Awards Show Glam II
A few of you wrote wanting a little more insight into my night at the National Board of Review (including a picture of my rainbow chin). So here is the long version.
Awards show glam–revisited
At 6:05 I stepped out of the elevator and hurried across the lobby to the spinning door. (I say hurry, I mean as fast as I could move in four-and-a-half-inch heels.) After a quick stutter step, I slipped into an open slice of space in the egg beater door, shuffled like a geisha and then stepped onto the sidewalk. Fortunately for my feet, a conscientious doorman noticed a wobbler when he saw one and he jogged over to offer a sturdy arm. “Where to?” he asked with a grin as wide as the Hudson Bay. “The Cipriani,” I answered.
“Allow me,” he said and led me into the street. Normally I wouldn’t blindly follow a stranger into four lanes of heavy traffic (rush hour in New York City at that) but as I saw the paparazzi pushing from behind the velvet ropes, I was delighted to have an escort. The doorman tightened his grip on my elbow and lifted me over the curb, tipped his top hat and wished me a pleasant evening. I smiled with uncertainty.
Cameras flashed like automatic weapons as the parade of limousines arrived. I skirted the edge of the red carpet and ducked through the guest entrance. Seconds later, an entourage of celebrities arrived.
The National Board of Review started in the 1930s as an answer to censorship. One of the unique aspects of this particular awards event is the NBR’s strict no press policy. Another cool fact about New Yorkers in general, is that despite the fact the entire ballroom teemed with A-list movie actors, writers, and directors, not a single guest took a picture. (Quite an exercise in restraint if you ask me.)
The honest truth is I sat silent most of the evening, pretty overwhelmed. Emma Stone, Sally Field and the cast of “The Help” were at the table in front of me. Jeremy Irons and the writers of “50/50” to the left. And Rosie O’Donnell, who was, by the way, a hysterical, raunchy, potty mouth sat on my right.
Other attendees included:
Lars Ulrich, the iconic drummer from Metallica, boasted about the extraordinary documentary “Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory”.
George “the tall glass of water” Clooney (definitely a double “Big Gulp”) with Stacy Keibler on his arm– oh just a quick note here, its not that George was so good looking, I think his appeal stems from his sincere smile and the tireless way he greeted everyone who approached him.
Cary Mulligan and Keira Knightley introduced Michael Fassbender (A Dangerous Method, Jane Eyre, Shame, X-men: First Class)
Helen Mirren nodded at “Like Crazy” starring Felicity Jones.
Daniel Ratcliffe awarded the Harry Potter Franchise a special achievement in filmmaking.
Naomi Watts gave kudos to the animated film ”Rango”.
Rooney Mara who played the thrilling Lizbeth in the US version of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” accepted her award for best actress sands the body piercings and a much more feminine grown-out hair do.
Francis Ford Coppola introduced the renowned Martin Scorsese for his work in the film “Hugo”. Interesting to note, his acceptance speech included very few ‘thank yous’ and focused more on the challenges of working with growing young actors and the grueling hours it took to edit in more artificial snow.
But the actor I knew the least about, surprised me the most. Seth Rogen, the “goofy guy” came across as level-headed, witty and well-spoken. Not only does he act, but he writes, consults and directs also. Who knew?
At the end of the evening, I left the Cipriani with a hefty celebrity buzz and stepped out into a mob filled street. As I fought through the crowd, I found myself bombarded with questions. “Were you inside?” one woman asked. “Who did you see?” I pushed past the groupies and trotted across through traffic.
I’d nearly made it back in the hotel when a couple grabbed my arm. “Who won for best film,” they said. I shook my arm free and slipped through the revolving door.
Once safely inside, I bee-lined to the elevator, and when the door opened, I stepped in.
“Big night?” the very handsome man who could have easily made People Magazine’s most beautiful list asked.
“I’m not so used to crowds,” I swallowed my-oh-my-god inclination and hit the button for the eighth floor.
“Me either,” he said and cracked a wiry smile. I gave him a minute to enjoy his ruse and then stared straight in his pale blue eyes. “Liar,” I said.
He cracked up like a tween and when the elevator chimed eighth floor, he reached over and held the door. “Thanks,” I said as I walked over the threshold and then turned back to smile.
“But seriously,” he said, his hand still blocking the door. “I love my job, but all the hype, it can be a little too much.” And with that his hand fell to his side and the door closed.
Funny, I thought as I drifted down the hall. (maybe more like floated) I mean how often do you find yourself in the elevator with Mr. Cool Breeze?
I concluded that celebrities are just people. Tall, short, curvy, thin, average looking, drop-dead gorgeous, dynamic and introverted, eloquent speakers and others in desperate need of a crash course from Toastmasters. Living, breathing, imperfect human beings, just like the rest of us.
P.S. Below is a pic of the dress and my face:)