Little Murders: Meeting Elliott Gould

August 10, 2008 by
Filed under: Bum Shit, Dog Shit, Dung of the Day 

(sort of)

On Friday night I finally saw Little Murders for the first time. At B.A.M. with a very entertaining Q & A session afterward with Elliott Gould. It was a most enjoyable evening and I found Mr. Gould’s frank and irreverent (if esoteric) repartee very refreshing.

I had been admonished by my buddy, Larry da Junkman, that Mr. Gould can be quite cantankerous in person. This, his, assessment was based on interviews he saw from the 1970’s. What I saw on August 8, 2008— 38 years later— was a person who had no time for fools but openly admitted his own tomfoolery. Gould struck me as being a great big teddy bear. Mind you, you my idea of a “big teddy bear” is a little different than most people; I learned warm and fuzziness from my father. A man who has been kicked out of a furniture store for listing William Jefferson Clinton as a reference to rent a bed. But I digress.

Mr. Gould has rather piquant wit —and more importantly, he was not reluctant to use it. When one person in the audience asked him if Little Murders glorified the shooting of a police officer he replied the movie was satire and that the leader of our country would fill Alan Arkin’s role quite beautifully. That bon mot with quickly topped with this one:

You’re the expert taking notes. I’m just the artist.

The above quip is one I will undoubtedly use quite often moving forward. For this reason (and a few others*) I wanted to express my gratitude. What’s more, I had an opportunity. A window, if you will. It was announced at Friday’s event that Mr. Gould agreed to another Q & A session at the 3:00 p.m. viewing of The Long Goodbye the following day. Mr. Heather loves this film so he bought a ticket. And in so doing he became my emissary.

I had to work Saturday. Before I left all the preparations were made. All Mr. Heather had to do was take the envelope I prepared, pick up the 8×10 print I ordered (of this), insert it into said envelope and give it to Mr. Gould. 5:00 p.m. rolled by. Nothing. As did 6:00 p.m. Then finally the call came.

Mr. Heather: The package has been delivered.
Miss Heather: AND?!?

When we met later in downtown Brooklyn I finally got a straight answer.

Miss Heather: So what happened?
Mr. Heather: I told him that my wife was in an art show last year and wanted to give him something.
Miss Heather: Okay.
Mr. Heather: I handed him the picture and he said:

Oh, that’s shit. Does she want me to autograph this?

Mr. Heather: I said no, she just wanted you to have it.
Miss Heather: Good.
Mr. Heather: Then he asked Is this horse shit? I said no, we think it was human or canine.

It was at this point in our conversation that the Mister and I encountered this on Bond Street.

Miss Heather: They put out cat litter but I don’t think this came from a feline. Is that red stuff catsup or blood?
Mr. Heather: I wouldn’t taste it to find out.

The End

Miss Heather

*Among them:

  1. M.A.S.H. is one of my favorite movies. EVER.
  2. Anti-heroes have always been my heroes. Hey, I’m a 70’s child!


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