I know, I know -- this comes a bit late, considering said world premiere took place a week ago now already. But in spite of that, I'd still like to write a few words about it -- because I was there (my first premiere!), and as someone who wants to be involved in the business, that's something that counts, and I had some thoughts about it.
The whole shindig took place at London's very own Odeon Leicester Square (apparently Premiere Central when it comes to our lil' island), on a Monday evening (the film being released the following Friday -- don't premieres usually take place on Wednesdays?). The reason we got in, really, is because Lara (Mare's lovely sis -- thanks again!) was invited by a friend of hers, who works at Warner Bros., to go, but being swamped by work, she was nice enough to think of Mare and I first and ask if we wanted her tics. Obviously we did.
The actual showing of the film was scheduled for something like 7.45 or 8pm -- but they pretty much open the doors to the theater around 6.30, and if you're a regular paying or non-paying audience member (this was, apparently, a charity thing, so some people paid the skin off their nuggets to get in), the best thing to do is to just walk in right about then, enjoy the red carpet with no celebrities on it at all, and then, comfortably seated in the auditorium, with your popcorn and flat, tepid Diet Coke (ah, sponsorship), to watch said celebs arrive on the big screen. An even better idea on this particular night, since it was fairly cold and windy out (as it apparently tends to be in England. You don't say.).
There was quite a crowd outside -- mainly because whoever organized the premiere had the fun idea of setting up podiums all along the red carpet, and have three or four guys and three or four girls, dressed in cliched 80s pop outfits, dancing their bums off to blaring pop music. It's a way to draw attention. It was also quite fun -- this one guy in particular was giving it his absolute all, an ecstatic grin stapled to his fake-tanned face, and he was wearing trousers that were so tight they looked like he was wearing them under his skin. It's an odd feeling walking down that carpet, too, with a bunch of people ahead of you and another bunch right behind you. You tend to behave somewhat like a celebrity would -- trying to look cool, smiling no matter what you and your companion are talking about, casually looking out at the crowd and photographers every now and then (many of them reply back with a good ol' "who the fuck are YOU to be on that side of the barrier, you bastard?" look, which always warms the heart), and then aloofly sliding inside the theater doors, never to be seen again.
Two butch looking bald security guards check your tickets at the door, to make sure you're going to the right place -- which they do as rudely and unprofessionally as they can, just to make sure you understand that you might be a rich, superficial showbusiness twat, but they're serious, hard-working, won't-be-fooled-by-your-bullshit people. That's what they do when people like us walk in -- when Hugh and Drew walked in, oddly enough, the two pitbulls were much smilier and tamer. Must be the fresh air.
So you walk in, and you go up a couple flights of escalator stairs, passed the Music & Lyrics bar they set up on the first floor for the occasion and that you can't get into because you're neither famous nor sleeping with somebody famous, and you get into what seemed to me the most massive auditorium I have ever been to. Our seats were up in the balcony -- and it took a Peruvian guide and a lama to carry our bags for us to get there. It's quite a magical sight, actually, walking in; the lights are dimmed about halfway, so it's not exactly dark but getting there, and a dozen ushers are standing in the aisles with little flashlights, their little yellow lights dancing on walls and seats and people as they walk in. And on the big, massive screen is the red carpet outside -- where you were just seconds ago -- with the same people dancing and the same people waiting and the same dull dreary rain. It's surreal, to be honest.
So Maz and I found our seats, where our respective little popcorn bags and Diet Coke bottles were waiting, along with a program/credits list (quite a cool souvenir, if I dare say), and we just sat back and spent the next 45 minutes or so watching celebrities arrive, give interviews, smile for photographers, judging them as narrow-mindedly as we could as they went. There weren't that many of them -- that's one thing the organizers didn't seem to have put too much thought into -- as the only people there, really, were Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore (the stars), the director, and then Shilpa Shetty and her mom and a few other annoying people who were also, apparently, on Celebrity Big Brother (ah, how fame has lost its value. You could probably trade it for some coal at a good price somewhere). To make a long story short: the director looked like a pompous, aloof, self-involved prick, outfitted as if he just got off his couch after a long nap, and keeping his hands in the pockets of his North Face puffy jacket at all times (I mean, for fuck's sake, man, make an effort); Hugh was charming as usual but he and Jemima seemed to be having a bit of an argument (smiling all the way through it for the cameras -- you gotta love it); Drew looked sweet and gorgeous, but she was down there with a guy who kept dragging her around and clutching at her like he was Gollum and she was his precious; and paparazzis have really cool laptop computers they just hang off their chests and have hooked up to their cameras so they can just upload and send their photos literally within seconds of having taken them (which makes sense. I mean, the world MUST now about this NOW, and not a minute later!).
When that got done, everybody got inside the auditorium, and into their seats, and Hugh Grant gave a little opening speech -- as his usual charming and funny self, getting laughs out of every single person in the theater. Then came the producer, who grumbled on self-satisfactorily for a few minutes, putting everyone to sleep, and the director, who grumbled on self-satisfactorily some more, making sure the people who hadn't quite been sleeping yet wouldn't be left behind. And then came Drew Barrymore, who was squeakily lovely and charming, but not really interesting enough to stun everybody back to life.
And then came the film...
Music & Lyrics -- [Alex Fletcher (Hugh Grant) is a washed up 80s pop star who now makes a living from touring theme parks and private parties. But his career might just jolt back to life, as young Cora Corman (Haley Bennett), the biggest, hottest young pop star today (think Britney) is an old fan of his and wants him to write the single for her next album. There's only one hitch -- Alex can write melodies, but he's useless at writing lyrics. Enter Sophie Fisher (Drew Barrymore), Alex's unknowingly talented plant-watering girl...]
Sounds dreadful, dunnit? Well, it's actually much better than you'd think -- it doesn't quite gel, but it's still good fun...
...great thanks to one man, and one man only: Mr. Hugh Grant. It's plain and simple -- without him, the film is a bottom shelf turd. With him, it's actually a pretty cool affair, charming and entertaining. Grant delivers an almost About A Boy-esque performance, far from his sleek, mumbling Richard Curtis self, and here with a slight edge, and more irony, more sadness to his character. The guy is slightly pathetic, but in an understandable way -- he still lives in his 80s glory day, down to wearing tight pants and open-collared shiny shirts and tacky little neck wear, but he's got an irony about it, a fatalism, all of which gels into a consistent, three-dimensional character, entirely thanks to Grant's performance of him. It's brilliant -- and pretty much every laugh in the thing comes from something he does or says.
Drew Barrymore, in comparison, is a bit of a letdown -- she's mumbly, she feels like she's acting, and her character is nowhere near as memorable. She's the typical girl-with-crushed-dreams-who-needs-inspiration, and she doesn't give her character anything to make her stand out. She just plays run of the mill Drew Barrymore -- sweet, competent, better at tears than at funny, could've been played by any of 15 other actresses her age.
There's also a couple distracting casting choices -- Brad Garrett (from Everybody Loves Raymond), whose sheer unique physical presence, combined to the fact that he's not really that much of an actor (sorry, man, you seem like a cool guy), just serves to take you out of the film throughout; and Jason Antoon, who continues an unbroken run of useless, unfunny cranky little bastard roles started on TV (Spin City, E.R., Sex & The City) and perpetuated in film (Two Weeks Notice, The Producers). Just do us all a favor and fuck off to a cave somewhere, dude. I'll give you money and a medal if you do.
Haley Bennett -- who plays Britney-alike Cora Corman -- is wicked in her role, which also happens to be her first. I don't know if she's a good actress at all, or if she's just as vapid and vacant as her character, but she's right on the nose here -- stupid, shallow, unattractively and overly sexual, her spirituality all fucked up, with a nice twist at the end, and she absolutely delivers. Oh, and she's quite good at the singing, too -- and not bad to look at either, in a little California kitty-kat "should be on the OC" kind of way.
The direction is a little sloppy -- nothing out of the ordinary or above average about it, with some clunky editing and pacing here and there, and some clarity issues, and it essentially just gets to its point with tried-and-true rom com tricks and devices, all with a serious helping of music to help cue your emotions in the right direction. The script isn't much to celebrate either -- there's a few really funny situations, a few very funny lines, but all in all it gets lost in an imbroglio of motivations and subplots (I mean, the whole Sloan Cates book thing was just waaaay more complicated than it had any need, or right, to be), and it just trudges along nice and predictably, ticking off all the required rom com boxes (unlikely romance -- check; both characters need each other -- check; big end of 2nd act argument that seems to bring the relationship to its knees -- check; funny-ish yet annoying family members and sidekicks -- check; morning after sex scene -- check; scene in a coffee shop -- check; final disappointment that turns into final bliss -- check).
But then there's the soundtrack -- and that makes up for nearly all of that. The film starts with a parody of an 8os video, plays to a parody of an 8os song titled "Pop!-Goes My Heart". The song is actually quite good, in the way 80s pop songs can be, and the video is hilarious -- and the rest of the original songs involved in the film are just as cool and catchy (I had one of them caught in my mind exiting the theater, Maz had the other).
A fun watch, will make a Valentine's Day fortune, and honestly -- quite a bit better than most rom coms, but just.
6.75/10
And then that was that. We didn't get invited to the party -- fine by me -- so once the film ended, Maz and I just followed everyone out the doors, out the cinema, and walked on home, chatting about the movie -- which is essentially exactly what we do after any other regular screening.
And all in all, it was a fun, really cool experience -- but there are better ways to get your premiere out there, I'd think. This one wasn't really on the news much, especially compared to the other recent premieres they've had at the same cinema (Casino Royale springs to mind). I think what you want, as a promoter, with your premiere is to get buzz out of it -- I think first step when it comes to that is to have a good movie. Start with that. (It also helps if, as in the Bond scenario, your film is something people have been expecting for a long time -- whether because it's a franchise, it's star-packed, it's controversial, whatever) Second, I'd make sure to celebrity-pack the place -- even if you have to make it a charity thing and morally blackmail those people into showing up, do it. That's what gets people talking -- famous faces. The whole thing outside with the dancers was brilliant too -- people might be walking through Leicester Square with no idea what Music & Lyrics is and get caught by that. Little flyers and postcards, film festival-style, could help too -- that way if people are intrigued by it, see the posters, and wonder what it's about, they've got that to take with them, read as they walk, chat about, and maybe they'll want to see it the following weekend when they're at the cinema looking at showing times and debating what to see. And organize a parallel viewing for very select members of the press afterwards, for instance, or invite them -- like that guy on Sky, who's going to be covering the event the whole rest of the night and the next day on Sky anyway -- if you're confident about your film and believe in it, get his ass in there, and schmooze him. Because if he can end his report with something along the lines of "...and it's actually a pretty damn movie, too" then your premiere has done everything it can humanly do to get the buzz out. (I'm not plugging Sky -- that guy they've got actually annoys the piss outta me -- but that's how Mare and I get our premiere news. So either him, or whoever else is the most followed guy for that type of stuff)
I think that's what a premiere should set out to do. Get the people outside interested and intrigued -- and if they've never heard of the film, make them aware of it, by all means possible. (If your leads can autograph their pants off, that's good too -- make sure the diehard fans will stay die hard fans, talk about how cool your actors are, and I genuinely believe that people are more inclined to go see a movie if they just plain like the people involved). Get the people invited at the premiere, or paying to see the premiere, to feel they've got their money's worth -- because of the film first and foremost -- and the next time they see their friends over dinner or coffee or a phone call and are asked "what's new?" or "so how was the premiere?", they'll start spreading good word of mouth. Even before the bloody thing is out or reviewed anywhere. And third, make sure the public at large knows of it -- knows that this film is either an event, or being treated somewhat like an event, which must mean it's important, which must mean it's unmissable, which means they'll try and see it (especially if it gets well-reviewed).
**And a quick note. Just wanted to say thanks so, so much to Jenny (love ya!), Johnnie, and earlier on Tines, Heather and Arto for their cheers about the blog -- feels good to know it's somewhat entertaining. I'd hate to be one of those millions who write a blog even their family members don't want to read, so thanks to all of you for putting those fears to rest. (And that includes Maz too, of course. xx)**
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