A quicky note that I'll be doing a couple of Q&A's this week after 51 Birch screenings. The first is this Sunday after the 3pm showing at Symphony Space. The second is on Tuesday after the 7:30pm screening at the Port Washington Public Library, the town I grew up in and where the film takes place.
We had a wild first screening in Port last week when 300 people showed up at the 200-seat auditorium. The library staff quickly set up a monitor in the gallery just outside the auditorium for the spillover. Just about everyone stayed for the Q&A, which got a little rowdy when an old tennis buddy of my fathers' got up and loudly claimed that the man on the screen wasn't the Mike Block he knew. Well, that's the point, I replied. We all thought we knew who he was. Besides, you weren't his son, as far as I know. After that, a few people felt the urge to get up and loudly defend my treatment of my father. I just stood there grinning like a maniac.
Lori and I had a great time the other night at the National Board of Review gala swigging down belinis, then sitting at the HBO table with doc pals James Longley and Andrew Berends and gawking at the celebs. My neck practically fell off from oh-so-cooly staring at hot tamale Penelope Cruz, who was sitting at the table behind us with Pedro Almodovar. What an amazing pantheon of directors were there: Spielberg, Eastwood, Stone and Demme made appearances, and Scorcese made a long, rambling hilarious speech that was a highlight of the evening for me.
The only down sides were the ceremony went on so long I missed the premiere party for the New York Jewish Film Festival, which my buddy Aviva Weintraub runs. And afterwards I tried mightily to get a picture with Spielberg, who I'm often told I resemble. But he somehow managed to vanish into the night before I could get there.