A MR. SHOW ADVENTURE!! MORIARTY And Crew Make A Cameo In RUN RONNIE RUN!!
Published at: Dec. 5, 2000, 10:39 a.m. CST by staff
Hey, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab.
There are three types of articles I write for Ain’t It Cool News. First up, there are the reviews. I may not write them the same way other people do, but the general idea is the same. See a film or read a script, then react. Then there’s the news/opinion piece, in which I offer you guys some cool tidbit I’ve been sent or dug up, and I try to set it in context or offer some jumping off point for discussion. Then there’s the personal stuff, the experience piece. From time to time, some opportunity presents itself thanks to my association with AICN, and I’m able to share something unique with you guys. This is one of those stories. I say all this so that those of you who insist on writing me after this type of story to say, "No one cares, douche nozzle!!" can’t complain that you wasted your time or that I somehow "tricked" you. You are hereby officially warned. Go check out one of today’s other stories so I can share with everyone else.
Okay... they’re gone. Good thing, too. This is too cool for them. Besides, I was practically busting to share, even before I left the Moriarty Labs on Saturday morning. That’s why I started placing calls to members of the LA AICN gang in the middle of last week to tell them to show up at the Labs by 9:30 in the morning if they wanted to have an adventure. Harry Lime is currently dodging the authorities somewhere in Europe, and sent a telegram saying he wouldn’t be able to join us, and Mysterio was evidently too busy plotting the demise of a certain wall-crawler to even return a call. Sorry they didn’t join us... maybe next time. As it was, I found myself addressing John Robie, Gregor Samsa, Hercules The Strong, and Henchman Mongo, an e-mail from the lovely Virginia over at Dakota Films clenched in my fist. "Glad you all made it," I began. "We’re gonna go be in a movie."
I think I confused them. Mongo plucked Herc’s IV line and started shotgunning whatever was on slow drip, Samsa was busy eating something out of my trash, and Robie seemed intent on making love to my couch. I began to regret calling anyone, but I had already promised that we would be coming, so I liberally applied electric shock all around, then herded the troops into Samsa’s truck so we could head for Mulholland Drive.
On the way there, I reread the e-mail to see if there was anything I’d missed when I first read it on Friday afternoon. Virginia explained that they were shooting a Hollywood party scene for RUN RONNIE RUN!, and that we needed to dress accordingly. She mentioned they would be shooting for about two hours, and that Troy Miller, Bob Odenkirk, and David Cross wanted us to stop by and be part of the scene. Despite the fact that this was an obvious ploy to appeal to the Evil Genius demographic when the film is released, I decided there would be some value in watching them work and in furthering my own personal massive international celebrity.
We had been instructed to park at a private school just off Mulholland Drive in the Brentwood Hills, and it was easy enough to find as we followed pink signs that had "RONNIE" printed twice with an arrow between the two. Herc pointed out how ripe the signs were for some Project Mayhem-style mischief, and we briefly considered reversing all the arrows so we would be the only people to show up for our cameos, guaranteeing us maximum screen time. There were too many witnesses for us to try, so we pulled into the private driveway of the school. We drove down the long front hill and around the entire parking lot, looking for any available spot. We found a questionable stretch of unpainted cement that we decided to adapt into a parking space and hopped out, stretching our legs for a few moments as we waited for the shuttle.
When it arrived about ten minutes later, we were the first ones to board. We filled in seats all over the mini-bus, me in the very back, Robie up front, and everyone else scattered between us. The shuttle waited there for a moment, then headed back up to the top of the hill, where there was a group of people gathered. We stopped, the shuttle doors opening. The group outside took a moment to get organized, and in that moment, we were looking out the window at them.
"Aren’t those the guys from Anthrax?" Robie called back at us.
"Hey... thatis Anthrax," Samsa piped up. I looked and saw Scotty Ian, who I have now officially decided is following me. I’m a little embarrassed to bring it up, actually. I mean, I’m flattered that the guy’s a fan, but this has been going on for years. I first spotted him following me back in ’95, when Harry Lime and I were planning a major job in New York. We were doing all our planning out of the Silverado, the strip club that Penelope Anne Miller danced at in CARLITO’S WAY. The owner of the place was in on it with us, bankrolling the job, so we found ourselves spending night after night in the place. Scotty Ian was there several of those nights, and at The Vault as well, something I brushed off at the time as coincidence. But since then, I see him everywhere. Any time I go to the Egyptian, like the recent HALLOWEEN screening, he’s there. When I went to the Actor’s Gang benefit at the House of Blues recently to see Tenacious D., he was there. I’ve seen him in recent months when I was buying DVDs, comics, even dinner. He’s not even being subtle about it at this point. I’m thinking of getting a restraining order, but maybe that’s harsh.
At any rate, he climbed on the shuttle with about six other people. Robie and Mongo moved back so they were sitting with us, freeing up the front of the mini-bus. As they did, Hercules tactfully piped up, "What’s the matter? Afraid to sit next to the rock stars?" When the other passengers glanced back, I recognized Jenny McCarthy sitting in front of Mongo. We waited a few more minutes, during which I considered the easiest way to yank Herc's vocal cords, then left for the location.
We had been told that the location was a mansion, so I was confused when we turned onto a large lot where there were three huge tin shacks set up along with a dozen porta-potties. There was nothing resembling a mansion in sight. There were large trucks and several cars, but no house of any kind. When the shuttle doors opened, a smiling guy in a headset bounded up the steps, clipboard in hand. "Hi," he said. "Let’s see who’s here." He made his way from the front of the bus back, checking names off the list he had. He didn’t blink twice when I told him I was Moriarty from Ain’t It Cool News. How strange. I didn’t have to hypnotize or drug him or even have Mongo rough him up. He just found us on the list, then hurried back off the shuttle, sending us all on our way.
All told, it was only about a seven minute drive to the gate of the neighborhood, and as we turned to go through the large wrought iron gate, Herc turned to me and said, "This is amazing. This place does all the work for you. Can you imagine bringing a date back here? The panties would already be off. That gate would be enough." Each of the houses we were driving by was huge, stunning. We kept going up the hill, the narrow road turning back on itself. We started to drive past equipment trucks, a familiar site here in Los Angeles. You can tell a film crew’s nearby when you see that one particular cluster of big white trucks lining the street. The shuttle pulled right up to the bottom of a steep private driveway and stopped, allowing us all to climb out.
We could hear people talking above us, but we couldn’t see them yet. We had to walk up the driveway, and as we did, the full mansion came into view. It was a huge white house, massive windows everywhere. The view in all directions was amazing, especially considering how clear the day was. As we arrived, they seemed to be calling a break for the extras who had arrived earlier. The group of us who had just shown up stood at the top of the driveway as a couple of hundred people dressed in exaggerated Hollywood style walked around us, heading from the pool area to a sort of extras holding pen made up of a shitload of folding chairs. As I watched the magnificent assortment of fake breasts and minidresses walk by, I heard someone yelling my name. "Moriarty!" I looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. Finally, I spotted a tall guy with a wicked comb-over leaning out a side door of the house, waving in my direction. Before I could respond, Mongo went bounding through the crowd of extras towards the guy.
As I followed Mongo over, the rest of the guys in tow, I recognized Dave Koechner, former SNL cast member, comedian, one half of the formidable Naked Trucker. He also just happens to be the brother in law of Henchman Mongo. Yes, it’s true. Mongo’s got a sister. She’s a perfectly lovely, perfectly normal person, just as Mongo was before I began my experimentation. As we got closer to Koechner, I couldn’t help but start laughing. He had already been made up for his role as Clay, and the make-up was disturbing, frighteningly accurate. In the script, Clay is one of Ronnie Dobbs’ close buddies in the early days. Clay has the unfortunate habit of getting injured badly while hanging out with Ronnie, but he never blames Ronnie for his rotten luck. He just takes it in stride. The party scene comes late in the film, and Clay’s on the mend after a fairly nasty spill. When we stepped into the house and Koechner shook our hands, welcomed us, there were two large prominent holes in his forehead, lingering proof of the halo that had been bolted there. There were still cuts and scrapes healing on his face, across his lips and cheeks. Dave was a glorious sight. He explained that he’d be in a wheelchair for the day, and that he’d be thrown into the pool in his chair at some point. I knew that they were going for tear-jerking social relevance with this film, but I had no idea to what extent.
By this point, even more people were showing up, and Koechner led us back outside, where he began introducing us around. First up, I finally met David Cross, who I’ve only talked to on the phone before this. He was in full Ronnie Dobbs glory, with a mullet that would have made Billy Ray Cyrus jealous, and as we were being introduced, crew members were taking a large Ronnie Dobbs ice sculpture off a truck right next to us. David seemed impressed by how the ice sculptors had given him ripped abs and buff arms. I think what impressed David most was how eerily accurate the sculpture was. He said there was no need to show us his own chiseled six-pack now. By this point, another shuttle had arrived, and we were joined at the top of the driveway by Rebecca Romijn-Stamos and John Stamos, Brian Posehn (a regular on JUST SHOOT ME right now and one of the writers of RUN RONNIE RUN), Matt Stone and Trey Parker, Jeff Garlin, and Scott Thompson. Koechner took it upon himself to introduce us around to the people we hadn’t met, and then we were joined by Bob Odenkirk. Bob’s contributed some hard-hitting expose material to AICN over the last few weeks, so it was nice to meet him face to face. Bob has a full beard at the moment for his lead role as Terry, the infomercial producer who "discovers" Ronnie Dobbs and makes him a media phenomenon. Everyone started talking back and forth about what they’re doing right now, and a certain comedian/sitcom star’s name came up. Everyone began trading stories about this particular guy, each of them more insane than the last. These are some of my favorite minds working in comedy right now, and listening to this sort of casual one-upsmanship is one of the things I love about any gathering like this. I mean, as I’m writing this on Monday night, I’m watching some old LARRY SANDERS reruns, an episode of KIDS IN THE HALL. We’re talking about the guys behind some of the best comedy of the last decade. I was laughing really hard when Koechner said, "Hey, guys, this is Troy Miller," and I turned around to watch the film’s director walk towards us.
I’ve been trading e-mails with him for a little while now, but Troy Miller was a total surprise to me. Imagine if Neil Young and Terry Gilliam got in the Brundlechamber from THE FLY. That’s Troy. He walked up to us and stuck his hand out in greeting, wry smile fixed in place. "Hey, guys. Glad you made it. Whattaya say... wanna go be in a scene?"
As he walked us around to the back of the house where the pool was, I saw that the extras had been brought back to fill in the area. Some of them were in bathing suits, and even on a mild Los Angeles morning like Saturday, it was still cold enough to give all that extra-white mid-winter skin a ruddy, patchy quality. We were all dressed for a party, and Troy explained that he was going to put us into a scene that couldn’t get cut. I know as well as anyone that there’s no such thing as a scene that can’t be cut, but this one would probably come close.
EXT. RONNIE’S MANSION – POOL AREA - DAY
A big Hollywood party in full swing. RONNIE’S back yard is crowded with Hollywood types. AGENTS, MANAGERS, PRODUCERS, and CELEBRITIES.
We watch Ronnie pass through these strangers, feeling good about himself.
That’s how the set up of the scene reads in the script. That certainly describes what we were seeing. Troy realized that it would look a bit strange to have a man-sized cockroach, two wanted criminals, an ongoing genetic experiment, and the Mightiest Feeble Man Alive all standing in the middle of this party, so he sent us through wardrobe and makeup, disguising us as a bunch of guys in our mid to late 20s. He then led Samsa, Robie, me, Mongo, and Hercules to the steps of the pool area, right in the center of things. He positioned us in a small semi-circle, then started setting up a shot that would start in close. As he was getting us set up, David Cross walked by and admonished us, "Don’t fuck things up, okay? There’s a lot of money on the line here." There was one addition to be made, though, and Troy called out, "Can I get Scott over here?" I was delighted to see Scott Thompson walk over. Right away, I knew what part of the scene we were part of:
Ronnie runs into the actor SCOTT THOMPSON.
SCOTT
Hey, Ronnie Dobbs! I love your show. Is it real, though? I mean, do you really get arrested?
RONNIE
Hell, yeah, bitch!
SCOTT
Oh... cause it looks real. God, this music’s awful. Mind if I raid your CD cabinet?
RONNIE
Raid my... you’re... no way, man. My CD cabinet is exit only. Thought you’d turn me gay when I wasn’t lookin’? I know about y’all’s gay conspiracy agenda.
SCOTT (disgusted)
Oh, please...
Ronnie walks off, leaving Scott alone. A beat. Scott pulls out some cigarettes, looks around nervously, then speaks into the cigarette pack/video transmitter.
SCOTT
Lucky Pierre, this is Ramrod. We have a breach of security. He knows everything. Code red! I repeat, code red!
Scott proceeds to warn the leader of the Gay Conspiracy, David Duchovny, that everything’s off. No Gaydar. No $3 bill with Eleanor Roosevelt on the front. It’s a perfect example of the type of surreal left turns the film is full of. Wait until you see how they build into a MARY POPPINS style musical number with Jack Black as a chimney sweep or the wicked SURVIVOR parody.
Troy put Scott right in the middle of us and told him the shot would begin with him talking to us, then pull back, one long Steadicam shot that would include his whole exchange with Ronnie. That’s pretty much all the direction he gave him before walking off to find David Cross. Scott turned to us, all of whom had been handed drinks, and smiled. "So what are we doing here?" He took my drink and Samsa’s, which were supposed to be red and white wine. "What do you have going on here?" He took a sip of each. "Ginger ale... and cranberry juice." He considered the glasses for a moment. "What if I’m doing something like this?" he asked, starting to mix the two drinks.
"Scott?" Troy called. "Ronnie’s going to be walking about here." We all looked over to where Troy was standing with David. "You’ll look up, see him, and hit me with a ‘Hey!’ You’re gonna start moving while you say his name..."
Scott looked at me, then looked back at Troy. "Hey, Ronnie Dobbs!" he proclaimed as he shoved our drinks back at us, walking off without checking to see if we’d taken them. He walked down to where Troy was, and they talked there for a moment before Scott walked back over to join us.
"Okay, we’ve got to figure something out here. Let me see these again." Scott took our drinks from us again and started trying different bits of business. As he did, all of us started chatting, talking about various things, giving Scott room to try out a few different types of gag. As he was swinging one of the drinks around, he managed to splash one side of my shirt with the ginger ale. I had asked them to make me impossible to miss, so I was wearing a canary yellow oversized Oxford over a knitted t-shirt, and the ginger ale was preposterously obvious. Scott realized what he’d done and started apologizing.
"Please, Scott, forget about it. I’ve had a drink spilled on me by one of the Kids in the Hall. That’s a kick-ass Saturday morning." Scott laughed as he started trying other bits. I asked Scott if they asked him before they wrote the role, or if they wrote it and then asked him about it.
"They wrote it for me, and when they showed it to me, I almost didn’t do it. I made a decision recently that I’m not playing gay anymore."
Now, this is Scott Thompson we’re talking about. His work with KIDS IN THE HALL is, in my opinion, ground-breaking in terms of the way it mainstreamed gay themed humor. Add to that his portrayal of Brian, Hank Kingsley’s assistant on THE LARRY SANDERS SHOW, and there’s no questioning Thompson’s importance. When I posed these thoughts to him, though, he shook his head.
"No, no, no. There were no gay people on television before ELLEN. Nothing I did matters. That’s why I can’t do it anymore. I can’t get any jobs if I’m playing gay."
I tried to make sense of what he was saying, but I came up short, shaking my head. "I was in high school when KIDS came on the air, and I remember comedy at the time. Andrew Dice Clay was considered the height of wit. Eddie Murphy, Sam Kinison... these guys were huge, and they had some rabidly anti-gay material. Your show was startling because of characters like Buddy Cole, because you guys didn’t seem to be afraid of anything."
He looked at me across the gulf of experience separating us, smiled a sardonic smile that comes from the closed minds and the closed doors he’s spent a career butting up against, and he shrugged.
About that time, Troy called for the first rehearsal. We ran through the scene once, us basically standing and letting Scott do whatever he was going to do. After running through the whole take, Troy came over to us. "Guys, make sure you look after Scott when he walks away. You spot Ronnie, and you should get excited. This is Ronnie Dobbs. React, then sort of go into a huddle." One more rehearsal, then Troy seemed satisfied with how things were working, and he rolled film.
And how’s the final version of the shot going to look? Well, we’ll see. I know that each new take, Scott came up with something different to try, something that made us laugh. I hammed it up shamelessly as he walked away, spotting Ronnie and doing a Gleason double take before turning to Mongo and Samsa and Robie and Herc. I felt myself loosening up with each take, and by the time Troy was ready to move on, I felt like I’d done my best to not, as David said, "fuck things up."
As they prepared for the next shot, Mongo and I went walking around the house and the grounds to find a drink. We ended up sitting at a small wrought iron table that looked out over the Brentwood hills, the 405 below, Mulholland stretched out like a ribbon into the distance. At one point, an assistant director came over to herd us into the back yard with the rest of the extras, but we explained who we were so Mongo could finish his cigarette. After a few minutes, we were joined by Herc, Robie, and Samsa, and we continued chatting for a little while, interrupted finally by a loud splash from the backyard.
By the time we made it back over to the pool area, Koechner was emerging from the pool, dripping wet, and there was applause from all those assembled. There were new faces by the pool now, including Bill Maher, Ben Stiller, and Garry Shandling. Koechner came strolling over to us, big smile on his face. "How did it look?"
We had to tell Dave that we’d missed his big moment. I’ll say this for Troy... he’s fast. I’ve never seen someone set up gags as quickly as he does. We decided to stay where we were and watch him coordinate the next major shot, a long Steadicam shot featuring all the celebrity cameos at once. It’s basically Ronnie’s walk of fame, him being praised or fawned over or stroked by each person he walks past. Troy moved quickly, Bob Odenkirk by his side, setting each person in place, giving everyone some bit of business. Just watching them set up was funny, but seeing it come together and really snap into focus was fascinating. Each person tweaked their bit of business, making it funnier. For my money, Matt Stone and Trey Parker came off the best, right at the start of the shot. There was a ferret wrangler who gave Trey a ferret to hold in the shot.
Wait. I have to take a minute. I can’t believe I just typed the phrase "ferret wrangler." God, films are strange.
Anyway... Trey and Matt leered at Ronnie as he walked towards them, and Trey said, "Welcome to the club, Ronnie," in a fey voice while clutching the ferret close to him. Matt nods, punctuating with an equally creepy "Showbiz forever!" The first time they did it, I thought Hercules was going to pass a lung laughing.
Jeff Garlin, a comedian who can currently be seen each week on Larry David’s HBO series CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM, sort of drifted over to where we were standing, watching with us as Troy worked. He turned to Mongo and said, "How much would it take for you to run over to that pool while they’re rolling, scream ‘My cock is on fire!’ and then just jump in with all your clothes on?"
"Jeff, don’t give him ideas. You don’t know Mongo. It’s not about money for him." I could see Mongo sizing the pool up already.
Jeff shook his head. "You don’t know me. I’ll pay if it sounds like it’s worth it." He grinned as he continued. "The guy who directs CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM is a sort of a bigger guy, and he hates taking his shirt off. Hates it. I asked him how much it would cost me to get him to direct an entire take of the show without his shirt on. He thought I was fucking around, and he said $400. I took the cash out of my wallet, handed it over, and he had to take his shirt off right there. It was totally worth it, too." He saw that Mongo was judging the distance to the pool and realized that he’d met someone who might not even need the cash courage. Jeff suddenly looked nervous about what he’d set in motion, and he announced that he was going to find the snacks table.
We watched them run through the entire scene a few times, and then Troy started shooting it. I am impressed by how fast he worked. I’ve been on a lot of sets, and there’s a certain inertia at the end of each shot as the crew has to get turned around, focused in another direction. It’s always an unwieldy process, reminding me of that moment in the first AUSTIN POWERS when Mike Myers tries to steal the cart in Dr. Evil’s hideout, having to do that 7,000-point turn with the thing. This crew was totally different, though, and maybe that comes out of the fact that Dakota Films is financing the film as a negative pick-up for New Line, meaning it’s Troy’s company spending their own money. Maybe it’s coming out of TV and having to be able to move quickly, think on their feet. Whatever the case is, it was breathtaking to behold, and by 2:15 or so, all the cameo players were finished with their shot.
I gathered the crew and was in the process of looking for a shuttle when I realized that we had been joined by several other people, also ready to be shuttled back to their cars. Matt Stone saw me and walked over so we could trade handshakes. I hadn’t seen him since the Saturday before Halloween, when Harry Lime and I went to the giant bash that Matt and Trey hosted at a theater in downtown Los Angeles, and we talked for a few minutes. I asked him how their new live-action show, THE FIRST FAMILY, is going, and he sighed. "Shitty. We don’t have a President yet. We can’t even start." He thought about it for a second, then shrugged. "In a way it’s good. It gave us a little more time to set up." As we talked, Jenny McCarthy started herding us all down the driveway in search of the shuttle. It was sweet the way she made sure no one was left behind. Neal, one of the great guys from Dakota, came over to the group and handed a couple of wrapped gifts out. Rebecca and John Stamos each got one, as did McCarthy. Neal left to get more of the gifts (bottles of Cristal, we learned earlier in the day), but we all climbed on the shuttle before he got back.
"Hey, those are really cool gifts," Trey noted.
"Yeah," said Matt. "Too bad we didn’t get gifts."
"Weird, isn’t it?" asked Trey. "The way Stamos gets a gift and we just sort of don’t."
Jenny and Rebecca climbed into the front passenger’s seat of the van together. A comic I recognized but couldn’t name sat in the seat behind them with his wife, Mongo, and John Stamos sort of wedged in against the door. Matt and Trey sat right behind them, and some old guy plopped down next to them. Robie, Samsa, Herc, and I all packed into the two seats at the back of the van. Our driver used Herc as his guide as he backed down the long driveway. I still can’t believe that vanload of people was entrusted to the maniacal whims of Hercules The Strong. As we got underway, Trey started harassing Matt about missing his chance to ask Jenny McCarthy out in the past. Jenny said that she would have gone if he’d asked, and Matt protested. "When was I going to ask you out? You were married to Grampa Number One when we met, and then Grampa Number Two was like three weeks after you got rid of the first guy." Jenny seemed to remember things differently, and Trey took her side, ragging Matt. "We told him to ask you," Trey volunteered, "but everyone in the office said he wouldn’t do it cause he’s a total choad." We pulled back into the morning’s first stop, with all the trucks and the honey wagons, and the driver asked if anyone needed off. We all said no, and he started to pull back out. Suddenly the old guy sitting next to Matt spoke up.
"Let me out," he said. "I want to get out here." By now, we were pulling back out onto the street.
"What?" asked the driver.
"Let me out. I want to get out here."
"Can you wait until we come back around?"
By this point, the old guy was practically pawing at the door. "I need to get out." We pulled to the side of the road. We’d only gone a few yards. "I want to get out," the old guy reaffirmed as he opened the door and bailed.
As soon as the door was closed, the van exploded in laughter. Trey tried to keep a straight face as he asked, "Do you think it was because I called Matt a choad?"
John Stamos shook his head. "I think he figured out I have my hand up my wife’s ass." By now, everyone was howling, even the driver. He took us back to the private school, the jokes flying the whole way. We all said goodbye and headed for our respective cars, and the AICN crew took off for a late afternoon lunch at the Saddle Ranch on Sunset.
As if the day hadn’t already been strange enough, there was a strange bit of synchronicity toclose out the day. Brian Posehn’s writing partner, Patton Oswalt, was one of the guys who I was surprised to not see at the shoot considering how much a part of this group he is. When I asked Brian about it, he told me that he and Patton are in a different scene in the movie as editors. As a result of that conversation, Hercules The Strong asked me about Patton, not sure he’d ever seen his work. I happen to think the HBO half-hour that Patton did (directed, oddly enough, by Troy Miller) is one of the best pieces of stand-up I’ve ever seen on that network, and I have a tape of it. When we got back to the Labs, I tossed it in so Herc could lay witness to Patton in all his wicked funny splendor. At one point, I had to turn the tape off for ten minutes because Herc was making a distressing wheeze, his laughter choking him, tears coursing down his face.
Later in the evening, Robie called me to see if I wanted to meet up with some friends for a 70mm showing of William Peter Blatty’s THE NINTH CONFIGURATION. I had been awake since 1:00 the afternoon before, and I’m wrestling with the remnants of some sort of profound bronchial incident, but I decided to go anyway. While we were standing in line, I heard a familiar voice behind me, and I turned to find Patton Oswalt standing right behind me, Michael Penn in tow. Delighted by the bizarre coincidence, I invited them to join us.
As we sat in the balcony and I talked to Patton about the morning’s adventures, I realized just how much fun I had. I also realized just how small a world it seems to be these days. I’d like to thank all the fine people over at RUN RONNIE RUN for making this MR. SHOW fan very, very happy, and for being such great hosts for me and the band of merry freaks I brought along. When this film comes out later in the year, I can’t pretend I’m going to be even remotely impartial about it. I loved the script, I’ve always been a fan of the show, and now I’m in the damn thing. All of this leaves me with just one question:
Would it be pushy to ask for billing above the title at this point?
