Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Land Dog

The IFC Center in the Village is having a movie night with David Gordon Green next Monday. He’s showing Thunderbolt and Lightfoot and Jeremiah Johnson. If you’ve never seen All the Real Girls, Mr. Green’s second film, you should...Land Dog. (I know that Margo is laughing right now. That’s all that fucking matters.) He's my generation's Robert Altman.

Story time. Last spring, I was with Kerry after an orientation day at work and we were in Tribeca about to get some dinner. We walk past a patio where there was a large group of people laughing and eating. I look at them and turn quickly to Kerry.
"Is that David Gordon Green?"
"Who's that?"
"The writer/director of All the Real Girls."
"Don't know who that is."
"I think that's him."
So we go to dinner, eat quickly and have a couple beers each. Now I'm buzzed and have enough liquid courage to go up to this man. I pull out my pad of paper and pen. I'm going to ask him for his autograph. I never ask for an autograph but I felt that if I was going to interrupt him at dinner that I should have a reason beyond telling him that I enjoy his work. So I go up to the table.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say Mr. Green that I'm a huge fan."
Everyone at the table is staring at me. I soldier on.
"I hate to bother you but can I have your autograph?"
Now the stares have turned to stunned silence, which bleeds into laughter. Mr. Green looks right at me and says, "You're not fucking with me are you?"
"Oh no. I'm a big fan."
"Give me that." He indicates my paper.
Now I'm standing awkwardly at this table with everyone looking at me. One of his fellow diners starts in on me.
"You've seen his films?"
"Both of them. I can't wait for Undertow to come out."
This, I could tell, really stunned them. Undertow had just entered post-production, a trailer had not even been released yet and I was casually mentioning it like it was just on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. They knew I wasn't a casual fan.
"Here you go." Mr. Green hands me back my pad.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
I walk away pretty satisfied. Kerry who was down the street and watched me from a distance was stunned.
"I can't believe he was so cool."
"I know."
"What did he write?"
And then I look at the paper he wrote on for the first time. Here's what he wrote:
"Hi There This is my name (an arrow pointing to his signature, underneath he has written his name in small letters as one word--davidgordongreen) bye. Have a half horse opera today. COBRA: code name See you later!"
I think he must have been drunk.


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