My last posting here, Brush With Greatness #1: Carole King, got a pretty good reaction, so I'll continue the series now with a story requested by one the participants in it: my brother Steve.
This story is from about 1988, also from my time working at Limelight Film & Video in Hollywood. We were shooting a couple of videos for former GoGo, Belinda Carlisle, Heaven is a Place on Earth, and the follow-up, I Get Weak, each of which was to be directed by the fabulous and talented Diane Keaton.
My job as a staff production assistant sometimes put me on-set, carrying cables, moving equipment, painting signs, buying sushi, or other such tasks, and between times were spent driving up and down LA's Westside running scripts, tapes, and money all over town.
Ms. Keaton arrived the evening before we were to shoot I Get Weak, and was staying at the Shangri-La Hotel in Santa Monica. I was to drop off some last minute papers and notes along with a cassette of the song at her hotel for her to review before the shoot.
I pulled up to the Shangri-La, went to the front desk, explained I had a package for Ms. Keaton, and figured that I'd leave it there, and my day was done.
The desk clerk told me, "Hold on a second. Don't go anywhere." He probably thought I was rather suspicious and he wasn't going to take any chances on my making an escape. He called up to her room, "There's a guy here with a package for you?" Then to me, "Are you from Limelight?" I nodded. He told her, "Yes," then handed the phone to me.
"Do you just want to leave it up front? Or, no, hold on, do you mind bringing it up to my room?"
I didn't mind. I got the room number, went up to the room, knocked on the door, and was invited in. Just me and one of my favorite actresses, alone in her room. I handed her the envelope, she opened it, checked out the contents, talking to herself, "Very good. Excellent."
Finally, after what seemed like an hour in her company, but was probably about 10 seconds, she thanked me and gestured to the door letting me know our encounter was complete. I don't remember if I managed to utter even one word in her presence.
The next day - the day of the shoot - I was off, and hanging out with my brother, Steve. After telling him about the encounter of the night before, I asked if he'd like to stop by the set and watch them shoot for a few minutes. He didn't take much convincing.
There was Belinda, with Diane screaming at her to "Act! Dammit!" doing take after take, and still not getting it the way Ms. Keaton wanted. Belinda tried harder, and harder. So hard, in fact, that her actions led to a wardrobe malfunction and one of her breasts sliding out of her top.
Steve still thanks me for that. Belinda's breast was good, but being alone with Diane Keaton in her hotel room was better.