US weakly

I put on my socks, one at a time, scratch indecent areas, get dressed and leave for work. This is all pretty normal and mundane. Now let’s pretend I go to my job where I get paid five million dollars or more to act in a film. Suddenly because my paycheck can clear the debt of some small cities, I have to lose the simple ability to walk down the street for fear of being mobbed by fame-starved lunatics?

How poorly we treat our “stars”, it’s completely ridiculous.

I understand admiring someone’s work, I mean how else would they understand that their efforts are appreciated. It’s when we camp outside their hotels and circulate around the trendy hotspots with pens and photos in hand, that I believe we cross a line towards sociopathic excess.

I have been contracted to the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) for the past four festivals, and in this time have seen obsessive adoration at its worst. Do you want the star you favour most to actually remember you out of a hundred faces in a crowd? Try treating them like a human being. Seriously, just walk up and politely introduce yourself instead of mobbing them and screaming for their autograph, they block those faces out and make their exits as quickly as possible.

One year at the TIFF I saw Harvey Keitel in a café huddled around this tiny excuse for a table. He had six guys with him cramped around this petite surface area, normally appropriate for two, and hadn’t noticed a larger empty table a few feet away. Being of a friendly, helpful nature, I calmly walked up to them and said “Sorry to interrupt you guys, but there’s a larger table off to side that would probably be better for you and your friends. I can help you bring your plates over if you would like.” They took me up on my offer and switched spots. Harvey looked at me then down at my nametag and said “Thank you Rob.” And that was that.

If I saw him again today and told him this story, he’d probably have at least a vague recollection of me. As for the throngs of screaming asinine fans…”Hey Harvey!!! Remember me? I was yelling at you and shoving a pen in you face. Don’t you remember? My maniacal screaming face made me look like I was shitting a brick.”

What a poetic remembrance.

Just so you know…

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