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A Case of the Mondays

Peeping Bardem’s Department Store Afterparty


Here’s a confession. I was seriously debating flaking on last night’s SBIFF event, the Montecito Award presentation to Javier Bardem. I was tired, it was Monday, and I was tired. But, at some point in the late afternoon, I rallied, and I am damn glad I did, as the night will go down one of the best SBIFF events I’ve ever been to.

The Durls did the interview himself, and rocked it with his trademark enthusiasm and authenticity, while Bardem was hilarious and goofy, endearing and smart. And really, really attractive.

But primarily goofy. He reclined the chair he was seated in, laid back, and declared it was just like being at the psychiatrist. He confessed that he doesn’t know how to drive, which made his scene behind the wheel in No Country for Old Men a little tough, and made repeated reference to what it was like living with that haircut (which, he said, was inspired by some old photos the Coen Brothers had found of clients of a “Mexican whorehouse”). When Roger asked about how he uses physicality in his acting, Bardem explained by talking about how much can be communicated through body language. “Like, see how I’m sitting?” he asked. “It’s because I’m scared, and also, I need to pee.” About this, though, he wasn’t joking. When the next clip rolled, he promptly excused himself to go take a leak, and Roger took the opportunity to do the same. Upon their return, Bardem said that, while primping in the mirror before coming back out, he caught sight of the mic pinned to his lapel, and wondered if we’d all been treated to a live audio feed of said pee. We weren’t, but had we been, I’m sure everyone would have found it nothing less than utterly charming: this is how bewitching the guy was - the very same guy who gave me morning-, noon-, and nightmares as No Country‘s Anton Chigurh, the big screen’s creepiest killer with the world’s most unfortunate hairdo. Smitten? Nah. Woody Harrelson was also on hand to present the award, and promised that, should anyone, anywhere, ever, want to give him an award, he’d be there.

Walking to the afterparty, an intimate affair which went down in the menswear section of Saks Fifth Avenue, a person I’ll identify only as “You Didn’t Hear It From Me, But:” overshared that, while working the door, a co-worker noted smelling the distinct scent of marijuana; unsurprisingly, when they turned, they discovered Woody Harrelson had just arrived. So, okay, if that’s true, I kinda think he should get an award (Most Motivated Stoner? Most Devoid of Paranoia? Most Tolerant?): not only did he come to the afterparty, he smiled for picture after picture with every single person that asked (including KJEE’s Adam Lundquist, who asked Woody to help him with his raging case of arthritis/glaucoma). Bardem did too, turning every woman, one by one, into a pool of giggling goo. Or maybe that was just me. Eventually, the two left and, a little later, I was attempting to do the same. Standing on the steps, though, I was greeted by two wild-eyed and giddy men, who announced they’d just been at The Sportsman, “drinking with Javier and Woody!” Alas! The only way this night could have been better is if that was me - or if the party had gone down in the shoe section.

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