The Man, The Myth, The Gert

In May 2004, I returned for the third time to the Lake Placid Film Festival (in 2002 as volunteer, in 2003 as Volunteer Coordinator, and in 2004 as Event Coordinator). It was, as it had been the last two years, a mostly delightful experience, filled with great anecdotes (remind me to tell you the one about Debra Winger and the falling ceiling), quality flicks, and colorful characters.

Thanks to tremendous personal relationships with the Festival Founder and executive staff, well-known figures from the worlds of film, television, and literature made their way upstate to the sleepy Adirondack town for a premiere screening, panel discussion or to lead a Master Class. Off the top of my head, the impressive roster included Martin Scorsese ("Marty" was his clever internal codename), John Sayles, Kevin Bacon, Kyra Sedgwick, Tony Shaloub, James Tolkan, Guillermo del Toro, John Cameron Mitchell, Russell Banks, Frank Miller, Buck Henry, and many other famous directors, producers, graphic novelists, authors, critics, and industry gurus.

During a panel discussion in 2002, I was struck by a great idea: it'd be fun to have someone famous sign Dad's Father's Day card. Famous people were littering Main Street and Dad gets a kick out of celebs, so why not? The only flaw in the plan was that I really dislike approaching celebs for their autograph. But, it was for Dad and it'd be such a laugh, how could I resist?

The next day, I carefully selected my signer and finally settled on Tony Shaloub (Dad loves his part from "Galaxy Quest", "Never Give Up, Never Surrender!"). After a public forum on the merits of independent film, I trotted down to the stage, blank Father's Day card in tow, and made my pitch to Tony Shaloub. Not only was he was tickled, he wrote a funny quote from the movie. Dad was tickled, too (and I had suddenly raised the bar for Father's Day presents...).

In 2003, I lost my opportunity to have Ray Harryhausen sign Dad's Father's Day card because I was busy trying not to have another panic attack while operating the Volunteer Department.

By 2004, I tried to get my shit together enough to be able to devote time to hunt for a Father's Day card signer. It turns out, shopping for Dad is hard on all accounts. Just when I was about to give up on any possible talent, I found him: film actor and star of one of Dad's favorite films, "National Lampoon's Animal House," who was in town screening a film he directed, Mr. Peter Riegert.

"Perfect!" I thought.

But somehow, a moment alone with Mr. Riegert never presented itself and before I knew it, I was on the train home to New York. Determined not to miss my chance to "wow" Dad for the second year in a row, I got Peter Riegert's contact information from the Festival Executive Producer (who thought to idea was hilarious!) and called the number, which I assumed to be his manager or assistant.

"Hi! I'm not here right now, leave a message!" said what I swore must've been Peter Riegert's voice on the answering machine.

"That couldn't be his cell phone...could it?" I puzzled. I called again. It went straight to voice mail: Same message. I hung up again.

"My God," I realized, "I do have Peter Regiert's cell phone."

I took a deep breath, called a third time, and left a message that someone from the Lake Placid Film Festival wanted to speak with him. A week later, and a week closer to Father's Day, I got a message on my cell: it was from Peter Riegert! Apparently, we had just missed each other, but he was "around."

I called him back, but it went straight to voice mail. I patiently waited as another week rolled by. I was becoming desperate. I had to be more aggressive, I reasoned with myself. Why not just tell him why I'm calling? What's the harm in that? Tony Shaloub was great about it, I'm sure Peter Riegert, of all people, will be flattered to want to sign a card I'm offering to send in the mail to him. So, pumped with self-confidence, I called him back and this time, left a message that it was Meg from the Festival again and might it be possible to get him to sign a card for my Dad?

At the end of the week, I had heard nothing and realized I had probably made a mistake. I probably scared him off, I'm sure he gets a million of those phone calls a day. Who did I think I was?! Feeling frustrated and defeated, I realized it was mere days from Sunday, June 14th and I'd better find a replacement gift for Dad. On that Sunday, I relayed the story to Dad as the "second part" of his gift on Father's Day.

He laughed so hardily at my feeble attempts to reach Riegert, he said that was present enough! What a Dad. However, the back-and-forth phone calls Peter Riegert and I shared became an on going joke between my sisters and I.

And, like all great inside jokes, it gained momentum, depth, perspective, heart, passion, and absurdity. The joke bastardized itself into the idea that the inexplicable silence from Peter Riegert was due to the fact that he kept dialing the wrong number and in reality, he had been desperately trying to get a hold of me in order to send me copies of his autographed headshot. The attempts became more numerous and more desperate. Then, the idea grew into a desperate attempt to pitch himself into a movie he had written (a movie to end all movies). Today, in his universe, Peter Riegert is a successful businessman (as owner and operator of over 400 chainstores from Gert-o Bell, GertMart, Gertie's The Matress Professionals, etc.) and will not rest until his esteemed colleagues of the Academy will pay him his dues. Add to that a note of magic realism: regardless of who was sending an email or leaving a message, it's always Peter Riegert trying to reach himself and/or his manager (who is also himself).

The following is an email correspondence between P. Gert (his self-given nickname) and himself.

Friday, December 17, 2004. 7:57pm

dear peter riegert,

i can't talk on the phone at work. i sit in the middle of everyone else's cubicles! HOWEEVER, i can talk visa vee email. i hope my french doesn't startle you. my language skills have always been to my advantage. in terms of communication skills, that it.

so, i want to talk to you about the rewrites. first, brilliant concept about the puppy/evil clown subplot. i think the emotional burdens that Smacky faced while he was a child, tending farm at the hoof gelatin factory can really be fleshed out.

clone plot/possibility???

second, while i think the viking battle scene was an entertaining idea, i think elizabeth taylor was not the correct choice for the she-male lead. let's brainstorm. possibly liza. possibly laura bush.

and finally, i think the foul play story line in the vampire bunker can be improved by focusing on count frank's wants. character arc anyone???

let me know what you think. shoot me one back, i'll back my email again in 13 seconds.

yours,
peter riegert

Friday, December 17, 2004. 11:15pm

ahem.

now, mr. riegert, regarding your regards about the rewrites: love the vampires, but am deathly afraid of vampires. will have to nix it. unless liz taylor can fill in for us here??? i know you said 'no' to her, but she's an old family friend and want to utilize her fabulous wig in the stabbing scene.

and the dog that played 'airbud' is now available for screen tests and i think he would make a fabulous costar to Smacky the clown. the clown's friend, buster boo, has been unable to come back into the united states because of some legal matters in jakarta, so the dog is at the top of a short list of replacements. do you hear cash registers ringing?????????!!!?!?!?!?!?!?

i will be at my winter cottage this evening working on the manuscript for my one man show, "please please me, my longing heart can't wait any longer: the portrait of a great man: the peter riegert story," so you can buzz me by telephone. 555-1212.

talk to ya!

p. gert
555-1212