Friday brings the rootin’, tootin’, shootin’ Fig Newton movie “Good Time,” filmed on what Californians call “the mean streets” of New York.
Unlike newbies who walk with PR reps, photographers, assistants, hair people, makeup people, dressers and bodyguards, its star Robert Pattinson, who causes gridlock, greeted everyone, posed, shook hands. Sweet, friendly.
“This movie’s being called a psychotic symphony of propulsive intensity,” he said. “It’s a heist, a bank robbery gone bad in Queens, and my job’s to get my brother out of jail.”
Chloë Sevigny, looking smashing, then wafted past. Long blond hair. Black jacket. Black hot pants. Like real hot. Short? They never made it below the black jacket.
Pattinson: “It was an exhausting shoot. Long days, late nights. Lots of energy expended because it’s a twisted odyssey and deals with the city’s underworld. The movie’s exciting. Violence, mayhem, junkies.
“Terrific to shoot in New York because this city has its own way. They’re not excited. The people don’t care. Nothing fazes them. They’ve seen it all and seen every type.
“One night we’re in a pizza place in Brooklyn. Nothing fancy. No special situation. Just an average everyday ordinary neighborhood pizza parlor. The weirdest was its customers were so low-key. Just sitting and ordering, eating and walking in and out and paying us absolutely no attention. We’re working. We’re shooting. We’ve got a whole crew. The people couldn’t care less.”
In walked Demi Moore. Not a line on that face. Silky straight dark hair longer than Sevigny’s shorts. About her patterned floor-length summer gown, “I just took this out of a closet. The thing’s old. It dates so far back nobody even remembers the designer — Adele Simpson.”
Then: “Off to Chicago tomorrow. I’m going to be on ‘Empire.’ I’m filming with my daughter Rumer.”
Back to Robert Pattinson: “Another thing. Some scenes they peroxided my bangs. They changed my hair color so many times that some of my hair fell out.”
We lost two greats in one day
Lights dimmed this week for two special voices.
Cabaret’s Barbara Cook. As salty as she was talented. After winning a Tony: “Three weeks from now nobody will remember who won what award.” After seeing someone she deemed untalented: “I felt like I was on the Titanic.” Wonderful Glen Campbell, who began as a chauffeur, had nervous fidgets like, “I twitch and scratch my nose.” He then became such a star that Lindsay Wagner was his child’s baby sitter. And I reported he once said to Phil Collins: “Hi, Elton.”
Bits & Pieces
Morocco’s Ambassador Abdeslam Jaidi, in a lime-green plaid Burberry blazer, inhaled a Monet Salad and Forbidden Broadway sundae at Serendipity. I knew you’d want to know . . .
Sign in Cafe Odeon in Zurich: “No Wi-Fi. Talk to each other”. . .
Abrams publishes the Melissa Rivers-Scott Currie book on Joan Rivers Oct. 24.
Royal dish
Monaco miseries. Princess Caroline stiffed her mini nation’s annual Red Cross ball. She dislikes brother Prince Albert’s wife, Princess Charlene. More royal pains in the assets: Prince Ernst August from whereverhe’sfrom reportedly ducked his son’s wedding because he’s fighting over family money. HRH Caroline’s daughter Princess Alexandra of Hanover, however, attended. Nice to have this information. But the truth is, whothehell cares about them.
Retired teacher “Murray from Brooklyn,” who sent me jokes, asks: “Are people less likely to wash after using a public bathroom if no one else is in the bathroom?”
Oy. Only in New York, kids, would somebody ask this — only in New York.