I made the unfortunate decision to go to the CTV/Etalk/Chum/Much/etc event formerly called the Schmooze last night. I’ve been a few times in the past. Its publicized to shit on Toronto television as some sort of Festival staple featuring all these celebrities but is really a bit of joke. Last year the only “celebrity” I saw was Paul Sorvino, who was walking around by himself, looking very drunk and with a giant wet stain on his shirt. But in a certain campy way, I’ve always had a fun time.
This year, however, the party made some changes and perfectly exemplified the “More is Less” rule. Diddy performed on a giant stage, Samantha Ronson DJed and seemingly twice as many people were invited. You couldn’t move, the music was a MuchMusic Top 20 setlist, and it took an hour to find out all that was left was white wine. Total shit show. What’s worse is when we finally decided to get the hell out of there, it took an hour to push your way to the exit.
The night wasn’t a total bust though. Prior to the formerly-known-as-Schmooze, me and the iW team went to a small party for Me and Orson Welles at the Empire Restaurant. There were maybe 50 people there, including:
The party brought out the worst film festival side of me. The one that is mystified by the idea of celebrity and acts like some animal-crazy kid at a zoo for the first time. I just stare. And gawk. And if I actually end up communicating with “one,” I lose the ability to speak properly and get this weird look in my eye that makes me look bound for a psychiatric ward. And my voice automatically becomes twice as gay.
I had thought a few years doing this had toned down these tendencies, but not so. And it wasn’t even Zefron that brought this out (though I certainly stared). It was his co-star, Claire Danes. I used to be OBSESSED with Claire Danes. If Winona Ryder was my unintentional beard from 1988-1994, Danes was her successor well into my teen years. I had a wall covered in pictures of her, and basically knew entire My So-Called Life episodes by heart. Anyway, seeing her in person was really surreal. I just couldn’t stop looking, especially when she would give this angst-ridden-looking face that was so Angela Chase.
I took a picture of her from a far, but my nervous hands led to this:
Those are her legs on the right. And Zefron wearing the grey suit on the very left edge of the photo. I swear.