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Showing posts with label A Different Light. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Different Light. Show all posts

Monday, January 26, 2009

Brad Pitt, Keanu Reeves & Robert Downey...dared to dream! Photographer publishes pre-Tinsel stills!




If you're a struggling actor hitting the pavement toiling for gigs - then you hit it big - you can bet your sweet bippy crafty characters will slip out of the woodwork later anxious to cash in.

Such is the case with - "They Dared to Dream" - a just-published collection of photos crammed into a slim volume and being offered up to fans hungry for early images of the likes of Brad Pitt, Keanu Reeves, and Robert Downey, Jr.

At a sparsely-attended book-signing event at "A Different Light" in West Hollywood, the author - Karen Bystedt - was on hand to chat up avid book readers there to gobble up all the juicy tidbits of gossip the photographer was thrilled to whisper in their ear.

When I sauntered in - old interviews taped in tandem with the photo sessions of yesteryear crackled overhead - as celebrity enthusiasts strained in their seats to catch every little word that squawked out over the cheapo speakers.

Half-sounding like ghosts from the past - Pitt and the others (now household names) - shared their innermost thoughts, gnawing fears, and starry-eyed dreams for the future.

Robert Downey Jr. noted for the record, for instance, that he liked things to be predictable.

That's why he did drugs, he conjectured.

"If I smoke marijuana, I know what the outcome will be. I'll get stoned!"

In new situations, there was never any guarantee how events would pan out, so venturing forth into unknown uncharted waters was a troubling proposition for the introspective actor.

Pitt - in an interview that echoed similar sentiments in a broadcast which recently aired on night-time gossip TV - whined about being overwhelmed by the "spotlight" and expounded on the emotional traumas he experienced mixing in with high-profile celebrities (being just a kid from the sticks and all).

"I use to be in awe of these guys," he lamented, or something to that effect.

"Whoa! Now, here I am working with 'em."

Slow down, dude! Get a hold of yourself.

Courtney Cox confessed she slept on floors and stayed with friends until her showbiz break came.

If you can imagine it, even Keanu Reeves managed to cough up a nugget or two of wisdom about his rise to stardom.

Ms. Bystedt titillated the rapt audience when she hinted at some salacious gossip about actor David Duchovny.

Apparently, the struggling thespian was working on an experimental project about phones and sex, when she was introduced at a party.

"He told me he was having sex problems."

Do tell!

Shortly after that little episode, the Californian landed X-Files.

The photographer was open and outgoing at the book store until her press agent put a muzzle on her.

For instance - when I asked her if she anticipated that the fledgling actors she was capturing on film were ever going to snag star status in Hollywood - the pushy overbearing publicist responded on her behalf before she could get a word in edgewise.

"For the sake of the press," he piped up pointedly - after giving a slight glance in my direction - "you should say 'yes', that's why you took their photos."

At this juncture, she responded in kind on cue!

The pretty tall blond photographer was doin' fine 'til he butted in.

Personally, I prefer responses that rise up straight from the heart.

Sugary pap prepared by a publicist is not my cup of tea, thank you very much.

I did not have the opportunity to thumb through the book and peruse the photos in advance of her scheduled appearance, so I asked Ms. Bystedt whose photographic stills she might compare her musings to.

"No one is comparable," her PR man blurted out before she could utter a word.

On the heels of his strident endorsement - she fessed up - too.

"My work can't be compared to that of anyone else."

Is that because the photos are undistinguished at best?

Usually, photographers develop their own distinctive style which sets them apart.

Annie Leibovitz, for instance, attained great acclaim not only because she captured an elusive quality about her subjects, but due to the fact she facilitated bold contemporary ideas into the mix which effectively transformed the stills into works of art.

Likewise - Bruce Weber, Newton and others - climbed to the top of the pile not only through the use of highly original stylized techniques, but because they implanted their own inimitable signature style which set them apart.

When I thumbed through the book, I found myself gazing on a handful of pretty portraits, for the most part.

Ms. Bystedt uses a lot of soft lighting and warm tones with very little contrast or tension within the frame.

So, the photos tend to be warm and fuzzy lens renderings, with nary a hint of personality or mystery bubbling up from within.

Consequently, the photographs are mediocre, at best.

In fact, two photographs of Keanu Reeves are downright boring.

"They fly in from everywhere to have their photo taken," her PR dude exalted.

Well, the reason for that is a no-brainer.

Actors are a vain lot.

Once a performer gets wind of a photographer that is capable of flattering a subject, they'll bang down the door for a photo shoot and pay through the nose, if they have to.

Until the next whiz-kid photog happens along.

It's obvious from the get-go that this vanity publication is geared towards capitalizing on actor Brad Pitt's fame and success.

His face graces the flap of the jacket in a sly effort to boost sales, no doubt.

At the web site designed to promote the handsome-looking publication, the photographer has also used a tired old web technique to put the "focus" on megastar Pitt to maximum effect.

When the page loads, the cover shot of the actor slides into frame from the left side of the computer screen, and springs into the spotlight center stage.

At his juncture, the image of a cash register springs to mind - at which point - a glorious sound sings out.

Ka-ching!

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Tooth "Emergency". Knight saves day...




Wouldn't you know it, as I headed down the street back home from the grocery store on the eve of the big holiday weekend, one of my crowns popped out of my mouth, bounced off my knee, and sprang into the inky depths beyond!

A thousand bucks down the drain?

As luck would have it, "Happy Hour" was upon us, so all the muscled studs in festive Boys town were heading out to the local watering holes to toss down a few.

And yes, there I was - the total fool - crawling around on hands and bare knees (no nasty jokes, please!) widely-scanning the terrain for the well-crafted elusive dental appliance.

Yeah, I used to have a gap between my two front teeth like top fashion model - Lauren Hutton - until Dr. Newman (no kidding, that was my dentist's name) fitted a glittering set of natural-looking crowns front-row-and-center.

Great workmanship, they don't even look like chicklets.

The secret, the dentist whispered in my ear, was in the backing.

Because a cheap or poorly-conceived alloy on the reverse is capable of distorting the natural light as it passes through the porcelain, the crown may end up smacking of a phony a mile away.

But, getting back to my sad tale!

As a few hotties scurried by - and guffawed under their breath - I frantically tried to locate the little sucker.

Then, a knight in shining armour happened along, in the form of a concerned resident who lived in the neighborhood.

When I explained my predicament, he not only displayed a lot of sympathy, but pitched in to help!

To passers-by - now there appeared to be two lost souls scrounging around on the pavement - for no good reason.

At one juncture - it was evident to both of us - there wasn't enough street light to facilitate the task.

But, the good-natured dude turned out to be resourceful, as well.

He snatched up his cell phone from its resting place on his belt, flipped it open smartly, then shone the eerie blue light onto the pavement improving the circumstances somewhat.

"Just how far could a crown bounce," I wondered aloud.

Now, he put his thinking cap on.

Turns out, a handful of buddies worked in "A Different Light" bookstore, so he darted inside to locate a flashlight.

Yes, as Bette Midler would croon, 'ya got to have friends!

The long and short of it?

The scamp was spied just off the curb under the front end of a late model sedan about to pull into bustling city traffic.

Whew!

When I complimented the good Samaritan, he turned beet red!

"I'm blushing," he stammered self-consciously, as his male friend gave him a huge bear-sized hug.

I headed out the door, elated.

I toyed with the idea of popping in to a drugstore - to buy some denture cream to affix the crown to the chiseled pin protruding from my jaw - but figured I'd just leave the trouble-maker tightly wrapped in a handkerchief to avoid mishaps the rest of the evening.

Then, I encountered a new dilemma out-of-the blue, as I sashayed down the strip.

It seemed that everywhere I turned - as sensual balmy breezes pulled me this way 'n that under the night's mysterious cloak - potential hook-ups starting materializing out of the woodwork to put the make on me!

Must be the "humping" law, eh?

Go out on Safari for quick nookie, 'ya get nary a nibble.

Show up looking like you've been hit by a mack truck, and the babes are all over you, like a condom on prom night.

One major problemo!

If I sidled by to chat - I'd no doubt shock the bejesus out of 'em - when they caught sight of the ghastly menacing gap beckoning from the caverns of my not-so-sexy or very effervescent Pepsodent mouth.

Don't suppose you'd like a chain saw bearing down on your *!@%*+!

But, a couple of suitors were persistent.

Consequently, I found myself glancing down a lot, to hide my mouth.

The hopeful ones fantasized I was checking out their bods, I guess.

Sex therapists have noted (by the way) that when two flirts engage in an encounter - the first one to glance away - is allegedly the dominant one.

Or maybe, the anxious Lotharios mistook the body language for shyness?

Heck, you know what they say about the quiet ones.

Wild in-between the sheets!

Did anyone suspect?

Obviously, not the stunner I ended up in the sack with.

Next time we hook up, as "Ricky" on "The Lucy Show" would say,

"I've got some 'splainin' to do."

Unless, the ardent lover thought I was just two sheets to-the-wind.

Ah, yes!

Typical horn dog sex theatrics on a party night in West Hollywood, fer sure.

 
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