Bob Redford and Me, an Interview...

Bob and I

my interview and intimate portrait session with Bob Redford

NEWS FLASH NEWS FLASH NEWS FLASH
EXCLUSIVE: next film working titled "Roberta Robert"

On the heels

of Robert Redford's stellar success in his new movie, "All is Lost", Bob and I sat down for a heart to heart- his feelings on success, life, age, acting, Hollywood, love, money and sailing alone around the world- the meat and potatoes of a great star's life in full.

Bob comes to my house in full Transgender gear. A twisted Marlon Brando, Robert deNiro snicker-snarl on his old cracked up face... slight Indian Ocean tan fading.

WB: Thanks for doing this, Bob. Great to see you again. Man, it's been a long time... Lotsa flyfishing, film festing, growing up... little fun, too, no? You a Josh Slocum fan now, for sure.

RR: Hell Wick, same here, man, great to see you too. You're really zoning into your work lately, great to see. Thrilled you're gonna be snappin' a few pictures herein. As for fun, are you kidding me? I am now rich enough to get any girl I want- you WERE right, they all got a fuckin price- I still love what I do, and I am thinking after a few minutes of holding my breath under the Indian Ocean I am totally fired up about exploring this script I've been working on for the last couple of years...

WB: How fun! Any surf in Sumatra you can let us in on? Point breaks? I was gonna ask -once the ice was broken- and we got through your gab on "All is Lost", we'd move into your next thing... So what shakes, my boy?

RR: As I was saying...

WB: Hold on, Roberto, your expression- it looks great, and in this early late afternoon october Newport light, I gotta grab my camera. You mind?

RR: Dude, work your magic. I'll sign a release if I can get one from marketing to use on the trailer or poster or something?

WB: You rock. No problemo. Snap snap...

a photo of Bob, from the right rear...

RR: Wick, let me see that picture. Not sure you can use anything frontal without talking to my PR guy. Is that cool? Let me see that.

WB: Nope, against the rules, Bobby. I never let anybody see the pictures til they're run through the post processing machine... So, as I was asking, what gives with your new flick?

RR: You know how Hollywood chops every little bit of meat up, runs it through a fucking beechwood blender? Like you start with a fine New York Cut, and run it through the hamburger machine? Well, when I was out in Sumatra, and I was the ONLY guy out there, me and the boat, you know, out in the middle of the fucking Indian Ocean on the other end of the cameras? I began to have a rhythmic thing happening every night I went back to the Royal Kulubati, over and over, like the rolling knock down of my old girl Virginia Leigh- it's only me, it's only me. Like a Hindu mantra, I'm buzzing, it's only me, it's only me. I mean I took full responsibility for that film- coulda died, flopped, gone to hell, or triumphed- "it's only me".  So I wake up one morning, put on my Timberland fleece and say to myself- out loud, dude!- it's only me. So, I'm reading the script I wrote about 10 years ago about my pal Harry who recently went down to the the  banks of River Styx in all his glory with the HIV virus, and decide, nay, DECLARE! I'm gonna do this thing- I AM THE CASTING DIRECTOR. I AM THE PRODUCER. I AM THE DIRECTOR. I AM THE SCRIPT WRITER. I AM THE ACTOR. I AM THE PHOTOGRAPHER. I AM THE EDITOR. I AM THE MARKETING AGENCY. THIS IS REALLY ME, man!

Christ, Wick (and you know a Mormon don't wear magic undies unless he is fucking committed right?)

"I take full responsibility! I am my next film!!

WB:  Totally, dude. Man, did they let you blow some steam on that last movie? I thought you'd be sailing high on the reviews, Oscar Time, my man?

RR: I had to lose some weight and do some pull ups for All Is. Not a lot of Carbs in Sumatra, Wicko... So, since this next flick is about a guy coming out and doing the fuckin BIG SWAP- jewels for snatch and titties, I think, nay, I says- Now is DA TIME! Bingo, like the 8 ball heading for the corner pouch, we are rocking it. It's happening, it's cooking on all burners... and after so.

Well here is another Photo op. I grab a picture of Bob, who of course, has to send everything through his own PR machine. They reject everything I shoot that is face time, so I just get permish to publish Bobby in Trannie gear from BEEE Hind. "Hinnie" I say to Bob and he laughs. Sunshine?? You bet.

"Into the Closet", the working name of Bob's next film, Bobby adorned and fucking skinnnneee

WB: Transgender... Now that is fucking I-N-T-E-R-E-S-T-I-N-G. And no SAG, no Hollywood, no nothing but YOU! Fly it high brother! In production, my man?

RR: Fucking right. You know, Wick... why we're pals is cuz we live (by, sic) the same rules- own your shit! Okay, I'm riled (I love YOU man, but I hate interviews, I'd rather be shredding at Sundance). So take a wild one and guess- where you think we're shooting it?

WB: (smiles wryly) Duh, you old geezer- YOUR place. Okay okay, we're on the same page, histrionically speaking... But pray tell- what gives with this crazy cool idea of your next "It Is You, you it aint", movie, man?

RR: Okay, better snap me again, cuz I ain't letting this cat out of the bag and NO, YOU fucking can't use my mormon ass cracked face on the blog until my producer (me), gets permission from my film's legal (me) to speak to the director (me) and the writer (me) and marketing (me) as to whether or not we can go public with the only actor's (me) face attached to outside marketing (YOU, you bastard). Blog or not, ducky!

WB: You really hold your breath that long? Ha ha... You miss brother Paul?

RR: ( a few garbled words, some sputtering and the interview ends as Bob finally ejects: "Fuck off, bitch dog!"

HOLLYWOOD THUMB METER:

SIT ON IT, SUCK ON IT, POINT IT SKYWARD-         ALL 3 THUMBS UP!

I snap the last picture from our time together...

Bobby lost enough weight on his last film, "All Is Lost", his mantra has become:

"Use it, Babe, Nay Flaunt Eeet!"

Postscript: Bob enjoyed overwhelming success for his last movie, "All Is Lost", but most of my sailing friends took issue with several things that seemed "wrong":

1) *

2) **

3) ***

4) ****

5) *****

Even my pal Gretchen, a set designer, tells me Bob wears at least 3 different brands and tones of khakis the first day on set. Please, Bob, if you had a hand in this, take it by the fucking horns!

The author wishes to thank the Robert Redford Foundation for allowing this interview to be published.

*, **, ***, ****, ***** cannot divulge, as promised to Bobby, until film goes to Netflix.

Tops Motel, Calle Ocho, Little Havana, Feliz Navidad, Merry Christmas from Wick Beavers Editorial Portrait fashion Photographer

Happy Days are Here Again!

BUT, we should (have, as its passe now I sit down and blog on to you, dear reader) all stop counting the seconds til we get what we want and give a little to others less fortunate.

Less fortunate than I (using proper engleesh), you say?

You got 2 legs and they both work (most of the time)?

You living an unknown time and space here on this planet?

You got ears, eyes and maybe one mouth?

You paying rent or a mortgage by the month and NOT the night?

You're much more fortunate than many and thanks be to allah, the chosen one, hayzeus, Jesus, Buddha or maybe even just your mum.

In thinking about those folk, and imagining

the people who live in the cheapest motels around, I went to the Tops Motel on Calle Ocho in Little Havana and got Ernesto Fernandez, the proprietor to give me a room for ... 2 hours for $15 is our standard rate.

!

"No Prostitution" signs above the heavily barred in receptionist's cage, I mean office.

$15 for 2 hours it was, and the room came with a bedside full length (horizontal) mirror, a single towel and a very thin but full roll of pale blue toilet paper.

So, no more BS or blather, I just gotta say thanks to Ernesto and my two valiant models.

Thanks and Merry Hannuka, Happy Daze and Molested Infested New Years!

Til we hang 'em in the stunt gear,

Wick