By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Gaga gun talk also dominated the Gabriel's lunch for the "Rendez-Vous With French Cinema" fest, which was filled with "frogs" who've lately been even less generously designated "weasels." They seemed absolutely human to me. America-loving screen goddess Anouk Aimée told me of the U.S.-France rift, "It's like in school. 'She's not nice. She wouldn't come to my birthday.' I would hope our friendship is deeper than that." At my table, the legendary Jeanne Moreau had come to my proverbial birthday, but she'd tasted the fish and decided, "It's a little sugary. It needs some salt." It turns out the woman doesn't sugarcoat anything. How does she feel about the current political situation? "I'm really in pain," Moreau announced dramatically. "I have a lot of grief. It's a fucking awful, ugly event."
Alas, the really ugly event came later, when Moreau was talking about Marguerite Duraswhom she plays in Cet Amour-làand I interjected, "Was her lover a lot younger than she was?" Moreau suddenly became a salted fish. "I will stop now," she said, fuming. "This is going to be sheet what you are writing. I'm talking about a book Duras wrote, not the one the lover wrote, which the movie is based on!" But I was just . . . oh fuck it. I turned my back on the ex-soubrette in shame, wondering if I should put my frozen labia in flight, but just seconds later, she valiantly tried to make amends. "All right, let's start again from the beginning," she purred. As a peace offering, she told me about a French notable who once sent her orchids. "A fellow actor told me, 'He's really sending you his balls,' " said Moreau. Honey, the woman doesn't need them.
The next day, at a promo event for Broadway's Enchanted April, I caught up with the American Moreau, Elizabeth Ashleyshe has big orchidswho sang the romantic comedy's praises in her own brilliantly salty way. "There are feel-good shows that make you feel like a moron," the diva said in that fab rasp. "This is not one. It's life-affirming, but it's not all treacle. I don't give good treacle. And don't we think it's time I played my own age? I just finished The Little Foxes, where I had to try to suck up and shave 20 years. My rib cage can't take it anymore! When I did Sweet Bird of Youth, I swore it would be the last time this old, wrecked-up body would wallow around in a slip onstage." (Hopefully, offstage is another story.)
But are there parts that suit older babes' body parts? "Unless they've been sawed, sucked, and sewn and become those mutant people," Ashley said, "women on the dark side of 50 either play a grotesque monster or someone pathetically addle-brained. At a certain point you've fucked everything, and done everything, and maybe those white, straight males that own the world are afraid that if older women are treated with credibility, they'll spill the beans on them. But we have a lot more sympathy for them than they ever could conceive of!" As both a white man and an older woman, I'm really glad to hear that.
I met a younger womanSpun's Mena Suvariat the drug romp's Lot 61 premiere party, and told her that she's the new Madeleine Sherwood, referring to an obscure but fabulous star of cinema and The Flying Nun. Suvari understandably looked blankshe's on the bright side of 25and said, "I'm the worst! I don't know any movies!" No time, dear? "No, that's not it. I just haven't wanted to." Shockingbut at least the girl makes a lot of movies, lately seeming to go off on a fun prostie/druggie jag. "But I didn't do drugs in Sonny," she corrected. True, she was a completely sober whore. Still, Suvari conceded, "I am attracted to dark, twisted, interesting flicks," and we finally found our common ground.
Lightly twisted and beautifully uplifting, HBO's Normal had a premiere after which everyone wondered, "If your husband got it lopped off, would you stay with him?" "No way," was the truly correct answer. "I'd stay with her." But comic Mario Cantone had his own take: "I'd say, 'Sorry, you have to go. I'm not a lesbian and you look horrible in that dress!' "