There has been a shift in the creative world of film-making (shifty you may think). This, to some, is a contradiction in terminology – at best. “There are them ‘believers’ and ‘non-believers’ of the creative progress” were the words uttered to me when I was smooching (networking) at an event, by a ‘Hollywood’ producer (a proper one at that – complete with IMDB credentials).

Most people I’ve stumble across at these sorts of events, who claim to be from LA (Los Angeles), also claim to be film producers; stressing that they have the umbilical-chord (singing the same mantra) and connections of the Hollywood gods (members of the Billion dollar movie club). This story is replicated by the Mumbai-wallahs (Bollywood Salahas [show-offs/chancers]). I have become savvier since rubbing shoulders with the lot of them. When questioning one (alleged) producer about his credentials, the best he could come up with—after blagging for what seemed to be hours—was claiming that he carried the screenplay of “Catch me if you can” in his briefcase for well over a year and a bit … gathering crumbs, cocktail and vomit crusts, from the networking parties he had frequented—but never been welcomed to (gate-crasher) before being relieved of the screenplay legally.

I am now planning a twelve part webinar on ‘How to spot an influential person … at a party: in two minutes, or your money back’; ‘How to spot a real Hollywood producer’; ‘How to spot a real Bollywood producer’; ‘How to spot a TV series commissioner’; ‘How to spot a stripper’; ‘How to spot a porn-star’ and many, many more. I could do a two minute answer for ‘producers’ in a very short webinar, but the PR gurus have suggested otherwise: “very wise” was the reverb from my business agent (yet).

I don’t wish to digress, but why not? Somehow, I seem to have met my fair share of ‘performance artists’ (porn stars) at these sorts of events … they seem to gravitate towards me without any solicitation from my side: at all. I must also emphasize, I always wear baggy trousers. These ‘artistes’ are the most difficult to spot; especially with their clothes on… not that I am a fan of their works. But I do respectfully submit: they do serve their purpose to society, and the tissue industry.

I recall being at a ‘film party’ (this has not been dramatized), and being pissed off by the company of five or so bragging men; blowing more hot air than a Dyson heater, when I was approached by this ‘plain’ looking, well-dressed (office secretary in casuals type), bespectacled woman, with a foreign (indeterminable) accent. She checked me out: bottom to top (just from the front … a giveaway I later gathered).  Fortuitously, and for the first time, I had polished my handmade moccasins (a hand-me-down from generation to generation, and then acquired from my local Charity shop: in exchange for my ex-pair of Russian boots). Somehow, a warm feeling gushed within me. The quizzical feeling of stepping into other people’s shoes was getting overpowering. You never know who could trip up, or into.

She asked me: “What you do for work” – which is technically three questions in one – my immediate (well-prepared) rebuttal: “Have one guess?” Her smile transitioned to a smirk as if she had cracked the code. “First, you tell me what you think I do … but only one guess” Without hesitation or deliberation, I smirked back and retorted defiantly: “You’re a porn star” – my first and final answer. This is when all the men around me pulled up their lapels right to their forehead, while looking away; expecting to hear a resounding double smack (at best). Smilingly, she brought her head forwards, as a rebuttal they all hoped …


To be continued …
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