Monday, May 31, 2010
Are they dating? Even though Robert Pattinson wasn’t sitting beside his Twilight co-stars tonight at Sydney’s Luna Park, trust us, the question about his relationship with the awkward Kristen Stewart was lingering on everyone’s lips.
And as the “bedroom scene” from the upcoming Eclipse movie played out on the big screens, off-camera we saw a frazzled Kristen Stewart mouth the words “Here we go!” to Taylor Lautner, who promptly put his arm around her and gave his mate what looked like a comforting squeeze. Whether this means she was once again dreading the expected questions about her off-screen romance with the once tousled-haired hottie (who just shaved his head for a new movie), we have no idea. If Rob had been there, we might have had the chance to psychoanalyse him too, but he wasn’t, dammit. What do you think?
It was actually quite cringe-worthy watching Kristen at times tonight. OK, she’s on a tight schedule and has been busy doing movie promo stuff for days – including an exclusive interview with Nova’s Ryan, Monty and Wippa today, but whereas Taylor is all smiles and full-moon grins for the cameras, Kristen talks with all the grace of a car crash victim at times. Bless her. She shuffles in her seat, legs crossed, fingers in her hair or on her face, nervously moving her body in every which way she can to mentally block the fact that she is where she is. But to be fair, she’s being forced to live in the spotlight, like a terrified rabbit in a science lab. How would you like it, being prodded, poked and tormented by people with flashlights and occasionally, evil intentions?
The media’s been pretty tough with Kristen. She’s criticised for talking, criticised for not talking, and asked silly questions all the time, like “Who’s your fashion role model?” It’s no wonder she flipped the bird last night from her balcony at the Park Hyatt hotel. Imagine having the paps hovering outside your window when you’re trying to wind down. Want a sneaky ciggie in private? Forget about it. The birth of the telephoto lens and instant Internet access put a stop to that little trick ages ago!
Back to Kristen’s fashion role model. She doesn’t have one, actually. When asked tonight at Luna Park, she threw the question back at the girl who asked it, who consequently didn’t have an answer either. “See how tough it is?” Kristen told her, smiling. To be fair, the poor girl is asked a lot of other stuff any girl at all wouldn’t want to answer on a stage in front of 400 people!
She still looked gorgeous sat amongst the lucky audience in the Big Top tonight, however! In her black top and yellow skirt, hair pulled back, her skin looked almost as bright as Taylor’s, who rocked a greeny brown jacket and answered every question like an articulate man, rather than the teenage boy who was first thrust into this million dollar franchise! Taylor revealed his favourite book of the series was Eclipse (Kristen’s was New Moon), while Kristen admitted she didn’t get to take part in much of the action during the filming for Eclipse:
“They’d all go off to fight camp and learn this and that, and I’d be like, well, I’ll just read my book,” she laughed. Well, we know Bella needs protection. Wouldn’t want her getting hurt – that’s what Edward and Jacob are fighting for, at the end of the day, right?
The fans were a screaming mass of energy tonight, the media were as snap happy in their raincoats as the teenage girls were, holding signs reading statements like “Jacob, I wanna have your puppies” and “Werewolves do it better!” After the 45 minute Q&A, Kristen and Taylor spent about 20 minutes on the red carpet (more like a rain-soaked black walkway!) signing posters, DVDs and getting their photos taken with fans. One girl even got to hand Kristen a birthday book she’d made for her in April but didn’t get round to mailing: “Kristen took it off me, and she couldn’t believe it, she said thanks! I got 80 people from my twitter group to write a page each, and now, she has it. I can’t believe it!” she told us, as her friend showed us a photo she had taken with Kristen, who was grinning like mad, for once.
There’s more madness for the Twilight twosome tomorrow as they appear on Sunrise at 6.30am, and talk to Merrick, Dools and Ricki-Lee from Nova fm. You know where to come for the updates!
Robert Pattinson has gushed about girlfriend and co-star Kristen Stewart, calling her surprisingly fierce.
The Twilight vampire told Merrick, Dools and Ricki-Lee that meeting the 20-year-old actress for the first time was "weird".
"It was weird. I mean, everything about the pairing with Kristen kind of worked out for the story," he said.
"I went in to the audition having absolutely no idea of what to do and because of the way she was playing it kind of shocked me into doing a performance that I didn't realise I could do.
"I guess she brings a kind of toughness and also a kind of mystery to Bella, which is not really there in the book.
"She's kind of in a lot of ways, a damsel in distress in the book, and Kristen's very...there's a kind of fierce fierceness behind her, which I didn't really expect the actress who played Bella would have."
The British actor said he is still surprised at the success of Twilight and that its success puts a certain pressure on him.
"In the beginning I had no idea. It seems to get bigger and bigger and bigger every week that is going past," he said.
"I feel pressure to live up to making a good movie, but I mean the expectations are so diverse.""
Sunday, May 30, 2010
The actress stars in a shocking new rock biopic, carving out a niche of respect after years of teenybopper fare.
written by Gregg LaGambina
The courtyard looks like a wedding cake. Take a pickaxe to all this swept marble and you’d hit yellow sponge made from eggs, milk, and margarine. Perfect triangles of evergreen leap from topiary tubs, fountains make chlorinated arcs into shallow pools emptied of even a single tossed penny. And there in the distance is our misplaced plastic bride, truant from the cake top, a few layers down, slouched against a cream-colored column in a sunlit archway, exhaling Camel smoke. She is looking at the ground and looking everywhere at the same time.
“I knew it was going to be you,” she says cryptically, raising her head and stamping out the cigarette.
To be Kristen Stewart takes antennae. Offset from the scant groupings of hotel guests and khaki-panted walkabouts slowly roaming the manicured grounds, Stewart is hiding badly. Even if she were not that girl from Twilight, she’d be that girl over there from who-knows-where, in black jeans and a gray t-shirt, smoking and glowering and trying very hard not to look anyone in the eyes.
With her invisible province breached by my approaching footsteps, her guard eases only slightly after an introduction.
Seated now near a new tree planted in freshly combed dirt, a nervous waiter takes drink orders and scurries off, all of his body language mutely bellowing “I know who you are!” Stewart is talking about Sean Penn. She knows him. She appeared in his film Into the Wild a few years ago and she just bumped into him out in front of the building. She had said, “What’s up?” He half-smirked and said, “Haiti.” They tried to linger, to smoke and talk, but in a matter of minutes, shutters were clicking, some paparazzi had gathered, and the conversation was abruptly over.
Now, freshly agitated, Stewart’s entire aspect is animated by nuisance. She winces with pain, clutching at her neck. “I must’ve slept on it wrong. Every time I look over my shoulder, it kills.” (Regardless, she’ll persist to peer behind her every so often with an audible start, turning back around with a grimace.) Everything has conspired and aligned here perfectly this afternoon for Stewart to generously, and without pause, talk shit about whatever topic merits her ire. Fame is always a good place to begin.
“If I could go to work every day and not have to be followed around by fucking fifteen gangsters trying to take my picture, willing to do anything for one… It’s not normal,” she says. “It’s funny how in America fame is placed so fucking high—above wealth, above happiness, above everything. It’s so not true. And I knew that before [I was famous]. It was so obvious to me. I don’t know how people can’t see that from an outsider’s perspective. My perspective is the same: it’s exactly what I thought it would be.”
The waiter returns with iced tea and soda, apologizing for interrupting, but wanting to let us know that the kitchen will be closing soon and if we want anything cooked, now’s the time to say so. Stewart politely declines, moving ice cubes around in her glass with a clear plastic straw. The waiter disappears like mist.
The thing is, she’s not ranting. She’s not dour, mean-spirited, or even complaining. All of this is like describing the clouds, or the leaves on the trees. They are things that exist in the world and she is talking about them. She’ll soon be 20 years old. One film almost three years ago made her the most famous teenaged actress in America and people twice her age write blurbs saying she should smile more. Or wear different shoes. Or get a new haircut. And she’s right. It’s all very fucking stupid.
“It’s very aggressive, too,” she says. “If fame is the optimum, ultimate position you could ever imagine yourself in, then you would just be the luckiest person in the world. So, anything could happen to them and you shouldn’t care.
Why would you care or feel bad about a famous person? They’re famous! I really appreciate everything in my life, but that’s not why I started acting.”
In the gulf between Twilights Two and Three, Stewart is attempting to loosen the vice grip of franchise-driven notoriety by playing serious roles in smaller films. It’s an oft-played strategy of the recently fan-swarmed, but it’s no more or less calculated than the mania surrounding her as Bella Swan. It can’t be planned. It’s all dumb luck. If anything, it’s the largesse of the vampire fiends who’ve unwittingly allowed these other films to get made and maybe even seen.
In music-video director Floria Sigismondi’s feature debut The Runaways, Stewart takes on the creation myth of one Joan Jett in her earliest days as a pre-packaged punk rocker before she left and launched her celebrated career fronting the Blackhearts. Any stylist with a thimbleful of talent could’ve made Stewart look like Jett, but to fill in the fabled space of an already-made icon is something else. It takes acting and Stewart does her best in a middling film comprised heavily of the clichιd rise-and-fall melodrama seen before in countless other movies about the same thing. It’s all about mood and lighting and wardrobe and the slow-motion snorting of drugs. In short, it looks and feels like it was made by a music-video director.
Plus, it’s Dakota Fanning’s movie, really. All tarted up and lip-glossed as Cherie Currie, she makes any gent in the room old enough to use a razor squirm in their seats damply like Humbert Humbert (if they happen to recall she’s still a full year shy of her sweet sixteenth). But Stewart is good in it. Only a few minutes in and you’re thinking of Jett not Robert Pattison and his lovingly brandished fangs. And that’s no small feat considering the gluttonous market reach of those Twilight films that have befuddled even this waiter—who’s back now, by the way—hovering with a silver tray of freshly baked cookies.
“On the house!” he announces, and just as quick, flutters away like a bow-tied dragonfly.
But it’s Stewart’s other new film that might actually do the trick. In director Jake Scott’s Welcome to the Rileys, she plays Mallory, a street-nymph lap-dancer adrift in New Orleans until the well-intentioned James Gandolfini shows up and forces her to get her fucking shit straight like only James Gandolfini can. It played along with Runaways at this year’s Sundance and it was Rileys that surprised, inspiring even the beloved Roger Ebert to wax, “Who knew she had these notes? I’m discovering an important new actress.”
“That was awesome,” Stewart says of Sundance, glaring at the newly arrived plate of baked goods like it’s a shoe that fell from the sky. “It was the most satisfying experience to be able to sit in front of 300 people who had just seen the movie. Even more so with Rileys because that girl is so broken. I couldn’t get her out of me for a while. It was scary. To be able to talk about that with people who have just seen it, that was the most insane experience.
“I was so scared of going to Sundance,” she continues. “I thought everyone would write shit reviews. I thought everyone was waiting, itching to say that I should just go back to Twilight. And no one said that. I put so much into it. I would have died working on that movie. So if they did say those bad things, then I might as well just stop now. I got really lucky because those two movies happened to be so different [from Twilight]. I choose my work instinctually. I couldn’t have a plan. I would always fall short. What I do is so impulsive. Who knows what you’re going to connect with and then be able to live up to? I can’t just read a script and say it’s great because there’s a part for me, my age, perfect—I can’t live that life. You know what I mean? That’s just not me.”
Suddenly, an overweight older woman appears tableside, gesturing at the cookies. “Ooh! Do we get some of these too?”
“No,” the waiter says, matter-of-factly, seeming to appear from the same magical finger snap that borne them both.
“What makes these people so special?” the older lady smiles and winks conspiratorially at Stewart, who is holding her neck again, with a slight grimace, exploring the pinched nerve (or whatever it is) that’s been plaguing her usually keen ability to scan for these kinds of interlopers. We push the plate nearer to the woman and her eyes widen. Gratified, she waddles off, the sound of crisp oatmeal giving way to eager teeth.
This, apparently, has created an opening, as a mustachioed black man in a yellow polo tucked into smartly pressed trousers is clasping his hands nervously and awaiting his turn to talk. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say that I’m just a really big fan. Is this your agent? I don’t mean to interrupt. I’m just a big fan. Hello.”
“Thanks,” says Stewart, manufacturing a convincing benevolence, slightly smiling even.
The man stands there a moment or two longer, a small infinity that makes everything slow down to an awkward standoff. He finally backs away, bowing almost, and returns to his own table. [Later, the waiter will whisper to me, “Sorry about that. We’ve been having problems with him lately.” Meaning what, I’ll never know, and leaving all sorts of odd scenarios in the mind’s eye to fill in the blank left by the word “problems.”]
“He was nice, at least.”
“He was nice,” she concedes. “He didn’t ask for a picture. That’s good, because then they go and Twitter them and then the paparazzi know where I am and they drive to my location and it gets crazy. Twitter fucks me over every day of my life. Because people go, ‘I’m sitting next to Kristen Stewart right now’ and then they show up. I see people on their phones and I just want to take these cookies and throw them. It’s like ‘Get off your fucking phone and get a life!’ I get so mad. It’s like you’re trampling on someone’s life without any regard. And it’s rampant. Everyone can do it now. Buy a camera and you’re paparazzi; get a Twitter account and you’re an informant. It’s so annoying.”
So, we’re back to the beginning, talking about this again. Perhaps it’s unavoidable sitting out here in the sun in Beverly Hills where half the people are famous and the other half are asking them for handshakes (or interviews). Or a fucking cookie for Christ’s sake. Might as well embrace it.
“Have you ever punched anyone in the face?”
“No!” she says, laughing slightly. “I’ve hit people, but I’ve never clocked someone.”
“People think you smoke a lot of pot.”
“People say that all the time. People are like, ‘She’s on crack. She’s a dopehead.’”
“How do you muster the strength to even leave the house?”
“You just go into the mode of ‘Don’t give a fuck.’ Otherwise…” And that word just hangs there. Otherwise what? Someone gets punched? Cookies get thrown? The more obvious question becomes: Then why sit here and listen to questions and pose for photographs to go along with your answers? How can you possibly justify complaining after participating?
“Right,” she pauses. “I don’t have an answer for that. I guess people just want you to be so over the moon for the position you’re in that you have no principals, you have no sense of the world around you, and you’re living in a celebrity fantasyland. Is that what they want?”
I shrug. I might even nod.
“Well, I don’t want to be that and they can continue to talk shit. But that’s just scary.”
No, what’s scary is that a grown man (at least twice her age) got up from his table to tell Kristen Stewart that he’s a big fan. A fan of what, exactly? Assuming he’s referring to the films she’s appeared in—and it’s probably safe to bet he’s only seen the pair of Twilight installments—what does he want in exchange for his hello? A story, probably. Something to tell someone else that adds a discernable ounce of worth and weight to his own life, tipping the scales ever-so-slightly in his favor. Or something like that. But if I were him and he could hear what I was thinking right now, I’d tell me to fuck right off. (Or something like that.)
But the fact is, this young woman sitting at this table (the one where a cookie has gone missing) is engaging and charismatic and smart and pretty. The precision of her disdain and general enthusiasm for shit-kicking is infectious. She makes you want to root for her. Sure those high school vampire flicks can be mocked easily and often, but you’re a liar (or lack an essential levity in your life) if you weren’t entertained at least by their overwhelming eagerness to entertain.
But most of all, every time she looks over her shoulder and winces, you wince too. The vigor with which she’s clutching on to any semblance of authenticity is something you’d like to help her to keep too. Yeah, sure, she’s mostly that girl from Twilight, an idea she rightfully loathes, but an actual thing for which she seems grateful. If Welcome to the Rileys is evidence of anything, she’ll be more than that in time. That is, if a world full of fluttery waiters, cookie thieves, and dumbstruck fanboys trapped in adult bodies don’t beat down her will. Ah, fuck it. I’m a fan now too. Sorry. Throw me on the burning pile with the rest of them.
“Yeah, I definitely act differently. I’m definitely overcoming a lot of it. The only insecurity I’ve developed is just being overly paranoid about everyone looking at you when they’re not,” she admits, grabbing at the pain in her neck again, arresting herself from the unending urge to look around. “I used to love getting out and tripping around, but now I have to look at the ground. Otherwise, you’re inviting interaction every thirty seconds which is impossible to manage. But that’s not everywhere. I can still go places. It’s not sad, it just sort of is.
“I really love what I do. It’s just a different life,” she concludes, pressing fingers deeper into the tendons above her shoulder blade. “I get defensive and that has probably perpetuated people’s idea of me never smiling. I kind of shake my leg too, so people think I’m always uncomfortable. I understand why people say I’m such a negative Nancy. I can’t pretend. I’ve always been involved, very personal. I like to write too. Acting and living and writing: it’s all one and the same. It’s just consideration for other people and yourself.”
“Part of your wanting to act, to write, comes from your interest in other people?”
“Yeah, me being one of them!”
Kristen Stewart smiles. She finally drops her hand from her neck, looks up, and smiles. There’s no one around. The restaurant’s closed. There’s no one here to tweet or text. Anyone with a real camera is likely chasing Sean Penn down some nearby hallway. But goddamnit if the woman didn’t just smile and no one was here to see it. We both look around and silently decide the conversation might as well end here.
“Well, I won’t put you through any more pain.”
“Yeah, that was awful,” she says, standing up to leave.
A smile and a joke? There’s no one else left here to ask. Where is that fucking waiter when you need him?
Thanks to TeamEdwardPOV
(Click to Enlarge)
I don't normally post pap pic's but I made an exeption to these shots as a) it's not really intrusive (i.e. not getting up in their face) and b) it's showing Kristen & Taylor having fun in my home town! - Enjoy! ~ Mel (OzTwilightTwit)
Kristen and Taylor weren't the only ones on Sydney Harbour today - I took some shots while I was on the ferry home to Rose Bay wharf (yes, I was hoping to bump into them!)
Saturday, May 29, 2010
In association with VUE Cinemas,we have TEN pairs of tickets to give away to the first Irish screening of
The Twilight Saga: Eclipse
This will be a Midnight screening on Friday 2nd July in VUE Cinema, Liffey Valley, Dublin.
Competition details will be announced in the coming weeks, as well as the rest of the exciting news!
So stay tuned for further details and keep up to date with all Twilight news here at I.T.S!
If you have any questions please contact Bee @ - Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Please note: Our sister site & fab affiliates Irish Twilight Fans are also running a similar competition in conjunction with VUE Cinemas. This is seperate to our competition.