Open bar is a great reason to love movie premieres.
Having a bar makes you wonder why all theaters don’t. Which would you prefer next time you visit the multiplex, a pack of stale Milk Duds or a double vodka tonic?
The only downside to bars at premieres is that people more famous than you are going to cut the line.
And everyone at a movie premiere is more famous than you.
That’s the situation I found myself in Saturday night at the Ricardo Montalban theatre.
Tommy Allstar hooked me up with an invitation earlier in the week, and introduced me to Velvet Revolver drummer Matt Sorum by e-mail, who told me to meet him up after the show.
This turned out to be more challenging than advertised.
Matt was slated to play the party after the showing. When the film curtain fell, he took the stage with Perry Ferrell, Juliette Lewis, and Macy Gray. They busted out some great rock covers – highlights included Macy’s signature deep throated version of Radiohead’s Creep, and Matt leading a rousing singalong of Rod Stewart’s Magie May.
As the band knocked out their last song and exited stage right, two beefy security guards promptly took up positions at the stage door and adjacent steps.
No problem, I’m with the band, right?
Me: Hi, I’m on Matt Sorum’s list
Beef: No you’re not.
Me: You didn’t look at the list.
Beef: There is no list.
So what to do – I’m supposed to meet up with Matt, right? I therefore assume I’m justified in doing whatever needs to be done to make that meeting happen.
I find myself asking what I would have done back on the McGraw tour.
On that tour, I learned something very important about getting backstage: namely, it’s not nearly as cool as you think
I remember as a kid, all I wanted to do was get backstage at a big concert. But once you’ve been back there 30 nights in a row, you realize there’s nothing magical about it. It’s a collection of drab concrete dressing rooms and makeshift offices. The people you want to meet probably don’t want to meet you, and it’s really weird to ask for a beer someone else paid for.
If you’re a hot girl of course, go ahead and disregard everything I just wrote.
But if you have a Y chromosome and ABSOLUTELY NEED to get backstage for some reason, carry a box.
People carrying boxes generally don’t get stopped, especially when they’re heavy and the people carrying them look like they know where they’re going.
People not carrying boxes, looking around with eyes wide and mouths agape like they’re in a kingdom of magical trolls and elves get stopped. Every time.
So I went looking for a box.
I found one by the front entrance. It was full of Izzy Lime Soda. Boxes full of soda are heavy. I hoisted it over my shoulder and made for the stage door.
I approached with confidence. I work here dammit. I’m tired and entitled. “Yo, hold that door.”
Beefy guard #2 holds the door open.
I set the box down and walk to the side stage dressing room. There’s Matt, doing his thing.
I walk up and introduce myself.
“Hey man!” says Matt, “Nice to meet you, glad you could make it.” We exchange pleasantries and he suggests we meet this week at his studio. Mission accomplished.
Matt’s surrounded by ten other people who want his attention, so I choose not to linger. We shake goodbye and say we’ll e-mail to set things up.
I grab an Izzy Lime Soda and bounce.
Filed under: Uncategorized |