There are definitely those A-listers, like Beyoncé, who protect their images as Sasha Fiercely as Fort Knox. Please don’t Tweet mean things about me being a Beyoncé-hater, such as “Carrie Keagan looks like Meg Ryan, if Meg Ryan was a crack addict!” I love Queen Bey. I’ve done the “Single Ladies” dance in a leotard like every other estrogen-infused woman and gay man in the world. She’s super nice, but I think she subscribes to that old-school unattainable superstar ethos. Let’s face it, J. D. Salinger was more open about himself than Beyoncé.
Matt Damon, on the other hand, is always down to play. His usual response to me reminding him we’re uncensored is, “Thank fucking God!” He’s just about the most normal megastar you’re ever going to run into. My guess is that he, like quite a few other major players, never bothered attending the special ceremony that takes place when an actor or actress ascends to becoming an A-lister, where they are presented the “Sceptre of Poot.” A private ritual, similar to becoming a “made man” in the Mafia, where the ascendee has a rather long stick inserted into their ass as a “welcome basket” of sorts.
One of my favorite encounters with him was at the junket for The Departed. I let you “nibble the tip” of this story in the introduction, but I figured I’d let you get your hands around the whole braciola! It was a big important film being lined up for awards, so I had to finesse the filth. So naturally, we dove deep into Jack Nicholson’s junk. That’s where Matt blew me away with his flawless impersonations of Martin Scorsese and Jack Nicholson to give me this revealing and fun story. If you’ve seen the movie, you know what we’re talking about, but if you haven’t, this is going to make you want to see it more.
Me: Okay, so we have to talk. You might be the only man alive to actually have seen Jack’s junk.
Matt: Well, I, uh, wouldn’t call that Jack’s junk … If that was Jack’s junk he would’ve been a bigger porn star than he was a, you know … movie star.
Me: I was hoping …
Matt: Yeah.
Me: I was wondering … because everyone was wondering … Did it look like the right color even?
Matt: No, it wasn’t. Were people actually wondering if that was his?
Me: There were a few black men in the junket circuit that were like … (My face contorts as if mimicking the face of someone who felt they were being lied to … I put my fingers to my lips.) HOLD ON A MINUTE! Now we’re all curious …
Matt: Yeah, yeah, no, no … you know Jack … It was my first day working with him, and I got this call from Scorsese … he goes … (Perfectly mimicking Martin Scorsese’s fast-talking, slightly high-pitched voice—celebrity imitations being one of Matt Damon’s more popular skills.) “Hello. Hi, Matt. Hi. Marty. The director. Uh, listen…” And he always would do that … He would introduce himself as the director, you know, “Marty, the director.” And he said, “Well, I don’t know if you know other Martys.” And I was like, “Yeah, no, I know who you are…” But he was like, “Listen. Uh … Interesting story. Uh … Things with Jack are going very well, very well. Uh … Good changes. Good stuff. He’s brought a lot. He’s really focused on the job. He’s got an interesting idea for tomorrow…” (He pauses.) “The movie theater. So. I’m just gonna come out and say it…” (Long pause.) “Jack wants to wear a dildo.” (Damon breaks the Martin Scorsese character and laughs along with me as I’m all but doubled over in my chair.) And I was like, “All right, man … all right…”
Me: And you went, do I have to look at it?
Matt: No, I mean, I was like, “I’ll see in the morning, man.” I mean, what was I to say, you know? And he [Jack Nicholson] gets in there and he’s like … (Doing a spot-on Jack Nicholson impersonation.) “I just thought the whole thing would make a whole lot more sense if I turned around and had a big black cock in your face.”
It was such a perfect moment that I could have walked out and been quite satisfied, but Matt wasn’t done trying to win the Perfect Interview Award. When we got to our curse-word tradition, he decided that this interview was being brought to you by the “letter” Boston and the “number” fuck.
Matt: Well, my favorite curse word, being from Boston, I mean, is definitely FUCK. It’s so flexible. And in Boston we use it, you know, you can say … Fuck you. Fuck him. Fuck me. Fuck that guy. But you can also use it as a bridge, like, we’ll say … um, if you’re thinking of something … (He elongates the word.) Fuckiiiiiiiiiiiin’ oh I know what I wanted to tell you … uh … We’re all filthy mouthed there … so I’ll say (in a heavy Boston accent) THE DAPAWTED is fawkin’ aw’some!!
Back to Clooney, who falls somewhere between Salinger and Kim Kardashian on the self-promotion meter. The key to getting him was trust. Could he and his people trust me unequivocally not to make him look bad? When we first started out, there was an outlet that made my job a little harder. They’d ask inappropriate questions in a “Gotcha!” sort of way that was making fun of the stars. They would attempt to create chaos, but they didn’t know how to manage it effectively the way us professional idiots knew how to do it. So even though other A-listers had learned over time that they could trust us, I don’t blame Clooney for avoiding us. He may have a reputation as the ultimate on-set prankster, but he’s also an Oscar winner as an actor and producer. On the personal side, he recently married an international human rights lawyer named Amal who wears long white gloves un-ironically. The last time I wore long white gloves un-ironically I cleaned the toilet. So not only was he going to be reluctant to sit down with us, it’s highly unlikely he’d bust out “cumguzzling pussy fart.”
Thing is, he didn’t have to. I put no pressure on celebs to be dirty, and I’m totally direct and up front. The minute they sit down, I tell them NGTV is uncensored, and they should feel free to curse or take it as far as they want. I let them decide where the line is. And it works because they feel like they’re in control, which usually makes them comfortable.
Michael Douglas is as old-school Hollywood as they come. He’s one of the few celebrities that stand up to greet every journalist when they enter the room. Some won’t look at you until the camera starts rolling. Some will make sure they have something in their hands, like a cup and saucer of tea, so they don’t have to touch you. But Michael, he is nothing but class. He understood he needed to reach a younger audience and wanted to have fun with the cool kids, so he happily played along with me at The Sentinel junket. Legends are no shrieking violets, but the furthest he would go was saying “ass,” and you could tell that was a stretch for him. That was perfectly fine and perfectly awesome. Everyone has their own level of dirty. Now, Michael’s been through a lot these last few years, and these days he’s a bit more freewheeling with his expressiveness. There is nothing like a life-or-death situation to loosen your inhibitions and expand your vocabulary. These days he freely talks and jokes about oral sex and having a big dick, but back then, “ass” was his “fuck” and he gave that “ass” up like a pro!
It’s kind of the same with Star Wars creator George Lucas. For the Star Wars: Episode III—Revenge of the Sith junket, I was invited up to the Skywalker Ranch in Marin County, California, and even got to spend the night on those hallowed grounds! I anticipated my trip into the world of the Jedi in much the same way I did my first time seeing Skid Row perform live. I could feel its force inside me! That totally came out wrong … but it came nonetheless, didn’t it?
I imagined it would be something close to landing on the planet of Coruscant in a Lamda-class Imperial shuttle. (Oh my!) Having my senses overwhelmed by the hundreds of Star Wars characters populating the walkways just going about their space business. (Oh … God!) Watching my childhood come to life as I bore witness to countless demonstrations ranging from parkouring through a Dagobah bog with Yoda on my back (OH!!!!) to spelunking into the Sarlacc pit looking for Boba Fett (OH … YES!) to Lightsaber Dueling 101 with Jedi Master Luminara Unduli (YES! YES!) to Wookiee Warfare Strategy on Kashyyyk with Chewbacca (YES! YES! YES!) to a flight simulation ride aboard the Millen
nium Falcon (Dear lord, have mercy!). I just wanted to grab the “Han Solo frozen in carbonite” headboard in my room with both hands and scream, “I love you … I know,” as I burst into a Death Star-explosion–level orgasm. And I’m talking about the Return of the Jedi-special-edition Death Star explosion, with the light ring and everything. At least that’s what I had imagined.
The reality was a smidge different. It was more like visiting a bed-and-breakfast at a large ranch in Maine. Less Neverland, more The Truman Show with its hundreds of closed-circuit cameras watching your every move. It’s really beautiful, but the Jedi magic is well hidden within the minds of the people working there and not so much in its décor. It’s a bucolic world of quiet reflection at a pond called Lake Ewok where there’s an X-wing fighter on display and bike rides through the meadow with the cows. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a special place, and you feel it all around you, but it’s not what you might expect. At the time, George lived on the property in a big house, and I remember stealing plenty of time on his front steps. That was cool.
That night we watched a screening of the movie in “the Stag,” the property’s three-hundred-seat, toe-curling, head-spinning, mind-bending, bed-wetting, jizz-yourself-into-oblivion masterpiece of a movie theater. And the next day I got to interview George and the cast of the film. George, who is very cool, is also very PG, like a big teddy bear. To be honest, I was nervous about making a good impression and not offending him in any way because I am a total Star Wars geek and this was fucking George Lucas. The mastermind behind the fantasy classic Willow and the only guy with balls big enough to bring Marvel’s Howard the Duck to life. So there I was, trying to find an angle for the interview that would satisfy NGTV’s needs while not turning the idyllic Skywalker Ranch into ground zero for a septic tank explosion. But then the immortal words of Yoda flooded into my brain: “Do or do not. There is no try.” Fuck it, I was going to kill it with George Lucas—my way.
Then it struck me like a Force blast! George had created entire languages in the Star Wars universe with their own built-in curse words because that’s how important they are. And as luck would have it, aside from my familiarity with the complete works of William Shakespeare in the original Klingon, I am, also, well versed in Huttese. Being one of the primary languages spoken on Tatooine, I knew from my years of studying it at the University of Kashyyyk that if I reached into its depths, I would find the key. And I was right. The answer lay in “bantha poodoo,” which is the intergalactic equivalent of guano. Not only is it a rare substance that the Galactic Empire used to power the Death Star but it’s also a curse word meaning “shit.” It was the perfect entry point that ended up creating a rare, amusing, and relaxed interview. It turns out even George Lucas enjoys cursing as long as it’s in the context of the Star Wars universe. Now that I had found a way to break the ice, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could politely nudge George into a dick joke. Now that would be a Jedi mind trick!
Me: I heard a rumor … that Hayden [Christensen] actually said he would only agree to do the third episode if his lightsaber got to be bigger than Ewan’s [McGregor].
George: (He takes a moment, smiles, and sucks air through his teeth.) They fought over it.
Me: They did, did they?
George: They did. Yeah, to see who had the bigger lightsaber.
Me: Who won, do you know? (I say it softly, not quite sure if George hears me.)
George: They were very, very good. (George’s thoughts start catching up to his speech. Having now heard my question.) Well, I actually made them the same length … They, they saw themselves—each one—having a bigger lightsaber, but the reality is that they’re actually the same size. But you know what? It really doesn’t make any difference, does it? (He asks as if suddenly not talking about lightsabers anymore … everyone in the room senses this and begins to laugh … George throws his head back and laughs, too.)
Me: (With a big smile of accomplishment on my face.) It’s all in how they use it, I guess.
George: (Nodding in agreement.) It is! It’s all in how they use it.
It was official. I was a now a Jedi Master from the Order of the Schmeckle. What started out as a potential “Poodoo Show” turned into an endearing connection with a legend. It was epic. George must have enjoyed himself, too. He did me a huge solid in the form of what turned out to be an incredibly lengthy network ID for No Good TV. He very simply said, “You’re watching NGTV,” only he said it a number of times and in a number of ways. Not everybody did IDs, definitely nobody of George’s magnitude, so when Kourosh saw it for the first time, he almost cried like a little girl.
At the end of the press day, all the junketeers had gathered in the hospitality area for a drink, and easily one of the greatest moments of my life occurred. George Lucas, gracious as he is, casually walked into the room to thank all the press people for coming up and supporting the film. Then, as he was about to leave, he noticed me and stopped, walked over, and in front of this room full of people turned to me and said, “We all agreed that you were our favorite interview today!” I shakily said thank you and tried to keep my shit together, but inside my heart exploded like the Death Star, and ten thousand celebratory Ewoks raised their voices in unison chanting the chorus to “Yub Nub” while the night sky filled with fireworks. My work was done there. I am geek. Hear me roar!
George Clooney wouldn’t have necessarily known this, but I tend to tailor the filthiness of my interviews to jibe with the star’s comfort level. Sorry I used “jive” in a sentence; I just finished watching Airplane! “Ain’t no thang!” So, if George Lucas only wanted to go as far as to talk about bantha poop, then it’s bantha poop all day, son! I always tailor it to the humor or tone of the movie they’re promoting. If it’s a really serious film like Selma, the uncensored conversation comes by way of the message of the film. I don’t push the envelope unless the star wants to. However, if it’s a raunchy comedy, I let the dick jokes fly! I play to the room.
Case in point, for some reason, No Good TV was asked to cover Shrek the Third, a PG-rated, animated, family film. The studio had always been great to us, so I wasn’t going to turn down the invite. If they wanted our support, they had it. But I was somewhat perplexed about how to cover it and did ask myself, more than a few times, Why am I even showing up to this? But I’m a glass-half-full-of-whiskey girl so I decided, Hell yeah, I’m going to make this work. I just had to figure out how to do it without getting kicked out of the junket. In every interview, there’s a line you shouldn’t cross, and it’s just a matter of finding that line here. Strangely enough, the answer came to me when I was doing a little research on old nursery rhymes, which we ended up integrating into our piece for that all important context. It’s shocking just how suggestive some of them were just from reading the first line. You be the judge …
“Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town. Upstairs, downstairs in his nightgown…” I’m not quite sure what’s going on here but someone needs to call the cops.
“Old mother Hubbard went to the cupboard to fetch her poor dog a bone…” All I hear is Andrew Dice Clay and Rover takin’ over, so moving on!
“Rub-a-dub-dub three men in a tub…” Deplorable and potentially messy.
“I love little pussy…” WHAT??
“Where are all the little boys?” Oh, come on! That’s not even subtle.
“She’ll be comin’ ’round the mountain when she comes … when she comes…” Rather progressive subject matter for a child’s rhyme.
“Little Miss Muff … et…” Really? That’s the only name we could call her? Really?
“Little Boy Blue, come blow…” I’m not even going to finish this one out of respect.
“Dance to your daddy…” I just hope they weren’t shooting any video.
“Diddle, diddle, dumpling…” Too much diddling in this for my comfort.
“Ride a cock horse…” That’s just plainly obscene and grammatically incorrect as it appears the last two words are in the
wrong order.
All I can say is that they sounded very different to me when I was a kid. Today, they are no longer nursery rhymes; they are nursery crimes.
Clearly there were plenty of precedents in the world of children’s literature to help me find my way through this junket. However depraved things may have been historically, I was going to take the high road. To that end, I came up with simple and innocent themes for the movie’s stars, Mike Myers, Cameron Diaz, Justin Timberlake, Eddie Murphy, and Antonio Banderas, that we could all agree on and talk about. By far, my favorite of the day was with Mike Myers. He’s regarded as being a tough interview and an all-around pretty serious guy. Some of the funniest actors in the world are completely the opposite off-camera. I definitely had my apprehensions that day, and I sure as hell didn’t want to fuck up a chance to play verbal catch with Austin Powers. But I liked the angle we had for the interviews, and I was feeling feisty! I figured that if I took a leap of faith, he would meet me halfway, and just maybe, my story piece would have a happy ending:
Me: To start, let’s just clear up something. So the Frog King croaks?
Mike Myers: Yes.
Me: And leaves the Frog King Kingdom?
Mike: Yes.
Me: And you have a Frog King problem?
Mike: Why are you shouting at me? That’s my question. What did I do? And let me start off by saying ‘I’m sorry!’
Me: You know …
Mike: (Shouting.) I have no depth perception.
Me: What? What was that? (Leaning in and shouting.)
Mike: I’m sorry. Are you close? YES. The Frog King dies. They don’t want me to be the king. I don’t feel that ogres can be a king, so I set off on a journey to find an alternative, and I do so in the form of King Arthur, played by Justin Timberlake.
Everybody Curses, I Swear! Page 21
