boorman with Harvey as a masked Zorroish avenger, Mr. Legend. It was picked up for US distribution by Columbia, renamed Dream One and shelved, "depriving," Glenn notes, "North American audiences of Harvey's swordplay prowess, not seen since The Duellists."
Just a note to autograph hounds—Mr. K has, in the past year, refused to sign any photo with a gun in it!
Other star meetings: Hal "Trash Compactor" Kelly asked for an Abel Ferrara interview for The Addiction, but was turned down for not being mainstream press. After telling him that, the publicist turned with a smile, and handed him an invite for the pre-screening gathering in one of the hotel rooms at the Sutton Place Hotel (home of the Fest HQ). Despite the coke-snorting rumours of Abel in our local metal/grunge dive, The Bovine Sex Club, after the Bad Lieutenant screening in '92, Hal reports that Abel was very pleasant and rather shy, but granted Hal some time to answer some questions on his earlier film efforts. And, always the lady killer, Hal got in some time with the very down-to-earth Lili Taylor.
Film viewing total for the fest was 48 features (not including shorts)—my personal record of 61 remains unbroken.