I recently returned from a five day shoot in Studio Babelsberg outside Berlin. It was a low budget science fiction film and an amazing experience. As second assistant director my main job was watching out for the cast and extras, and making sure they made out of makeup on time. The makeup was very specialized and cost the film a lot of time. We were 2-3 hours behind schedule every day. It was a great learning experience.

The director, Bidzina Kanchaveli, was a wonderful man (if you want to know what I think the film is about feel free to ask). Originally from Georgia, he moved to Berlin about seven years ago after finishing film school. One night we had a long discussion about the state of world politics, art and capitalism. It led to a suprising number of similarities between the United States and Russia.

Quentin Tarantino was shooting Inglorious Bastards next door to us, starring Brad Pitt. One day we had to exchange our walkie talkies because Tarantino’s set was using all of 15 channels. Another day walking from the Hotel to the Set I saw a massive entourage of Mercedes, one of which probably included either Quentin or Brad. When I got into catering, I mentioned this to our Italian intern.

Davide decided after hearing that to go on a hunt for Quentin. He wandered around the large studios until he saw someone carrying a tray with Brötchen. The Brötchen looked like ours, only much more elaborate. Davide followed the person carrying the tray until security sent him away.

The day I got back from the set, a friend from Chicago sent me a recording of Christian Bale flipping out at the Director of Photography on what I think must be the new terminator set. It’s a pretty crazy thing to hear, and definitely inexcusable, but it coalesced a number of recent thoughts about celebrity.

Two or three weeks ago my roommate came into my room and told me that Tarantino was at the Haifisch Bar around the corner from my apartment.

“Do you want to go?” he asked me. I didn’t. I have no interest in swarming a bar or following Brötchen to see a celebrity. Just as I didn’t scramble over to the mercedes in the hopes of seeing Brad Pitt. My friend Nicolas tells me that a friend of his worked on Inglorious Bastards and said that Tarantino is a really nice guy.

This is irrelevant to me. I have never understood why people find it necessary to learn every detail about celebrities life. They are people who occasionally fart and feel uncomfortable just like the rest of us. Just as that Christian Bale tape doesn’t make Bale an asshole (although it doesn’t help), so does a friend of a friend’s opinion on Tarantino not tell me anything about the man himself. I am interested in whether Tarantino and Bale make movies that I think are good or bad. In the case of Tarantino, nice guy that he is, it’s all been downhill from Pulp Fiction for me. If Tarantino was an asshole who made movies that I enjoy, it would be better for me than if he was nice and made movies I find boring.

I do not know what it is like to be a celebrity, but I can imagine it is not pleasant. Brad Pitt can not get drunk in Berlin without my mom in Florida knowing about it. They sacrifice privacy, a sacred part of being a human being, for wealth and fame. This is their choice. Christian Bale was 13 when he made Empire of the Sun with Steven Spielberg. I think it’s safe to say that he’s never known a normal life. I don’t think he can be held responsible for his actions at 13, although I recently read that only eight people in the world are serving sentences of life without parole for crimes they committed when they were 13. All are in the United States. (From the New York Times ).

Despite all those life sentences I don’t think it’s any of my business if Christian Bale screams at someone on a movie set. I’m not producing his films. I don’t really care whether the person who works at the supermarket cheats on his wife or calls 900 numbers. It’s his right to privacy. Celebrities forgo this right because someone figured out how to make money off of everything they do. The debut photos of Brad and Angelina’s first baby were worth $4.1 million.

The irony is that I still felt the need to comment on seeing the mercedes and had a good time listening to the Christian Bale screamathon. That’s why they are paid such exorbitant sums of money, to show us a good time. Unfortunately they don’t just do it in the movie theatres.

Just because an internet link doesn’t come from the National Enquirer doesn’t make us any better for listening to it. It does seem to make us a little happier though.

Thanks Cole for the link.