Let me recount the way in which we acquire these coveted invitations to red carpet premiere screenings:
We beg for them. Literally. We write "Si'l vous plais invitation to XXX" for example, and hope that someone will bless us with a coveted ticket to paparazzi-ville. Usually, those with spares place one in our hands and keep walking. The balcony is open seating so it's unlikely you'll be sitting near the person that dolled it out to you, and even in the orchestra it's done by rows (your ticket could say rows A-F, for example) and no specific seat is ever assigned. So we rack 'em up from anyone and everyone we can find until the last second, and walk down the carpet together oozing Penn fabulosity.
We were a bit nervous though to get tickets for LAWLESS Saturday night, as it's the biggest Hollywood blockbuster with the most A list names at this point in the festival: Shia LeBeouf, Tom Hardy, Jessica Chastain, Guy Pearce, Gary Oldman, and Mia Wasikowska to name a few. We knew these golden tickets would be hard to come across, so we all tried our best to bring our A game. My strategy was holding the sign, but workin' my charm and making intense eye contact with people. I thought I'd have more person-by-person, varied individual interactions to to seal the deal.
I wore my black slinky dress and red lipstick, silver pumps, and trekked the block with my sign. And this is where everything took a turn. This is where I became a Cannes whore.
Let me back track once again. Every experience I've ever had with mentorship has been nothing but positive, inspiring, and of the best intentions. I have had amazing experiences with Penn alums and industry big-wigs that have really helped mold me and get me to where I am today. But outside of the Penn bubble, it is a seriously sketchier world.
I wasn't doing much up front filtering with who I asked because you never know just who will give you the goods. I asked both sexes, all ages, literally anyone that crossed my path. So one man I asked, an older gent of about 65, for a ticket, gave me a lead that he just might have one. So we started talking and within minutes, this baby was mine. Now instead of the usual procedure I just described, Michael not-so-implicitly made it known that he wanted me to be "his date" for the evening, and asked me to stay with him so we could strut down the red carpet as a pair and sit together, despite the open seating. Come again?
Now, homegirl wanted to get some facetime with Jessica Chastain. What was I to do? So I summoned my courage and my wits and walked down the carpet with Michael, as he creepily placed his hand on my lower back and waved to the cameras. Now the funny part about this is that we made such an outrageous, unlikely pair that all the paps took our picture! 19 year old pasty girl and sugar daddy Indian Brit take Lawlesss. (Shameless plug, look for me in the mags).
Michael wasn't done there. He asked me to have dinner and drinks with him after in his hotel...a TEN MINUTE DRIVE away. He started referring to me as "his darling," despite the glaring wedding ring on his finger. I was obviously texting Kath (mom) once I got into the theater and my friend Rawson in the orchestra whenever I could get away.
Funny texts from mom include: "As soon as it's over, run like the wind!" "If he puts a hand on you get out. I don't think he will. K ENJOY!"
Lucky for me, Michael had to make some business calls to India and decked out of the film after about only 20 minutes. When he whispered in my ear that he had to go I could feel every hair on my body stand up (much more so than I did a few hour's later at the premiere of Argento's Dracula 3D- see Adam's blog for a review).
When possible, I'm asking women for tickets from now on. The Lawless premiere kind of put me in check and made me realize that when you hit the streets begging for something, most usually want something else in return. And no more red lipstick — from hereon in, I'm sticking to Burt's Beeswax.
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