Thursday 19th December 2002: The Z Review Goes To Hollywood
By Paul Heath, Editor.

A week ago, for the first time ever, The Z Review's news and features editor Paul Heath headed out to Hollywood, California. Here, in the first of three articles, Paul fills us in on

You know, I really love this job. Every once in a while something happens that makes it all worth it. We all have off weeks when working here on the site gets a little mundane and it seems that you end up doing the same thing day in day out. You're reporting the same news over and over again and you're not getting that all important satisfaction from your work. Then something happens that make memories of those monotonous weeks just disappear. That special something happened to me just last week. I'd just put to bed an interview with Clark Westerman and Nick Egan, the producer and director of Red Light Runners, the heist movie set to star Vinnie Jones, Harvey Keitel, Mickey Rourke and Martin Kemp. Now, I've had the pleasure of meeting up with Clark a month or so ago in London, where we talked about the film, where it was at (as I'd heard that it was dead in the water) and about various future projects that may be in the pipeline. Nothing major, just lunch, getting to know each other really, but we struck up a good relationship on that cold Friday in the capital that led to that interview with Clark and Nick. More details on the status of the film followed and the good news that the film was back on was revealed. Anyway, after the interview was posted, I received another e-mail from Clark, inviting me out to Hollywood to meet up with himself, Nick Egan and a few members of the Red Light Runners cast. Well, as you can imagine, I jumped at the chance. So, with laptop, luggage and a fistful of dollars I headed for tinseltown the following Thursday. And here's the story of The Z Review's first visit to the bright lights of Los Angeles, California.

Now, I have traveled the globe. Downed tequila shots in Mexico, sipped an ice cold cerveza in Southern Spain, been to the cold climate of Prague in the winter, I've seen the sun set in Malta and even had the pleasure of getting hideously drunk on a trip with a group of Germans in Cologne. But never, have I managed to visit the United States of America. Working on the site I am constantly talking to our friends across the pond, consistently reporting on films being shot across the whole of the country backed with American money, but I have never found my way over there. Since an 'ickle boy I have always wanted to go, but through one way and another, I have never made it. Until now.

So, off I went, down to Heathrow at 6am on a wet Thursday morning in December, a Virgin Atlantic flight booked for midday. Now the worst thing about traveling are those long assed flights but it did give me a good chance to catch up on the movies that I'd missed at the cinema recently. One of the films that I wanted to go see, but was too busy on the site to do so was Mark Romanek's One Hour Photo. So I hooked up my headset and settled down in front of my six inch plasma screen that hung on the seat in front of me. Now I've worked in a photo store in the past and it is really scary how real and close to what sometimes really happens in these places this movie is. It kind of unsettled me to tell the truth and so did Robin Williams, whose performance, in my mind, was amazing. As soon as this movie arrives on DVD or VHS, go get it......unless you've ever worked in a photo lab. Eerie. So then after the credits rolled, I tucked into my vegetarian Thai curry, nicely served from a plastic tub with plastic cutlery and a plastic cup full of weak tea. Ah, the pleasures of flying economy. Then I checked out Matt Damon kicking ass in The Bourne Identity, which I kind of enjoyed, then finished up with the dire comedy The Sweetest Thing with Cameron Diaz. Awful. After dozing through the last twenty minutes or so of said Diaz movie I open my eyes and hear the captain's announcement that we had began our descent in Los Angeles International Airport, LAX. Cool, you won't believe how long I've waited to hear those words. I was minutes away from landing.

A half hour later, I had passed through customs and was in a cab heading for West Hollywood, where I was staying. Now, the taxi driver was chatting away to me, but I can't recall a word he said. I just can't remember. I was in awe. As you travel from LAX toward Beverley Hills and then Hollywood, you go down this huge road, I forget the name. But ahead of you, in view, almost all the way are the unmistakable Hollywood hills. All the way I was thinking, any minute now that sign is going to come into view. It's just down past this next building, you think. No, not there. Any minute now. Then, about halfway down this huge boulevard, there it was......Hollywood. Wow. Now you've got to appreciate, I live in a rather quiet town over here in England. Nothing much happens. I come into contact with a lot of interesting people through the site, whether it be by e-mail, by phone or actually in person but Hollywood always seemed so far away, always out of reach. All of a sudden at the age of 26, here I am. And it hit me. There, in the taxi. This is where it all happens, this is where they make movies..... It's sad I know, but I suppose it was one of those special moments, that happen in life. Think back to how you felt when you first saw your wife/ husband, boyfriend girlfriend for the first time. Or your first kiss or you're first crush. Those defining moments in life. You always knew it was going to happen, but you never expect to feel as you do feel when it finally does. I always knew I would visit LA, and I knew I would reach Hollywood and I knew it would be special when I finally did, but nothing prepares you for when you get there and see that sign for the first time.

Anyway, moving on. I arrived at my hotel on Sunset Boulevard, the Hyatt. Now, I was there to meet up with Clark, so after landing in my room and checking out the pay-per-view movies on offer (as you do), I call him up. My plans for the night are to go to bed early after catching a movie. I call Clark, expecting to arrange a time to meet him in the morning. Oh no, this is LA and we're going out. The plan is to meet later at Barney's Beanery around the corner at about ten. Ten! The nights almost over at that time over here in England. Clark says he's bringing a couple of friends. Cool, whatever, I'll be there man. So after putting down the phone I catch a couple of Z's as I'd been up for almost twenty hours. In fact I didn't really sleep, just dozed..........I awake about 9.

Barney's Beanery is a cool bar around the corner from Sunset, a relatively small place where you can get a meal or just kick back at the bar staring at one of the many TV screens that hang above you. I get there just before ten on Thursday. Now, as I've said before, I have never been to the States in my life, the closest that I have come is Mexico. I'm a little wet behind the ears, a little bit uneasy with my new surroundings and I don't want to look like an arse. I want to try and fit in. How do I get a beer. Sounds so simple. Do I go up to the bar and order a beer or do I just sit down and wait to be served? Um, go with what everyone else is doing. Right. Okay, there's nobody stood at the bar, they're all sat staring at the TV or chatting. Then I think, do what do they do in the movies. Think. Think. Now, this'll sound strange, but the only film I could recall was The Shining. Jack is walking through the supposedly deserted hotel, he walks up to the barman in the ballroom, sits down.....then he orders a beer. Okay, I'll do that, there's a spare seat next to the hatch by the door. So, I sit down, wait for the barman, who comes over after a few seconds, asks what I want. A Corona. Nice one. Problem one out of the way. Three bucks. Okay. Now here's the next hurdle. Tipping. Being from England, I rarely need to tip anyone. In fact, the only times you tip over here is when you order a meal and you're obliged to give the waiter a little because of his or her outstanding service. In the US, you tip. A lot. You tip cabbies, valets, porters, waitresses and waiters, car park attendants and barmen. Now, I'd just landed in the city and I couldn't understand why this guy had given me most of my change, from a twenty, in dollar bills. He walks away, then, this guy sat next to me, who has obviously heard my accent says, 'You know why he did that?'. I shrugged. 'The tip'. Oh. Got it. Sorry about that. Next time.

So, I grab my beer and walk around the place for a while, before running into Clark, who arrives alone. It's very strange, but it's like old friends who haven't seen each other for years. I have met this guy once before, on the other side of the world, for about an hour. But it was great to see him. A friendly face, and the only person I know in a country that has a population of around 200 million. We sit and talk for a while, about Red Light Runners, which I will go into a lot more in part two of this article. We drink some more, another Corona, then another, then I'm introduced to this guy named Zulu. Now, I saw this guy walk past the window before he entered the bar. Let me describe him. Zulu is black, has a nose ring, two massive earrings in each ear, cool tattoo on his face, is wearing a black T-shirt, gold chains, long leather jacket and, how cool is this, bowler hat. He reminded me a little bit of the bad guy in Live and Let Die (I forget his name) without the face paint. It turns out that this guy is a friend of Clark's and man, has got to be one of the nicest people I have ever met. He has just written a kick ass screenplay that he was due to show (to a major Hollywood player, and I'm not gonna say who) the next day and is also a fairly successful musician. During the day, he makes his living as a tattooist on Melrose Avenue. We sit there drinking and the guy threatens to tattoo me before I leave on Sunday. I decline the invitation, although it would have been pretty cool to have been tattooed by the same guy who has clients like Janet Jackson. And Zulu, if you're reading this, drop me an e-mail and let me know how the script is coming along and how that meeting went. I'd love to know and share it with our readers.

Anyway, the night roles on and I'm introduced to a couple more of Clark's friends, Nick and Mark. Nick is a fairly sucessful TV actor over there and was very popular with the ladies. Thank you Nick for the drunken game of air hockey and table football. I loved it, and so did those two girls. And Mark, Mark was great, we saw each other the following night too, but more of that later. And Mark, you've gotta send me one of those hats man, I didn't manage to buy one!

So, we drink some more beer and I start feeling a little worse for wear. Zulu leaves after devouring a huge burger, sober, thinking about his meeting in the morning. Nick and Mark disperse too. The night comes to a close, it's 2am and I realize I have not properly slept for about thirty hours. We crawl out of the bar and it's goodnight to Clark, who heads for his apartment. I make the short walk back to the hotel. It's the end of my first night in Hollywood. After the crazy day that was Thursday, all I could think of as my head hits the pillow is 'what's going to happen tomorrow'.

Tomorrow, I'm meant to go meet Michael Madsen and Vinnie Jones. But first I've got to get over those ten bottles of Corona!


Look out for part two of Paul's Hollywood Diary tomorrow.