These boots were made for...

...walking every bloody where today... I'm going to meet Bryan (from the early party) at a very cool place called 'The Standard'. Its on Sunset which is the same road as my hotel so I decide to walk... and walk... and walk until I feel like I am in the friggin Gohbi desert. The vultures are circling so I stop to ask someone how far it is. She informs me it is one more block on the right.... great!!

A mile later I ask someone else - 'She don't know shit - its about 2 miles on the left'... 3 miles later I ask again... "dude, why are you walking?" - I keep walking and eventually get stopped by another traveller who asks me for directions, I tell him I wouldn't know and have been looking for an hour for The Standard - he points behind me...

Inside - this is the coolest hotel in L.A. The reception is like Jamiroquai's living room - circular dome glass swinging chairs, floor to ceiling shaggy carpets and a real woman in a fish tank behind the concierge. (She's bored and reading a book). I suddenly realise that I have a chill-out album called 'The standard' and this is the place. Excellent, I am inside on of my own CD artworks...

Bryan turns up with a girl from his work - Her name is "Sunshine", she has died black hair, black makeup and black clothes... she hates her parents. She's a lovely girl but still resents her parents being surfers... She. Hates. The. Sun. We have a good lunch and shoot the breeze for while then its off out. before I go I have to buy a new CD though - I have know bought a new CD from inside the CD artwork of a CD at my house... Its at this point that I wonder how much affect that long walk had on me?

Today is a cancellation day, I have meetings cancelled, dinners cancelled, catchups cancelled - so bugger them all, I am off to another movie. I watch Thank You For Smoking and new black comedy, its starts well, is uber cool and then loses its legs, but it wasted some time.

I hear from an Actress - Emily - from australian that I have been trying to catch up with so I get her to meet me at the Arclight as I have 2 free tickets to the next feature of the festival. I had met the director and producer/writer at the opening party and they had sold me that this was the next big comedy to come out of the U.S. Emily and I catch up and then go in, we are back out within 10 minutes... its utter shit - hand held DV cam, amateur stuff with a packed audience. Its the kind of film that damages films - its the kind of thing that makes people bristle when you are introduced as a 'filmmaker'.

We get some dinner, catch up some more and then pop into the festival headquarters to grab a drink. It doesn't last long as some overzealous american twat busts in on our conversation with a tirade about how V for Vendetta is a political statement about 9/11 and the filmmakers should be vilified. He's loud, obnoxious and a postcard for middle america. He seems to think that we are hanging on his every word even about V for Vendetta.... hmm... its all I can do from refraining from butting him between the eyes. I am L for Livid, P for Pissed off and G for Getting the f**k outta here...

Are you a leg or a breast man?

Up and out this morning - straight to it. On the way to the festival I see something disturbing... its a pigeon - dead on the sidewalk... trouble is, its only the wings and a spine. The body has literally been torn from the rest, almost as if skinned... Its obvious this is not an animals work - its too clinical, and I wonder how hungry you have to be to do that.

It's 2:30 before I can eat anything...

I meet up with a friend for lunch - Rhett, another aussie - he's here 'doing the scene', it seems that even if you are doing lo-budget work here that its enough to earn a living. Amazing contrast to australia.

2:30 comes and I have forgotten about the pigeon, I head to 'In and Out' Burgers - EVERYONE says that they are the very best burgers in town. I get there and even at this time there is a drive thru line out to the street. I go in, queue up and get a ticket for #25. They then call out 'Guest number #3!!'.... Its a long wait and this had better be good. I can see the kitchen and they are actually COOKING the burgers!!! its not frozen, they are making the ingredients - this is good. I have visions of previous nights culinary treats - oinking antelopehuahuas in hotdog buns, visions of tramps coughing and pulling feathers from their mouths but nothing can stave my hunger.

I head back to the hotel to eat the burger for lunch - I inhale it and its gone, its everything it was cracked up to be, real meat and no brown lettuce. I wait half an hour to see if the reason for the name 'In and Out' will surface, but we're safe...

Lets watch some TV - its afternoon so I should get the slew of crap TV at its very finest... I watch COPS, I can't get enough of that show, its even better than its ever been as I feel like I know most of the cast now...

Like all of you - I love my 'Judge Judy' - but then who doesn't? As I flick through the many channels, it appears that the format has caught on (only tackier if that can be possible) - there is 'Judge Joe Brown' (* He don't take shit y'all!), Judge Hatchett, Judge John Deed (* He was an officer of the law, now he's the law in office!), Judge Mathis, Judge Mills Lane, Judge Roy Bean and on and on and on... I have 'Judge dread'.... each one has their own angle and each one wants to 'out-do' the other. Its hilarious to watch 'real cases' where the judge will say 'You aint all that?", "You go girlfren!", 'Aiight! You goin Dooown!"...

I keep flicking, hoping that the pain will go and settle on 'Tyra', the beautiful supermodel with her own chat show - she's stunning, she's enthusiastic, she's... dumb as a bag of carpet tacks... you can feel the producers pulling strings, moving her arms for her and feeding words to her via an earpiece... its tragic...

I spoon my eyes out and scrub them with bleach before going out into the light of day...

Today is a day that I have been waiting for.... Today I get to go and see the very first screening in the world of the new film 'The Fountain' - with Hugh Jackman. It was a fluke granted - I got approached in the street to ask if I wanted to be in the test audience. Did I work in film? Did I f**k... I'm a graphic designer damnit and I'm going in. Greg and Di come with and we get pulled from the mile long queue with out tickets to jump the line? Why? God knows but we shuffle forward as a battalion of film geeks bore holes into our backs with their laser eyes.

Any moment now we could get fleeced by a band of 40 year old overweight DareDevils and Wolverines... Neutralising us with their homogenised body odour, beating us with plastic lightsabres, smouthering us with their mullets and then calling their mums for a lift home....

But we are in, and we are excited. Its the new film from Darren Aronovsky, its surrounded by controversy, mystique and it looks f****g cool in the trailer. The film starts and within 10 minutes the entire audience is fixed - its unlike anything we have seen before, Jackman deserves and oscar and the film geeks are weeping into their limited edition Boba Fett embroidered handkerchiefs. At the end we have to score the film - it tests very high, everyone around us (inc. me) gives it the highest score possible and walks out satisfied... It's bound to be a flop...

Mann O' Mann I forgot...

Few missing points due to the irish ale:

It rained today and outside Mann's chinese theatre, Destiny's child were there with umbrella's to get a star or something. Their entourage is there to smack away the fans - one security guy is so big that it seems impossible. He could kill a man by dropping on him, his neck is the width of his waist. He is a one man roadblock... I move around the crowd forming to get to the theatre and look at some of the handprints - Jack Nicholson, Sally Field... As I see Elton Johns, I wonder if he had to be pulled from his knees, hoping that the concrete set quickly?

Whilst at the bar with Heath today I had a phonecall from the Commission of Human rights museum to say that he was 'really excited' about having me in to talk about the film research. (remember the psychiatry vs torture museum?)... Off the phone Heath asks me who it was and starts to chuckle... when I tell him who it was he is laughing loudly... it seems that the Commission of human Rights is a front for Scientology - of COURSE they are excited about having me in... they probably have a chair ready for me with clamps, plugs and an alien anal probe at the ready... Still - could be a good way into the industry?... oh... erm...

I practice my vulcan hand signals before going to bed...

Mann o' Mann

Taking a day off today - not even entertaining going to the festival. I am pretty sure I am forgetting to eat 3 times a day so I need to get myself together. I go back to my favourite fast food place - CPK's, salads, pizza's and best of all the 'chipper' waiter. I get a booth and settle in and Bingo! 'Chipper' is at my table - I find out his name is Ivan and he remembers me from before - this is great... Ivan is no ordinary waiter - he's the Concubine of waiters, the Geisha of minimum wage earners, there is nothing he won't do as he bounces around like zebedee smiling and chatting. One day there will be a factory in Tawain spitting out android versions of 'Chipper dolls' that are shipped out to homes across the planet to serve us humans.

I finish up as Ivan calls me a cab, heading out to Westwood to catch up with a fellow aussie at the Palamino bar. 30 minutes into the cab ride I realise that this was a lot further away than I realised - but its nice, there is palm trees, studios and no transexuals...

I catch up with Heath at the bar, great to see another aussie out here (remembering that I have been exiled at this point), who is doing well. He loves L.A. and lets me in on all the secrets of how to enjoy yourself here. 3 Guinnesses down and I'm slurring as I haven't been drinking for a while - I have the bladder of a 4 year old which doesn't help....

As a complete freak coincidence I find out that Heath knows Tony Jennings who shot the film - he shot films for him years ago - Australia is officially the biggest smallest place in the world.

I hop back on another $40 cab ride and go straight the Mann's chinese theater which is where a lot of the big premieres are, hand prints etc. Its cheesy but I have to do it sometime. Shit - I haven't eaten again so its a stale hotdog, popcorn and coke for dinner again. The movie ticket is half the price of the meal deal... I chew on the ticket and its less cardboardy and a hell of lot tastier. The hot dog feels and tastes like they threw a pig, antelope and chihuahua into a trash compactor and hit 'crush'. The popcorn is great but is the size of a nosebag, it would feed a family of four or an average texan housewife. The cinema is amazing though - huge, auditorium, ornate, beautiful patterns and a real old theatre type feel with modern equipment - I watch 'Inside man' which is pretty good but this place would make "Coyote Ugly 2 : Dog Ugly" seem good...

On the way home I get accosted by my old friend 'cracky' who STILL wants to sleep on my floor. I decline graciously and walk backwards to my room.

Protests and Propositions...

I awake in a slumber - I am literally feeling like I have been dragged through a hedge backwards. The parties are getting to me - its not like I am getting drugged... oh no... I'm being too professional for that, but just the sheer amount of late nights and the lock-jaw from trying to smile at people all night is setting in. It feels like I have been here a month, and I'm worried that there is not a lot being achieved - or is it?

Something is stirring me, I want to sleep in today but I drift in and out of dreams that involve sirens, helicopters, the sound of crowds stomping past my hotel... hmm... the sound of crowds stomping past my hotel. I pull myself up and realise that I can't sleep because these are the sounds coming from outside my door. There are indeed helicopters, crowds and sirens... I know today is the second screening of our film but this is ridiculous - I imagine that my 'entourage' will be here shortly to escort me through the throng... then I wake up.

It appears that today is a day of protests - thousands of migrant students are tramping down sunset at protest against the mexican/u.s. border patrols. Protesting to open the borders for free transfer, or as the lady at Kwik Copy puts it "its really about wanting a day out of school"... The protesters are in their teens and are more inclined to be throwing water bombs and kicking cans than really knowing why they are there - its all very playful. Stark contrast with the S.W.A.T. teams and helicopters that monitor their progress.

I decide to do a bit of shopping at last and fight my way through into the back streets of L.A. - and find a treasure trove of movie stores, book shops and record stores... its heaven - I could stay here all day but decide to get the boys some gifts. In the movie store I am in, one guy offers me help in what I am looking for. Its a warehouse of movie merchandise, costumes, toys, masks - its a candystore and I am a kid again. I explain about looking for some star wars toys for my 4, and 2 year old boys only for him to give me a 'knowing wink' and lead me to the lightsabres. Its like the CIA and he is leading me to the weapons haul. 'Take your pick', he tells me, so I settle for a Mace Windu sabre for flynn asking if he thinks my 4 year old will like it. "your '4 year old' will love it sir' - there's that knowing wink again... "why not 'give it a spin'"... He thinks that I'm bluffing, he wants me to know I am amongst friends and that 'of course its for your son, sir' - I dash to the checkout before I receive my members card and masons handshake...

Today is a great day - today everything goes right, and my doubts this morning are squashed, trampled and told to get the f**k outta town. Things are happening, the film is getting noticed, in the space of 2 hours I have 2 meetings set up with agents, a temporary 'attachment' for my script and a phone call from my agent in sydney to say that their is a 'buzz' brewing... its great, its encouraging... its...... to be taken with a f*****g great pinch of salt.

One thing I notice is that EVERYONE has a deal, a meeting, an attachment, a future!! But no bugger is driving around in a mercedes so I figure that's par for the course.

I catch up with a friend of ours, an australian actress who is making it very big here. She's glamorous, friendly and full of amazing advice. She drives me out of central L.A. and into the 'place to be' - everything gets cleaner, brighter, fancier and I notice that this is the place that the travel brochures photograph. We park and on the way to a cafe a lady walks her 'dog' toward us on a diamond encrusted leash. The 'dog' looks half-chihuahua half-otter, its shaved all over aside from its head which left fluffy like a dandelion. I could floss my ears with this thing. We stop and Mel stops to pat it - absolutely deadpan she asks the lady "he's beautiful... is he a dog?". The lady is a little taken aback... "sorry, I just wasn't sure with what you've done to him" - she says it in a way that seems like a compliment - she's a star.

We go for coffee and cake at a great cafe called 'Urth Cafe' - its the place to be, you can feel the paparazzi lenses training in from blackened windows of parked cars. We chat, have a laugh and generally have a relaxing time. Bai Ling turns up (did she know I was here?). She's everywhere...

We leave and go to a book store - amazing book store called 'book soup'. Its like the library with peter cushing in Top Secret - wall to wall books all precariously stacked. Its much cheaper than oz and I grab a couple of limited edition coffee table books, pay, and then realise I just paid excess baggage on the way home - oops.

Mel drops me off to have dinner with the Archangel Greg and Di. We go to Luna Park for dinner - have the best meal of the holiday and a great time.

Today couldn't be better so I head off to the final screening of our film with trepidation that this could be the spanner in the works. The cinema fills up and I dread that the order stays the same - and that we follow the stop-motion.... we do. But.. the crowd are amazing, genuine film lovers and they get into all the films with aplomb. I scan the crowd and recognise a few faces, notably a baddie from '24' - I only remember him as 'The guy that raped jack bauers wife in Season 1™", but think that's too much of a mouthful to say hi. He specialises in playing guys with bent heads and wonky eyes - again, I figure that would not be the best introduction.

The film plays and plays well... we get a long clap - and best of all - my genius cinematographer Tony Jennings gets his own cheer and round of applause as his name comes up... then Hylton the genius composer. The audience have not only appreciated the film, but they really GOT the fact that each element had been thought about with a lot of care.

We get to do a Q&A and they actually ask questions - its unheard of. Before leaving we get approached by a number of people from the crowd that are filmmakers - all very complimentary, all wanting to know if Tony works in the U.S. - I can't wait to tell him...

I end up leaving as its 1am by the time we have finished talking. Its pissing down with rain which is perfect as I wander back to the hotel as if in a Cameron Crowe Movie... I actually say aloud that I have just realised that I relate everything to a movie... I'm back to the room and wonder if tomorrow will be Titanic? Maybe I'll have Breakfast at Tiffany's? Or maybe the next day will be The Day After Tomorrow... oh shut up and sleep you f**kwit, I quite obviously need some rest...

Why Lie? I need a Beer

Woke up with a bit of a hangover and headed over to Sunset Blvd to meet an old mate of mine who has just finished producing his first film with Colin 'son of tom' Hanks. He looks really well and takes me to a cafe that reminds me of sydney... L.A. is on a grid system with the roads and I have just realised that there is a huge area that I have neglected (I should try treating it like a drafts board).

He gives me the lowdown on how to make your mark in the Hollywood scene and it boils down to one thing... its who you know. This is pretty disheartening until I realise that I know him, he knows colin hanks, who knows tom hanks, who knows steven spielberg - so great! I've made it (and in only 4 drafts moves on that chequerboard).

I head back to the film headquarters just in time to get a ticket for the Czech republics oscar nominated film 'Long Dark Night' - its star Goran Vjisnic is doing a Q&A (he produced also) and I want to see it.

In the reception I meet the strangest character so far (yes - including von shay) - Douglas D****** - ac-tor extraordinaire!! Douglas D (no surname for privacy reasons). He's about 60 years old, 6ft tall and like Burt Reynolds without the Irish. He's a bit 'ripe' and his eyes flit around like a gecco when you talk to him - never settling on you for too long. He is eccentric and angry - he doesn't only speak with a plum in his mouth - he's got the whole orchard. Every sentence is like an announcement in vaudeville. We go to the cinema as he tells me his lifestory (he worked with hitchcock on Frenzy and they were good buddies he says). As we enter the darkened theatre I pray that they enforce the allocated seating - yes! He's seated four rows ahead.

But... Douglas insists on standing and announcing to me what he is doing every 2 minutes. Up - "I'm off to the bathroom!!", he's back "I'm baaaack!!"... oh god people are going to think we are together. He's up again "I'm thirsty!!", and he comes back with my very favourite... he seats himself, turns around with a grin on his face and shows me a pork pie... wait for it... "I'v got a pork pie!! I never come to the cinema without one!!". Everyone else is ignoring him - the lights go down and I wonder if that's all he brings to the cinema... I watch carefully for any silhouettes shaped like hunting knives.

Its only after I sit down that I find out it is over 3hrs long. I bear with it (its actually really good), but its early and I need some food so head out, only to sneak back in and get to the Q&A. As we all leave, Goran is surrounded by all and sundry, (one guy even has an E.R. tee-shirt on - oh the tragedy), he's a nice guy but looks uncomfortable. I am asked in earshot of him what I thought of the film, so I am honest and say that it was great. Did you watch it all? Hmmm... I lie - yes (I said he's a big bloke). I only hang around to see if Douglas offers him a sausage roll.

Heading out to the main street, my first genuine laugh of the day. There are more homeless people in L.A. then anywhere i have been.. oh... erm... that's not the funny part. One coloured guy is singing his heart out and laughing as he holds up a sign that says 'Why Lie? I need a beer..." - fantastic... and he's making a fortune.

I'm filmed out by now - about 4 screenings a day and my head is killing me but I need a fix. I want to see a popcorn movie so buy a ticket for V for Vendetta. Head out for food and walk past a 'stretch hummer' (Wondering if the man that came up with that name ever REALLY understood the connotations?). After dinner I am in the theatre and find that this is the mecca of all movie theatres: Assigned seating and a nice lady comes out at the start (of a general public screening) - announcing that she hopes we are all well, tells us what we are about to see, asks everyone to switch off phones and refrain from talking - and any problems, she will be outside... outstanding!

I leave with sore ears and strained eyes - so good was the quality of the theatre. I skip the party tonight - all partied out.

Just before bed, I google douglas to get his film credits... nothing on Hitchcock - but there was an uncredited role on 'Cannibal Hookers'... it figures... good night.

Dude looks like a lady...

Slept in this morning and had to run to kinkos to get some flyers made up - all the films have truckloads of flyers and we are getting a little dwarfed... I've realised that my accent is a magnet for freaks and eccentrics. As I stand at the counter talking to the service girl - I'm approached by a 6ft african american transexual (that's too long - lets abbreviate to Sh-he) - what do I do? Where am I from? Sh-he informs me that sh-he is 'J.von Shay', a well known fashion icon and pageant party organiser - they need one more judge for the fashion show next week and would love a visiting film director to be there - would I be interested - in fact, sh-he insists as my arm is grasped by fake nails and hairy knuckles.

I feel like there is a mardis gras sponsored by KFC - and I am looking like a chicken drumstick. I weigh up the odds - could be good for business if there are industry types there so I entertain sh-him that I'll think about it...

I leave before sh-he thinks that things are going to get finger lickin' good...

Off to the screening and as I walk in, I am met by my worst case scenario - there are roughly ten people here to see the shorts. F**k it... I sit down and wonder what in the hell I am doing here - ten minutes to go. I consider leaving and watching a 'real' movie instead - but then, as if a by magic, a caravan of people come through the door with barely minutes to go - literally filling the cinema. It seems that this is the way of the audience - the last minute works. As the lights go down the theatre is at capacity...

The films are screened - and we are in a good group. There are a couple of corkers but I am waiting for ours and chris' film. The set continues and its looking like we will be the last 2 - then before our one, we get a stop-motion claymation that lasts 20 MINUTES!!! Its way too long, too silent, and too long and also too long I - the audience drops by 10% - I want wallace and gromit to come out and kick the shit out of this clay character. The film finishes but the audience feel like they need a sponge-bath - I don't think they know what they are in for. Brother begins and I wonder if this will tip them over the edge - I should have made a gag film... but its great - the audience responds really well - the lady next to me is crying into a hanky - mission accomplished (or was she just informed that more stop-motion was in store?).

I get off lightly as the lights go up... wait a minute - chris' film has not played - poor bastard, the projectionist made a mistake and pulled the reel before playing his film. The audience that remain seated have to wait 20 minutes for them to fix the problem. The film plays - and its fantastic - the best comedy short I have ever seen, so at least he is vindicated... There is a Q&A after but no one really wants to speak (Question: how come cinema audiences talk through movies but remain silent at Q&A's ? hmm...)

All in all a good screening, that night we head off to a party at the local art gallery - It's very 'arty'.

Never ask for directions from a sane man

I need to sort my visa out - now! so I get up early and head out - stop at starbucks and print out the forms, fill them in and look for a post office.- there are so many freaks here, it rivals adelaide. I look for the sanest looking person - a youngish guy in a beanie and cargos, only one head - nothing scary about him... erm...

I ask for directions - "straight up and take a left on Hollywood" - "I'm 'going your way". I follow him toward the street as he makes small talk - where are you from etc. The more he talks - the bigger I make the gap between us - I was wise to do this as he kindly informs me that he lives just up the road and "you can come and have a lay down... watch TV - what do you say?" - Nice.

I tell him to give me his address and I will be sure to come over later - he actually takes the bait and pisses off, a spring in his step... and a sprint in mine.

Today turns out to be a great day, I catch up with greg for lunch and we have the most 'chipper' waiter in the whole of L.A. - its so hard not to like him, I've never met a waiter that tries so hard bless him. He even replaces our cokes when they are half empty because 'the bubbles have all gone'. Every time he passes the table, he comments on the food we have eaten with a "well, you gone and got the best bits don't ya!" - we leave a good tip.

I head to the festival to see a documentary by a guy I met yesterday - El immigrante - its the first film of the whole festival.. its the middle of the day... its... empty. The poor bastard is sitting in an empty theatre and I am the audience - he looks distraught. During the film another 25 people come in. Its a shame, as its a great doco, focussing on the mexican border patrols, and a young mexican boy who was gunned down by a civilian who thought he was 'doing his duty'. Its heart wrenching, well edited and shows how backward some of america really is.

Down the road I score some advance screenings for The Fountain as I lie about not being in the film industry to get them (how she never noticed my silver lake film festival pass around my neck I will never know - "look in the eyes, not around the eyes... and... you're back in the room" worked nicely).

As I wander past the VIrgin store - a sign announces that Gomez are playing inside. I whip in to find that one of the best bands in the world are playing acoustic at the back of the store, and there are 30 people there!!! Its incredible - one of my favourite bands and it feels like a private performance - they are funny, great live and have amazing voices - what a night!

I head off to the first short film section screenings - luckily there are more people this time, the screening is pretty full and I get to see what is on offer. The first film is a travesty - performance art and bad poetry (its not looking good) - but they do have a voice over by Dennis Hopper so that explains a lot. The next few films fare slightly better but not great. Then a great run with a few really good quality films to finish - its a mixed bag but interesting.

Wandering back I wonder how the screening will go tomorrow, there are only 5 international films so the US contingent is very prevalent, could be a hard sell. I get back through my hotel door (checking that dear old 'crackie' from last night doesn't need to bunk up again) - and turn in...

Margeritas and Bai Ling

A new day, a new outlook on L.A. A guardian angel turns up in the form of my mate Greg (For those that don't know him - he's a writer, genius guitarist and donwright nice guy). He turns up and completely turns Hollywood around for me - by the end of the day I am out of the roadworks hotel and into a cheaper, better hotel only blocks from the festival thatre. I have a mobile phone (which he gives me!), internet access and shows me the real la la land... This is why I came here - Sunset Drive, Manns chinese theatre, Kodak theatre, the stars boardwalk - I finally feel like I did the right thing. All hail Greg...

I settle into the new hotel and get ready for the opening night shindig and premiere of 'Edmond' - a David Mamet written film starring Wiliam H. Macy. I walk to the party and am bombarded with business cards from all kinds of people - post-houses, festival scouts, and distribution houses. It feels great until I realise that EVERYONE is getting this attention - this is how it works, introduce, smile, tell them how wonderful they are (even though they could not have possibly seen the film), smile and move onto the next person...

One over eager festival scout asks me where I am from "Australia" -"oh WOW!!! my girlfriend is australian - wait! wait - I'll call her - you might know her, 'renata'?" - I think he is joking, this is after all, the ultimate cliche but no, he's genuine and starts dialling renata on the off chance that we are in fact - friends... I try in vain to tell him this is impossible but he's on the line... she doesn't pick up... I wonder if she ever picks up when she sees him number (or is that part of the restraining order she obviously has against this overzealous numbskull - who knows?). I move away quickly and end up talking with a really nice asian guy called Brian. Brian is interesting, nice, but he doesn't look part of the 'in-crowd' so everyone is ignoring him. Luckily for me Brian is the unassuming guy that is actually 'connected'. We hang out for the night and he forwards my details to some name producers while all the funky people chase men with fat cigars and no contacts... I love it.

The film screens and its pretty unanimous that this was a good film to open with. Its hard hitting, very controversial, and brilliantly acted - its Falling Down meets American Psycho on a shoestring budget - kind of like crash... for adults.

William H. Macy is phenomenal in it and I can't understand why he wasn't nominated this year, and he's good enough to turn up and answer questions - he's funny, nice and leaves immediately after the Q+A as a gaggle (is that the collective) of berets and squinters circle like coyotes. Another star of the film - Bai Ling, turns up (The Crow, Sky Captain etc). She's mad - she's there to answer questions but essentially she was in the film for 5 minutes and almost totally naked the whole time - but she makes no bones about the fact that she enjoys being watched naked - the crowd (mainly male film geeks) go wild - her google rate goes through the roof.

We leave to the party at the spider club which is intimate and LOUD - we all scream at each other just to get each others names wrong. I decide to hang out with Brian as we discover that Margeritas are on the house, anything else is $13US (yes - including water) - we drink the margeritas. We are drunk - very quickly and its then that I realise that I don't know my way home. Bai Lings boyfriend is here - he's a rich kid producer, and likes letting you know that - he drops names like I drop my 't's. I pull him up on it when he starts braggin about being the man that can drop a film on the weinsteins desks, he's that connected. "go on then' - he 's taken aback...'what?" - "go on then - drop my film on their desk'. we then get into a delicate dance as he tries to move around the subject but I am like a terrier with a testicle - pepper spray won't get me to get off this one. He ducks, he dives, but I get his business card because he's embarrassed and there is a group forming that want to know why he can't do what he says. Gotcha... unfortunately I am so drunk that I think I just referred to Bai Ling as 'Bing Lee' - those in australia will know that this is not a compliment...

I stumble out and ask directions - tag onto film looking people and head in the general directino of the hotel, grab a burger and keep my eyes peeled. I get back to the hotel and fall into bed at midnight, so glad that I am in a new hotel... then... knock knock kncok... What?... knock... knock... knock... I go to the window to see a 50 year old lady with dilated pupils and matted hair asking to come in. She must be mistaken. Nope - she wants to know if I can give her a bed for the night (Do i look like the night porter?) - she tells me she has been locked out and just wants to sleep on the floor - I'm polite but insistent - then I think I recognise her, hmmm... I am sure she was on an episode of COPS earlier, I think about asking for her autograph but i don't think she'd understand. - she drags herself onto the next room - knock knock knock... shit - how am I going to sleep now. But I do... with one ear open...

Berets and Squints

Great - I am awake and ready to go to the first party of the festival - a small meet and greet at a mansion in silver lake. I rush to get ready and think back to the customs man (was it Ted?) as I discover that I did indeed forget my toothbrush. I run downstairs to get a FREE toothbrush from reception - its handy, it double as a toilet brush. I swallow a whole pack of mints and grind my teeth til they disappear (the mints, not the teeth), should I take the Brother postcards to hand out? No, that would be tacky. I smack on a black shirt... SURELY no one else will be wearing that?

I arrive to a sea of black shirts... luckily for me I chose not to wear a beret, rainbow scarf or tom cruise in Minority report jacket... now THAT would have been a faux pas.

I have a good night as every other filmmakers pushes a postcard of their film into my hand... some look good, some look bad - but they have all spent money and everyone is there to impress. I scope the party and at almost every turn I ask someone what they do and am met with... "erm... I'm a Director, Producer, Writer" or, " "erm... I'm a "Producer, Director, Writer" or, "erm,... I'm a Producer, Writer, Director" ... I choose to say 'filmmaker' rather than play trumps with my additional 'actor' up my sleeve - take that! Until the next guy who is actually a "Director, Writer, Actor, Producer, Model" - I choose to stop playing.

I notice one other guy in the room who seems to doing his own thing, unassuming and just having a laugh. We get talking and he is great - Chris, he's got a short called K-7 (a comedy) and we are playing in the same program, we're happy we don't have to 'pretend' to like each other and pray that one of us doesn't have a shit film.

We play a game of 'trumps' based on which people we can pick out (producer trumps Actor, Director trumps Producer, Actor just about trumps the hired help). We decide that the actors are easy to mark - they frown and squint a lot more than the others. The directors are a bit more difficult - berets are a giveaway, a stoop and hunched over 'tortured artist' is a sure bet. Producers are hard cos no one actually knows what one looks like...

We mingle as much as we can and eventually get led to a group of berets and squints... they are all congregating in a group (luckily there are no qantas personnel here) around a wildly gesticulating guy that we learn is the festival director - Roger - we see how this works. Everyone is working him, trying to get an edge - we decide to listen in as he deflects frowns, squints and cheesecutter marks from the berets... he' s looking bored as every one of them pounds their film at him.

He pulls us into the group and asks our names as the squinters frowns curl to snarls. We tell him our names and he literally explodes "F*****g A man!! F*****g A!!! K-7, guys this guy has made a film that is soooooo f*****g funny man - you have to see it, and Brother - oh my f******g god!!! What a film - I had to pile through days of s**t and then those two films were handed to me on a platter - you guys rock!" - we are dead meat... we leave but there is a spring in our step.

Cojones son burros

I arrive, jetlagged, squashed and bearing the brunt of a harsh battle. Leaving the baggage area is smooth - not much to comment on... taxi to the hotel which is in Silver Lake, but I can't see the lake and the only silver is coming from the gleaming chrome bumpers of the drive-by cars.

I'm reminded of the film 'Colors' as I am in a very hispanic area of L.A. - lots of shaven heads, big moustaches and prison tattoos (not such a long way from Oxford st after all). Except these boys aren't wearing hot-pants.

I get to reception to hear that I have 3 hrs to check-in... not happy. I leave my bags behind reception and head out to the main drives of L.A. with my life in a laptop case, suit jacket and shoes - trek 3k to a 7eleven and ask directions at several latino spray painting workshops. I'm getting strange looks every direction. It could be that I have a suit instead of a belt chain, it could be that I have a laptop bag in a street that the only other bags are plastic and hung from rusted shopping trolleys. Or it could be that my limited spanish from school affords that I could either a) tell them my birthday, b) ask for directions or c) mumble a sentence that (roughly translated), compares my testicles to that of a donkeys... I choose my words carefully.

Every thinks my name is 'hesay', if I choose to say 'G'day' they ask where in England I am from, and if I switch to 'allo guvnor' they tell me how wonderful the opera house is... I am dazed and confused - and at the last garage I ordered a coke whilst falling asleep at the counter.. I try my luck back at the hotel.

I get back, sweaty, disorientated, and met by a jackhammer that is building a new school across from the hotel. I look left and swear I could see Karen cartwheeling past? To be fair, she has literally done EVERYTHING to do with this trip. I have about my person - a wallet from Karen with print outs of every single detail to do with the trip - dates, events, maps to events, phone numbers, references, photocopies of I.D. - its like a witness protection file, I am sure if I dig deep enough there will be a recipe for fudge brownies... I check in - sleep and... sleep

A touch of class

On to the boarding gates and its only now that I notice I am getting strange looks, its the jacket - I must be 'first class'. Let me correct that - its Qantas, so its 'upper class' (amazing that a nation with no class system has the leading carrier with 'upper class'). Little do they know that it was all a big disguise, and I am actually in 'Chimney Sweep class' with the rest of the soot covered scamps about to board. Its at this stage that I get to see the true meaning of human nature - the amazing jostling to get on board first! Its like watching the amazing race, they are all here - the old couple that are ready to snatch a small child just to be able to board with 'parents and children under the age of 10'. They are actually SIDLING up against the kid to try and look as if they are with him, somebody call security! And there! There is the couple of man-friends that try to board BEFORE anything is announced - they haven't even thought ahead enough to wear pilots uniforms! I hate them already - I bet they are 'upper class'. Announcement : "we are now boarding our upper class passengers, can 'the others' please form an orderly queue and not make eye contact'... and... THEY'RE OFF! Damn, the man-friends were upper class, damn them all to hell - and everyone is looking at me as if to say, "oh... we see.. the old "can we choose our own seats to the check-in girl trick". I feel cheated. I want to stand up and proudly announce that I am... in fact upper class, but I am making a stand for civil equality. I can almost hear them now "I am spartacus..", "no, I am..." - shit! they are all boarding, better run...

On board and I getting hustled along with a cattle prod toward my seat, Its cramped and one guy behind me is actually 'mooing' - its pretty funny, he's still mooing - kinda funny... still mooing, o.k. mister its just stupid now. Bastards! The man-friends are in economy seats!! They just went through with First Class to get their seats quicker - what is WRONG WITH PEOPLE? The cow-man pushes past, mooing and flicking flies away with his tail and its on to the next challenge on this pit-stop - 'find a space for your bags in overhead lockers' - damn, all the other amazing couples have been here first, I am so glad I brought my 'Brother' poster on board so it won't get crushed as I crumple and squeeze it into the only available space... godamnit! don't they know I'm upper class?

We are seated only to be told by the captain that because this is a flight to the U.S. we need to respect the new U.S. flying code - (this is good) - absolutely 'no congregating in groups' - take a f**king look around mister!! we don't have choice, the guy in front is grouping on my lap right f**king now!!

We take off, all is good - 'Walk the line' is on - couldn't be happier, seat-belt light OFF and then THWACK! the seat in front folds back to full tilt position in a milli-second. One row in front, I have a 70 year old american man (I bet his name is CHIP so lets call him that) - and he's going to get COMFORTABLE by god! He starts bouncing back and forth on the chair like the southpark kids on a f**king spring-thing... Joaquin Phoenix is singing his heart out (I can't remember Johnny Cash moving quite so much?) - the seat is rocking, he's twisting, turning, trying to get the perfect angle as the woman next to me lets out a nervous laugh, she can almost see the guys head he is tilted so far back. Bouncing, rocking, Joaquim is surely getting a migraine by now... and then... he settles... fan-f**king-tastic. Food is served, beverages are layed and then... THWACK!!
Chip is at it again, the seat shunts up straight and there is more food flying than at a 'biggest loser' wrap party. I lean around and ask him nicely if he wouldn't mind not thrashing the chair around like a bull-shark, to which he replies 'I'll try'.... grrr... I stand up and shout "you'll 'try' - you better f**king try, or I'll help you get horizontal 'mate', try thrashing around like that when you are in traction"... of course, this is post 9/11, so I actually just smile politely for fear of federal marshalls and get back to Mr Phoenix. There was something about the way chip smirked though when I complained - he's planning something... it doesn't feel right... what could it... oh god he farted!! Its all I can do not to gag my food as a 70 year old half digested qantas bacon roll is farted in my general direction. The lady next to me is politely holding a finger to her nostrils, pretending to eat, I politely plant my cushion smack across my nasal passage, such is the stench. Its like a retirement home waiting room in chimney-sweep-class.

That's o.k, though - it's passing... I feel sorry for him - he used his heavy artillery too early. He couldn't possibly know my background, my genes, or the fact that I had a barbecue pizza last night at 10:30pm... but he's about to find out. It's a rookie move, but now he's about to earn his 'stripes'. I consider for a second, the other passengers around me, but this is war damnit and there have to be casualties. I picture my brother standing on the front-line, willing me forward - (the 'general' in any warzone of this kind - blowing his bugle to mark the commencement of battle). I return fire, and as with any good soldier - retreat to the bunker (read: bathroom), leaving him with full credit for the mortar bomb that just cleared the area... (sorry mum)

Land of Hope and Glory

So... things got off to a weird start (more on that later). Karen took me off to the airport after we checked, double-checked and triple-checked I had my passport, toothbrush, money etc. I tried the old 'are we able to pick our own seats today', on the check-in lady trick... (read) "of course sir, what would you like", "an upgrade to business class please ?". Check-in lady was courteous and only laughed at me for a few seconds (Damn! and I turned up in a jacket and shoes too - she saw through my ruse).

So, it was off to the Gate and we had little tear in our eyes as we parted ways (god knows why the check-in lady felt the need to come with us), she left and then Kaz and I spent 5 minutes trying to convince the other one that 'no, I'm going to miss YOU more' (repeat 10 times and you get the gist). I walked through the exit gate and peered over my shoulder in increments to make sure she was still there. Rounded the corner just in time to catch a glimpse of Karen between peoples shoulders leaving - (her feet mind you - she was strangely doing cartwheels -hmm..) and off to customs, where my adventure!... stalled...

Was greeted by a very disinterested greek guy who was texting (I kid you not) as I approached the booth. (lets call him Wally) He started to process my passport, only to have his mobile blast into strings of Bach (I got to wondering if the genius composers of the world ever dreamt of having their masterpieces reproduced in the harmonic tones of a polyphonic ringtone... I doubt it). He answered the phone (I kid you not), to ask them to call back - how polite. Only to ask me to 'come with him' and wait on a plastic bench in front of all the normal people being let through. At this stage I knew something was wrong (had he seen my smirk when his phone concerto erupted? Maybe I had wondered allowed if Wally had ever thought of purchasing the London Philharmonic Orchestra's rendition of 'Crazy Frog' - damn again!).

I was left a good ten minutes before being met by a very official looking official (Ted?) who officially informed me that my permanent visa to australia had officially expired last year!! "But we triple checked my passport goddamnit!" - "But your not a citizen mate... you can get on the plane but we can't let you back in". At this point I cursed the amount of time we had spent checking that I had packed my toothbrush (more on that later).

Very matter-of-factly, Ted waved a hand and said "you should be alright, go to... an embassy... or something.. and they will sort you out" - "but I have kids here, a family here, I even support Sydney FC!" (That was a step too far, I could see that he thought I was lying now...) And with that - he was gone!

So there I am, about to board a plane to the U.S. - A British Citizen, and an Australian Exile. If only things were simpler like in the good old days, I could have got off of the other end, stolen some apples and been straight back in... but it was not to be....

L.A. Confidentials

Righty oh... I am going to blog my way through the Silver Lake and Beverly Hills trip so that you now I am still alive - check back here for regular postings...