He came swaggering in, flanked by security, though I can’t say he looked as if he needed protection. He looked like he was ready to start a fight himself—with himself. His talented and beautiful wife was by his side, a picture of graciousness and serenity. What was she doing with him, embroiled in his drama? She seemed so much more reasonable than he did. He was an “ass”; I had heard her say it. So what was my excuse for being here—professional considerations aside—if not to play some part in his wild circus?
Well, I thought he was a great actor; I still do. From a young age he had tremendous presence, though sometimes he could overwhelm a project with his intensity, and also with his sheer unlikability. Indeed, I admired the way he didn’t attempt to hide his obnoxiousness and actually pushed it out into the world, like it was a good thing; this seemed to make him rather appealing—endearing, even. For it takes great heart to be so unpopular on a global scale, especially in a profession where one of the perks is instant adoration. But he was having none of that—adoration, I mean—least of all from the festival organizers, of which I was one. He seemed determined to court unpopularity, controversy, in the same way that I had been willing to court him. I have to admit that he was my idea. Why? I’m still trying to figure it out. Of course, it boosted my standing within the programming team, gave me a leg up. But everyone guards their kingdom, and I sensed immediately that some of my colleagues were no longer treating me as they had when I first arrived as a programming associate. The situation made me think of something my wife said on our honeymoon when we had not yet shed our awkwardness: we were innocents in buffet world, still holding on to our plates, clasping them to our chests, when we should have been looking for knives.
Running From The Reels 