Goodbye Bill Paxton

Here's how I met Bill Paxton.

One of my best friends and my best man Scott Thomson was filming Twister in Ponca City, Oklahoma. Coincidentally, Scott was going to have a rather significant birthday while he was shooting. So the wife and I decided to fly out there and throw him a surprise party to celebrate the occasion. We also thought it might be a hoot to take in the sites Ponca City had to offer—one of which was the WalMart on a Saturday night. Whole other post.

Anyway, with Apollo 13 taking off (no pun intended), in order not to be bothered Bill didn't use his own name when he checked into hotels. In one of the conversations we had while he was filming, Scott happened to drop the name Bill did use. I made note of it, then called the luxurious Holiday Inn the cast was staying at, got hold of Bill and we proceeded to plan Scott's party.

Unfortunately, on the weekend we were going to have it, Bill was going to be in Houston doing PR for Apollo 13. But we set it up, and since we were flying in on Friday would have a chance to speak with him before he took off for his home state of Texas.

Bill was one of Scott's best friends, and we'd heard a lot about him over the years. We were excited to meet him.

Scott introduced us, and with a firm handshake and smile as wide as Texas—with a drawl to go along with it—Bill said hi to us. He was gracious, funny, energetic and didn't let on at all we'd been talking and planning Scott's party.

I don't remember exactly what my wife said to him, but the answer Bill gave in his Texas drawl, with a little Elvis thrown in, is a line we use to this day, and deliver in Bill's voice: "That's right baby.""

The next time I met Bill was at an Academy screening of a film he directed called Frailty. He was in a whirlwind that night, but he took time to speak with me and we reminisced a bit about the time we spent on set with him watching them film Twister.

My other memory of the party by the way is being in the basement of the Ponca City VFW, playing Barrel Of Monkeys with Helen Hunt, which I wrote about briefly here. She won, but I don't hold it against her.

You hear the term "underrated" a lot when people write or speak about Bill Paxton. But it doesn't quite jive with the place he held in the industry. Well respected and well liked by his peers, he was money in the bank. A guaranteed great performance given with everything he had, regardless of the medium, the material or the location.

Just this week I watched Bill in A Simple Plan, one of my favorite films. I know from Scott he had a less than fun time filming the movie, but testimony to his exceptional talent, it's one of the best performances he's ever given. There are dozens of reviews to back me up on that.

I'm going to miss Bill. He was always a bright light for me whenever I saw him on screen. Rare as an actor, even rarer as a person, Bill was one of those personalities deeply liked by everyone he encountered.

There was so much more of his talent to be revealed. But for now, all I can do is be grateful for having met him, and the work he leaves behind.

That's right baby. Rest in peace.

Wild card

It's still one of the most electric performances I've ever seen on screen. Ray Liotta in Something Wild.

It's not his first film: that was The Lonely Lady starring Pia Zadora. Enough said.

Back to Something Wild. From the minute Ray Sinclair (Liotta) appears he takes your breath away. There's tension and danger in the air, and you're on edge just waiting for it to be unleashed.

Not unlike me in a client presentation.

The problem with an entrance like that is the bar is set. Fortunately, in roles like Henry Hill in Goodfellas, Shoeless Joe Jackson in Field Of Dreams, Donald Carruthers in Smokin' Aces and many others, Liotta is money in the bank. He always delivers.

I started thinking about him because I saw a promo for a new television show created by Barry Levinson, starring Jennifer Lopez and Liotta called Shades of Blue that premieres later this week. I'm excited about it because I'll get to see Ray Liotta onscreen at least once a week. And confidence is high, because of the cast and the pedigree, that this will be one to watch.

To get a little taste of what I'm talking about, here's the trailer for Something Wild.

Keep it in mind next time we're in a presentation together.

Over and out

Another year, another four and a half days of insanity come to an end. Comic Con 2015 is over.

It's hard to know which I enjoy more: the studio panels in gigantic Hall H where they bring out tremendous movie star power and show exclusive footage just for the Comic Con crowd, or watching socially and emotionally arrested nerds come out of their basements once a year and try to interact with actual people.

That's the film they should show in Hall H.

This year had special meaning for me. It was the last Comic Con with my son before he heads off to college in Texas. And even though he'll be back every summer, and we'll be at Comic Con every year he's back, I cherished the time with him much more than in past Cons.

I also made a promise to myself I wasn't going to harsh his buzz by complaining about everything from the massive lines, incredibly unorganized wristband handouts, pizza in Hall H that's actually just cardboard with ketchup (although cardboard and ketchup would be a step up), horrendous traffic getting there and back, and the fact the girl in the skimpy Spartan outfit kept pretending she didn't notice me.

I'm happy to report I kept my promise. As much for myself as for him.

Comic Con really is like seeing The Rolling Stones or going to Paris. It's something everyone should do once. It's a wonder to watch a hundred and thirty thousand people congregate in the same place, with the freedom and joy to dress up, geek out and be who they are without being judged harshly for it.

I imagine for a lot of them, it's not a feeling they get to enjoy often in their real lives.

I'm still trying to catch up on sleep I lost camping out for the more popular panels at the Con. It's good to go, but it's good to be home - relaxing without having to worry when to get in the next line for Hall H.

At least until July 21, 2016.

My pal Jayne

I know what you're thinking. Italian movie star? International fashionista? VP of Marketing for Ray-Ban? None of the above.

This is my beautiful friend Jayne.

I've known Jayne ever since junior high school, but we've only been friends for the last two or three years. I know what you're saying: how could you have possibly known her that long and yet only been friends for such a short time?

Easy. I thought she hated me.

Jayne and I ran around in different groups in high school. But high school being what it is, there was some cross-pollination of the people in those groups and we knew of each other. In fact sometimes I'd actually be right there in a group with her, but we never spoke.

I thought she hated me.

Fast forward to one of our high school reunions. I don't remember who spoke to who first, but we wound up talking a little bit. Then we became Facebook friends. Jayne would often make funny, sarcastic and intelligent comments on things I posted. And as you may or may not know, I'm a sucker for attention, and a pushover for funny, sarcastic and intelligent people I think hate me.

So Jayne and I wound up having lunch and catching up. Here's the first thing I said to her: "I always thought you hated me."

Much to my relief it wasn't the case. Come to find out Jayne was painfully shy, and had a tough time talking to new people, even though technically I was a long way from new.

Anyway, we talked about our lives, our spouses, our jobs, the fact neither of us had aged a day (true fact) and a certain friend who always posts in all caps (seriously, you just have to press one key).

I'm happy to say we really are friends now. We speak often, mostly online. Her wit, wisdom and sarcasm are on serious par with mine (I know what you're thinking - what wisdom?). If I ever write a book (I'll wait until the laughter dies down), I'm pretty sure Jayne will be my go to editor to read it, be brutally honest, ask me what the hell I was thinking and then make it better.

But since I won't have a book finished anytime soon, I hope we manage to speak in person before the next reunion. When we do, I know there's at least one question I won't have to ask.

One for the ages

The elderly gentleman to the left, in case you didn't recognize him, is Burt Reynolds. Yes, that Burt Reynolds.

He made a rare public appearance at an east coast Comic Con, and because he's looking like a frail, ghostly version of his former movie star self, the press has had a field day. Let the speculation begin.

Here's what I think happened to Burt. He got old.

Reynolds is turning the corner on eighty. He's had a great life as an actor (at one time the most popular box office draw in the world), director, talk-show staple, star of television and commercials. The FedEx spot he did still makes me laugh.

Despite how hard we deny it, we're all standing on the tracks, and the age train's a comin'. And there are only two choices: board it gracefully, or hop on kicking and screaming. But either way, we're all going for the ride.

A while ago I started making this noise when I got out of my soft, comfy, low-to-the-ground reading chair. Then I realized it was my father's noise. My knees hurt every now and again (it's what kept me out of the 400-meter in Beijing in '08). And my eyesight, which is already corrected with progressive lens that bend walls if you look through them, is getting worse even as you read this.

And, as topping on the cake, I have gray hair. But my dad went gray when he was twenty-five years old, so I never stood a chance. There was this one time a bald colleague of mine started making fun of my gray hair, to which I replied, "You really want to get in a conversation about hair?" That felt good.

While father time waves his wand over all of us, it must be particularly hard on people like Reynolds who've been in the public eye since they were young. There's the line Julia Roberts says in Notting Hill about "becoming some sad, middle-aged woman who looks like somebody who was famous for awhile."

When Burt Reynolds was starting out, his calling card was the fact he looked like a double for Marlon Brando. It was a mixed blessing - it got him jobs and it cost him jobs. But the ones he got, he delivered on.

What with his marriage to and divorce from Loni Anderson, all the bad Smokey movies and the Playgirl centerfold it's understandable that sometimes people dismiss Reynolds' talent.

But then you have to take a minute and think about his performances in Deliverance, The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing, The Longest Yard, Starting Over, Sharky's Machine, Boogie Nights and The Player. Roles that betray his Brando wanna-be, pretty boy reputation.

Burt Reynolds has had several health problems over the years, including the one he's facing now: old age. In our youth driven time, it makes me sad an actor who's been so popular and entertained so many has to endure the speculation, lies and insults of a tabloid culture where vultures are swooping in literally even before the body's cold.

Someday, the paparazzi and hacks who've hounded him for years will be old and frail themselves. And I promise you one of the stories they'll spin over and over, because they can't remember they just told it ten minutes ago, is the one about the time they met Burt Reynolds.