The difference between an event on the Red Carpet in Chicago and anywhere else is that here it's usually a green shag. Or linoleum. Joan Rivers would have a field day with the people behind the velvet ropes in the Windy City. Most look like they haven't missed too many meals. Tonight was the-stomach-oozing-out-from-under-the-t-shirt-with-their-fat-feet-in-flip-flops-crowd, except for the one girl wearing a sequined top and a tulle skirt that reached down to her Skechers.
Also the only star who walked the carpet here in Chicago was Quentin Tarantino, who isn't exactly chopped liver, but he was alone. Not that Brad Pitt would have added anything. Much. I do like the movie poster with his picture and the headline: BRAD PITT IS A BASTERD.
I worry. Will the creative spelling of BASTERDS become the preferred spelling? Are we forever doomed to a generation of young people who will spell it with an E instead of an A in future references to Commie Bastards? Will its real meaning as a person of illegimate spawn be lost to history? Anyway. . .
Unlike other premieres of his new movie, Inglourious You Know Whats, Tarantino wasn't dressed up fancy, he was dressed up to go out for pizza afterwards. Maybe with some of those large Chicagoans holding up their iPods and taking pictures of him from behind the lines. After his introduction, QT gracefully stopped and talked to one interviewer after another -- I think I counted thirty or so.
Jennifer, the reporter I accompanied, had heard that the actor/writer/director likes women in short skirts and strappy shoes, so she went for it -- in a navy blue designer dress that hit its stride about four inches above her knees with her feet almost tippy-toed in a pair of four inch Jimmy Choos, covered in Swarovski crystals. As usual, I looked like her devoted servant, carrying her stuff -- a purse, some B roll footage from the studio, a folder and a clipboard. My shoes, while shiny and gold on top were flat on the bottom with rubber treads so I wouldn't fall on my ass.
Most of the time movie theaters are icy cold, but tonight it was warmer inside than outside. So during the red carpet, I was sweating like a pig, since I wasn't in a short skirt, I was wearing slacks. As a matter of fact, I had even added a couple of layers in preparation for the usual movie theater chill. Unfortunately, this plan backfired. And throughout the event, I looked like I was in the middle of a nonstop hot flash.
After the interview with Tarantino, Jennifer interviewed the president of the Chicago Film Festival which would benefit from the premiere, since people were being charged $250 to watch the movie, although I thought I was getting in free. Over to one side there was a very tall blond in a low cut black satin gown wearing Manolo Blahniks. I wouldn't know Manolos from Payless, but apparently this blond, who was clearly part of the Tarantino entourage, had seen Jennifer's shoes and, turns out, wanted to find out where she got them. Next thing you know -- they're making plans to go shopping. This exchange was caught on tape, so I can't wait to see how it plays tomorrow. After the interview we gave the mystery woman some Chicago swag which consisted of a baseball cap in a knit bag. Do we know how to treat celebrities, or friends of celebrities, or what?
After the interviews everyone retired to the theater to watch the movie. Except me. Apparently there was some mix up on our end. Jennifer had purchased two tickets for $250 and invited her fiance to join us. For some reason she thought that my media pass was all I would need to get in to see the movie. Turns out my media pass and $250 would get me in, no problem. That's when I decided to wait for the DVD.
I hate to admit it, but I was happy to go home. If only to get out of that hot theater. On the way out of town I had all the windows and the roof open with the air conditioning on full blast.
And Brooks and Dunn singing ONLY IN AMERICA.