‘Vanity Fair’ Goes to the Schneighborhood
Plus: Whoo Kid!
Plus: Oliver Stone's Bush movie is actually going to happen!
Schnabel: I kid around a lot. I have a lot of fun. But most people don't have a sense of humor.… And then I read in this other thing that I was name-dropping all the time. Well it just so happens that the people I know are famous. You know, they work in the movies with me. They're my friends. It's like if I said… What's your name?Julian Schnabel, Larging It [Daily Telegraph]
Reporter: (Thinks: My name? We have been talking for the past two hours.) Mick.
Schnabel: Mick what?
Reporter: Mick Brown.
Schnabel: Okay, so I could say I was talking to Mick Brown the other day — I might well say that. (His tone sounds doubtful.) But they might not know who Mick Brown is.
Reporter: (Thinks: Maybe they will after I become famous for murdering a famous artist/director.)
Who will win? Also, who will lose?
It's a shame the actual awards show didn't happen, because it would have been truly bizarre.
Also: Into the Wild rises again.
Last night was sweet revenge for the portly painter.
Does this mean it's all over for Atonement?
He looked surprised by the question. "What? This?" he asked, as if he really thought I might've been asking about his sandals. "This is a shirt I picked up last night at Target," he said, looking bemused, "and this is a pareo, from Indonesia." "Ahh. A pareo. From Indonesia." What now? Was I obliged to compliment him on it? What would Miss Manners advise? It seemed a good time to say goodbye.Yes, Eric Harrison of the Houston Chronicle. Yes it does. Earlier: All Things Schnabel Julian Schnabel on the Diving Bell and the Butterfly [Houston Chronicle]
"Look at these hands," he urges, laying them flat on the table. In the profile, Andrew Corsello describes Schnabel's hands as "thick, unpretty, blue-collar" and his fingers as "scratched, filthy with dirt and paint, medium-sized." "Do these look blue collar?"Even after the Globe reporter assures him that Corsello was way off and honestly in the dark someone might mistake his fingers for those of Muffie Potter Aston, Schnabel is still clearly obsessing.
He puts out his hand for a shake, and then holds on. It's actually not much of a handshake. In his grasp, Schnabel keeps the embrace for a good 10 seconds, making sure he's able to show the softness of the skin. "These are delicate hands," he says.Big Man on Canvas (screen, too) [Boston Globe] Earlier:Julian Schnabel is Numero Uno!
I only now register the absurdity of what he's wearing: Slippers, a blue-and-gray checked wraparound skirt that may or may not be a old tablecloth, and a grubby white vest, unbuttoned, that may or may not be Naugahyde and may or may not have been part of a three-piece suit worn by Don Johnson in a Miami Vice episode. His belly, ample, ruddy with sun, parts and displaces the flaps of the vest so that they hang to the sides, putting on glorious display the salt-and-pepper Afghans that are his chest and back hair. Look at him, the bear on the outside and the satyr on the inside. Is this a man capable of making a movie with the word butterfly in the title? The look of a man capable of making a movie as powerful as The Diving Bell and the Butterfly — powerful not only in the sense of exalted emotions, but in the way it takes your assumptions about what movies are for, assumptions so fundamental you aren't even aware you have them, and turns them inside out? No. This is the look of a man living off the dregs of a modest fortune made in the 1970s publishing a magazine called Heavy Shaggin'