I sent tyranist an email, detailing an odd little experience I had, and he thought it would be appropriate for posting here. So, if you're suffering from insomnia, or trapped in a bank vault, I present to you "When There's No More Room In The Mall..."
I had nothing to do the other day after work, so instead of going home, I thought I'd hit a mall, maybe a bookstore. My buddy in tow, I figured I'd go to the Beverly Center, a mall in West Hollywood I'd never gone to before, just to look around, kill an hour or so. I parked in their garage, and oddly enough, as I got in the elevator, I saw a sign that said "Dawn of the Dead, Level Three." Curious, I went to the third floor and discovered they were holding the world premiere of Dawn of the Dead Volume 2.0 there in an hour.
Why hold a premiere in a shopping mall? It didn't make sense to me for about ten minutes, but then I remembered: "What the hell is that?" "It's one of those big indoor shopping malls." Why not hold the premiere in a place that looks and feels like it was there in 1978?
I didn't think I'd stick around, because the mall was so ancient and run down, but I saw George Romero sort of milling around the theater, and I thought, Well, that's pretty cool. I went up to him and said, "So, this looks sort of interesting, no?" He looked at me as if to say, Why are you asking me? and said, "Well, I guess. If you're into that sort of thing." I asked him if he was excited about the movie or dreading it. It was odd, because I think he thought I didn't know who he was (although why would I ask some random bearded guy these questions?). He said, "I saw it this morning. It's not bad." He was hanging out, chatting with his middle-aged buddies, and maybe I was bothering him, so I just walked away.
I was tempted just to head home, because hey, I'm no fan of remakes (and especially not this remake), but my buddy wasn't opposed to sticking around, and we were both curious who else might show.
If anyone. This was the lowest-profile premiere I'd ever been to. One of the mall's aisles leading to the movie theater had been cordoned off and was the poor man's red carpet for those few celebrities that showed up. There were probably fifteen gorehounds gathered around, maybe thirty members of the press, eight security guys, seven or eight fans of Mekhi Phifer and/or Ving Rhames, and about ten to fifteen Japanese students who had abso-frigging-lutely no idea what was going on.
Asian people often strike me as odd. This group all had their cameras out, waiting for people to walk by, and then would ask the Americans who they were. The girls near us, laughing behind their raised palms, would ask, "Is he movie star?" when someone would run the press gauntlet, and if we said Yes, they took their picture. It wasn't annoying or anything, and I'm not really complaining, it was just strange. And hey, they're a hell of a lot better than Canadians.
Among the gorehounds were autograph hounds, including a young woman who stood next to us, and had a scrapbook full of photos she had taken at other occasions, hoping to get them signed. I had seen this sort of thing before at other premieres or events I'd gone to here in L.A., always by sleazy bottom-feeding sorts who shove the real fans out of the way and sell the autographs for a living, but she didn't seem like them. Could be she was a genuine fan of celebrities.
The first person I saw going up the red carpet looked slightly familiar. I asked the Dead fans around me and it turns out he played Roger in the original (Scott H. Reiniger was the man's name), though of course he had changed a lot in twenty-six years. A few minutes later, a very big, very bald, very fat Ken Foree walked down. I wouldn't have recognized either of them in a hundred years. Still, every single guest there (with a couple of exceptions) came out to meet the handful of fans and sign autographs, and I guess that's cool.
There were few recognizable celebrities among the attendees, and I was tempted to walk away before long, but a morbid curiosity came over me about who would go to this kind of premiere and whether I really had anything better to do on a Wednesday night.
The biggest star of the evening, Christina Aguilera, was almost unrecognizable as she walked down the press line. With her hair dyed pitch black and her skin oddly painted the same colour, someone in the crowd remarked that the little woman looked like "a midget prostitute starring in a minstrel show." Yes, I was that someone.
Because of the dearth of big stars, all those who arrived were interviewed by the media, and the earlier they came, the longer the press talked to them, asking them questions like, "What do you remember about the original?" "What frightens you about living dead movies?" "What scary movies are your favourites?" and "If somebody shaved down Chewbacca and put him in a dark hotel room, would you have sex with him?" Typical stuff, I suppose.
Somebody named Wayne Brady got a lot of attention and signed some autographs. But folks, if this guy's a celebrity, then I'm Will Smith. I was told that he had a talk show for about nine minutes, but I doubted it. Since he's not Barry Williams or Mike Lookinland, I assume he was the other one.
Kevin Williamson walked by, and the Japanese girls asked me who he was. I don't think they understood a word I said. I'm still a fan of the guy, even though he disappeared after Teaching Mrs. Tingle.
The third cast member of the original, Tom Savini, came down the way. This was one of those cases where the press didn't know who he was, but the fans did (my buddy recognized him as the guy with a pistol on his crank in From Dusk Till Dawn). And Savini is one cool dude. I think he was the person I was most excited about seeing, and I'd met him before.
Mekhi Phifer showed up toward the end. He is also in the film, and famous for his role on "E.R.," and in 8 Mile, Soul Food, and the recent mega-blockbuster Honey. He's handsome and sure is smooth with the ladies. Let me tell you that if I were half as popular as him . . . well, my hands would be too busy to type this right now.
Cindy Margolis was also there, going down the carpet, being interviewed, looking vapid. Why is she a celebrity? She has less reason to be on a red carpet than Tito Jackson.
Osama Bin Laden walked by, but only I saw him.
Brian Grazer was there as well. If you don't recall, he was responsible for one of the most horrifying films of our new decade, the 2000 version of The Grinch and its abominable 2003 followup, The Cat In the Hat. I wondered if any of the fans would recognize him, but I suppose he is one of the more recognizable producers in the business. As he came out and signed autographs, the Japanese girls wanted to know what his profession was. As if an actor would actually have hair that bad.
Ving Rhames, the biggest star in the movie, arrived, carrying around a baseball bat for some reason (haven't seen the movie, maybe he kills a zombie with one)(or maybe he's raped by one, I don't know). There were a couple of attractive girls that hugged him and got his autograph, and he treated them with passes to join him inside. "Ohhh, you know what that means," I announced to all around me, and somebody punched me in the back of the neck.
I guess I deserved it.
I kept asking my buddy if he wanted to take off, but he seemed okay with things. Perhaps he's the kind of guy who likes to gawk at car accidents. And like I said, Christina Aguilera looked so awful, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd paid Tom Savini to personally make her up.
Another handsome dude sauntered past, preferring to ignore the press. The woman beside me whispered, "Oh my god, it's Scott Speedman!" I turned around and said, much louder than necessary, "Scott Speedman? NO WAY!!!!" Which was funny to me because I've been making fun of the name Scott Speedman for a year now. The offender himself turned and looked at me as if I'd goosed him, but I just shrugged and said, "What? It's a weird name."
The other star of the new Dawn of the Dead, Sarah Polley, came by. She seems nice, but is approximately two feet tall. Elves were laughing at her as she walked past, which has to sting.
One pretty boy walked down the red carpet who was the star of the film. One pretty boy walked down the red carpet who was the director. I asked the Japanese girls which was which and they told me all Americans look alike.
I then told them I was Will Smith. They hugged me and got my autograph.
And that's about it. I won't go into my feelings on remaking the greatest zombie film ever made, and am not entirely qualified to comment, since I haven't seen the movie yet. I don't regret hanging out at the Beverly Center for this event, especially since I probably would have otherwise spent the evening rotting my brain in front of the television. But I could've done other things. We all could.
You see, kids, to an outsider, the glitz and glamour of Tinseltown is exactly that. I'll admit that, from time to time, I can be an excited fanboy (like when I ran into Arnold Schwarzenegger while shopping, or when I ran into Vin Diesel while driving . . . then backed up and ran into him again), but nowadays, a lot of the bloom is off the rose. Now, when I see streets cordoned off due to a movie shoot, I grumble that I have to drive three blocks out of my way. Now, when someone hands me a test screening pass, I usually fold it up and forget about it. Life is like that in Los Angeles. I think that pretty much anyone would come away from the Dawn of the Dead premiere experience less impressed with Hollywood than they were before.
Rish Keanu Outfield
March 2004
