|The rogue curator Noel Lawrence|
For those who follow my work, you may be familiar with an unsavory “curator” by the name of Noel Lawrence. He edited a book about me in cahoots with an obscure French rock critic and has often screened “Peep Show” and other movies at museums and cinematheques in Europe.
Until now, I have suffered this fellow. He was a pest but a persistent one so I occasionally indulged him. I gave him a few crumbs for his book and lent him some very valuable film prints from my private collection. However, Mr. Lawrence has repaid my generosity with calumny and betrayal!
Noel recently asked my permission to screen my films “at a festival in Utah” in January. Naturally, I was very excited to be a part of Robert Redford’s powwow in Park City. Strangely, Noel seemed evasive when I asked about breaking bread with the great thespian. Now I have learned that Mr. Lawrence will be showcasing my work at a doppelganger festival that bears no connection to Slundance but happens at the very same time.
Even so, I only requested that my hosts provide me with the standard perks of a visiting auteur such as a five-figure appearance fee and a limousine from the Salt Lake City airport. In fact, I even waived the usual “hookers and champagne” clause from my contract. Noel avoided my calls for some time. When my personal assistant finally reached him, he informed me that this “film festival” will not even get me a room at the Motel 6 for my stay.
Mr. Lawrence, you are a fraud and a cheat. This offense shall not go unanswered.
Bear in mind I do not advocate a boycott of the screening. In fact, I urge your attendance as this may be your last chance to see these films. I will be confiscating my prints after the screening and locking them up in a secure location that Dick Cheney could only dream of. Instead of preventing this show, I propose to add a special bonus attraction to the festivities. After Lawrence finishes presenting my films, I will come on stage and personally beat the shit out of this craven curator.
Prepare yourself, Noel! I am at work in my private gymnasium with the soundtrack to Rocky cranked to maximum volume. I am jumping rope, hitting the bag, and taking long steam baths. By the time I arrive in Park City, I shall be in full fettle and ready to kick your ass. In that regard, perhaps I owe backhanded thanks to Lawrence for motivating me to undertake this strenuous physical regimen.
Now you may ask yourself why I would not just use one of my favorite shotguns to dispatch this blackguard. That would not be appropriate. Firearms are for gentlemen in a duel. This rapscallion merits nothing greater than fists and feet. Moreover, he is a wimp. A girl could beat him up and so can an old man like myself.