(NOTE: This column was originally written in 2002, to commemorate the release of Star Wars Episode II - Attack of the Clones. In honor of the release of Live Free or Die Hard I am re-publishing it as a tribute to the man who started my love for waiting in line for movies. The man, the myth, the Bruno, Mr. Bruce Willis. I can’t wait to come full circle and stand in line for a Die Hard movie, one more time…)

The date had been embedded in my mind for months: July 4, 1990. On a Wednesday in the middle of an unusually hot summer, Die Hard 2: Die Harder would be released to the public. The first film, Die Hard, had quickly become a family favorite amongst me and my two brothers. We had seen the film countless times, reciting racy lines of dialogue and reenacting brutal violence at an age when we should have been playing baseball, not terrorist and hero cop. When the release date of the film was set, our house went into a collective frenzy. There was no doubt in our minds what we were going to do the night of July 4th. Forget barbeques or baseball games, if it did not entail Bruce Willis fighting terrorists, we were not interested.

The days leading up to the opening night were agonizingly slow. The commercials advertising the film only served to increase my frustration of not having seen the film. The day finally arrived, filled with joy and the feeling of vindication. My patience would finally be rewarded. Little did I know, trouble was brewing. My mother was called into a late evening meeting, we would not make the 7:30 p.m. showing. Ordinarily this would not be a problem since most films have multiple showings on any given night. Die Hard 2, however, was a longer film than most. My local cinema, the only one playing the film, was airing only two screenings, one at 7:30 and the other at 10:45 p.m. My mom arrived home at 8:30, and we commiserated on our misfortune. Being only nine years old, my strict bedtime of 9:30 p.m. would not be wavered, even by the rogue charms of Mr. Willis. I was well aware that the film would be playing in theaters for the duration of the summer and beyond, but my desire to experience the film “right now” was too overwhelming. Clever use of a guilt-trip sullied my mother’s defenses and soon we were off waiting in line for the late show.

It was my first experience seeing a movie that late; my eyes were wide with excitement and energy. The line extended around the back of the theater but no one felt inconvenienced; they all shared my deep rooted love for this film franchise. They let us in at 10:15, and I could barely contain myself. A nine-year old ball of energy, up way past his bedtime, waiting to see Bruce Willis save the world. The lights went down, and I was hooked.

Even at such a young age, I could feel the power of the opening night. At no other time is the energy as high, the audience as passionate, or the experience as genuine. My need to see movies on opening night became an obsession I have been feeding since that fateful Independence Day. My movie-going life was changed, and film’s place in my social life was forever altered. I blame it all on Bruce Willis.

The years passed, and the opening night experiences grew in number. Braveheart, summer of 1995. Watching the movie we all knew what was happening. The first night of the film’s release and we could all sense it. We were watching a Best Picture in the making, and no one else knew. Then, Apollo 13, just a few weeks later. The air-conditioning in the theater turned up so high, I felt as if I was the one trapped in space.

November 1, 1996. Throngs of pre-pubescent and newly adolescent teenagers pack an unsuspecting local movie theater, awaiting the release of the highly anticipated re-imagining of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. I was fifteen, anxious, and surrounded by braces and Clearasil as far as the eye could see. The theater had underestimated the film’s appeal, and chose to screen the film in a theater two sizes too small. Teens were turned back at the door, openly crying at the thought of a Leonardo-less Friday night. As the 7:30 p.m. mark moved ever closer, the theater began to hum with the excitement. Six hundred adolescents giddy at the prospect of watching two hours of spastic, tragic Shakespeare. When Leonardo’s face first appeared on-screen relationships ended. Girls openly wept and their dates hid in their seats. This was not a film screening, it was hormonal torture.

On another end of the spectrum was the Friday late show of Michael Mann’s sprawling L.A. crime thriller, Heat. On an atypically scorching December evening, I decided to turn my opening night obsession into a sociological experiment. The Oxy pad crowd of Romeo and Juliet had taught me that certain sects of people would only attend certain movies at specific times. To this end, I decided to forego the usual mid-evening show, and instead see the final show of the night.

Returning to the conversations heard in my Die Hard line roots, I anticipated a crowd of film-loyalists; pretentious movie-lovers spouting home-made philosophies on the merits of Pulp Fiction as a new filmic-religion. What I got, however, was a collection of individuals so contrary to anything I had expected that all my theories immediately went out the window. Entering the densely packed theater, I first noticed a preponderance of leather. Everyone seemed to be wearing it in some form, be it the jacket, shirt or pants variety. They all seemed to be unusually large and bedecked with lengthy beards. It was then that I realized what type of audience I walked into. This was no crowd of kids. I had come to the late night trucker show, with access granted to only those who owned and operated a vehicle that could double for the malicious big-rig in Steven Spielberg’s Duel. The crowd reaction was unnatural: no catty comments thrown Pacino’s way, no standing ovations or audible gasps. The only sound you heard was the rustling of leather. I was a child amongst grizzled grown-ups. Two hours of crime drama could not go fast enough.

I began to examine the crowds that joined me in my opening night excursions, finding just as much joy and pain from who I watched, then what I watched. The unusually high number of people seated legs-crossed, near the back of the theater, for Boogie Nights. The crowd full of blown hankies and teary sobs for Carl Franklin’s One True Thing. And most famously, the crowd of somber adults, turned stone silent by the effect of Steven Spielberg’s masterpiece, Schindler’s List.

(more…)

As is tradition at TheJay.com, we’d like to take the time to honor and celebrate the birth of celebrity off-spring. And there’s no better way to do that then by supposing what some other big name celebrities might be saying to the proud, new parents. And by new parents I mean just Julia Roberts. Except of course when the paparazzi are around, then that also includes her charming civilian husband Danny Moder. Since the birth of Julia’s new baby boy Henry came in so under the wire that most people still haven’t realized it actually happened a week ago (hey, the Paris machine doesn’t stop for anything, least of all the third kid of an aging American Sweetheart. Unless the kid came out with three arms, or black, we’d rather hear what Paris is reading in jail. Her thoughts on the Harry Potter series are quite illuminating), we’re gonna follow suit with this post, seven days after the fact. This way we get to honor two traditions, the birth of a celebrity baby and procrastination!

So congratulations to Julia, Danny and baby Henry from all of us here at TheJay.com! May you’re poorly-named twins not maim you in your sleep for giving the new kid such an easy moniker. Mazel Tov!

On to the celebrity well-wishes…

George Clooney: Julia, don’t take it personal that we left you out of the new Ocean’s movie because you were rabidly annoying in the las- I mean, because you were so pregnant. We just didn’t want to bother you in your time of glowing motherhood. Also, you never let me bring whores on set. And you know that’s what I need to begin my creative process. And with Pitt warming up to Angelina every morning, I needed something equally as… creative in my trailer. You understand, right?

Phinnaeus Roberts: Henry? Fucking Henry? You saddled with me a name Shakespeare would have junked and the new kid gets HENRY??!! I am so smearing peanut butter on the plasma screen.

Brad Pitt: Don’t believe a word of what George said. I’m the reason we dropped you and made Ellen Barkin the only chick on set. Angie made me sign a contract saying I’d only work with women who look like dudes. I argued hard to include you on that list, but you just never win when faced with the choice of not getting to have sex with Angelina Jolie. I’m sorry. And congratulations. I hope you’re enjoying all your three of your beautiful Caucasian, totally belonging to you by blood kids. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take the black one to pre-school before I go to the set. I’m shooting a love scene with Rhea Perlman today. (sighs) … totally worth it!

Eric Roberts: Congratulations, sis! I’m so proud of you. You are going to be as wonderful a Mother as you have been a Sister. Um… so now that I kissed your ass, can you like, get me work? I have a pretty big house payment due at the end of the month and Emma won’t give me a bigger allowance.

Richard Gere: Julia, about your new baby boy. It corners like it’s on rails.

Matthew Perry: Could my television show BE any more cancelled! So yeah, congrats on the third kid. Sorry it never worked out between us. What with you being the biggest movie star in the world at the time and me being on a show people actually liked, you’d think it would have worked. Course Brad and Jennifer disproved that theory. Whoa, just think, if we had gotten together, there’s a chance I’d be banging Angelina Jolie and starring in stuff people don’t find soul-crushingly pretentious, and you’d be mirthlessly dating Vince Vaughn. Life, huh? Could it BE any more random!

Sandra Bullock: I just don’t understand. We’re equally lovable on-screen performers. I’m arguably more attractive. I made just as cloying a Hugh Grant romcom. So why aren’t I an incredibly beloved Oscar winner who gets to make movies with George and Brad? How come I’m stuck making mediocre thrillers with the idiot from Nip/Tuck, while you’re having Sunday brunch with freaking Oprah?! I don’t get it! Is it because I did movies with three of your ex boyfriends? I’m sorry. Please don’t sick Dakota on me!

Clive Owen: You gave birth. That’s the spirit. Congrats. Congrats for your bravery. Now fuck off and die, you fucked up slag! Love to the twins.

Catherine Zeta-Jones: Darling, how are you! And the baby, so precious! Oh, what it must have been like to conceive with such a strapping young man. And with so many abdominal muscles! Michael hasn’t had those since the 70’s. When I was eight. (start tearing up) I apologize, Julie bird, I’ve just had a rough go of it lately. Spielberg won’t take my calls, Soderbergh refused to put me in Ocean’s Thirteen. I mean, Ellen Barkin instead of us! You’re pregnant and bitchy, but me? I’m GORGEOUS and bitchy! Now I have to go promote this god awful movie I made with Aaron stupid Eckhart! And the girl in the movie isn’t even Dakota Fanning. This is my penance for agreeing to do the Zorro sequel.

Hazel Roberts: Henry? You named him Henry? That’s such an easy name! Why again am I Hazel? Why did I get some stupid witch name and the new boy gets an All-American one? I am so making you a grandmother when I turn 12.

Emma Roberts: Congratulations, Auntie Julia. I just wanted to remind you of our deal. You keep these little rats out of my limelight and I’ll keep my no good idiot father out of yours. I gotta go, press tour for my new smash non-hit Nancy Drew! See you at Thanksgiving!

Dakota Fanning: Is she bothering you, Aunt Julia? Would you like me to take care of her? Lord knows I want to. Nancy Drew should have been mine! MINE! I need to shoot someone RIGHT NOW! Dammit, where did I put my uzi?

Keifer Sutherland: Julia, I came to see the baby. (Pulls a gun.) WHERE’S THE BABY???? You have five seconds to tell me where the baby is or I will shoot your civilian husband in his non-famous leg. TELL ME WHERE HE IS!!!!! 5! 4! (cocks gun) 3! 2! Oh wait, there he is. Didn’t see him there in the crib. Very cute, Jules!

Rachel McAdams: I’ve been noticing that all the other would be Next Julia’s tend to make movies with your former male co-stars or boyfriends. Since I’m the real heir to the throne I’m not going to fall into the same trap (Dermot Mulroney doesn’t count, because, well, please. It’s Dermot Mulroney.). That being said, if you go near my Ryan, even for a cameo in something, I will kill your first born daughter. I am not playing around. I secretly ruined Sandra Bullock’s career and I can do the same to you. I’m Canadian and I am not afraid of Dakota Fanning.

Danny Moder: Hi, honey! It’s me, Danny, your husband! Just wanted to see when I could swing by and take a look at my new son. So, uh, call me or have your publicist call me if you prefer, and just let me know when the paparazzi are there so I can show up with someone cute. And I promise to color match you this time. I know now how important that is to you. Oh, on a related note, that burn mark you gave me when you lit an US Magazine and threw it at my head, finally went away. It only took two skin graphs. So yeah, good news for everyone!

Bangarang!

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It’s a time of reflection for those in the unauthorized celebrity picture business. With Paris now firmly behind bars for the duration of June, Lindsay drying up in a posh suite somewhere in Malibu, Nicole trying to clean up her rep in time for her day in court, Brangelina giving it out for free to shill their respective new movies, and nary a rookie Celebritard climbing the ranks, the Paparazzi have a lot of free time on their hands. I wonder what they’ll do with all that free time? I mean really, who wants to spend the summer stalking those idiot Laguna Beach kids? L.C. is hot and all, but at some point you gotta remember why you got into this business. It was to be in the trenches, literally (the ones you dug in the dirt on the Malibu Cliffside while waiting for Tom and Nicole to go to breakfast). It was not to waste your time in front of The Standard at 2:30 am on a Tuesday on the off chance Kristin Cavallari walks out in a slinky dress and boots all over Hollywood Blvd. Though I wouldn’t mind seeing that.

So while the Paparazzi anxiously await the return of their skanky meal tickets from their respective detention centers and publicist enforced club bans, I put together a list of 21 things that the papz are likely to do with all there new found free time.

1. Stalking Jennifer Lopez, just for old times’ sake.

2. Going to the beach. Not to enjoy the ocean, but to practice burying themselves in the sand for the upcoming celebritard bikini season.

3. Hitting the gym. The treadmill, specifically. The new breed of star is mighty quick. Gotta practice getting out of the way of speeding, bloodthirsty Mercedes’.

4. Snubbing George Clooney in public, giving the star a false sense of security, waiting two minutes, and then casually following him around for the rest of the day at a safe, seemingly harmless distance.

5. Having epiphanies about their empty soulless existence, but then ultimately deciding not to get out of Jennifer Aniston’s garbage can.

6. Banding together to heighten the tabloid intensity on Hayden Panetierre in the vein hopes she very quickly becomes the next La Lohan. TV stars make the best celebritards (Hi, Shannen Doherty!). Unfortunately, as we all know, the only person who can truly create a satisfactory is celebritard is the Celebrinator herself, Paris Hilton. And though she is truly omnipotent, not even Ms. Jailbird Hilton can skankify a perfectly respectable young girl from behind bars. She can still give the girl herpes, just not celebritardation.

7. Actually eating in the trendy restaurants they camp out at.

8. Catching up on their Netflix queue. Mel Gibson’s movie Paparazzi has been ironically sitting on their coffee table for months (it’s hard to get up the urge to watch Tom Sizemore act at night when you have to take perp walk pictures of him all day).

9. Sucking up to Harvey Leven.

10. Not returning Jessica Simpson’s publicist’s phone calls.

11. Going to rehab to kick their insatiable, life-crushing Brangelina habit. While at rehab, trying to learn Vietnamese to they can use more effective ways of getting Pax Thien Jolie-Pitt to look at their camera. Something tells me the paparazzi rehab would be about as effective as the gayhab Isiah Washington snored through during FaggotGate.

12. Continuing to bribe Lindsay Lohan’s duplicitous, picture stealing “friends”.

13. Competing in a last man standing style game of “not it!” to determine who will have the unenviable task of having to cover Rosie O’Donnell.

14. Wondering out loud why Tara Reid hasn’t stepped up to get some of the free tabloid limelight. After all, for the next month there will be a considerable dearth of “drunk celebritard falling out of a limo” pics, for which she is immensely suited for.

15. Scrapbooking.

16. Reading all the recent “Ben Affleck Is Coming Back” articles, realizing how much unwarranted hell they caused him back in the day and vowing to somehow make it up to him. Not by ever watching one of his movies, but maybe by not taking those extra forty pictures of him looking scrubby at Starbucks.

17. Recommitting themselves to capturing an illicit shot of Hillary Duff doing anything at all even remotely interesting. This might prove to be a herculean task.

18. Googling Kim Kardashian and still not understanding why her picture is worth anything.

19. Getting drunk and mischievous and sending in an order to Pink Dot for three cases of Grey Goose to be delivered to Promises Malibu under the name “Han, Lo”.

20. Weighing their options of getting out of bed to snap bikini pics of Britney Spears. On the one hand, it’s an easy shot that will sell. On the other hand, they’ll inevitably spend the night throwing up their lunch, followed be restless fever dreams of cellulite-ridden buttocks devouring tiny blue thongs, scored to Britney’s dance club hit “Toxic”. What price dignity, eh?

21. Doing what any normal person with a telephoto lens would do… taking close up, high-res pictures of their junk.

Bangarang!

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“The dance is tomorrow. She’s a cheerleader, you’ve seen Star Wars 27 times. You do the math”

“I’m Jewish. That’s no cakewalk either. Last year, I was elected school treasurer. I didn’t even run!”

“Mitch, girl go pee-pee not something I want to see-see.”

“I did an episode of Bette Midler’s short-lived sitcom on CBS. I thought it was Emmy-worthy. Turns out it was A BETTE MIDLER SITCOM ON CBS!!”

You know him as Neil Schwieber from Freaks and Geeks (rest in peace greatest cancellation injustice this side of Parker Lewis Can’t Lose). You’ve seen him on various TV shows, including: Veronica Mars (speaking of R.I.P.’s, How I Met Your Mother, Undeclared, That 70’s Show, Boston Legal, My Name Is Earl and many more. You may also remember him as the Donger spoof character in Not Another Teen Movie. I know him as Samm Levine.

And he was cool enough to stop by the PopLoad show and talk to me about his career.

We spoke about all things Freaks and Geeks; how he got the part, how Judd Apatow shocked the industry by actually getting the show on the air, the positive critical reaction and how it didn’t have an effect on the ratings, and Samm’s musings of what his world would be like if the show were still on the air. Samm talked about his experiences guest starring on various TV shows; he worked with Lindsay Lohan for one day on the Bette Midler sitcom before La Lohan walked off the show. She was an awesome person even then. I wondered why he wasn’t in Knocked Up, and Samm talked about why Judd likes to put him in his shows but not his movies (which is curious… and lame). Samm told me about how he got into the business, what it’s like hanging out with famous people, his plans for the future and best of all, the total hotness of Kristen Bell. Suffice it to say, the interview rocked.

And you can download the mp3 of the interview by CLICKING HERE (takes a minute to download)!

For more cool, geeky celebrity interviews, tune in to PopLoad every Monday @ 7pm PST on www.NowLive.com

Bangarang!

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