01 February 2000
Charlize and Joseph, Our epic meeting - THE COMMENTARY
By Joseph Planta
VANCOUVER - When Charlize Theron was in town last year, to film steamy love scenes with Ben (damn him) Affleck for Raindeer Games, we met. It was a chance meeting, actually it was all her doing. She hounded me for days. She left messages at home, but alas, I, the ever busy “columnist” had no time to meet a leggy former underpants model, who’s now an “actress.”
I was doing something that resembled schmoozing, and while having a drink with director John Frankemheimer, (I call him Jack by the way.) he noted to me that this actress of his on Raindeer Games, (He directed it, by the way.) wanted to meet me and you know...
“Well Jack,” I said, “I cannot possibly meet ‘this actress’ right now, because I have not any time at all.” “Your call, but I’ll give you her suite number, she’s staying at the Wedgewood,” Jack said as I picked up the $7.50 tab for his coffee, straight up and my Evian.
Well, one Saturday night after touring with Rafe and Wendy (Mair) on Jimmy’s (Pattison) new yacht, which was being docked at the currently-being remodelled, Bayshore, I said to who ever would listen to me, “Gee, maybe I should make this broad’s dream come true and swing by the Wedgewood tonight.” (I can’t believe I just typed the word ‘swing’!) Jimmy, the effervescent host said, “The hell we’re heading back to the mainland for you!” Stupid me, I managed to forget we were going for a night sail around Coal Harbour. At which point, big, burley Jack Monroe and Rafe grab me by my coat tails and proceed to chuck me overboard. Thank God for the canoeists who were practising for the Dragon Boat Festival who very kindly, but rather roughly fished me out of the water and yell obscenities towards Rafe and Monroe.
They very kindly dump me at the floating Esso in front of ‘The Sails’ (Canada Place) and I trapse my way up to the front of the Pan (Pacific) and beg Manuel, the trusty bellhop to hail me a cab. A cab comes, but before it does, management hearing of my unfortunate incident, summon a stiff bottle of Courvoisier which I consume sitting on the front stoop. My cab comes, and I soaked and soaking, instruct Abdul or whatever the hell his name is (I can’t read the Farsi name on his ID.) to conduct me to the Wedgewood. (The Wedgewood Hotel is a trendy, up and coming hotel located on the trendy Robson street.) I get noticed immediately, by a couple, say middle aged, who start calling me obscene names (in Farsi probably).
Well, I trapse my way up, soaking mind you, to room 1440; knock on the door and a girl, yea high, wrapped in a turban of terry-cloth towel and a guacamole covered face (She’s from Hollywood). She says hi.
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An archive of Joseph Planta's previous columns can be found by clicking HERE .