Thursday, April 14, 2005
Seeing John Malkovich
As my loyal readers (thanks, undermedicated insomniacs!) are surely aware, my freewheeling, luxurious lifestyle frequently brings me in contact with glamorous celebrities. I have a unique and rare gift for accidentally making public eye contact with people kicked off of reality shows in early rounds, and from time to time I chat with the man who wears the sparkly vest and Looney Tunes tie and wanders along the river talking to himself. What’s more, I once had a half-hour-long conversation with Jennifer Love Hewitt’s cousin, who may or may not have been hitting on me. So I am not one to be easily impressed by fame.
But this Tuesday I was quite frankly blown away by an up close and personal experience with one John Malkovich. My friend Amy got tickets to Malky’s (that’s my new nickname for him now that we’re best friends, and yes, I did take some inspiration from the 1980s ABC hit Perfect Strangers) new play at the Steppenwolf and the reception afterwards. Malky was, quite simply, amazing. He acted the hell out of the play, even though it involved potentially gross subjects like Hungarian history and economic theory. He displayed enough interesting mannerisms to ensure his place in the Off-Kilter Actors Hall of Fame alongside Christopher Walken and Crispin Glover. And he proudly shilled for the evenings sponsors, Mercedes (which he pronounced "Mare-say-days"), announcing that "he’d had occasion to dine with their CEO, and he was brilliant" (a lot of times people who hand over checks come across as brilliant).
And yes, we did make sure to harass Malky on an individual basis as well, as soon as I could tear myself away from the free wine and chocolate. Amy even got an autograph. I was lobbying for her to hook up with him, but I suppose that would’ve been flying too close to the sun.
As my loyal readers (thanks, undermedicated insomniacs!) are surely aware, my freewheeling, luxurious lifestyle frequently brings me in contact with glamorous celebrities. I have a unique and rare gift for accidentally making public eye contact with people kicked off of reality shows in early rounds, and from time to time I chat with the man who wears the sparkly vest and Looney Tunes tie and wanders along the river talking to himself. What’s more, I once had a half-hour-long conversation with Jennifer Love Hewitt’s cousin, who may or may not have been hitting on me. So I am not one to be easily impressed by fame.
But this Tuesday I was quite frankly blown away by an up close and personal experience with one John Malkovich. My friend Amy got tickets to Malky’s (that’s my new nickname for him now that we’re best friends, and yes, I did take some inspiration from the 1980s ABC hit Perfect Strangers) new play at the Steppenwolf and the reception afterwards. Malky was, quite simply, amazing. He acted the hell out of the play, even though it involved potentially gross subjects like Hungarian history and economic theory. He displayed enough interesting mannerisms to ensure his place in the Off-Kilter Actors Hall of Fame alongside Christopher Walken and Crispin Glover. And he proudly shilled for the evenings sponsors, Mercedes (which he pronounced "Mare-say-days"), announcing that "he’d had occasion to dine with their CEO, and he was brilliant" (a lot of times people who hand over checks come across as brilliant).
And yes, we did make sure to harass Malky on an individual basis as well, as soon as I could tear myself away from the free wine and chocolate. Amy even got an autograph. I was lobbying for her to hook up with him, but I suppose that would’ve been flying too close to the sun.
