Friday, July 10, 2009

Harry Potter Revelations

The only attempted pic. Then I felt ridiculous.


After work, I bolted over to the Harry Potter US Premiere yesterday. By the time I got there, a huge group of fans were chained off on the south side of the street. The red carpet and the press area was on the north. What did I do? I found a back way into the press section and tried to stand as uninterested and calm as possible. While I was in the box, I checked out all of the equipment I could see: camera's, lenses, arri-lights, etc. It's funny how seeing a porta-brace and a black sandbag can make you feel welcome. I managed to stay in the area for a good 20 minutes, until the theater owners came up and started checking in crews. Fuck.

I started to bail and made it up the stairs when I made eye contact with this boy probably a little older than me. We did the point and stare, mouths hanging open. He spoke first: "I know you," I looked back and said "I know you, too." As he told me his name, Andrew, I looked to the left and caught the eye of another person I knew - but this time, I recognized him. It was my dear Emmerson (creator of Mugglenet my favorite fan site, my 15-year-old crush, a lucky bastard) and his crew. How I knew them? Well, they have pictures on their site, obviously. How Andrew knew me? He didn't - he said I looked a lot like the girl who runs HPANA, another website. So, I looked to him and said, "Well, it was nice meeting you, I'm sorry for bothering." "Not at all," he replied, "are you gonna stick around for the premiere?" Light bulb. "Well, I want to, but I'm not sure where to go... this place is chaos." "Oh, well I think the fans are over there." [Insert awkward moment as he realized what I may have been hinting at]. I play it cool, "Ah, thanks, see you later!"

Smiling to myself, I headed to the other side. The place was a clusterfuck. Fans were screaming at anything that moved. Little kids walked around in Hogwarts ties. And I was in the back, 5'1" and unable to see shit. I did some maneuvering through the crowds, found two or three decent spots (until the theater guys kicked us out). I finally settled in the back, memories of the 2007 Muse concert running through my head (l.s.s., I couldn't see shit). With the ridiculous commentary of fans in my head, I made a choice: I left.

At that moment, I realized that I just don't care that much. It's not about Harry Potter, it's about Hollywood. Outside of the excitement and the chaos, they are just a bunch of high school kids parading around in prom dresses. Think about it from their perspective - the glamour's lost. And more important than that, I realized that I don't belong on that side of the street, with the crazed fans who glaze away their days dreaming about Daniel Radcliffe and contemplating whether or not "they get tired of seeing their face on the big screen."

Don't get me wrong, I may not belong on the other side of the street, the side with the red carpet, hot lights, Yates and Rowling. But, even if I never make it big in the industry, film school has done one thing. It's made me see everything for what it is. Yes, I know that's a sweeping generalization, but, in regards to somethings, it's totally true. The point is, actors* are people, filmmakers are people, the creators of mugglenet are people, we are people. No one is an idol to everyone, and talent doesn't make you an idol.* I'm pretty sure no one gave a fuck when some of those crew members hit the carpet. What made that event? A red carpet, some lights, some cameras, some fans, and "people." Fuck, Adam and Nick managed to do that a few months ago for no money and less hassle. The point is, it's all a show. Even reality, it's all a show. Or a stage - where we're all merely players...

There it is, some insight for the day. I'll save my other thoughts for some other time.

Less-Than-Three You, Monique
Listening to: birds chirping

Footnotes:
*Rupert Grint, if you're reading this, you will forever be the only redhead I will ever truly love.
*This may be why I'm not really bothered by name dropping. Unless you're a certain 'doctor'...

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