Tue, November 30, 2004

Living in Los Angeles, one becomes accustomed to somewhat frequent celebrity sightings. I've been to the movies with Julianne Moore, Winona Ryder, and Charles "Roger Rabbit" Fleischer. I saw They Might Be Giants with Joey Slotnick and George Plimpton. I've glimpsed or spied or smiled at probably a dozen more in various situations. Celebrity encounters are a whole other thing, though. Those include some sort of conversation, an interaction in which both parties acknowledge one another and some sort of exchange takes place. I started thinking about them because a post on Holly's Blog reminded me of my grandfather's airport encounter with Brenda Lee, which reminded me of my own encounter with Martin Sheen at LAX last week.

In general, I don't really freak out about celebrities. There's not a lot of dignity in getting all crazy about meeting someone who's been on TV. They're no more special than any one else – they just have a high-profile job. However, just like anyone, I'm fully ensconced in our celebrity culture. There are celebrities I'm in love with (Zooey Deschanel, Natalie Portman, Kristin Gore), celebrities I idolize (Steven Spielberg, David Letterman, Steve Martin), and celebrities I detest (Julianne Moore, Steven Gross, Julianne Moore). I don't know these people at all, but I feel like I know them because I see them on TV or read about them – because they're celebrities. It's akin to those soap opera addicts who think the actors are the characters whom they portray and then go about assaulting them in public.

If I'm going to talk to a celebrity, I strongly believe in talking to them the same way I talk to little children – which is to say: the same way I'd talk to anyone else. I feel like the experience should be as pleasant for both of us as it can possibly be, and as far as interactions with strangers go, I'm pretty sure that most of theirs involve maniacal squealing, so I just try to present a more staid alternative. I suppose on some level, I'm hoping the celebrity will like me more if they see that I can treat them like a normal person. But the point is, I try to conduct myself with some decorum, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I also live by a hard rule: never babble something to a celebrity that you know they hear every day from every stranger who approaches them. "You're great!" "I loved you in x movie or y sitcom!" Whatever. If that's all I can think of to say, then I'll just keep my mouth shut and maybe smile at them if our eyes meet. Do I owe it to them to reduce the number of people gushing the same comment into their face by one? No, not really. But for whatever reason, it's important to me. Maybe I'm hoping I'll stand out. ("Hey, this guy's different! He really has something to say. I should invite him to live in my guest house.") Maybe I'm just trying to break the monotony. Anyway.

Here, I've collected a handful of my favorite celebrity encounters. (It's interesting, although I don't know what it means, that despite nearly a decade in LA my two favorites occurred well outside its borders.)

Shari Lewis

When I was in high school, Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop came to town for a children's concert, and a friend's aunt who worked with the venue scored us VIP tickets which also admitted us to a special reception with Shari after the event. We were a little too old for Shari Lewis by that point, but we attended semi-ironically. She was on TV again at that time, and my sister got a big kick out of her show. I watched it some, too; it was good for a laugh. Plus, with the whole VIP thing, it just seemed like a fun evening.

As it turned out, there was much more to a Shari Lewis concert than I'd expected. Beyond the sing-alongs and cute puppets, it was sort of like a one woman show. She talked a lot about her childhood and taught us some things about music. She made it very fun, even for me as a teenager, and it was pretty impressive watching her relate to the children in the large crowd. To this day, I still curse that godforsaken "Song That Never Ends," but other than that it was a joy.

At the reception, we arrived late and kind of hung back. Our parents weren't with us, but parents who were there – and who'd paid top dollar for face time with Shari – spent most of their time thrusting their kids into photo-ops with her. We just kind of toyed with the snacks. At some point, it started to get late (or Shari started to get tired of the frenzy of clawing parents) and it was time for Shari to leave. A couple of her handlers parted the crowd and started moving her toward the door. We happened to be standing right along the path, and she was shaking hands and saying goodbye as she walked, so I shook her hand, too. Having been surprised and delighted by her performance, I took the opportunity to look into her eyes and say, "It was an inspiration."

The thing that impresses me about this encounter isn't my heartfelt expression of what an epiphany I'd had. It's the fact that Shari Lewis, in the midst of being hustled out of the room by a couple of her people, managed to make a full stop, turn to find me, and say, "Thank you." I was really proud that what I had to say was meaningful to her, too.

Steve Martin

My family and another family we're close friends with were on one of our Christmastime trips to New York, and we were just leaving a spectacular performance of the off-Broadway musical "The Fantasticks" (which was amazing), when we noticed some commotion across the street. Steve Martin – accompanied by Carol Kane and Diane Sawyer – was leaving another theatre and crossing the street into a restaurant for a nightcap. (Based on the timing and the appearance of Kane, I later surmised that they were probably leaving a preview or rehearsal performance of his play, "Wasp.") A few passers-by had gathered around Steve, and my friends and I quickly hurried over to him. This was quite a few years ago, so I hadn't really codified my rules about these situations, but 100% of my past interactions had been meaningful, so I was motivated to continue the tradition. There was precious little time to think up something good, but I remembered seeing an old interview with him on TV not too long before. He had shown the interviewer a small business card that bore his signature, with the text above it: "This signifies that I have had a genuine experience with:" (or words to that effect). He said that he would fill his pockets with these pre-printed cards, and then he'd hand them out to people who asked for autographs on the street, rather than stopping to sign something. It was better than blurting out, "We love you in Father of the Bride 2!" so I went with it.

Leaning against a taxi to get in front of him, I shook his hand and asked, "Do you still have the little cards?" He said no, he didn't. Unsure of where to go next, I blurted out, "Well, we love you in Father of the Bride 2!" Which I'm a little ashamed of, especially since it's a lie. I've still never seen the film, but it was his most recent release and it didn't occur to me to say something more truthful like, "I loved you in The Three Amigos!" Admittedly, a violation of my still-nascent code of honor, but I'm willing to give myself a pass: I was just a kid, and the man is an idol to me.

Steven Spielberg

This one shouldn't really count because I didn't talk to him, but he's a huge hero of mine so I couldn't leave it off the list. I got thisclose to Spielberg at a function for the USC film school (Zemeckis and Lucas were also there), but I couldn't work up the courage to interrupt the president of the university in order to accost Spielberg and tell him that he'd inspired me from the age of ten. Then, someone whisked him away for an interview. Too bad, really.

Martin Sheen

For my recent trip home for Thanksgiving, my parents had cashed in a bunch of miles and upgraded us all to first class. On their flight in from Honolulu, they'd been in the cabin with Peter Fonda. (On my flight back last Saturday, I was a row behind Paulo Costanzo of Joey; last year I also flew ATL-to-LAX with Gregg Allman. Flying first class to or from LA is a great way to rack up some celebrity sightings.) Waiting to board in LA, I briefly thought I'd lost our boarding passes at the security checkpoint, and when I looked up from searching for them, I heard my Dad say, "It's the president!" I glanced over to see him merrily slapping a diminutive Martin Sheen on the shoulder, while my Mom commiserated with him about Bush's re-election. I hurried over to defuse the situation (Mom had told stories of having to physically restrain my father to keep him from pestering Peter Fonda three days earlier). I said hello to Martin and he looked extremely weary. It was pretty early in the morning, and we'd all had to go through security. Mom was very politely saying "We love your show and we love Charlie's show," so I scrambled to find something that fit my rule and conversed briefly with him about The War at Home, a touching Vietnam-era family drama directed by his other son, Emilio Estevez. We talked about a screening of the film at USC, after which Emilio had spoken to the class. Martin was in the film, so I praised his performance as well as Emilio's performance and direction. He was very polite, but clearly exhausted, so I wrapped it up quickly. As mortified as I was that my parents were, by my standards, making a scene, I was glad to have them there. I'm certain he's been besieged this month by people mourning, "I wish I could've voted for you instead," and I agree. I'm glad my Mom could say that to him so it got the point across without me having to say it.

(Hm. Three in a row that are either a "Steve," a "Martin," or both...)

Penn & Teller

After a performance of theirs in Florida (the crazy awesome ones, before they settled in Vegas and toned it down a bit; this one still had the bullet catch), the audience had a chance to chat with Penn & Teller in the lobby on the way out and grab autographs. I was pleased to have intelligent, original questions for each of them – particularly Teller, whose quiet wisdom makes him my favorite. It was weird hearing him talk for my first time, and I was genuinely curious about his novel, No Bunnies, which still hasn't been released a decade or more later. He told me it was sort of a side project, something he was working on slowly "on Monday mornings," so presumably he's still crafting it. I hope it will eventually be released, it sounds really interesting.

Laurie Metcalf

I grew up with Laurie Metcalf as Roseanne's sister on Roseanne, and I ran into her at the end of the LAX ticket counter during the time she was on Norm with Norm MacDonald. She was squatting to fasten her kid into a stroller or car seat, and I had to pause right where she was to adjust the bag I was carrying. When our eyes met, she seemed really familiar to me, but I wasn't sure why. She seemed like a family friend or something. I think it's because of her sort of regular-lady appearance: she wasn't activating the celebrity section of my memory. She smiled weakly at me, as if to say, "Yes, you've seen me on TV, but I'm kind of in the middle of something now," but I still hadn't placed her, so to me it seemed like she was smiling because she recognized me, too. I leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder at the same instant that it hit me who she actually was. What was I doing touching her?! I quickly muttered, "We love you on Norm," and smiled and hustled away. Very strange.

By the way, I'm not sure why I always resort to the first person plural in these situations. As fond as I am of the "royal 'we'" I'm pretty sure that's not what it is. I guess I just feel like I'm speaking for America or something.

Robert Wuhl

This isn't really my encounter, it's Joe's. But I was standing right next to him. We were in the stands at the Emmys, our first year of college, and Robert Wuhl walked by on the red carpet. Joe called out to him and got his attention, then said "You're pretty cool." At the time, Arli$$ was fresh and new and hadn't revealed itself to be such a colossal disappointment, so what Joe said was true. Plus, I've always liked him for his role in Batman. ("Si- six. Yeah, six is good.")

Jonathan Slavin

This one I'm not too proud of. My parents and I were in the Beverly Center shopping mall with Joe in the second year of college, and I bumped into Jonathan Slavin, who you probably remember best as Byron the geeky office mate from Andy Richter Controls the Universe. At the time, Slavin was the quirky goof in Union Square, a despicable attempt at ensemble comedy that NBC was puking into a prime Thursday night slot in the hopes of duping honest, hardworking Americans into watching it. He appeared in front of me so suddenly that I sort of startled, and he and his friend could see that I'd recognized him and they got kind of excited. I, a young dipshit punk, was offended by this. I'd seen Union Square. How dare he be excited about being recognized from that awful show? So, I inverted my rule and made a big scene, calling out to Joe over the heads of a few other bustling shoppers and pointing wildly: "Union Square guy!" Slavin and his pal were eating it up, so I decided to can the sarcasm, and hollered to him, "Hold onto it while it lasts!" as we moved on to the Kay Bee toy store where, oddly enough, we would soon come face-to-face with Mare Winningham.

A year later, Slavin really impressed me with a guest appearance on Maximum Bob, a mini-series produced by Barry Sonnenfeld and based on Elmore Leonard's novel. Then he was really good as Byron on Andy Richter, and now I feel bad for berating him for paying his dues on Union Square. Sorry, Jonathan. It was NBC I was mad at, not you.

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