Mom was Miss Teen USA when she was 15, and won a “date” with Fabian. Mom and Fabian drove through Los Angeles on their ‘date’, while Fabian’s publicist, Howard Brandy, who doubtless concocted the whole publicity stunt for Fabian, rode in the car with my Grandparents, following Mom and Fabian on their date. After all, she was only 15. Continue reading ‘We’ve Lost Howard Brandy’
Archive for the 'Hollywood' Category
In my delusional 20s, I was certain I’d make a dramatic splash of James Dean proportions, somehow leaving a lasting legacy and a beautiful corpse. I stopped dating girls, stopped fooling myself, and stopped lying to my family about being gay. I cheated on a good boyfriend. Mom beat colon cancer and it just seemed like some surreal role she was playing to increase her range. We all knew she’d kick it. Continue reading ‘From the Edge of 17 to the Edge of 40′
Tags: Art of Elysium, ashton kutcher, benefit, beverly hills hotel, Bronson Page, causes, charity, charlize theron, demi moore, dominos, donna karan, kate hudson, meeting celebrities, penelope cruz, rumer willis, Sam Page
We love this charity as much as a night on the town, this is proven, and Jennifer’s comforting, southern request was all we needed to hear.
There’s nothing like throwing on a tux for a great cause and an hour long visit to the Beverly Hills Hotel, on a rainy Thursday night at 9. And the timing is perfect. It’s Oscar week, so everyone’s in town.
This whole LiLo as MaMo thing rings a little hollow. Clever PR, but how can this juxtaposition really say anything good if it’s saying anything at all? Similar drug dependencies? Remotely similar cultural significance? Lindsay is the new Marilyn? A foreshadowing? God forbid.
You’re gorgeous. We get it. We’ve been getting it since The Parent Trap had suburban Dads with prurient interests insisting on a trip to the theater. I never thought the girl had chops until Sam and I saw Bobby on the flight back from Spain. Given the right material, she could act her way out of a safe.
Not enough good roles? Damages has a great role for her. Maybe her people should contact my people. Let’s make it happen.
Maybe Billy’s just cranky and it’s just the fantasy come to life of a little girl to walk around in a legend’s scarf, or a quasi-interesting way for her to finally bare it all, but it looks more like young Hollywood has run out of ideas, identities, and images, and regurgitates this kind of sensationalist stuff. And again, this is coming from someone who LIKES Lindsay Lohan.
If this isn’t a good reason to further celebrate the end of the WGA strike, nothing is. Let’s get pen to paper, writers. Talent needs something to do.
For those of you who don’t know, Damages is the story of an actress, her teenage son, and the man who molests him, the damages they inflict upon each other, and the path to justice and redemption… told in the style of Moulin Rouge, through 16 songs by Queen.
Yes, it’s autobiographical, with names changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.
I am fortunate to have a fantastic team behind this project: Amy Schiffman, Larry Taube, and Stafford Arima. Not only are they keen professionals, but dear friends. We share a deep, heartfelt passion for Damages, as many will, and their guidance and encouragement has been invaluable. I love you guys.
Have a taste: fivepages.pdf
Every gay man has one, and Rachel Cannon is mine. Rachel Cannon is my woman crush, the girl who makes any sensible strapping gay man stop dead in his tracks and fall all to pieces, the girl who made me wish I were straight-ish (again), if only for a minute. Sam will always be my man, Mom, my best girl, but Rachel is yet another hot blonde in my life.
I’ll never forget when we met. We were upstairs at Fiesta Cantina. The moon was full and its light on her dewy skin and reflecting in the pools of her eyes was intoxicating. Okay, maybe it was the margaritas, but nonetheless, it made me feel like I was meeting Kira the Muse (Olivia Newton John) in Xanadu. All we needed was roller skates. I was buzzed, but it didn’t compare to the buzz of having this gorgeous, madcap woman focusing all of her flawless, Tulsa, OK ingenue attention upon Sam and me.
Once upon a time there was a hot, young, blonde star in her twenties, captive to her overbearing manager. He controlled her utterly, criminally: what she said, what she did, what she wore, where she appeared, and how thin she was when she did. He drove a wedge between the young woman and her family. She wasn’t allowed any phone calls and weeks would pass without her family knowing her whereabouts, except for what they were able to see on TV. He had dirt on her; compromising photographs to keep her frightened and tractable. He drugged her regularly and abused her with inconceivable cruelty, sexually, physically, and verbally. Hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash and valuables were stolen from her during his occupation. His control was absolute, and soon, so was her hopelessness.
I’m not talking about Britney Spears. I’m talking about my Mom.
Having exhausted every other path to help and solace, she lay in a bed in her home in the Hollywood hills and overdosed with a bottle of Valium.
The air at home has been thick with philosophical discussions of late, mainly about where we are and why we are here. A decade in Los Angeles can have that effect.
I learned at a very early age that L.A. is the center of the entertainment universe, and longed for it ever since. When I moved here, at 29, I thought it was the be-all and end-all, and it is. There’s almost nothing that you can’t be here in L.A., given the drive, luck, youth, beauty, opportunity, and talent – usually in that order. Take your pick of any activity in snow, forest, mountains, beach, vineyard, or city, and it’s within a couple hours drive or a couple of phone calls to make it happen. It’s a place where you really can have and do it all, and as my Mom always said, “People who can have it all, usually do,” which can make for a formidably interesting, but exhausting schedule, and for the less than careful, it can be their undoing.
It’s that kind of excitement that brought me to Los Angeles: the same excitement I once got from my first drinks, my first drugs, my first screws, and that time on I-75 when I set the cruise control in my 1987 Mazda 626 Turbo and slid over and drove from the passenger side… and then from the back seat. You get a big rush from possibility, power, and invincibility, even when it’s imaginary, and that rush is part of what makes this town tick.
The latest news from the Damages front is that SA’s agent has read it and loves it. He wants to move forward. So, we’re going back to the Producer who referred us to SA in the first place to see if he’s interested in producing now that SA is on board. The next step is getting the two partners of the Production company on board, and then we’ll have a deal, or at least I’ll have an option. For those who don’t know what an option is, it’s an agreement that a company has rights to ‘first crack’ at a project for a given period of time. Once the option expires, if the project isn’t made, the rights revert back to the writer and the project can be optioned again or sold.
All of this could go to hell tomorrow, or not. It’s so important to remember that. I’ll just keep repeating it to myself, but hopefully.
Yesterday I got a call from my agent, Amy. She’s brilliant. She’s been talking to director SA about my screenplay, Damages. Evidently, he loves it. SA’s agent doesn’t yet, because he hasn’t read it, but he will. So far, everyone who has read Damages, has sat down to read ‘some of it’ and then suddenly found themselves at the end, an hour later. In fact, the best compliment it’s been paid was by my potential Producer who said he was traveling, in New York, when he drew a bath, and put Damages into the pile of magazines he would read while soaking. He picked Damages up first, and then found himself an hour later sitting in a cold bath, ‘riveted’, he said. ‘Riveted’. I’ve heard the word a thousand times, but never like that.
So when SA’s agent loves it, and the Producer agrees to it, we’ll meet about rewrites, and about casting. Whom we’d like to approach, etc. That will be fun.
So we continue along the long and winding road that leads, or doesn’t lead, to the movie theater. Hopes are up now. Hopes could be dashed, only to be up again. It’s hard to say where it will lead and when, but like breathing, I can’t live without it.