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Michael Moore

Fahrenheit 9/11

SiCKO

Bowling For Columbine

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Major film studios

Rendition

Redacted

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The Liberal Bastille

*snip*

During the last 8 years, I have rarely been to an audition waiting room where I have not been assaulted with anti-Bush, anti-Reagan, anti-Republican outbursts. Speaking up alone, one against five or ten righteous liberals is foolish, I know because I’ve tried it…. There is never a sense of decorum. I have never heard a pro-Bush, Pro-Reagan, Pro-Republican outburst!

Even while on the job, during the lead up to the last election, liberal actors would without hesitation blurt out ugly anti-Sarah Palin nonsense just seconds before you have to be very, very funny. Words like “Abu Ghraib” are substituted for scripted text as a sarcastic admonition, to clarify moral superiority and solidarity with others in the room.

The lack of respect for differing thought is symptomatic of no thought. This is the atmosphere that every conservative in Hollywood deals with. There is a job every now and then that is an exception to this; a job where this never happens and you lift your arms to God in thanks for that job.

Now let me be specific about events that apply only to me.

I don’t mean to imply that similar events haven’t occurred to others, but that these events have shaped my understanding of liberal Hollywood.

In 1980 I had the privilege of working with Charlton Heston at the Ahmanson Theater in Los Angeles in Paul Giovanni’s Sherlock Holmes thriller “The Crucifer of Blood.” One evening, following a rehearsal, Mr. Heston asked me very politely about the election between Carter and Reagan. I was a huge Reagan supporter, as was he, so for about 25 minutes we engaged in a conversation that will stay with me forever.

I don’t think Chuck, as he wanted to be called, had any idea of my political persuasion, although it is possible that Paul Giovanni, who I absolutely adored, could have given him a nod that we were of like minds when it came to politics. In any event, I took the memory of that rehearsal conversation, and my joy over the Reagan win with me to The Williamstown Theater Festival in the summer of 1981.

Artistic director Nikos Psacharopoulos and Williamstown represent for me the highlight of my career. In terms of pure personal satisfaction, I had never experienced such mutual confidence from a director nor the kind of freedom he gave me. He showcased my talents and actually allowed me to choose the role I wanted to play in my debut year of 1978.

Many doors were opened to me as a result, and one of them would lead to the pure great fortune of landing my role on “The A-Team.”

Blythe Danner was just one of the talented luminaries ensconced at the Festival. This was a fast paced summer theater where, somehow, great productions sprang from the tension of a tight two week schedule, and there was always a wonderful opening night buffet, an actor’s favorite, provided by some of the generous patrons from Williamstown.

At an opening night party I was talking quite openly and happily about my conversation with Charlton Heston concerning Reagan’s win, and as I moved to the end of the food line an unfamiliar voice popped up: “Dwight, so you’re a Reagan a**hole!”

It was Bruce Paltrow, Blythe Danner’s husband.

That is how I knew him at the time, and I was stunned by his comment. I cannot even remember my reply. Whatever it was it was bereft of brave retort. I told Nikos’s assistant about Paltrow’s aggressive comment and wondered why there was such hostility. Was the political aspect a cover for nailing a non talent? I was assured “That is Bruce…don’t take it personally…. He was probably joking…testing you.”

Paltow never said another substantive thing to me. He never said “good job” or “nice to see you again,” only an occasional very limp “hello.”

In very late 1981 or early 1982, I was called in to read for the part of Fiscus in the upcoming series “St. Elsewhere” produced by Paltrow. I ran into Howie Mandel, with his familiar blown up rubber glove hanging from his belt, and the guy who would eventually land the role.

He was standing just outside the waiting room, and as I headed toward that designated area I passed a small narrow side room in which Bruce Paltrow was seated on a desk chair with wheels; he turned to me, rolled a little in my direction and said, “Dwight! What are you doing here?” This is not a question an actor wants to hear before an audition; not from the show’s producer.

I told him I was called in to read for Fiscus and his response was soft and monotonic,

“…There’s not going to be a Reagan a**hole on this show!”

He then turned away, and went back to his desk. I was unable to overcome the totality of my crumble, my inability to deal with that kind of personal garroting. Although he had said something similar before, this was not a buffet line, this was a work line. My pathetic audition was a disaster, and I could never have gotten the job after what I gave them.

http://bighollywood.breitbart.com/dschultz/2009/03/16/the-liberal-bastille/