Weinstein Will Distribute Coriolanus/Butler to Ride the Wave

Congratulations to Ralph Fiennes on his Coriolanus being picked up for distribution by the Weinstein Brothers.  It was formally announced today, although the rumor has been around for a week or so.  By extension, this congratulations goes to all the actors and others involved in this ambitious production.

Fiennes directing Butler.

Knowing how zealous Harvey Weinstein is in backing projects he believes in, I know it will get the promotion that it deserves if the movie is indeed worthy.  This is one I am looking forward to seeing.

The good news for Coriolanus' distribution deal is not the only wave Coriolanus co-star  Gerard Butler will be riding today,  as it was announced  that he will be starring in and co-producing "Mavericks,"  a movie that all serious surfers will know refers to that piece of Ocean in Northern California that provides them with some of the most challenging waves on the continent.   Coming from an area where surfing was a passion for many, no one escaped the legend of Mavericks' waves.

Riding Mavericks

The movie Mavericks will focus on the story of Jay Moriarty, the young surfer who trained with older surfer Rick "Frosty" Hesson for a year to tackle the challenging waves of the legendary area and the friendship that developed between the two.  Butler will be playing the role of Hesson and his recent surf riding sessions in Hawaii were perhaps instrumental in proving that he could tackle this role with some authenticity or,  perhaps  a little bit of good publicity timed to coincide with the announcement.  Either way, Butler seemed to be enjoying himself.

 More surfing lessons for Butler.

Mavericks will be helmed  by Curtis Hansen,  who directed the marvelous  L.A. Confidential   This alone makes me have high hopes for this current endeavor by Gerard Butler as actor and as co producer (along with producing partner, Alan Siegel).

As an interesting aside, the area was named Mavericks after a dog.  According to Wikipedia:

In early March 1961, three surfers, Alex Matienzo, Jim Thompson, and Dick Knottmeyer, decided to try the distant waves off Pillar Point. With them was a white-haired German Shepherd named Maverick, owned by a roommate of Matienzo. Maverick was used to swimming out with his owner, or with Matienzo, while they were out surfing.The trio left Maverick on shore but he swam out and caught up with them. Finding the conditions too unsafe for the dog, Matienzo paddled back and tied Maverick to the car bumper before rejoining the others. The riders had limited success that day, surfing overhead peaks about 1/4 mile from shore, just along the rocks that are visible from shore. They deemed conditions for surfing the bigger outside waves too dangerous.

They decided to name the point after Maverick, who seemed to have gotten the most out of the experience. It became known as "Maverick's Point", and later simply "Maverick's".

Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

Butler surfing photo courtesy of GBGALS.

The Getaway and another fine day in LA LA Land

These are the times I absolutely love this particular muse.  Whenever I see photographs or situations like this played out in front of the paparazzi cameras,  I can't help thinking how human and unintentionally amusing Gerard Butler  can sometimes be.   In this Keystone Cop kind of moment, G and his  friend seem to be making what looks like a hurried (and harried) exit from a local nightclub and each freeze frame has been caught by the cameras.  Without knowing the particulars,  a million scenarios came to mind and my immediate thought was to exploit a few of them for this blog.

"Your extra keys are where?"

My first response,  after a big smile, was that they were making a quick getaway with someone in hot pursuit.    My speculative mind immediately went to "a jealous boyfriend. "  From there, in quick secession it went to:  a) some overzealous fans intent on following him,  b) a planned rendezvous with someone they had met inside and not wanting the paps along for the ride,  c) trying to elude pursuing paparazzi, only to be greeted by another one, or more nefarious even...like  d) trying to purchase something slightly illegal from someone,  then later suspecting the source to be a legal sort.

"It's somewhere on the steering wheel."

The latter is my writer's imagination working overtime and most highly unlikely, considering the upright standing of the source.  (grins)

Stepping back from it, it could also have been the result of  e)  dinner having gone wrong and the resulting upheaval of the gastric juices at work on the stomach causing a major disturbance to the subject's plumbing, making a very quick getaway quite necessary.   Perhaps someone felt  dizzy and needed to get out of the crowd?  

"Oh Gude, are they still back there?"

Of course Butler's fans would be making the usual remarks and there would be plenty of derisive ones.   We have the predictable ones such as "He needs to grow up!"  "He's too old to be clubbing" (or dancing or singing or whatever he does)....because no matter what it is "he will always be too old" to be doing it in their eyes.  I guess since they are probably too old... and if by decree  they make him "too old"  he will be closer to them in "some" respect.  

To these people I say that one is NEVER too old to dance and anyone who makes such a silly statement must be a bit of a sad sack and very insulated from the rest of humanity.  In just about every culture on the planet dancing is an expression of joy and celebration...just as music is.  Any poor soul that doesn't know or hasn't experienced it....well they are truly worthy of pity.

I am sure there were plenty of other comments,  funny or nasty, but for some the litany of  negativity is always the same.  It's a free country and they are welcome to it.  I just don't read it.

The truth is that we don't know what these two were thinking or doing and it really doesn't matter.  The photographs were humorous,  two big kids caught by the flashbulbs and trying to figure out how to get out of there with Murphy's law very much in play.  Oh that darned Murphy!   It was oh so reminiscent of something that's happened to most of us somewhere in our past.   

Friend:   "Don't you gas this thing up before you go out?"   "Where is the security override for this thing?"  "My license has expired.  I really shouldn't be driving."   "I can't believe that guy was mad enough to trash your motorcycle!"  "Did you really say that to his girl?"

G:   "Are they still back there?"   "Fuck,  where did I leave my phone?"   "Damn, if anyone finds out about this,  I'm toast."  "What the hell did I do that was so bad?"   "Are they still following us?"   "Fuck if I remember where the keys to my motorcycle went...!"

All of the above is totally speculative,  of course,  and probably far from the real and simple truth.  But when the photos are this delicious....  

Obviously, if either one of these two handsome denizens of La La land were ill,  I am sure they are fully recovered from their adventure and looking back on their night (perhaps through these photos)  with a hearty laugh.  Being the small world that it is,  ONE of the two fellows photographed walked into the restaurant where I was having lunch with friends this weekend.  He looked fit and dined with several friends at the next table.

My friends and I were discussing politics, the crisis in the Middle East, travel to Shanghai, local restaurants  and their decor,  and the occasional bout of road rage caused by freeway driving in Southern California.  Perhaps  he and his friends were discussing similar subjects.  That's what people do.  Normal things....

After taking leave of my friends,  I drove to Joan's on Third and Magnolias (respectively) and picked up a few goodies to bring home to my daughter,  who was working and still waiting for the storms to blow over before heading  back home to the east coast. 

As I skipped over the puddles left by the early drizzle, I  was thinking how pleasant life is to be able to enjoy brunch and laugh with your friends on a fine Sunday afternoon when there is so much strife going on in so many places around the  the globe.  Most of the rain was gone and the sun was shining and people were out walking and eating outdoors.   I was reminded again how blessed I am to be living in LA LA Land.   

I was also wondering if  both of the fellows caught in the headlights of the freeze frames above were equally as thankful and enjoying the rest of the beautiful Southern California day...wherever it took each of them.

Zoni

Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

*Photographs courtesy of Just Jared.

A Friend is a Friend is a Friend.

Gerard Butler has said that he and writer-director Richard LaGravenese quickly bonded in their first meeting to determine whether he would star in P.S. I Love You and it's nice to see that they are still good friends  in the most recent photos of Mr. B. enjoying the talent of another good friend, rock jazz pianist Eric Lewis in a recent L.A. stint.

Joining them for this occasion was one of his PSILY co-stars, Gina Gershon.   It is not the first time that Butler and LaGravenese spend time with each other and I suspect it won't be the last .  They really did establish a relationship while making that movie.

In a town where friendships come and go and sometimes are only based on what one person can do for another career wise, it is nice to see one stick simply because the people like each other.

This may be too "warm and fuzzy" for some, but real nevertheless.


Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

Charity, Soul and Multigrain Bread

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Gerard Butler is certainly looking well these days and whatever he's been up to lately,  it suits him.   Doing the rounds of the charities he is involved with, he looks rested,  stylish and happy being his usual flirtatious, little bad boy, self.

It is always with dismay that I read comments that he is "anorexic" or that he looks ill or unhappy in response to some of his images.  I also have to laugh at the blogs that report that several men (Paul Haggis and a certain Frenchman in particular) felt a little threatened by his presence around their dates or wives. Personally, I think they are very secure fellows and just playing along with Gerry's playful image because they like him.

True Mr. B. is a natural and very forward flirt and some women tend to feel giggly or tongue tied around him, but that is because they are not used to a fellow that is not afraid to give voice to his admiration, in whatever (awkward or smooth) form it comes.   He has an image to live up to....the handsome, bawdy ladies man about town.  This is Hollywood, after all and, from all appearances, Gerard Butler is all about conquering the opposite sex.

Actually, I'll go out on a limb and say that I think Gerry likes to conquer most people he meets.  The gregarious and irreverent Butler has never met a person he couldn't charm, if that is his goal...and no man or women is immune if he is in ernest.  But so often his motivation is questioned and misinterpreted when he just simply cannot help wanting people, particularly people in the industry,  to like him.

I think some of that misinterpretation comes from the fact that most of the glances the fans or general public get of him is through the paparazzi lens or the gossip bloggers speculation.   Stories are made up about him as a result of these frozen shots and his response and then the speculation begins and he becomes the target of people who find this speculative slice of his actions objectionable.  It doesn't help that Butler is a very ironic fellow.  Too many people don't get irony and in some quarters....irony equals arrogance.

Of course the speculation is also helped along by certain contingents of Butler fans.   Like so many men who are unmarried and content to be so, he becomes the target of females who believe that marriage is the natural order of things for everyone and no man should be left unscathed when there are so many single women out there looking for a mate.  They cannot separate the flirtation from the reality because every female that is mentioned in connection with him becomes either his victim or,  to another set of fans,  a slut.   Either moniker does not say much about the women involved.  Where does that leave free will and equal responsibility for choosing what one wants?  Women are very tough on their own when it comes to men.  It's crazy and insulting.

The truth is that we know very little about Butler's real personal life and the little people see pegs him  as either "a man whore" or "in the closet."    Talk about extremes!   Is there not room for "none of the above" in all the speculation?   Of course, two such disparate views make him all the more interesting to the paparazzi and the gossip blogs because they all want to be the first to get the skinny on him and when it comes to Gerard Butler, the more salacious, the better for some.

While he sometimes displays the restraint of a fourteen year old,  I generally like Butler and I don't give a damn who he is.   I also have enough common sense to understand what I am seeing and laugh at the spin put on it.  Generally  I find him irreverent, ironic and sometimes silly,  I also find him impatient, curious, ambitious, sometimes caustic but generally kind.  I think he is finally coming to terms with who he is and what he likes and at this point in his career he's learned not to care as much about who approves  and who doesn't.   That is a good thing.

Another thing I like about Butler is that he is not "white bread."   I see him as chewy, sometimes coarse,  multigrain embellished with tasty sesame and/or poppyseed.   If he were a cheese, he would be  a pungent blue, covered with veins of rich, dark mold (as good blue cheese is).    He may look like the fair, green eyed hero of your fairy tale,  but a part of him is pure soul and I think one has to understand soul and where it comes from to understand a little of who he is.  Some people get it and some people don't.

If I could give him some advice I'd tell him to put a little of that soul he puts into his singing and his life, back into his acting so that his fans will be talking more about his performances and less about the gossip and speculation surrounding his love life.

The latter is too much to be hoped for.   The former is not!  How about it Mr. B?



Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

The Outlandisher - Chap. 14 A Highlander in Harlem

Gerremy McButler's life had taken so many turns in the last 24 hours, his head was still spinning.  Sitting in a holding cell in a NYC police station,  he almost felt that the last 12 years hadn't happened and he was back to his drinking days when he had inhabited a few such places, in a little less confused state than he felt at the moment. 


Well, one good thing he could say for this whole mess...he was finally in his world and he would know what to do as soon as he could get out of this place. He had already placed a call to Allaine and left a message.  He was trusting that his partner, who lived in California, would have some one over ASAP to bail him out.

He wondered where crazy McFraser was at the moment?  They had both been cuffed and hauled off, but in separate cars.  The last he had seen of him, it was taking four police officers to get the tall, protesting highlander into the back of a police cruiser.   Hopefully none of the cops had any knowledge of the Gaelic because, even with his limited knowledge of the old Scots,  the kind of profanities being hurled at them would have made Mel Gibson blush.


How the hell had they landed in this mess?  Was it really only 24 hours ago that they had found themselves dazed and sprawled, one on top of the other, on the floor of  an almost empty, dark, unfinished loft in Harlem in the middle of the night?   Almost empty, that is, except for the antique mirror and some other familiar pieces of furniture, art pieces and other items he recognized as his. 


Actually, one on top of the other was not correct.  He was lying face down on top of Jamie McFraser, in a classic  69 position.   The highlander had unceremoniously shoved him off, cursing all the while.   The one thing about being around McFraser was that he, Gerry McButler,  was a choir boy by comparison where profanity was concerned.   He doubted anyone would believe him, though.


After checking out the loft to make sure they were alone, he'd had to sit the agitated McFraser down and explain the world he was about to find himself in....one far removed from 18th century Scotland, but to a stranger, no less crazy.   The fact was that he had no idea what had happened or why some of his belongings were in this strange place.  McFraser suggested it might have something to do with a certain Captain of his Majesty's Dragoons and McButler had grudgingly agreed.   They had also agreed to make their way to Gerremy's apartment and try to find out what was going on.   McButler was still dressed in the Captain's tight, and now ripped, uniform and McFraser was.....well... just Jamie McFraser, he of the fiery red hair and all that accompanied being him and where he came from.


After stuffing several small items of his he had found in the apartment in his coat pocket, they made their way down the dark, rickety stairs into the street.  Gerremy also made a mental note of the address in front of the building so he could send someone over later to retrieve his belongings.  He only hoped he could retrive it from the jumble of thoughts that were now clogging his brain.  As a back up, he'd ask Jamie to remember it too!


McFraser's eyes were like saucers from taking in everything around him.   Nevertheless, the highlander was smart enough to keep quiet and not attract notice, if that was even possible.   This could be a hairy situation for two strangers without funds at this time of night in this part of town, at least until they could find a friendly sort who would let him use their phone to make a call.  

The city that never sleeps sure looked to be sleeping, at least on this block, but it was not too long before they encountered a group of shady looking sorts who looked to be in the middle of a drug buy.   They might have been able to backtrack quietly had not a large rat run across his path, causing him to halt in his tracks with a loud intake of breath.   McFraser sensing  the sudden tension in him quietly pulled out his dirk as one of the three strangers turned and saw them.

Short Black Man:  Motherf__ker....?


A second man in the group, a pudgy white man with a closed face,  dispassionately looked them over.


Pudgy WM:   It's a little early for Halloween ain't it fellas?


The third man in the group, a tall,  muscular black dude, started laughing.


Muscular Dude:  What we gat here bra?   A coupla fruit faries playin dress-up?
(turning to McButler)  Whatsa matter?  You girls lookin to score some coke?


McButler sensed rather than saw McFraser's arm shoot out and take the speaker by the throat.


JMcF:  (growling)  Do I look like a girl tae ye, mon ami?


Stupified, Gerremy watched the gun come out of the shorter man's coat before his own sense of preservation asserted itself.


Putting his hand on McFraser's shoulder,  he came forward.


GMcB:  Bro didn't mean anything by it,  Jamie.  Just his way of bein' friendly,  right man?  (to the man with the gun)   My friend here is from out of town and not familiar with the etiquette yet.  We're not looking for trouble.  We'll be on our way.  No harm done, eh bro?


Muscular Dude:  (swallowing)  If Queenie here ain't serious, then what's the sharp thing pokin' ma belly?


Short Black Man:  (laughing)  Since she got a head on you,  could be she get a boner for you Cornelius!


Muscular Dude (Cornelius):  This aint' no boner, bra.  Dis big, red Sally gat a stiletto.


JMcF:  (mimicking the man)  Nae bra!  This thing here is called a dirk whare I come from!


GMcF:  Yeah, well he's upping the ante (pointing to the short man)  with that gun in his hand!  Ye ever seen one those Highlander?  It goes bang bang...an' then ye're dead!

Jamie looks at the gun and the man holding it, makes a calculation and without skipping a beat...


JMcF:  Not one like that, exactly, but Cornelius here will be no less deid by the time he pulls the trigger, so if he values his life, he'll put it away and leave us to go on our way.


Short Black Man:  Not a chance Sally.  I'm itchin to pull this here trigger.   I gets to kill you mother f--cker AND then I gets to comfort Corni's sexy bitch when she's cryin her eyes out?  (to his friend)  That okay with you Corni?


The white man of the trio had been standing observing the situation all this time.


Pudgy White Man:  Ain't no one gettin killed on my watch tonight fellas!  


At the sound of those words all hell broke loose and they found themselves suddenly surrounded by bodies swooping down on them from all directions and the loud blast of sirens approaching with a screech of tires.


Jamie McFraser had put up one hell of a resistance and Gerremy had come to his aid by pulling him off the policeman he was trying to throttle.  He'd only gotten a  hard elbow to his left eye for his trouble.  It seems they had luckily (or unluckily) stumbled on a drug bust and been booked for resisting arrest and assaulting an officer.  


No matter how hard he'd tried  to explain it was all a mistake and told them to talk to the Short Pudgy white guy who'd witnessed it all,  he was not having much success with anything tonight.


When he had tried to explain who he was to the desk Sargent, he would have none of it, saying he'd never heard of Gerremy McButler.  Gerry had even gone so far as telling the Sargent to call his wife and ask her if she had ever heard of him, citing some of his movies, but it had only made the old grouch madder and so here he sat in the cell awaiting bail.


Things were definitely not looking good at the moment...but at least he was home and he had a way with words and knew with further explanation it would eventually be okay... and Allaine would know what to do.    But damn it he was fucking tired of people not knowing who he was!  Perhaps if he'd played Bond...?  


Anyway,  all he wanted now was a hot shower and his bed and he'd worry about the rest tomorrow.  He could hardly wait to show Mr. Bigshot McFraser his own place and let him see what his world looked like for a change!   He would introduce him to Gerry World and everything the two words embodied and see what the big Scot would make of it.


On that thought he leaned his head back against the wall, shut his now purpling left eye and started laughing at the absurdity of those thoughts.

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.



Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

Happy New Year...

....to a muse and wishing him good health,  success on existing projects and a special wish that 2011 sees some really interesting scripts come his way.


Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

Letter to St. Nick - Reprint

Letter to St. Nick

(Originally Posted on Christmas Eve 2007)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the steid,

no' a creature was stirring, no' aiven the dead.

Fer 'twas bonnie old Scotland an' cold as she be

an' thare sat our own downcast GB under mum's tree.

"Ah've been good, ah've been bad, ah've been all o'er the place,

an' aiven some o' ma friends think ah've been a disgrace.

Ah'm still pushin' that old loadstone up ma own hill

and ah'm trying so hard tae improve ma sittin' still skills.

So ah'm writin' ye Santa, St. Nick or whatever...

aiven though sometimes some think ah've the gift to be clever,

some people just na'er seem willin' tae give me a break

and ah wish some would realize that this is MA cake.

An' ah'd like just tae eat it an' enjoy it too,

without havin' tae explain every damned thing that ah do,

fer it's startin tae make me quite cranky ah'd say

tae wake up and see who ah'm fuckin' or no' fuckin' each day.

If ma life had so many a winsome, sweet wench,

ah'd be much more relaxed and ma jaws ah'd no' clench.

But in truith, ah'm no' quite the big smooth operator

an' tis much more likely a lass saying...'Good nicht, see ye later!'

What ah'm askin' fer Nick, tis no' so hard tae grant...

Just some kindness, some love an', okay, special pants

that will fit through the thighs an' will fit in the arse

an' will squeeze ma wee boy when ma mouth gets too crass.

Fer ye know ah have problems wi' keepin it shut,

when ma publicist says ah should be quiet as King Tut.

Tis a case o' exuberance gone run amok

an' ah seem tae be havin' the same problem wi' ma co_ck!

Sae dear Nick ah wud ask fer some skills that ah'm cravin'.

The power tae be good an' tae stop misbehavin'.

Though deep doon in ma hairt ah just really got tae tell ye,

that ah'm no' goin' fer sainthood, no' NOW an' no' EVER!

An' ah've just one more thing oan ma list left tae ask ye.

Wud ye bring me a bag full o' fairy dust sparklies

ah kin sprinkle all o'er me when ah'm tired an' ah'm scruffy

sae ah kin leuk like the old me, even when ah leuk puffy.

Kis ah'm tired as hell readin' how fast ah am aging,

every time ah tarn aroun' an' it sets ma pulse a raging.

So along wi 'the dust ah would ask ye to be so kind

to deliver all o' ma lovin'  fans a swift kick on their behinds."

GB 12/2010

Yers truly,

GB

P.S. "An' no camel sh_it please, as ah've really no'  been THAT bad!"

Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate