How to be Famous in Hollywood I enjoy walking around places. As a former New Yorker and Girl Scout, I can walk for hours. In New York, my favorite lunchtime walk was up the East River from the South Street Seaport. When I was in college and had no money, I would walk up Park Avenue and then down Fifth Avenue. Walking clears my head and makes my back feel better if I've been sitting too long. So naturally, when I first moved out to LA, I walked around Hollywood and West Hollywood a lot.
In the course of my Hollywood walking, I noticed that I was getting a lot of double-takes from passers-by. People would approach me, make eye-contact, look away, then look at me again as they were passing me. At first, I was paranoid. Was my third eye showing? Were all my clothes properly tucked in or fashionably loose? Had all my hair fallen out? What the heck was going on? I was just walking. Then I realized that these double-takes might be a good thing. They might be happening because I'm famous and nobody told me.
It would make a weird sort of LA sense that I would be famous in Hollywood. After all, everyone is famous in Hollywood except for the tourists. But how did I get that way and what can one do to become famous in Hollywood? So I decided to deconstruct my Hollywood famousness.
First, the walking. When I walk, I do just that---walk. I'm not looking to see who else is walking on the sidewalk, if they can give me a film deal or if they can make me the greatest star that ever was. I'm just walking here. I am self-sufficient; therefore, I have ‘made it' or am now in a state of being famous.
Second, headphones. George Clooney once talked about being deaf to the world because everyone is shouting your name. Obviously, the walkman is on my ears, so I don't have to listen to people shouting my name. If you don't know what my name is, that's good because it's one less person shouting it.
Third, sunglasses. The sun is shining, and I'm not a big fan of squinting. If you're famous, you don't just wear any old sunglasses. You wear ugly designer glasses. But you didn't buy these ugly designer glasses. No, you got them in a gift bag at an event at the Beverly Hilton of course.
Fourth, wardrobe. Dress casually, but not too casually and not too obviously casually. Definitely, do not wear pastel cotton shorts and baggy T-shirts with cartoon characters on them. Gosh, are you like a tourist? T-shirts should be tight and shorts (why would you even wear them when it's so cold) should be khaki or olive green.
Fifth, cellphone. Hold it, talk on it, it's your best friend. Talk in the car. Talk walking down the street. Talk as you order your tall non-fat double vanilla latte at the Buck of Stars. Talk as you try on clothes at the Gap. Now, you don't have to be talking to anyone on the other end, but the people around you don't know that.
Sixth, camera. It's okay to carry a camera because you are an artiste photographing the post-modern malaise around you.
Seventh, the stars on Hollywood Blvd. On a day, when you are surrounded by a lot of tourists, choose a random star, point down at it, and say ‘he's a dick.' Or if you have a child with you, you can say, ‘look [child's name], it's daddy.'
Eighth, if a truly famous person walks by, ignore them. They probably are being followed by a photographer and you don't want to be photographed. The photograph kills, and you don't want your fame to destroy you. It is important to stay centered and maintain your personal integrity even if you're staring at that guy, you know THAT guy, who was soooo great in that movie.
Ninth, you've never heard of that famous person anyway. You don't watch mainstream films. You watch independent stuff shot on grainy DV and foreign films with (gasp) subtitles. You don't read US and People. You read The New Yorker (even though you're in LA) because the writing is so good. You read novels before they get made into films.
Tenth, don't give a shayt. It's not about the fame, mannnnn, it's about the passion.
So, I had a totally non-sexual dream about Mel Gibson last night (how's that for a transition). We were working on a film about a little boy who killed people. Bruce Willis was in it too. It was going to be like The Sixth Sense only the little boy killed people.
In honor of the Mel of my dream-state, here are three things overheard on the set of The Passion of THE Christ:
--Cut! Print! He nailed it!
--We're losing the light, oh Lord, we're losing the light! No, wait, we're getting the light back. Thanks Lord.
--What did he just say? --I don't know it's all Aramaic to me.