It's 2:30am in Chicago, which means it's barely after midnight in California, so it's officially
Sean's birthday, but don't wake him; he needs his, um,
sleep. The
new movie he directed opens in a month, so unless he's down in Venezuela or in the Middle East somewhere, making a
slight show of himself but also sticking with his political convictions and using his money to achieve something real, let's assume he's making editing tucks or getting the press junket going for
Into the Wild. I loved the book, and I like the trailer, so even though none of Sean's other directing projects has really jelled for me, I'm hopeful about this one.
I also still assume that, one day, he will call. I still mean every word of
this. I saw
The Assassination of Richard Nixon in the theater. I even saw
All the King's Men in the theater. I make my students watch
The Thin Red Line. I watched the
Meta-Free-Phor-All with Stephen Colbert and Robert Pinsky, and I don't even get Comedy Central. I can be sweet. I can be lowdown. Please advise, etc.
Labels: My Sean
2 Comments:
For some reason, through all of the blogs of yours that I've read and all the time I spent reading your essays and reviews, I never picked up on your love for Sean Penn. Am I that dense? I suppose so.
Anyway, I live in the same town as Sean Penn, so I got the chance to see the first screening ever of "Into the Wild," and though it was a rough copy I was still captivated through most of it and very much appreciated the performances of Catherine Keener (who I always love) and an old man towards the end whose name I can't recall. I'll be interested to see what you think of it!
Did you see that picture of him vacationing at the beach recently? Hot, hot stuff.
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