TALES FROM THE BARSTOOL
By: Clint Lien

"When Worlds Collide."

Over the past seven years I've traded my time between Los Angeles and Victoria. Most of that time has been spent in L.A. but this last year has seen the time majority shift to Victoria.

The two places were worlds apart for me. The people and the energy were so vastly different from each other it felt like I was slipping between parallel dimensions when I moved between the two. This last week saw that perception come to an end.

The call came at nine-thirty on a Friday night. It was my friend Angela Heck from the National Film Board of Canada. She was in town for the Victoria International Film Festival. She wanted to know if I would accompany her to the gala opening party - a rather exclusive affair limited to those who could afford to pony up $25.00 to attend. I thought that sounded like fun. When was the event? It started thirty minutes ago. Lucky for me Angela didn't have a longer list to call before she hit my name and luckier still I don't really have a life. Thirty minutes later we were walking around the conference room at the Laurel Point Inn. Nice place.

What immediately struck me was the remarkable similarities between a Hollywood party of the same nature and this gathering. It was crowded. There were a wide variety of dress styles. Some people were in tattered jeans and faded T-shirts (the actors) and still others wore tuxedos (the producers). There were a handful of men and women who, desperate to be noticed, wore what amounted to near costumes - one woman had on pants made of feathers and I saw a fellow sporting a retro Sixties polyester suit, replete with a fake mustache and huge sunglasses - more actors I'm guessing.

There were a number of men and women standing solo in various locations, clearly trying to remain unobtrusive. I approached several of these individuals and asked them how their latest screenplays were going. They were all quite happy to fill me in. Most were having trouble maintaining conflict in the second act.

All the films in the festival had been pre-judged so the opening night was also the awards night. No one could hear the crappy sound system and after a few moments the presentation ceremonies were ignored and the shmoozing continued.

I caught Michael D. Reid trying to sneak out the back early and managed to corner him. Michael is Victoria's only film critic of any note. He's been at it for a long time. I think he panned "Gone With the Wind." I don't always agree with his reviews but he possesses a real love for film that comes through in his writing and he's always been a huge supporter of the local industry. I was grateful for the opportunity to thank him for a number of articles he wrote about a little film that my friends and I made just before I moved to L.A. in 1996. Those articles were certainly a factor in my decision to take a shot at a career in film. When the articles and pictures came out women wanted to meet me. I thought that was pretty cool and wondered what it would be like if I did something that was actually good. I'm going to write about that when it happens.

He said he remembered me and that was nice. We talked for ten minutes and it was after I let him finally escape that I realized how much it felt like the Hollywood scene. I'd just come back from Los Angeles four days earlier, where I'd had a whirlwind of meetings and parties. I flew down, ostensibly to see the premier of a little Canadian movie called "Suddenly Naked" (good film) and meet about a book adaptation job, but I don't think I stopped running from the time I hit the ground until the time I flew out seven days later.

The highlight of the trip was not the small party at the Dole pineapple heir's home, where Owen Wilson was shooting pool with a woman so beautiful she didn't look real, but my thirty-minute conversation with the one and only William Shatner in the bar at the gorgeous Saint Regis Hotel. We discussed the situation in Iraq. Mr. Shatner's views most certainly would have differed from those of his world-renowned screen persona, but I was pleased to find him both knowledgeable and articulate on the subject. I stayed two nights in the same hotel. I saw the room rate on the door of the suite I stayed in - $2,500 a night. After I came to and brushed myself off, I tracked down the guy who was putting me up there. I asked him what the hell he was doing putting me in a room like that. He assured me he got a special deal and I shouldn't worry about it. What's a special deal on a $2,500 room? $1,900? I didn't want to know. Whatever that room cost was more than I make in a week; I knew that. It was a nice room.

I left Los Angeles with no less than four different job leads, one as close to a sure thing as I could get without actually having a check in my hands. There would be no job leads at the Victoria party, but it felt like there could have been.

When I left the party I realized something quite important. I need to get back to Los Angeles. Victoria is clean and quiet. It's peaceful and you can drink the tap water. The people aren't as pretty but they're a lot better looking. The thing is, they don't make movies here and that's what I do. One day there will probably be a film industry here. Maybe then I'll set down permanent roots. In the meantime, I'm California dreaming.

Reactions? Comments? Write me at barfly@netlistings.com