Where's the Glam?
Well, SIFF's opening-night flick was subtitled, for the love of jump-roping Jesus, and my attention span is that of many, many coked-up gnats. I didn't catch much. It was called Valentin, which I suspect translates as "The 14th of February" in Esperanto or whatever. There was a goofy little kid with enormous eyewear and a kink for older women in it. He liked blondes, mostly.
And the stars were definitely not out.
What? They couldn't at least drag the myopic little kid out of Bolivia or wherever and force him to waddle across the stage so people could feel like they were getting their money's worth? The writer/ director is what we got. The writer/director! I'm sure he's a very nice writer/director, but... does cinema not involve celebrities anymore? Or have we evolved past such fluff?
Oh, please, God, no.
Aside from a Jeff Goldblum cameo at the Egyptian scheduled for June 8, SIFF 2003's Who's Who reads more like Who da Fu'? But rest assured: I'll be perma-VIPing in the SIFF VIP suite at the W, so if the barest suspicion of true fabulous rears its glamorous head, you'll be the second or third to know. Swear.
And yes, I said Jeff Goldblum, notable for starring opposite the incomparable Miss Cyndi Lauper in the 1988 supernatural-thriller-slash-romantic-comedy Vibes, and for trying to barf on Geena Davis. And it's ironic. Jeff also costarred in last year's SIFF kickoff flick Igby Goes Down, but he was far too busy not showing up to show up. We got stuck with Kieran Culkin. This year Jeff has nothing to do with anything. But here he is. Frankly? I'm suspicious.
Kevin Spacey was overwhelmed by drunken adulation following the Spits show at the Crocodile last week, and had to be shooed out the back door to prevent a hysterical stampede of fans (or "fanpede"). Before the backdoor shooing, he autographed a fan's boob.
And then! My big fat John Corbett, whose manly leanness is but a sexy, sexy memory (carbs are not our friend, Johnny dear), and the eternal Bo Derek were antiquing in Fremont like a couple of regular Kevin Spaceys. And, uh, they were wearing "matching Western outfits and cowboy hats," and because my soul is screaming, I have to stop typing now.
Lastly, I'm above endorsements. So don't read this: Capitol Club. Thurs May 29. 5 pm-2 am. Fundraiser for Howard Dean for President. Mingle with Danny Roberts and other pretty fags (i.e., me). $25 suggested, but you know they want more. Cough. It. Up. You have a better alternative?
