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Day out of Days


Montreal, February 17, 2002


The smaller worries of a man's travels.The two bags I tend to travel with are such solid companions.

One is a Japanese designer's concoction which seems to be holding up for four years now. It holds clothes. Although I'm just working in Montreal there was a possibility of hopping over to Rome for a film that's opening there. Do some press. I'd have to bring a tuxxafuckingxedo. As I was packing I decided to forget about. The other "bag" is a German trunk made out of aluminum. It is sooo strong. Not that it would do me much good but it would survive anything. It holds vitamines, a small weight for a specific exercise I need to do with one leg, an ice-pack thing I need to use on the other when it has a bizzy day, scripts I should have read already, cameras of different kinds. The DVD from France which has "The Room" on it, the short I co-directed, which I like to show. It has some books, some sweats, some left coins from the countries I visited last year. There is the sophisticated boyscout knife for grown men. You'd be suprised what I've been able to accomplish with that thing.

There was a time - before email&internet, when it carried a small faxmachine, just to be able to connect home. It's only a few years back when all of that connecting still needed to be organised by hand. I tore hotelrooms apart rewiring the phone etc. Not to mention shooting in Kenya in '76. Having to climb on the telex machine of the hotel in the late hours.

It also has the glasses I picked for the bright and crazy killer maniac I'm giving flesh and blood (very romantic that) and a small brace for the upper teeth which was rapidly put together by my dentist for this character's occasion.

The clothes, I did get after getting off the plane. The hardware/medicine truck had disappeared. AirCanada remains mysterious about it.

After arriving late at night it took me half an hour to figure out the "character" with the costumelady. In my mind I was looking for a man which is a sort of mix between Dennis the Menace and David Hockney. Don't tell them. They are both much better characters than this one. Half an hour is fast, it's all I can say. I love putting looks and details together. Halloweenish. Fun. Wacky. Its period. 1971. This can only be done with a really good costume person. Renee. What a doll. Joy. I told her about the brace,which was to be a suprise. She was sorry but pulled out drawers full of glasses. Nice. My face is too big for most. Did not have anything to fit. There was one lying in a corner of the desk. I asked if it belonged to one of the workers. No. So it became mine. Or "Siegfried Keeler's", which is the character's name.

I have met George Clooney once as I was admiring two of the most gorgeous looking motorcycles parked in the Fred Segal's lot in SM. A black remake of the Indian which they had started to reproduce. One of them belonged to the guy who cuts my hair if it just gets out of wack too much. The other one belonged to George. It was spiffy and brand new and the boys were going for a ride. Well, boys. Men. Because they are. Not models. Not modeled after men. I said hello. So did he. George had just finished "The Perfect Storm" then and never thought about directing. A book - by the way - of which I had tried briefly to buy the filmrights too.

As we start the work together George tells me we had met around '89 in the supermarket halfway Laurel Canyon. Said he'd come up to me as a fan and that I had been a friendly guy. So, it's only fair to say we'd probably spent three minutes together. So here's the thing. That's all it takes.The meeting of similar minds has its own program.

We worked a fifteen-hour day and did good. Got more than wished or wanted and mostly had some great and serious fun. The other thing (especially for the ladies here) - he's a hunk like a truck and one of the kindest and most generous males I've met. I consider myself a happy clam and fortunate to be here.

Rutger

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