by Jeff Meyers
So, I'm standing at the Ann Arbor Whole Foods deli counter waiting for my turn to get a sandwich and I hear this voice that sounds awfully familiar. It takes me about 12 seconds to realize it's Juliette Lewis' voice. Weird, I know. After all, her Hollywood star wattage isn't exactly incandescent. But I have this uncanny ability to place cartoon voices as well.
Anyway, she's ordering the quinoa salad or somesuch and out of the corner of my eye I'm watching her and thinking... she was once the hot crazy chick engaged to Brad Pitt. (Before her need to shed Xenu's bad vibes... or whatever Scientologists obsess about). But now, she just looked kinda old.
She was dressed in timeless California I-refuse-to-acknowledge-my-real-age garb (lace up sandals, funky dress) and still had a nice figure ...but there was no mistaking that she was older. This wasn't psychotic Mallory from Natural Born Killers or Nick Nolte's Lolita-esque daughter in Cape Fear or even Ralph Fiennes trashy rocker girlfriend in Strange Days. This was a woman closing in on 40 who wanted to look like she was still in her 20s.
No sin, there. She did it better than most.
Then I decided to look up her age up on IMDB ...and discovered that she's actually 5 years younger than me. And unlike Juliette, I don't have 3 dozen films to keep my youth intact for audiences around the world.
So, now that Michigan's film tax incentives (a good thing) have attracted tinseltown to our fair state, I suspect I'll be going out of my way to dodge the sudden influx of film stars.
While others may feel excited, charmed or, even, annoyed by their presence, I know I'll only feel old.