It's in the stars

I am back from Cannes and the most amazing time. The first night was a spectacular party on the company yacht of one of the film’s producers. Our party was by far the most happening of all along the jetty. Really.

The Making Of Plus One Starring Kate, Cate and George, The Story Of A Hollywood Nobody was indeed screened, but not without some drama. It was a packed cinema full of invited guests. I was introduced as the author of the original book, some of the cast was there who also took a bow then the lights dimmed. Surely, the most exciting and nerve-wracking moment in any film maker's life.

Five minutes in and the picture disappeared from the screen. The new digital projector had crashed. It started again after the longest three minutes of my life. Then it crashed again. This time the audience was getting restless. You could feel it in the room that the famously impatient Cannes moviegoers were about to leave. The director and producer had raced upstairs to the projection room, the associate producer (a man) was crying. I knew something had to be done to stop people leaving so I stood up, pulled out the copy of my stars from the day before's Daily Mail (May 16th) that I had torn out from the paper on the flight over and read the following: (I am not making this up!). I'm Pisces by the way:

“Lights, camera action… roll ’em! Here comes another dramatic scene in the action-packed adventure movie of your life. Another roller coaster ride to take you high up to the breathtaking mountain of glorious expectation and then send you hurtling towards the deep, dark valley of disappointment. Another heart-pounding, jaw-clenching nerve-wracking experience. How worried should you be? About as worried as you get when you go to watch a film projected on the silver screen. Or when you climb aboard a ride at the fair. Things are more under control than you imagine. A cosmic hand is guiding you now, towards a truly pleasing future.”

It brought the house down. Nobody left. The director and the producer feared everyone would have gone when they came back into the theatre, but people were laughing and chatting. Astrologer Jonathan Cainer and I had saved the day. The movie started up, everyone stayed and seemed to enjoy it. You can't fake these things. There were no distributors in the audience who might have bought it - little business has been done at this year's festival, but there's been massive buzz and the producers are now taking it to Los Angeles to screen here.

For me, the most enduring lesson in all of this is that the process to fund and complete a feature film is phenomenally tough. Any movie that makes its way into production should be commended for its very existence, whether it receives critical acclaim or not.

Dad says his 80th birthday was his best ever. Julia’s UK gigs were triumphant sell outs. Both venues said they could have sold out three shows. I’m glad Julia was in Japan and missed Cannes as I think she might have broken down and wept when she heard the song she wrote especially for the film over the end credits. Her beautiful ballad had been massacred into the most heinous thumping disco beat. Not sure whose idea that was but it was a crap one.

All in all a brilliant trip, another reminder that a life lived well is one filled with love and fun times with family and friends. My Cannes experience wouldn’t have been half as much fun if my pals Diane Aldred, Sheran James and Levi Freeman (pictured above) weren’t there to share it with me.

Yes, we Cannes!

I am writing this on my new laptop, a Toshiba, that my Man Child bought me for my birthday. I think I might have had more children if I’d realized they could one day provide so generously for me.

It has been a rollercoaster few weeks. Colin and I house- and dog-sat for some friends whose fabulous place is right under the Hollywood sign off Beachwood. Our charge, Delilah, had a bladder infection that involved the need for a doggy diaper. I was sorely tempted to take a photo and show you how funny she looked, but decided against it in case Delilah’s owners sued me or, worse, didn’t ask us to stay there again for ridiculing their beloved bulldog/pit bull. Yes, that’s right, half pit bull – the great white of the canine family.

Many dog lovers think the pit bull has a bad press (certainly Delilah is a sweetheart who never barks), but not a friend who turned up for dinner with her toddler, took one look at Delilah and called a babysitter to come and get the kid.

The next weekend, Colin was invited to the launch of the new Audi Q5 to write a review for European Car magazine. He looked at me over the top of his own laptop (a Mac) and wondered if I might like to go as his plus one. I politely declined until I learned the launch was an all-expenses-paid weekend at The Biltmore in Santa Barbara. I have dreamed of staying there.

It was everything I hoped and more. Margaritas (fancy ones with Cointreau) by the pool, amazing food, endless champagne, a cruise, tennis on the astroturf court, croquet, a suite, matching bathrobes, a mountain bike ride along the coast and staff – lots of staff. This is where I belong, I thought.

Having tasted and enjoyed living in the lap of luxury, you can understand how excited I am that ‘The Making Of Plus One…’ is being launched at the Cannes Film Festival on May 17. It was screened for the selection committee yesterday but canny director Mary McGuckian has hired a cinema to launch it there with a big fanfare whether it gets into the competition or not. With some 3,000 films competing for 16 slots, the chances are slim.

And I got paid the movie money I’ve been waiting for and assured was coming for almost a year. There was much rejoicing in our small but perfectly formed apartment when the money was wired into our account. This was an important moment both psychologically and practically.

I have booked my flights and will be staying in a lovely little hotel my friend Sheran found (and has sworn me to secrecy as to its location). She and another great friend, Diane, are also flying to Cannes to share this amazing trip with me. Julia will miss it because she has gigs in Japan, but she wrote a song for the movie and she’s in it for about five minutes.

Here’s a link to a trailer for the film. The distributor, New Films International, has retained the services of a top PR firm, DDA, to promote it. ‘The Making Of Plus One…’ sets things up nicely for the movie actually based on the book. I shall be armed with copies of the book and my adapted script, and will be in Cannes networking shamelessly to sell said wares.

In the meantime, my literary agent is shopping my latest book proposal to publishers. It has been rejected by four to date but is still on some good desks, I’m told. I take comfort in the fact that the first Harry Potter book was turned down by 12 publishers before Bloomsbury bought the manuscript for a paltry 1500 quid. Unfortunately, I’m not JK Rowling. And there’s a recession.

Whatever happens, this has been a wonderful adventure and Mary McGuckian has pulled off a series of miracles to get our little movie funded, finished and set for its big launch.

The luck of the Irish (or Kiss Me Kate)

Trying to be a success in Tinseltown has been described as swimming with sharks, I think it’s more like swimming with sharks in a sea of bullshit. But that hasn’t stopped me and thousands of others poking our heads above the crap every single day to be rejected or – worse, much worse - ignored, in the faint hope that maybe one day, if we just keep going, we will be ‘in.’

Well, yesterday I felt like a winner. And even though I know there will be many more shitty days to come, the gods were with me, all my ducks were in a row, Mercury was not in retrograde… you get the picture.

The day started with a letter from the brilliant Augusten Burroughs, the number-one New York Times bestselling author of ‘Running With Scissors’, ‘Dry’ and ‘Magical Thinking.’ I had asked Augusten and anyone else I know who is at the top of their game to write me a letter of reference in support of my Green Card application.

Colin thought someone had died and came running (not with scissors) into the living room when he heard my sobs. I was crying, not from grief, but deep, deep gratitude that someone as busy and successful as Augusten would take the time to write a long letter, FOR ME, that ended thus: “It is precisely Claire’s rare combination of remarkable talent coupled with her shirt-sleeves-rolled-up willingness to work as hard as she can for as long as it takes – a truly American quality – which enables me to strongly recommend – without any hesitation – the swift approval of her visa application. Claire is a tremendous asset to our literary and entertainment economies. We must not – and cannot afford – to let her go.”

Then I beat Tracey at tennis. Yes, she had a shoulder injury and a bad ankle, but I WON.

There’s more. Mary McGuckian (the Irish director of The Making Of Plus One) copied me on an email she had sent to Hylda Queally at CAA who represents Cate Blanchett and Kate Winslet and who, last night, was honored by the US-Ireland Alliance. Mary told Hylda I would be there and to look out for me. Kate, who’s been repped by Hylda since she was 16, presented Hylda with the prestigious award, which is how I was in the same room as Kate Winslet.

I was there as the plus one of the gorgeous Sonya Macari, an Irish actress who played one of Anne Boleyn’s ladies-in-waiting on ‘The Tudors.’ The presentation was supposed to be at 7.30pm, but the hundreds of us who were sitting patiently waiting for a glimpse of Kate had to wait until 8.15 before the last VIP, one Tracey Ullman, was seated. Neither of us knew the other was going to be there. Tracey stopped to chat with me on the way to the front of the room. Which is why I think so many people subsequently gave me their business cards because they assumed I must be important.

I didn’t go up to Hylda or Kate and introduce myself as they were always surrounded by hoards of people. I can tell you that Kate looked absolutely stunning and positively skinny – as did Hylda. I read in ‘People’ magazine (so it must be true) that Kate doesn’t watch what she eats or exercise at all. If she hasn’t been exercising, she must have had lipo. She is perfection and so hot right now, and can play me in the movie based on my book, ‘Plus One: A Year In The Life Of A Hollywood Nobody’ if she wants.

I have a good ‘in’ with Kate – both our daughters are called Mia (it's a sign!) and I have her agent's email address. Then I spotted Harvey Weinstein, but he didn’t stay long enough for me to ask him if he had any problem with me calling my film production company MiaMax (after my two children).

It really was a fabulous evening. Just as I was leaving my chum, Patricia Danaher, who writes for ‘The Irish Times’ among many other prestigious newspapers shouted out that she’d get my letter of reference to me on Monday. She’s a member of the Hollywood Foreign Press and a Harvard scholar. I reckon with Augusten’s letter, Patricia’s letter, the others I have and one from Tracey who’s won eight Emmys and countless other awards, I could be elected Pope, let alone get a Green Card.

Dances with wolves

For the first time in seven years, my hairdresser didn’t ask me to remind him which side I part my hair. Then I went The Omelet Parlor for lunch where I’ve been ordering two poached eggs on a toasted English muffin for almost ten years and was finally greeted as a favorite and regular customer.

I was so excited at the possibility that I might actually matter that I stepped outside my comfort zone and ordered the chicken tacos. And very nice they were too.

The next day it was off to the ER set on the Warner Brothers lot in Burbank where Eric La Salle and Noah Wylie (Drs Benton and Carter) were filming their scenes in this the final series of my all time favorite TV drama.

John Wells, the Executive Producer of the show wrote and directed this episode. I was sat right behind him with his wife - my great friend, Marilyn. I had my own director’s chair and set of headphones.

For one glorious moment I thought I was going the week before when Gorgeous George was filming his guest appearance on the show that made him famous but it was a closed set for the obvious reason that women like me might try and touch him. The fact remains: I am one degree of separation from George Clooney and not a lot of people can say that.

The final edit of The Making Of Plus One is in post production in Toronto. The plan is to get our little movie into the Cannes Film Festival in May. Even if it isn’t accepted into the festival (as if!), Mary McGuckian has booked a theatre in Cannes so it WILL be premiered there. Incidentally, the full title of the movie about trying to get my book made into a film is The Making Of Plus One Starring Kate Winslet, Cate Blanchett and George Clooney.

The Making Of Plus One… sets things up nicely for a film actually based on my book. Wouldn’t it be amazing if art imitates life and Kate, Cate and George star in it? My hope is that there’s a big enough buzz about The Making Of Plus One… that a big studio will come knocking and want to option my book then commission a script based on it. I’ll whip out my screenplay and say: “Here’s one I prepared earlier!” and laugh all the way to the bank.

The Cannes Film Festival is very conveniently around the same time as our Dad’s 80^th birthday so Julia, Marley and I have already booked our flights to London. Julia may not make it to Cannes as she’s been invited to sing at The Blue Note in Japan for real money. Julia asked me to go with her to Japan from England to help with Marley while she sings two shows a night for five nights. Sorry, Sis, I’m going to Cannes! My daughter is first reserve to go to Japan instead of me.

Just when you think life can’t get any better, I returned home from the ER set to learn the joyous news that some outstanding invoices that Colin and I had abandoned all hope would be paid, have been paid.

As I gazed out our bedroom window at the full moon, I saw the metaphorical circling wolves, looked them firmly in the eyes and said: “Not this time mother fuckers.”

Bum's rush

I’ve been trying to kick my caffeine habit for a couple of years. I gave up tea and switched to coffee, one cup in the morning, but it seems to be enough caffeine to keep me awake for hours at night. The chance to spend a week house-sitting on my favorite street in Santa Monica where I used to live with Julia seemed the ideal opportunity to eat nothing but healthy food and drink no alcohol or coffee. Cold turkey. I’d have my own creative space as well. Brilliant.

Colin would be just up the road in our apartment and we could meet for dinner. But the best laid plans… the fridge in my holiday home was full of fancy cakes left over from a party. There were three bottles of expensive wine with a note attached: “Please enjoy these.” One of the bottles was open with just an inch missing. It was too tempting. I’d start again the next day.

On the first morning, I stepped onto the porch and bent down to pick up the newspaper, forgetting the cord was broken on my favorite baggy pyjamas. The bottoms fell down around my ankles just as the front door closed behind me, locking me out. I finally found a neighbor who had a spare key. “We’ve missed you on the street,” he said.

I did get some writing done and think I’ve finally waved goodbye to the bean and the leaf. Now it’s back to reality. Colin and I are owed over $20,000 in unpaid invoices and the wolves are closing in.

Happy New Year!

I tried to shake it up a bit this/last Christmas Day and spend the day with friends but Julia was quite devastated that Colin and I could even consider not spending the day with her, Marley Rose, Arthur and his parents - Russian Armenians who are quite the nicest couple in the world but insist on calling me Clara and Colin, Kevin.

We did have a lovely day. I cooked, with Julia as my lovely young assistant. Then it was our traditional Brits Boxing Day bash for 30 ex pats who like a bit of cold meat and a baked potato.

I was very happy to see the last of the holiday ham on Friday. I think I did well to keep it interesting for five nights in a row. 

Mia had flown back to freezing cold, wet London to spend Christmas Day with friends. She bitterly regretted her decision and has been wearing three pairs of socks since her return. Max is still thriving in Fiji. No socks required there.

It was great to have Mia in LA for three weeks in December, not least because she paid for her own ticket this time.  She was sunbathing here. IN DECEMBER!! Sorry to rub it in.

The year has started off brilliantly for me. Some friends have offered us their fabulous house in Santa Monica while they enjoy a last minute skiing trip to Utah. I so need some creative space to myself. It's hard for me to write  now that Colin works from home as well. 

I spoke to my literary agent this morning and he really likes my new book proposal. He said he knows a couple of editors he thinks will find it wonderful.  I'm calling it "The One." It's a sort of sequel to Plus One about Colin and I getting back together after 25 years. We both kept our love letters from that time and they will be interspersed throughout the book. It hasn't been an easy journey so there's plenty of drama and conflict to keep the publisher happy and lots of funny stuff too.

I've seen the first assembly (or rough edit) of The Making Of Plus One...movie and it's terrific. Really. Very funny and a wonderful insight as to how hard it is to get a movie made. The plan is for the film to be premiered at the next Cannes Film Festival in May. And it's Dad's 80th birthday at the end of April so everything is falling into place for a trip to Europe. Julia is planning some gigs in England too. Well, her manager is.

Here's to a happy, healthy and wealthy 2009! 

Stoned Love

The day started off so well. I had beaten Tracey at tennis for only the third time in eight years. I was driving home with a smug grin on my face when the call came through that Colin was writhing on the floor in agony.

A trip to the ER revealed that he was not, as we at first thought, having a baby but trying to pass a kidney stone. As we don’t have medical insurance, I am sure you will understand that my main concern was not Colin’s health, but the desperate hope that this trip to an American hospital did not bankrupt us.

I was all too painfully aware that one uninsured friend ran up a bill for tens of thousands of dollars following a two-day stay in hospital with kidney stones. Another acquaintance is fighting a $46,000 bill for his stepson’s 24-hour hospital stint following a burst appendix.

The doctor in Marina Del Rey’s ER recommended a CT scan to confirm his kidney stone diagnosis. ‘Is it absolutely necessary?’ I wondered, trying hard not to sound like a callous bitch. Apparently not, so we passed on that. But there was still the IV pumping much-needed painkillers and anti-nausea meds into my beloved. They don’t come cheap. I recall a hospital accountant insisting Julia write her a check for $1000 before they would give Marley IV fluids when she was desperately sick, and she’s insured up the wazoo.

I told Colin that I wouldn’t pay the bill when they handed it to us, but would fight it every step of the way over the next few days. You can’t escape the hospital without passing the “discharge” lady. I had broken out into a cold sweat. Couldn’t Colin hobble faster?

As the stone-faced discharge lady handed me the bill, I mused how I could always sell a kidney to pay for it. Deep joy. A very reasonable $350 ($200 for the doctor, $150 for the hospital and drugs).

This morning, Colin successfully and painlessly passed the kidney stone. We have named it Tarquin. Father and son are both doing well.

Here’s a festive photo of my second-born decorating Julia’s Christmas tree. She’s living her dream and working in television comedy. My first-born is living and working in paradise, in Fiji. He’s doing marketing for a leisure company, www.tuitai.com.

To know your children are happy and healthy is the greatest gift. I wonder what Tarquin will be when he grows up?