David Lynch is just not that into me.

And now, as a sort of nightcap (it's past midnight here in Cannes!) and because I love you, I will share an anecdote that fills me with shame.

Since the print version of Premiere shuffled off this mortal coil, I've been thinking of ways to bring nifty, web-centric "content" to the internets version of Premiere. One such sort-of nifty idea I had for Cannes was to try and convince such celebs as I encountered to take self-portraits using the Photo Booth application on my MacBook, which I would then post on the blog and eventually make a gallery of. I made a stab at this back at the Sarasota Film Festival in April, where I got Edward Norton and Brian Koppelman to pose with me for a snap.

Now I figured I could get the ball rolling really well with this if I could convince someone who was a very big deal to be the first here to do it. And as it happened, my first night here, who do I see dining by the pool but David Lynch.

Now, the last time I laid eyes on David Lynch his first words to me were, "Thanks for the four-star review, Glenn!" I had given just such a notice to Mulholland Drive, and here he was at the Toronto Film Festival, with Laura Elena Harring and Naomi Watts on either arm. Lynch then dug into a Sicilian slice with great relish. "Great pizza, Glenn!" he said. This was at Premiere's party at Prego in Toronto. I remember the date well for a number of reasons. It was September 9, 2001, everybody's second-to-last fun day there.

So. I'm not real good at the approaching-celebs sort of thing, and back in the day I could affect (well, I didn't really have to affect) not having much interest in it. But these are different times. I observed the table, waited for a lull in the conversation there, and when it happened, I approached. "Mr. Lynch," I said, "hello. It's been a while. I'm Glenn Kenny. We last saw each other in Toronto..."

Lynch was polite and attentive and nice, but when I introduced my idea to him, he was immediately wary. "Oh, I don't know, Glenn," he said. "I'm kind of...I'm just kind of into hanging out tonight."

Maybe I should have explained that taking a self-portrait with Photo Booth would be the (perhaps enjoyable) work of merely a minute, or some such, but I wasn't that quick, or maybe I didn't really feel like pressing the issue, so I backed off, and said, "Well, maybe if I run into you later or something..." and he nodded, and I slunked away.

I went upstairs to my room and grabbed my MacBook and ran back downstairs and parked myself inside the lounge with a decent view of Lynch's poolside table, and whiled away an hour and forty minutes hoping maybe he'd need a bathroom break. The 61-year-old auteur's bladder turns out to be in admirable shape, as it happens. I saw his dinner breaking up and realized this was my last chance—he had mentioned he was on his way back to the States the next day. I tucked the MacBook under my arm and went out to his table.

As soon as he spotted me I recognized the "oh no, not him again" look in his face. I shuddered inside, kept strolling toward him, put out my hand, and said, "Have a great trip home, and thanks for considering my idea." He smiled wanly and said thanks too.

Yeesh.

So. If any cinematic bigshots out there are reading this and want to take pity on me, or better yet, do something that will be totally painless and possibly kind of fun and won't take a minute and will look really good on this website and hell, I'll give you the G-damn copyright on the result if you want, give me a holler in comments. As I said before, it was good enough for Edward Norton and Brian Koppelman.

Comments

[stpetebeach]

A rather sad story. Might make a decent scene, though. I once dreamt I screwed up the courage to approach Alan Arkin to tell him he looked like Erich von Stroheim.

[Aaron Aradillas]

You should've reminded Mr. Lynch you were one of the critics who could make sense of INLAND EMPIRE. There couldn't have been too many critics in that category.

I mean, what's good enough for The Norton is damn good enough for the Lyncher.

[Bemo]

I think you should -- really, really should -- give his next movie one star and call it an incomprehensible mess. Just because.