LONDON – The Studio Exec is very sorry that he has been unable to keep everyone up to date with activities at the BFI London Film Festival, this has been due to unforeseen circumstances which will become evident in the diary entries we have now been able to recover.
Going to see Nebraska. Alexander Payne is NOT a nice person. I met him in the lift at the hotel and he grabbed my hand and slapped me in the face with it repeatedly saying ‘Stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself.’ Not the kind of behavior I would have expected from the director of The Descendants frankly. I consoled myself with several bottles of a sweet beer called Newcastle Brown Ale. It didn’t mix well with breakfast.
One of the disadvantages of Cannes and Venice as film festivals is that they’re in Cannes and Venice. This are the last places in the world to encourage you to go into a darkened auditorium and see an actual film. They’re both on the Goddam beach. Toronto, Berlin and London definitely have this advantage over them. The Coen brothers came to my hotel room while I was out and glued all the furniture to the ceiling. They’ll never forgive me for greenlighting The Ladykillers.
I can feel the breakfast go in my mouth, bypass my stomach and get to work immediately clogging my arteries and the ventricles of my heart. I saw Scarlett Johansson in the lobby and in an act of tribute to her performance in Under the Skin fell flat on my face. She took it well. As I got to my feet, she looked over at me sweetly and in a voice no louder than a whisper told me to ‘get out of the f*cking way, you asshole.’ Ah, I still have the magic!
I think my drinking might be getting excessive. I awoke this morning to find my liver sitting on my pillow next to my head. He didn’t say anything but I got the feeling he was silently judging me. Climbing down from my bed (note to self: call hotel manager about getting the furniture put back on the floor) I slipped and sprained my ability to think coherently.
(Visited 17 times, 1 visits today)