Archive for May 15th, 2010

• Day 76: We Get No Love from Shia LaBeouf

  Date: 2010.05.15 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 3

  

  In the new film “Wall Street:  Money Never Sleeps,” Shia LaBeouf’s character brings down one of the film’s bad guys by planting some not-so-flattering information about him on a small blog…

  Hmmm, what a good idea.

  Anyway, Without Candy has another packed schedule as of today but wanted to bring some good news before she gets into why Shia LaBeouf is not her favorite new person.

  Yesterday was so busy I didn’t think of sweets even once and the only temptation came at midnight at a fabulous, torch-lit villa up in the hills above Cannes and was just a tiny cup filled with sorbet and was easy to turn down.

  Here was my day leading up to that sorbet in Cannes:

  11 a.m. – Outdoor press conference for “Wall Street 2.”  Michael Douglas gamely fields a question from a reporter (not me!) congratulating him for “looking good” at 65 and asking “is it hard to get roles in Hollywood as a mature actor?”

  Ugh.  Is there a worse word in the English language than “mature” once you’re over 40? Think not.

  Shia LeBeauf was at the presser as well, looking serious and saying he had been intimidated by the “all-star cast” of Wall Street when they started shooting.  He was flanked by his co-star in the film, Carey Mulligan, with whom he is having a romance. Lucky her.

  12 – 2 p.m. – Reporting, filing stories and trying to avoid this one reporter with whom I worked with in the late 1980s (oh, does that make me mature?) and who I have run into about 10 times already and who I run into more than anyone I’ve ever worked with.

  2:00 p.m. – Learn I am assigned to the evening’s black-tie world premiere of “Wall Street 2″ and the after-party.  Yes, the entertainment reporting trade is like this. On the fly. Don’t ask. I was in black pants, which you cannot wear on the red carpet leading up to the Palais and the Grand Theatre Lumière when attending a world premiere.  They will stop you in line if they see you and expel you.

  2:01 p.m. – Panic. Do I have time to drive back to Nice to get one of my black dresses and return in time to gather at the Hotel Majestic bar prior to the movie screening?  No.  But figure I have enough time to buy one on the Rue d’Antibes a block from the Palais at a shop like Zara.

  2:15 p.m. – Set off for Zara.  Cell phone rings, am assigned a quick story to write and have to return to Palais.

  4:00 p.m. – Clock is ticking but am confident dress will be easy to buy. I go buy a Big Mac to steel myself for looonngggg evening.

  4:30 p.m – Head into Zara.  Tell them I need a black dress for tonight.  Incredibly, they have only a few weird, unflattering, awful dresses.

  4:40 p.m. – Go to another boutique.  Slight panic.  If I don’t buy a dress and be at the Majestic Hotel by 5:30 p.m. – I miss the premiere and the after-party and editors will not be happy.

  4:41 p.m. – Nice salesgirl brings me dresses designed for someone slightly slimmer than Gisele Bundchen.  Trying to pull dress down over me in tiny trying-on booth the size of a postage stamp.  Hate my life.  Know this will engender no sympathy.

  4:50 p.m. – Exit second boutique in full panic.  Decide I am too mature for this crap and wish I could skip tonight and just go catch some screening with a friend and wear my flip-flops.

  4:55 p.m. – Enter the Caroll boutique and find Catherine, mon ange. Catherine(below, on the right) sizes up my crisis in 30 seconds and produces 4 quite pretty dresses, gets me to a cabin, shows me how she would tie the belt on one and fusses over me as if I were Sharon Stone.

  

  5:10 p.m. – Still wearing the dress (on sale for about $100) after Catherine cuts the tags, I thank her profusely.

  5:30 p.m. – Make it to the Majestic for drinks with the Grey Goose reps who are sponsoring the premiere and who are allowing me and two other reporters what is called “access” in the trade.

  6:30 p.m. – Led by Grey Goose rep, we make our way out of the Majestic and get caught up in a soccer-like crowd melee with about 200 other people trying to cross the Croisette. It’s a surreal moment, our little group pressed against a line of French cops holding hands to keep the crowd which is pushing HARD. One woman gets sick or claustrophobic and cops yell “Malaise!” and pull her from the crowd.  I try not to topple over.  The Grey Goose rep remains unflappable.

  

  7:00 p.m. – We walk up the red carpet up to the Palais.  Even in a group, it’s always humbling to stroll past the hundreds of paparazzi poised on the steps who ARE NOT WAITING FOR YOU. Bump into Ellen Barkin at the top of the stairs. She’s very thin and friendly.  Brush by Harvey Weinstein.

  

  7:30 p.m. – We are seated and then the director Oliver Stone, Michael Douglas, Josh Brolin, Carey Mulligan and Shia LeBeauf walk to their special seats as the audience stands and applauds.

  8:15 – 10:30 p.m. – Watch movie.  It’s OK and interesting. Not great. Michael Douglas is good.  And I don’t understand why gorgeous, strong-jawed Josh Brolin is not a superstar.

  11 p.m. – Hustled into a van to go to “secret” location for the after party.  We wend our way through the hills above Cannes. The van is quiet as everyone, heads bent, remains in constant contact with their own personal control towers i.e. BlackBerries.

  11:10 p.m. – I’m tired but confident I’ll achieve my aim at the party, which is to get some quotes from the stars, and then call it a night.

  11:30 p.m. – We arrive at the gate of gorgeous Chateau Fayeres, looming on a hill at the end of a torch-lit driveway. The villa is alight with candles and torches; people are wandering between small white tents and an enormous pool.  It all looks vaguely Anne Rice.  ”Oh, look,” I tell one of the Grey Goose reps, pointing at a torch-lit area off the pool. “They’re sacrificing virgins.”

  

  Midnight – I make my first approach, to Michael Douglas. It’s never the most fun thing in the world to walk up to a famous person and just start asking them questions.  I’d rather talk to a cop, or a drug dealer, or a serial killer – in my other life as a hard news reporter. It’s been said before but nobody believes that the celebrity beat is the trickiest.

  12:01 a.m. – Douglas the pro, looking eerily like his father Kirk, is affable, genial – telling me his career has been all about “surfing the waves as they go up and down.”

  12:10 a.m. – Oliver Stone, another showbiz lifer, tells me he almost didn’t want to make “Wall Street 2″ when Douglas approached him in 2007. Then the 2008 financial crisis hit – and Stone realized he had a golden opportunity.  He also spoke at length about how Shia La Beouf and Carey Mulligan fell in love on the set. Great!

  12:20 a.m. – Shia is sitting at a table eating from the buffet (smoked salmon, shrimp, brown spicy rice, les petits farcis, a local Nice specialty) and probably indulging in some of the amazing vodka cocktails designed by the resident mixmaster.

  12:21 a.m. – I get a vibe that it might be better to send a Grey Goose rep over to request a quick interview with Shia and she says no problem.

  12:22 a.m. – Shia says no.

  12:23 a.m. – Thwarted, I plan my next move.  Can I get to his girlfriend Carey Mulligan? Will Shia loosen up after a few more vodka cocktails made with lemons from nearby lemon capital Menton?

  12:30 a.m.:  Non, and non, as it turns out.

  1:10 a.m. – Shia has taken off his tuxedo jacket and is holding court all over.  Salsa music is playing on the loudspeakers.  A few people are dancing.  The palm trees sway in the cool air. Heat lamps positioned around the pool keep us warm.

  1: 11 a.m. – There’s a wide open space around Shia. I move in, not so stealthily.  I start by introducing myself.  Shia holds up his arms as if to shield himself.  ”You’re a reporter?” he says, seemingly appalled.  ”Yes,” I say. “And Michael Douglas and Oliver Stone had such great things to say about your performance I wanted to be sure to talk to you.”

  1:11 a.m. plus 10 seconds:  Shia LaBeouf and I both wait to see if he will get his head out from up his own ass but no such luck. “Oh, no, I can’t,” Shia says.  He repeats, “I just can’t. I just can’t.”

  1:12 a.m. – Shia turns his back to me and hugs a well-wisher and hugs him. I stand there, starkly.  The celebrity reporting trade means you always get to remember what it’s like to be 13. No matter how mature you are.

  1:13 a.m. – I walk away and sit by the pool. Trying not to smolder.

  1:20 a.m. – De-smoldered, pick up a lemon vodka cocktail and relax. Word going around the party is how beautiful Diane Lane looks sitting next to her husband Josh Brolin.  Her hair is piled high in a brown beehive that looks great.

  Back to Shia. He’s only 23.  He’s already been acting for half his life and he starts “Transformers 3″ on Tuesday.  Has a fantastic career ahead of him.

  Do we wish him well?

  No comment.  :)

  Ta,