The Diary of a Quasi-Fan-Girl at the European Premiere of The Dark Knight

I'd like to think that I'm not a fan-girl. In fact, being a journalism major who hopes to possibly go into entertainment broadcast, it's more professional for me to not be a fan-girl. Today, I went to the European Premiere of The Dark Knight, and was very very close to being a fan-girl. I will never ever line the red carpet and scream a celebrity's name for attention, though. That's just low.
As a journalist, however, I feel that it's important to experience something from every angle. This includes a film premiere. Today for my blog, I will present The Diary of a Quasi-Fan-Girl at the European premiere of The Dark Knight.
11am
Allie and I arrived at the Odeon Cinema in Leicester Square in London to the sounds of hammers and the hum of cherry-picker trucks. We are excited and anticipating the stars of our future. We discover, with slight dismay, that we should have come two hours earlier. The place is packed. We do, however manage to find a nice spot at the front of the masses and not too far from the cinema entrance. We take our seats among some fellow fans and wait patiently for the rest of our day to pass by.
12pm
We've been sitting on the cold ground for an hour now and time seems to be trickling by like molasses in a sand-timer. We discuss who we think will show up and express our hunger. I decide to do a volunteer run to _____ ____ (due to the nature of certain limitations put upon ourselves at the start of this trip, there will be no mentioning of the establishment that provided our lunch) and come back with some hearty food to fill our stomachs. At this point, however, there are two ungracious brunettes in mini-skirts and black tights who've decided (an hour and a half after we've staked our claim on prize territory) that they're just going to stand directly in front of us and pretend they were there first. I quell the temptation to kick them in the backs of their knees.
1pm
There is mass chaos as the patrons and workers of the theatre begin to get down to the nitty-gritty. It's time to set up the fan barricades, and we've picked the wrong place to stake. Everyone is going to have to move back and over to make space for the aerial camera and the lining of the red carpet. Allie and I obey, being considerate quasi-fan-girls who don't want to start trouble. As we listen and everyone else does not, we are shoved from our prime stalking postions straight to the back (and I literally mean the back) of the chaotic hordes. It's now that the crowd's true viciousness is emerging. People all around us are quick to take offense where none is meant, as well as offend with little regard for whom they may be speaking. In particular are three girls crowding faithfully to stand in the front. An Italian woman is getting to her feet and they begin to treat her like a three-year-old, attempting to take the charge bestowed upon the officials as a duty of their own.
"She doesn't understand you!" one says to the guard without bothering to help the 40-year-old woman to her feet, and apologizing on behalf of a woman she ahs never spoken to.
"I understand them just fine!" she returns as she struggles to gain ground against the throbbing herd of bodies.
They went on like this for some time, the three girls in the front trying to seem concerned but just giving off a general I'm-better-than-you-because-I'm-in-the-front-and-you're-not-and-I-speak-fluent-english-and-you-don't-and-my-life-is-so-miserable-I-spend-every-free-moment-coming-to-these-things-and-stalking-celebrities-because-I-can attitude. The next hour I proceed to shoot vicious glares in their direction and comment on the hidden cattiness oozing from every consonant and vowel that seeps from their lips. These are fan-girls in their purest and most natural state: Snarky and selfish.
2pm
The waiting is killer. Time is, at least, going by faster now and I'm amused with cataloguing the massive amounts of work that go into getting a cinema ready for a premiere. Then it hits me: I'm going to see Christian Bale. More than that, I am going to see all of these celebrities as they walk by, mere feet from where I'm standing. Hollywood has a bit of an enchanting effect in which we are brainwashed into forgetting that these actors and actresses are, in fact, real flesh-covered, blood-pumping human beings. It's so strange to think that these people I've watched from the other side of a screen for so long are going to soon be breathing the same air as me. Then I'm excited. I'm giddy and elated and can't hide the fact that I'm completely stoked to be exactly where I am right now.
3pm
They begin to play with the pyrotechnics and the audience is astounded into a chorus of "ooohs" and "aaahs." Allie and I discuss the fact that we've been hanging out here for about 4 hours now, and I begin to present my hypotheses of "If I were a celebrity." To fill you in, If I were a celebrity I would:
- Go to the official premiere of my next movie at 11am wearing jeans and a sweat-shirt and my hair in a ponytail and no make-up and hang out in the crowd as if I were one of the fans, just to see who'd notice. I would then leave at whatever point I had to in order to get ready in time
- , In the event I were a pop star, stand in line to get into the venue, going so far as to buy MAGNIFICENT tickets to my own show, then give them away to whomever I felt was most deserving
- Tactfully avoid, while walking down the red carpet, anyone who, upon mingling with the crowd, I found particularly snarky or vicious
- Bring a camera with me on the red carpet and proceed to take pictures of people in the crowd taking pictures of me
I also came to the astute conclusion that if I were a celebrity my publicist would hate me.
4pm
Little to report. That general excitement returned again as the music from these particular brand of Batman movies begins to play over the surround-sound system set up to immerse the area we are standing. It's a short buzz, though, and we proceed to chat about this and that (and complain about the snarky bitches up front some more) and share in our disappointment that we've lost our spots at the front. I comment how my day would be made if I simply got a chance to make eye contact with Christian Bale. They begin unrolling the red carpet and the crowd cheers. It is, in fact, a magnificent red carpet. There is a bat in the middle.
5pm
The fatigue is settling in. We've been out here for 6 hours and we're just ready for the celebrities to come, as we hoped they'd be by now. Anchors and their camera-people pace the carpet patiently, waiting for the moment that everyone's assembled for. To keep spirits up they get pan shots of the crowd, which results in massive cheers and screaming for attention. By 5:45 I'm sick of their attempts, as it only gets my hopes up that the stars are coming, only to find that some stupid camera was pandering to a mindless audience.
6 and 7pm
The fun begins. An announcer welcomes us to the premiere of The Dark Knight and an engine revs. In Smoke and flames a 2.5-ton Batmobile makes it's way down the red carpet and pulls straight up to the doors of the cinema, where it does a three-point turn and heads back the other way. The crowd cheers and screams and many pictures are taken. For the next half hour shouts and screams greet celebrities (I'm assuming) whose faces I don't recognize in the least. There is little of importance among them.
The groups in front begin chanting "Aaron! Aaron! Aaron!" and I begin to wonder who they might be talking about. There is a man being interviewed at the end of the carpet and my mind starts reeling: What Aaron could they be cheering about? I know that Aaron Eckhart is in this movie, but I didn't hear screams as he came down the carpet to get here, granted I can't really see much of anything, but... I guess from the back his head kind of looks like Aaron Eckhart, but his haircut could be anyone's haircut. His hair isn't really his most distinguish - He turns his head to the side - OH MY GOD, IT'S AARON ECKHART!!!!!! I turn to Allie and the people standing next to us whom we were chatting with. "It's Aaron Eckhart! Oh, my God! It's Aaron Eckhart!" There is a mob as the chanting comes to an apex and he begins to go down the row signing autographs. I snap a picture and get a fantastic shot. He looks up.
Now, I've seen Aaron Eckhart in a few movies, and in various pictures and on film covers and I've always thought that he's a decent looking guy. Pleasant to spend a few hours with. Good actor. He looked up, eye contact was made for a second as he asked someone their name for the autograph and conversed with the crowd, and my heart stopped. Aaron Eckhart is a fantastically gorgeous specimen of the male as a gender. While on-screen I was dully pleased by his features, as he stood some three feet away from me I got shivers and my heart began to beat faster and my hands started shaking. From the dimple in his chin to his square-cut jawline, Aaron Eckhart is probably one of the most handsome men I've ever seen in real-life and for a moment, I am in love.
Our moment is shattered, however, by the next chorus of screams and as Aaron Eckhart disappears Michael Caine walks into my eyesight, and I have the shivers again. He walks over to be interviewed and I stare intently at the back of his head, waiting for him to turn around and come close so I can snap a great shot. It's this moment that my camera decides to die. I try furiously to resucitate it, but it has simply had enough and will not come back to life. Not even for Sir Michael Caine.
I have little time to mourn this, however, as Michael heads the other way down the carpet to visit another anchor and Maggie Gyllenhaal makes her way towards us. Screams and chanting beckon her to where we are and she turns, her movement fluid, and mouths "Just a minute." while putting her finger in the air to signal us to wait. She walks over, is interviewed and returns to us to sign autographs and again, I am struck. The thing about Maggie Gyllenhaal is that she has such an unassuming grace and air about her, from the turn of her head and the sincereity of her smile to her very posture and presence on the red carpet. Maggie is a woman of true beauty and I find myself amazed by the simplicity of her prettiness.
Michael has returned now and I reliquish myself to the vastness of how great he is. There's one thing I notice, though, and that is that Michael Caine is old. His hair is as white as fine sugar powder and, while make-up on screen make him look so young and spry, he just carries with him this aura of wisdom and age. I look at him and seem to see him as more of a grandfather than a movie star.
Louder screams and the moment we've been waiting for is upon us. Allie's camera is still working and she looks to me to know who is coming next. I look up and spot a gel-spiked line of hair. "It's Christian," I say excitedly, urging her to go forward and get a picture. This is my moment: The moment in which I will look up to the face of Christian Bale and attempt to make eye-contact; The one prize for all the good karma I've collected over the years and have just waited 8 hours for. But it seems that everyone else heard me, too. Before I can turn back and gaze at the face of the man I've waited all this time to see I am shoved backwards and sideways and a mass of bodies, heads and camera-clad hands block my entire line of vision to the red carpet. Autographs are signed and Christian is gone in barely a minute. I guess he's a get-in, get-out kind of guy. He stops for his interview (I presume, since I can't really see a thing at this point) and the next moment I am watching the back of his head as he heads into the theatre and away from me without a glance back.
My feet are numb and my camera is dead and my shoulders and back are aching and I'm tired and my moment, my one shining moment of anticipation, has been stolen away by jackals and thieves with little more consideration for others than what they would feel toward an ant or a flea. All this excitement and preparation I put in, only to be defeated at the final moment of my glory. Tears prick at my eyelids and I pout, trying to hold my image of Aaron Eckhart in my mind, hoping that it will counter the devastation I feel at this exact moment. Was it all for naught? What was the use of coming here from the safe-haven of my flat and waiting 8 hours if I don't even get a glimpse of the Hero of the story?
I turn to Allie and motion that we make another attempt at exiting this mad house (the police have dutifully secured us in a cage of barriers) and she nods, feeling the exhaustion of the day (and no doubt the disappointment) as well. We make our way to a new crowd, one that is just as obnoxious, but in a different way. The policeman tells us that he can let us out only if we go straight across the red carpet and out of Leicester Square; NOT towards the cinema. Allie and I have no desire greater than a good meal and a pint of beer, but apparently everyone else hears this as well and suddenly Allie and I are shoved and jerked around once more as people press forward to be released and a girl in the front shoves herself backwards because someone leaned against her. Now the policeman is angry and threatens to keep us all locked in if we keep shoving, but eventually we make it into the single-file line out of chaos and on to our freedom.
Was it worth it? Yeah. I have to say it was. I didn't get me moment with Christian Bale, but at least I got an unexpected encounter with another celebrity who surprised me with his handsome facade. Would I do it again? Only when I'm camera-woman with a legitimate news crew and am up close and personal on the red carpet.

JD