Crispin Lovers
November 26, 2007
I passed Crispin Glover on the street. I recognized him immediately, but as he got closer, I thought I was mistaken. Then, when he was right at my side, I was sure again. I almost didn't recognize him because his hair was so clean. Like a shampoo commercial, clean. I half expected him to flip it in slow motion and see bluebirds and flowers shake out.
I wanted to stop him and tell him that I love his work, but other than his stellar performance twenty years ago in The River's Edge and a few memorable talk show appearances, I honestly haven't seen much of it. According to his website, he's in town doing a book signing, slide show, and Q&A at the IFC Waverly Theater. He's been here for a week, and tomorrow is the last night. I told Deborah about it.
"Let's go," she said. "You want to?"
"Sure, why not. If only for the Q&A: Hey, Crispin. Big fan, love your work. Quick question, how do you get your hair so clean? "
I just reserved tickets online. Signe is coming, too..
November 28, 2007
When I saw Crispin Glover on the street and said that his hair was so silky and clean that I half-expected to see him flip his hair in slow motion like a shampoo commercial, I had no idea that his movie, "It is fine! Everything is Fine," would feature a dozen women doing just that.
The principal character is a serial killer with a fetish for long, silky hair who likes to touch, comb, smell, and wash the hair of his victims before strangling them with a palsied arm. The feel-good film of the season.
"Presently, I will read from eight books—"
The first part of the presentation, a slide show based on Crispin Glover's books, got off to a slow start due to some technical difficulties that the support crew didn't seem too interested in helping poor Crispin sort out. He ran between the stage and the hallway, and up to the projection booth and back again several times, with his microphone still attached so you could hear him pleading, "There's an audience!"
The audience was patient, and after a few false starts, things were finally sorted out.
"Presently, I will read from eight books—"
Eight surreal, absurdist books that he started making when he was eighteen years old, cut and pasted from typewritten stories and various other books, and filled with ink scrawls and altered illustrations.
After the slide show and then the movie came a question-and-answer session that went a little long due to a combination of film school slackers asking tiresome questions and Crispin Glover's inability to give a straight answer — or to even remember what he was talking about half the time. But it's always interesting to hear about what goes on behind the scenes of a twisted and perverted arthouse flick, so we stuck it out. Despite perhaps a touch of ADD, Crispin Glover came across as a sensitive, intelligent, thoughtful, rather normal, albeit nervous, guy, and I have to admit, I was a little disappointed.
"It does take away a little of the mystery, doesn't it?" said Signe.
After the show, everyone was invited downstairs to the bar, where Crispin would be available to answer more questions and sign books. But three and a half hours was enough for me, and I was ready for home.
Signe, who has worked on several independent films, was so inspired by the movie that she wanted to work for him, and debated about approaching him then and there. "What do you think?" she asked us. "I don't have any business cards on me, though. Should I write my website address and my telephone number on a piece of paper? Is that cheesy? Is that too unprofessional?"
From what we just witnessed, Crispin Glover didn't seem like the kind of guy to be put off by unprofessionalism, so Deborah and I encouraged her to talk to him. We didn't feel like standing in line ourselves, though, so we left Signe at the theater, making her promise to fill us in on what happened.
Which she did:
"I waited in the line for nearly an hour while the Geek Squad asked for signatures and gave their film critiques. When it was my turn, I shook his hand and told him I was glad he didn't use subtitles. We talked for a minute or two about my experience working on a shoot with people with downs syndrome (with Terry Richardson a few years back— we were criticized heavily because people thought we were being exploitative). Then I told him i'd really like to work with him— and he referred me to his website. He said it's best that way because he loses pieces of paper. He said he has people who organize the "volunteers" for him, then asked what sort of things I was good at. "I'm a costume designer," I said (but what I was thinking was, were you not listening to anything I just said?), to which he replied, "Oh, I can definitely use those," but I couldn't help but feel like it was a blow-off. I don't know— maybe my long, silky hair made him nervous? He seemed kinda distracted. Oh well, so much for a personal introduction."
