sponsored by

Hosted by
eROI

Where’s all the Portland stuff going? by Joel Gunz Portland is fast losing its identity, and it’s all my fault.   Dinner for High Five by Chris Parkhurst An enlightening discussion on the indie film industry   Customer Support by Edward Fishe Emails From The Edge     Email Licensing Exam by Greg Coyle   Top Ten: Tchotchke Watch by Kent Lewis Looking for the best freebies around? Are those battery-powered socks?   Lists   Cool Stuff Evolution Took Away That We Want Back   Uncool Stuff Evolution Has Yet To Take Back That We Wish It Would

One evening while taking a break from the editing of my film, I sat down in front of the television and did something quite unusual for me, I channel surfed.

Not expecting to find much other than the latest ‘Elimidate’ rip-off or late-night phone date solicitation, lo and behold I saw something of interest on the Independent Film Channel (IFC). A show was just starting entitled, ‘Dinner for Five’.

Thanks to the nifty INFO button located on my remote I learned that the show is an on-going weekly series that is hosted by Jon Favreau - Favreau, being the one-time champion of independent cinema when he scored with his barely-a-budget film ‘Swingers’. (Unfortunately, he’s also the same person that brought us the eagerly anticipated, but god-awful follow-up ‘Made’ - and how exactly it got “made” I’m still wondering to this day, but that’s off the subject, eh?). At any rate, the premise of this show is five people - purportedly, different every week and all related to the film field - sitting at a table, eating dinner and having frank discussions about film.

Perfect, it’s my kind of Fare. There are far worse cable channels than IFC (or it’s competitor, The Sundance Channel), and I’m willing to settle in for a half our-discussion from people who I can relate to.

Problem one occurs fifteen seconds into the program when they introduce the four (not five!) people on the show. After introducing the host, a now sizeable - wait, I’m sorry, - a Fat, Jon Favreau, the show proceeds to introduce the following harbingers of cinema: Andy Dick, Marilyn Manson and Daryl Hannah.

This is the “educational and informational programming” that IFC has provided for my film brethren and I? I’m ready to go back to ‘Elimidate’.

I realize, of course, I’m unfairly judging the people of the show (and thereby the very content of the show) on the appearances of the guests. Who’s to say that shock-rocker Marilyn Manson – he of the fish-white pallor, masked by sizeable sunglasses (no doubt worn to ward off the brilliant rays emitting from all of the Star Power in the room) - doesn’t harbor some secret love for the likes of a John Cassavetes or a Jane Campion? What if Andy Dick- an occasional TV comedian–and whose screen appearances include a role in Portland Indie-flick, ‘Bongwater,’ has some secret foresight into how Pedro Almodovar used his landscape as an important character in his work? And Daryl Hannah…well, surely she would be able to bring her experiences from such cinema-defining moments as her scantily-clad-in-fish-scales role in ‘Splash’ to the proverbial table, right?

Problem two begins two minutes later, when Favreau opens up the film discussion with mention of Hannah’s recent role in a respected international film, ‘Dance of the Blue Iguana’, a story about dancers working in a dance club.

You can see the salacious gears turning inside Favreau’s head. What a great opportunity for some good-ole frat boy discussion. If only fellow actor and his buddy, Vince Vaughn were here for this. Now that would be Money.

Not only does this shamelessly plug Favreau’s upcoming opus, ‘Pornstar’, it allows him to draw Hannah into a discussion about strip clubs, endearing himself to his fellow male dinner mates.

Smart and journalistic questions like, “So, did you have to go to strip clubs for research?” ensue. Favreau and Dick giggled hysterically. Hannah looked unsure, even lost.

Manson enlightens viewers with letting us know that the best and strangest strip club in all of America is ‘The Acropolis’, located in Portland, Oregon. At the Acropolis women apparently dance in four different areas that look more like pig pens with feeder areas than dance stages.

Favreau and Dick giggled hysterically. Hannah continues to look unsure, even lost.

Then it dawns on me! These four are stoned to the gills.

Surely enough, at about the ten minute mark, it’s all Favreau can do to keep his face from falling in his bowl of soup. He is supposed to be moving the discussions along, but he simply lets Dick and Manson provide sophomoric fare.

Even the mermaid herself, can barely utter anything more audible and intelligent than an “oh, wow” or “right on”. I’d heard that Hannah is a hippie at heart, but even this I didn’t expect. She clearly wants to be appalled, but it seems she doesn’t have the wherewithal or confidence to tell these good-ole boys from Hollywood where to stick their bongs and strip clubs.

But what takes the cake comes after Dick mentions Manson’s film. Eyebrows suddenly rise around the tables. Everyone, including our knowledgeable interviewer and emcee, is surprised that Manson has done a film. I mean, who knew?

Favreau passed out the cigars.

Manson, being the gentleman, asks Hannah if anything he’s saying is offending her. She stares off into space and slowly shakes her head and Manson continues to tell us about ‘Groupie’ - an “independent” film, mind you - that he did in ’93 and it was shot in one evening at a party that Manson was hosting after one of his band’s gigs.

What Manson describes, even horrifies me. His “experimental film” was a camera that was set-up in one corner of the living room and simply left on – soon to be forgotten amidst all of the typical excess that only a good-loving rock and roll citizen like Manson could put on. Naturally, Favreau pipes in, drawing from his extensive film knowledge, comparing it to ‘The Blair Witch Project’ (Manson wisely looked offended).

Manson is quick to correct him saying the film was made long before ‘Blair Witch’- lest someone accuse him of stealing someone else’s idea. I couldn’t help but wonder what Ozzy Osbourne or Alice Cooper might think of that.

When Hannah asks Manson if his film has been picked up for distribution, Manson flatly (proudly?) states, “No, it hasn’t,” But before Manson can apply another layer of white make-up to his sweating face (what’s in that soup anyway?), Dick cuts him off by announcing that there are good reasons that the film hasn’t been picked up by anyone.

Manson doesn’t bat an eyelash when he informs everyone at the dinner table that a female groupie (who didn’t know of the constantly running camera) did everything sexual under the sun that he asked her to do, and you can also find him giving oral service to his bass player, Ziggy.

Favreau begins to giggle again. Dick begins to blather something like “at least he used a condom”. Hannah swishes the remaining wine in her glass and then guzzles it.

Dick then graces us with his latest reading material, a tomb entitled, ‘Writing on Drugs’. This, of course, is beyond appropriate, but Manson isn’t about to be one-upped by a mere skinny sprat like Dick. Oh no. He then proceeds to describe just how much he can relate to the great writers like Hemingway, Burroughs and Kerouac who have all lived an artistic life inspired by drugs or alcohol.

In fact, it should be noted that Mr. Manson has many a song inspired by his nightly ritual of absinthe drinking before bedtime. Whoah. Absinthe! I mean, only a classy worldly artiste such as Mr. Manson would do such a thing.

Dick argues it can’t be so. After all, real absinthe can’t be purchased in the U.S. “Yeah,” adds Favreau, “It’s illegal isn’t it?”

Suddenly, Hannah awakes from her stupor. Oh no, she protests, you can get it here. Manson smiles and waits for the amateurs to finish their take on the age-old debate of the mysterious elixir known as absinthe. He knew someone would be foolish enough to challenge his authenticity.

When the dust clears, Manson wows us with some horticulture - he himself is growing wormwood and making absinthe in his own home. He seems certain that this will impress the dinner table.

And I think that it probably does, but we’ll never know for sure because sadly the show ends. However, Hannah does manage to offer one more enlightening thought as the show rolls into credits.

‘When I first heard about this show,’ she giggles, ‘I thought we were going to be holding discussions about film.’