The movie's been effectively literalizedonly the animation interludes don't workreplete with really fun scenes of the botched sex change singing for horrified tourists at a seafood chain restaurant. (You expect Skip E. to pop up in the background, but he was probably busy at that Golda Meir show.) "I was sort of burnt out on the acting," Mitchell told me as I shielded my sensitive skin from the light. "I'd set up the shot for 10 hours and then call, 'Action!' and I'd forget my lines and get kind of pissed off. I'm taking a break from acting. It's like my graduate thesis is over." Are his Roxy club days kaput too? "I only went there once," he said, "the one time I did Ecstasy. It was so speedy and really bad, it turned me off." I hate when that happens!
Apropos of lousy drugs, here's what hell, 2001-style, would consist of: You've just been dumped by Gary Condit, but would rather die than go home to commiserate with your mother, Paula Poundstone. For some quick escape, you get pal Lizzie Grubmanto drive you to a snooty nightclub, but on the way, you careen into a dumpster, where you come across the father of your baby, Robert Blake. When he excuses himself to find a gun "to protect you with," you race off to track down your lawyer, but find him slumped over, dead in a car. Delirious, you call Backstreet Boy A.J. McLeanto cop some fairy dust, and end upmost tragically of allmissing band rehearsal the next morning! You're thrown out of the group and have to take a job at a seafood restaurant, opening for John Biner!
photo: Ted Soqui
Hes making me look like an idiot!: veteran interviewer Skip E. Lowe.