The controversy over the Gotham’s idea of independence in film might still be raging on, but the Gotham’s have declared their party independence with an official after party going up against indieWIRE and Kodak’s usual soiree. Adding another layer of intrigue the indieWIRE event honors the stunning success of the online mag’s 10 years. Will the New York indie community eschew the elite, ticket holders-only, event at an undisclosed location in support of a traditional, populist favorite? Or will the allure of the velvet rope win out? Current polling has the official party drawing a strong celebrity and exec contingent with the Kodak/indieWIRE party pulling in a wider community of support. Only the night will tell.
Geeking out with members of the Magnolia Pictures team (and friends), I went to the 12:01 AM screening of Casino Royale last night. I have to join the chorus of praise for Daniel Craig, who does a fantastic job as 007. Granted, I stopped seeing the Brosnan Bonds after Goldeneye (a movie I used to thank monthly for spawning such a legendary video game) because they just seemed like clichéd action movies with a tuxedo (Note: the new movie has fantastic action choreography). In retrospect, I think part of my utter dislike of those movies is Brosnan himself, the ultra-smooth, uber-Bond, who looks and acts like he could do anything so well, he almost comes off as a smug sociopath. Craig on the other hand has a demeanor so cragged, so thuggish (almost the younger brother of Marv from
Sin City) and yet strangely charismatic that when he dons the tuxedo and grabs a martini, the brute underneath adds a necessary level of depth to make the character both super heroic yet relatable.
Enough psychobabble though. There are some hilariously bad moments (the shower scene) and try not to laugh to hard at the peanut gallery during the poker games… and yes, sadly Bond plays Texas Hold ‘em.
Returning from AFM (where sketchy European businessmen meet sketchy LA producers) yesterday I made it back to NYC in time to swing over to the big democratic celebration for Clinton, Cuomo, Spitzer and Patterson at the Sheraton (not short on sketch, but much better at hiding it). Obviously it was a good night to be there with the big D wave rolling across the country. Also, I might very well have witnessed the first speech in Hillary’s presidential campaign - though I still would have a major problem voting for her. It was a massive event that took place in the upstairs ballroom, although when I arrived I got trapped in a crowd and was nearly pushed into an elevator to go a mysterious party on the 49th floor. I asked people throughout the night if they new what was going on up there. Blank stares or shrugged shoulders were the usual response. I also avoided being one of those people on bleachers who wave placards as the candidates make their way up to the stage to give a speech. I might have been excited, but I’m not the sort of person who exudes enthusiasm.
Last night one of the owners of Cain had his birthday party at the club. Outside an aramada of club kids braved the rain to try to talk their way in. Many of the women in their ultra short skirts had their jackets yanked above their heads transforming like some sort of weird sexual beast that surrealist would have come up with. The anger was palpable among the throngs - “I’m cool. I know so and so. Why the hell aren’t you letting me in?” It never occured to these people that this was a guy’s party so, you know what, he should be able to only let people in he wants. Yeah, there are always the folks who knows bouncers and doormen, but seriously, is the sense of entitlement out their so great that people really think they deserve to be at someone’s birthday party? Sometime’s you’re not invited. Live with it.
Last night I swung by IFC’s party for ...So Goes the Nation at the IFC Center, which unfortunately I hadn’t been to in quite a while. Amusingly, the celebration also happened to coincide with a special Terry Gilliam screening and signing that resulted in a line of devoted fans snaking through the restaurant. However, nothing stopped the flow of good drinks and even better mini-burgers. This under-the-radar event is typical of the First Take team, trading in the balls to the walls bashes of IFC Films for the intimate grace of an exlusive soiree. Can’t wait for the next one!
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