02.17.2007
Minisplosions
Last time I was out of LA for a couple days my balls were busted over not keeping people up to date. Like I always say, the City of Angels is the most explosive place on earth. You gotta keep your eyes open or else you'll miss the blinding flash of something fantastic. But I keep my ear to the ground. Even when I'm not around (like during my recent trip to Japan) I like to know what's going down...
Foghorn Pacino
People give paparazzi a hard time, but these are guys just trying to make a living, you know? Folks all over the world wanna see Paris Hilton stumbling out of some club, Brad and Angie clearing up mine fields some place, or Mark Wahlberg trying to run down dogs in his Hummer... If people wanna see it, somebody has to be there to shoot it.
Rick Rolston, new guy on the circuit, bumped into me awhile back and asked where he could find some celebs to shoot. I dropped a few locations to him (ordinarily I let these guys do their own leg work, but the kid's just starting out). Anyway, Ricky managed to track down Big Al while I was out of town. He told me about the whole thing after I got back from Japan.
Pacino's just finishing up lunch in a little Lebanese place downtown. I guess Rick ain't as stealthy as he ought to be, cos while he's setting up outside (trying not to look too suspicious) out comes a waiter and invites him in for a drink with Al.
What you got there kid? A camera?
Pacino's the loudest guy in the room... Come to think of it, I've yet to be in a room that Pacino wouldn't be the loudest guy in.
Uh.. yeah.Rick replies timidly.
Good for you. What's your name son?.. If I had to guess I'd call you Sam. Sammy Sugar to the ladies. Am I right Sammy?
No.. Name's Rick.
Too bad. The ladies like a little sugar. How about a drink Ricky?
He waves over the waiter, staring at Rick the whole time.
What's your poison?
I guess I'll have a light beer.
Light beer? You want that in a glass or a douche? Ma'ruf, I want you to mix up something special for Rick here. Two fingers of Jamaican rum, splash of Jack, a squeeze of lemon and top it up with your strongest vinegar.
Ma'ruf scribbles a line or two and disappears.
We call that a Tijuana Traffic Cop.
Rick looks sceptical.
Jamaican rum.. vinegar.. What does it have to do with Tijuana?
You been down there Rick?
No.
Then you wouldn't understand.
Pacino stares at Rick for a little while. Making him sweat. Rick's starting to feel like he should apologise for trying to shoot him. He opens his mouth to do that and Pacino cuts in:
BOOM!
He slams his hand hard on the table. Rick almost jumps out of his seat.
You hear that Ricky? BOOM!
He slams the table again. Rick's about to answer and Al cuts him off with another BOOM!
CAN YOU HEAR IT RICKY? CAN YOUR HEAR IT? TELL ME YOU CAN HEAR IT!
Yes! I can hear it!
That's goooood.
Pacino leans back a little.
It's the beating of the drum. The ticking of the clock. Some people can't hear it Ricky. You're lucky. Keep your ears open. Keep your eyes wide. Look at me, Rick. You see me blinking?
He stares intensely at Rick. Leans forward again.
No sir.
And you wont! I got it all out of my system a couple years back. My blinking days are through. There's too much to see Ricky. You gotta be watching. All the time.
Ma'ruf arrives with the drink. The thing smells awful. Al nods his thanks, then picks up the salt and starts pouring it in... and keeps pouring...
Drink like this'll put hair on places you didn't even know you had.
...Are you having one too?
Al looks up suddenly (still pouring the salt)
I ain't a kid anymore Ricky... Do I look like some ragamuffin playing stick ball with his grandaddy?
No sir.
Good. Now drink up. Don't sip it mind. Drink it like you mean it.
He's about to pass the glass to Rick, when he pulls it back at the last second, and spits straight inside.
Old Mehican tradition. Teach a man a new drink, spit once for luck.
Rick takes the drink. Holds it warily. Al's eyes are burrowing into him. How do you say no to Al Pacino?... Rick figures you don't. He takes a gulp and spends the next minute coughing, vinegar pouring out his nostrils.
So Rick. You're a celebrity photographer.
He manages a nod.
Well I'm afraid, you're a little off track. You see, I'm not a celebrity.
(cough) What? You're one of the most famous actors in the world.
Exactly... I'm an actor. My job... is to pretend to be other people. And I'm good at it. So good, in fact, that no one is interested in me - just in the roles I play.
Rick looks at him, puzzled.
Come on Rick. You're a sharp guy. It makes sense. Why would anyone wanna know anything about an actor? A person who spends all his time being someone else..
I guess so.
I'm not the type of person you should be shooting Rick. You wanna track down someone people wanna know about. Someone like Mr. Chan.
Al turns and looks for the waiter.
Mr... Chan?
Yeah... Where the hell is Ma'ruf?
I'm sorry... who is Mr. Chan?
Al looks back, shocked. His eyes open even wider.
Who?... Hey, I see what you're doing Rick, you're pulling my leg. It's a joke! Funny. Tell you what, when I find Ma'ruf you try it on him and maybe he'll tell you the one about the one-eyed Syrian pool shark. Has 'em rolling in the aisles every time.
I really don't know any Mr. Chan? Unless you mean Jackie Chan..
Jackie Chan? Why would people wanna see photos of Jackie Chan. If they wanna see him they can just rent a movie. Mr. Chan owns a dry cleaners over on West 5th... There he is: Ma'ruf! El fatora min fadilak.
Rick is sitting there shaking his head.
I'm sorry, you think I should be shooting some guy who runs a dry cleaners?
Some guy? Mr. Chan is more than just some guy. He came to this country with nothing, built up a highly successful business, put his kids through college. You know, his youngest daughter had a baby last month. No one's gotten any shots of her since. You could make some big bucks Ricky.
Really?
Would I lie to you Ricky? A man whose drink I have spat in?
...I guess not.
So get out there! Be what you were born to be. If I don't see a shot of Mr. Chan on the front the next National Enquirer I'll be disappointed. You can do it!
Rick nods excitedly. He stands up and puts his jacket back on.
Thanks Mr. Pacino. I appreciate your help.
Of course. But Rick!
Yes?
You better finish your drink before you go. Keep up your strength.
Rick was arrested later that day. He can no longer go within 200 feet of any member of the extended Chan family.
CSI Caruso
Bruckheimer. Hyper-realism. The two words go together like nickel and dime. So it'll come as no surprise to you that Jerry has the key cast members of all the CSI shows ride around with real cops from time to time. Usually it all goes smoothly but sometimes things don't work out so well. The Curve told me this story about his last visit to his liason in the Miami-Dade police department - Captain Ed Murphy.
Jerry, nice to see you again.
Thanks Ed.
They toss some small talk back and forth before Ed gets to the point.
Jerry... We've gotta talk about Caruso.
He's great isn't he?
Well. There's a problem. Some of my guys don't wanna do ridealongs with him anymore.
What!? They don't like Dave?
Ed looks at him sceptically before picking up a file from his desk. He flicks through a few pages.
This is a report from the last time Caruso joined a couple of detectives in robbery homicide. This was after a house party in the Aventura suburbs. A 36 year old male, Toby Milnor, drowned in the backyard pool...
I told Mr. Caruso to wait in the car. The deceased's family were still at the scene and I thought it would be inappropriate to be showing him around. Inside we met with the deceased's wife. I stopped talking to her when I saw Mr. Caruso standing by the pool watching the coroner's team extracting the body.
The Captain looks up from the page to see how Jerry is absorbing this. Jerry's cool as dry ice.
I excused myself and walked over to tell Mr. Caruso to leave. Before I spoke he began talking:
Caruso: Seems to me, that this pool party just turned into a dead pool. And Toby Milnor was the first to cash out.
Jerry cuts in,
Pool party into a dead pool? That's weak by Dave's standards.
Can I go on?
Mrs. Milnor heard the comment and began to cry. She ran towards Mr. Caruso but was held back by Sergeant Denton. I firmly asked Mr. Caruso to leave, telling him that he was causing undue distress to Mrs. Milnor. He replied:
Caruso: Tears of sadness... or tears of guilt?
Ah...
Jerry says,
So this woman did it. She killed her husband, right?
What?
Well Dave only says things like that to people who are guilty. So she did it, right?
Well... I don't think it's really relevant... Yes! She did it. She drugged her husband and pushed him into the pool. But there was no way Caruso could've known-
Wasn't there?
Jerry sits in silence, staring at Captain Murphy.
What if she had been innocent? She could have sued us for harassment.
If she'd been innocent he wouldn't have said it.
That's absurd!
Just then the door to the captain's office swings open and David Caruso walks in holding a uniformed police officer in a half-nelson. Jerry's the first to speak.
Dave! I told you to wait outside.
Well,
Caruso replies, pushing the officer forward so he can take his sunglasses from his jacket pocket.
I guess I got tired of waiting...
He puts on the shades.
...and tired of what passes for justice in this town.
Captain Murphy: What the hell is going on!? Freeman?
Caruso takes off his shades so he can talk to the captain.
I caught this disgrace to the uniform downstairs... associating with known drug dealers.
The uniformed cop - officer Freeman - speaks for the first time, writhing in pain as Caruso twists his arm.
I was processing two guys that Narc had pulled in! I was halfway through taking their prints when this maniac grabbed me!
Caruso: Peddling death in the hallways of the police department. It sickens me. All three of them ought to be keel hauled.
Jerry nods. He trusts Caruso implicitly. No question.
Captain Murphy: What!? Keel hauled?
Bruckheimer: A punishment on old sail ships. You tie an offender to a rope which loops under the hull of the vessel. Then you pull him overboard, under one side of the ship, dragging him against the keel, and up over the other side.
Jerry's very familiar with the process. He's currently embroiled in a battle with the MPAA over the rating of Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End. He wants the picture to retain a PG-13 rating like the prequels, but the MPAA say the 37 minute Orlando Bloom keel haulation scene has to go. Jerry's very attached to the scene - says it adds a gravitas to the whole trilogy - and everyone who's seen it has had a strong reaction. Only last week Jerry ran a private screening for Mel Gibson. Gibson watched the torture scene with Jerry and was so moved that halfway through he had to go into the next room to be alone for a little while.
Captain Murphy: You let go of him right now Caruso or so help me-
Caruso backs off suddenly - so suddenly that the uniformed cop staggers forward stumbling against the captain's table. A small plastic bag in his pocket catches on the table lamp and is pulled into view. It holds a lump of white powder, fastened tightly with a rubber band. Officer Freeman's eyes meet the captain's.
Freeman: ..I was on my way to the evidence locker. I swear, this isn't what-
Caruso: Officer Freeman came to work today,
Caruso begins, unfolding his shades and placing them on his face,
Caruso: looking to pick up a little nose candy. But the only thing he'll be leaving with, is... not with his Free... not as a Free-man.
Bruckheimer: ...Jesus Dave. Free-man?
Bottom line? Caruso's cleaning up Miami-Dade one dirty cop at a time. He gets results. Hard, fast and without compromise results. Of course, Bruckheimer's loving this. CSI's main star (after Will Petersen and Clubber Sinise) is actually solving crimes. The down side hits if anyone is around to hear what he's says during these episodes. I mean, this Free-man thing was on a good day. Jer's told him repeatedly just to shut up - put on the shades and look bad ass - if the press ask how you caught another bad guy just tell them to catch CSI Miami Mondays Tuesdays and Saturdays on CBS, every other night of the week on AETV and don't forget CSI Vegas and CSI NY on Wednesdays Saturdays and Thursdays.
Does Caruso listen? Of course not. He didn't listen to Andie MacDowell on the set of Hudson Hawk when she told him not to walk up behind James Coburn, and he doesn't listen to Jer went he says stick to the promo talk. For the record, Jimmy Coburn was a stand up gent, but he was quick with a blade and would give you a cut to remember if he thought you were sneaking up on him. So anyway, Jerry has asked Carol Mendelsohn and Corey Miller (two of the staff writers at Miami) to follow Dave around and feed him lines whenever it looks like he's about to put on or take off his shades.
Jerry Bruckheimer. Problem solver.
LA Vice
wah wah wah wah wah wah wah-wah WAH!
Thank you thank you thank you far too kind
wah wah-wah WAH!
Can I get a encore, do you want more
Cookin raw with the Brooklyn boy
So for one last time I need y'all to roar
What the hell are you waiting fooo-ooor?
After me there should be no more
So for one last time make some noise
Get em Jay.
Farrell turns up the music and starts rapping along with Jay-Z.
Whoodja know freshar dan me, riddle me da
Resta yall knohw where Im lyricklee ah
Can't nunna yall keep da f***** pace wiv me
F***** Jay-Z man,
Dat's how we be
Michael Mann turns away from the road for an instant:
I don't think those are the lyrics Colin.
F***** huge tyuins man, massive beats.
We got electrics like we shoppin in Peats.
What are you talking about?
Oy'm freestylin man, you're bleedin puttin me off!
Ever since working together on Miami Vice Michael Mann and Colin Farrell have been going out for drives around LA at night - Peering into its seedy underbelly, fighting crime wherever possible and (from time to time) hurling abuse at pedestrians.
Heyar Mando, see this bleedin club up heyar? F***** scummy joint it iz. Pat ya dowin for Crouching Toygers before you go in. Stingey b******s. Like Oyrishin up a cocktail is a bleedin cryam.
Crouching Tigers?
Hidden naggins man. Jaysus! Look, Stallone's comin owrah the place.
Across the street Sylvester Stallone is leaving a club, on a high after the success of Rocky Balboa. He's talking and laughing with an entourage crowded around him.
Heyar Mando. Check dis ow.
Colin presses the button to open his window and leans his whole torso outside the speeding car. He starts shouting "Sloy!" at the top of his lungs.
Sloy! Sloy!
As the car approaches the junction up ahead, Stallone hears Colin and turns.
SLOY! Yer ma's a weppin!
Colin almost falls out of the car when he flips Stallone off with a double deuce.
Mann: A weapon? What does that even mean?
Farrell: Sketch Mando! He's comin ovar!
Mann: I can't Colin. Red light.
Mann, a staunch law abider since his youth, comes to a halt at the red light.
Jaysus Mando! He's bleedin comin, run the loy!
Colin panics, slips and his knee falls onto the window controls. The window moves up jamming half his body outside - the motor keeps whirring determinedly.
Aaah! Me bleedin ribs! Gun ih Mando, gun ih!
Society is held together by laws Col-
Before Mann can finish the sentence the whole car rocks to one side. Colin's swearing like an Irishman who has just been punched in the face - in fact he has. His legs are flailing about wildly inside as Stallone goes to work. Sly doesn't really have speed anymore, I mean, he's got calcium deposits on most of his joints. For Stallone sparring is out. So what he's calling on as he knocks Farrell about is blind force trauma.
The light changes and Mann would be ready to drive, except he can't reach the wheel with Farrell legs swinging around.
The rocking stops for a moment - Stallone's showboating for the people gathering outside. He nips in, feigns a right hook, that claps Farrell with an open-handed slap.
Stallone: You like that kid, huh?
Farrell: Cumere til I gowjya, ya bleedin harsis bollix!
Stallone: Oh so you want some more?
He goes to work again. This time Colin's foot connects with Mann's jaw - he's out cold. Outside, Stallone is talking himself up to one of his guys:
Stallone: Hey Phil, call the press! How's this for a headline? Stallone's still got it - Sly takes on a young contender and wins.
Phil: Are you crazy man? How's this for a headline? Stallone beats defenseless man to a bloody pulp.
Stallone: Defenseless? Hey, they said the same thing about the Afghans. They said they didn't stand a chance against the Reds, but they were wrong! They won, took back their homeland and went on to set up a fair and just democracy... presumably... Remind me to check how that whole thing turned out.
Farrell: Sloy! Are ya bating me or are ya tawkin shy' with yer boyfriend? Come on!!
Stallone moves in for another bout - but this time Farrell's ready. He stretches forward and gets his teeth into Stallone's right ear. Kicking backwards to push himself, he knocks Mann onto the accelerator. The car shunts forward, taking Colin and most of Stallone's ear with it.
Stallone: My ear!
Sly falls to his knees, putting pressure to the side of his head. As Mann's car speeds up (veering slightly to the right) Farrell starts shouting into the piece of Stallone's ear that he has.
Farrell: Can ya hear me Sloy? Woh?
Stallone: Stop that f***** car!!
Farrell: Or woh? Yer ma'll shoo?
Colin thinks this is the funniest thing he's ever heard and is laughing uncontrollable... Until the car crashes into a parked BMW and comes to a sudden halt. Farrell is wedged horribly between the two cars - not laughing anymore, but still shouting into the ear. Stallone and his crew start to run towards him.
Farrell: Mando! Wake the f*** up!
Stallone: Gimme my goddamn ear back!
Farrell (into the ear): Oy am the law! Woh?
Farrell holds up the ear and squeezes it, squirting a small stream of red towards the rapidly approaching Stallone.
Farrell: How's that for first blud ya dopey shy'?
Colin's putting a brave face on it, but inside he's nervously nudging Mann with his foot - who is starting to stir.
Stallone: I'm gonna kill you if you don't give me back my ear Farrell!
A few feet away Stallone stops to wind up a knockout punch. Inside Colin's foot is rapidly shaking Mann. Mann, suddenly realises what's happening and tries to start the car.
Stallone stops and shouts like a maniac - Farrell, thinking fast, throws the ear into Sly's gaping mouth, who falls to his knees choking.
Farrell: Bet it tastes behhar than the gik ya had at Planneh Hollywood! Cumere to me til I feed ya the other wun ya bleedin hunga!
Stallone is desperately trying to cough it up his ear, gasping for air at the same time.
Farrell: Yell need to go ta a bleedin specialist if that ear's gonna see dayloy again! Woh?... Heyar Mando, wha else waz he in?
Mann, less interested in making puns than in making a quick getaway, puts his foot down - creaming Farrell against the first three cars parked by the sidewalk - and makes his way down the street.
Classic stuff,
Farrell begins as Mann helps him back inside,
Sloy's a deadly buzz! Buhrye feel bad abbow da ear - Oy'll have to buy him a drink next tyam oy see da bollix. How's yer head man?
It hurts like he-
Aaaah!
Colin's just seen himself in the mirror - He took a real beating and he ain't looking so pretty.
Look at me face! Withow me good looks Oy'm justa filltee b******. Ah Mando, this whole croozin rohwind's a loada shy'.
What? You're blaming me for this Colin?
It's yor bleedin idea man! I didn even wanna do Meami Voyce - I wanted to do a Magnum PI flick. Bleedin tash took munts.
You're being ridiculous!
Yor being a spa. Next tyam ya wanna droyve arowand ya can bleedin knock inta Foxxy.
Goddammit Colin, you know he'll wanna bring the Oscar with him.
Wha da f*** duzz da meeyan? Cuz I dohn have you, yeah? It's all bleedin politics! Shudda had a nomination fer the Recroo. That was some swee f***** actin man. Ya know who won that year? Sean f***** Penn. Mopey shy'.
And with that, Michael Mann and Colin Farrell's nights of undercover work around LA came to an abrupt end. As for Stallone - later that night he regurgitated the ear under medical supervision and had it reattached. Thing is, because of the way Colin squeezed it out of shape Sly can now hear three octaves higher than most humans.
True story.