Yes, I was in New York City this past week – for about 36 hours. In that time, I met one of my idols, one of my former idols, a group of teen idols who make me sad for the future, and watched a terribly cheesy movie that somehow needed four people to write it.
I’m not going to go into any detail of the Camp Rock plot in this entry – I’m going to wait until its television premiere next weekend. If any company would send out hitmen to kill people who spoil the secrets of a mediocre TV movie, it would be Disney.
I got into New York around noon on Wednesday, and already the street outside my hotel was filled with camera crews and press tents and scores of screaming girls. None of the “stars” of Camp Rock were even showing up until about 4, but that didn’t stop the girls from screaming. Oh, no. That would be smart. Instead, they strained their vocal chords for hours – I could hear them from my hotel room, on the 29th floor, with the windows closed. For the frickin’ Jonas Brothers. I was tempted to ask some of the girls if they’d ever heard of Hanson, but I knew that was unlikely.
It was also hot as balls in New York City, so I was very happy I wasn’t one of the journalists who would be working on the red carpet (or white carpet or whatever stupid color they had) for an hour before the movie started. I had an assigned seat for the Camp Rock screening, so I didn’t bother to get in line until about 15 minutes before it started – and the line to get in wrapped around the block. I was again surrounded by young screaming girls. Most of them were with their parents who, judging by their insane jewelry and Louis Vuitton handbags, had paid a pretty penny to get their beloved Muffy or Cookie or Priscilla into the screening.
In the theater, once again, the girls would NOT. STOP. SCREAMING. I mean, really, do you think any of the Jonas brothers is going to be like, “Heyyyyy, that girl is crying simply because I am a hundred feet away! I should invite her out for a milkshake”? I don’t even think Kevin, the ugly one, would do that.
I know I said I would save my comments about the actual Camp Rock movie until a later post, but I will say one thing about it, something I never, ever thought I would say: High School Musical is a much better movie. And HSM only took one person to write it, while Camp Rock took four. FOUR. I could have written Camp Rock while sitting on the toilet, and what ended up in the toilet would still have smelled better.
I will admit that the soundtrack is cheesy fun, though. I have been listening to it nonstop since I got back. I hate myself.
At the Camp Rock afterparty – which required special passes, for reasons I don’t really understand – I was expecting a dance floor filled with hyperactive 12-year-olds who were high on Haiwaiian Punch. Imagine my delight when I saw that there was an open bar for the grownups. Hello, Jack and Coke, how are you two doing? I haven’t seen you in a while, and I think tonight is the perfect night for us to become reacquainted. “Heyyy, after shix or sheven of theesh drinksh, thish mushic ishn’t nearly sho bad. Yesh, Miley Shyrush, you shertainly could be a rock shtar! HOLD ON TO YER DREAMSH!”
The party also featured a performance by the Camp Rock female lead, Demi Lovato. It was… a performance. Of music, I guess.
I met Stephen Baldwin at the Camp Rock afterparty, because that’s how he entertains himself these days. If this were 12 or 13 years ago, when The Usual Suspects had come out, I would have been well chuffed, but instead I desperately searched for something to say other than, “What the fuck happened to you, man?” I went with, “Nice to meet you. Where’s the s’mores stand? Don’t lie, I can tell you’ve spent a good chunk of time there tonight.” (There really was a s’mores stand. It was a bigger highlight for me than meeting Stephen Baldwin was.)
I was incredibly excited when I met Julie Brown, who is completely awesome for one reason: Earth Girls Are Easy. Case in point:
Of course, Julie Brown is not only in Camp Rock, but she’s one its four writers, but the goodwill she earned with Earth Girls far outways one little mistake.
When I left the party, there was a big group of girls at the entrance, begging people who were leaving to give them their pass to the party.
Me: Here you go.
Girl: OH MY GOD!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! EEEEE!!!!
She hugs me.
Me: I’m going to take it back if you don’t stop doing that.
Thursday was the press junket, so I headed over to the hotel and enjoyed the delicious (and free!) buffet, including these wonderful mini-bagels, of which I had about twelve. Food always tastes better when someone else makes it and you don’t have to pay for it. The print interviews didn’t take place until after all the other interviews happened, so there was a lot of time spent waiting around, shooting the shit with the other journalists. We heard that one of the television reporters made the mistake of asking Nick Jonas about his breakup with Miley Cyrus – apparently, there was about 30 seconds of silence, and then Nick said, “I’m not here to talk about that.”
Awkward.
Now, because the Jonas brothers are such a big fuckin’ deal (kill me, please), there were no one-on-one interviews with them. Instead, there were about 6 or 7 tables with a few journalists at each, and each “star” of the movie would spend about 10 minutes with each table. But the Jonas brothers are a package deal, apparently, so we had to talk to all of them at once.
That’s right. I MET THE JONAS BROTHERS. You may all kneel at my feet and offer me presents.
First of all, why are Joe and Kevin Jonas trying to bring back the Miami Vice look? It was a stupid look on Don Johnson and it’s even worse now that it’s 20 years later. I realize that they weren’t alive when it was on and, therefore, think they’re coming up with a look that’s fresh and hip, but Jesus, if you don’t want anything covering your forearms, wear a short-sleeved shirt instead of pushing your suit jacket sleeves up.
Also, Nick Jonas: a combination of Danny Zuko and Fonzie. A little sad, but actually pretty amusing when you lack a heart. So: hee hee hee.
I apparently made a bit of a faux pas when I asked the brothers about their purity rings. See, they wear the rings in Camp Rock even though they’re not playing themselves, so I asked if that was a conscious decision to have their characters also be waiting until marriage for sex.
Joe: No, it’s more like if I’d worn my favourite watch in a scene.
Me: But that means it’s also your character’s favourite watch. Or at least a watch your character would wear.
Pause.
Joe: I didn’t really put that much thought into it.
Me thinking: Having seen Camp Rock, I can believe that.
After they left the table, one of the other journalists at my table (who was from Malaysia) complimented me for having the guts to ask them about the purity rings, since she’d been told not to bring it up.
Oops.
Me: We weren’t supposed to talk about the purity rings?
Malaysian Journalist: Well, my boss told me not to mention it, since so many American teenagers wear the rings anyway and it’s not a big deal.
The journalists from Germany and the UK and I all burst out laughing before telling her that no, most American teenagers do not wear purity rings. The Malaysian journalist blushed and swore and we all enjoyed a hearty laugh at her expense. Mockery: bringing people together.
As for Demi Lovato, she’s a very pretty girl and is clearly trying to appear more “edgy” than she does in the movie. LOADS of black eye makeup, black nail polish, an ACDC T-shirt, and a bomber jacket with the sleeves pushed up. Way to leave Barney and Friends in the past!
I did hear a rumor about her at the press junket that she was in an elevator with her Disney handler and some of the other journalists, except she didn’t realize they were press, and she made a comment about how annoying it was to have to share the elevator with regular people and tourists. I have absolutely no proof that this happened, but it’s kinda funny, and I like talking shit about people, so GOOD ENOUGH.
I also ended up interviewing Julie Brown, and the look on her face when she realized that the crazy fan from the night before was an actual member of the press was priceless. You will be happy to know that I didn’t even have the sense to act ashamed. Instead, I was like, “Ha, you have to act like you like me so I won’t write bad things about you. Sucka!”
One of the other actresses in the movie, Alyson Stoner, was both lovely to talk to and incredibly depressing. She told us that she’d just graduated high school and was looking to start college in the near future. SHE IS FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. If you are ever looking to feel bad about how little you have accomplished in your life, spend five minutes talking to her. However, she won a lot of points by admitting the clothes she had to wear in Camp Rock were ridiculous and she was a little embarrassed about it. I was like, “This is on the record! Disney is going to send hitmen after you!”
In the lobby of the hotel, I met BRADLEY COOPER of Alias fame, and good lord, he is a gorgeous man. I was very, very suave, and said something like, “HEY! YOU’RE BRADLEY COOPER!” and then I blushed furiously, shook his hand, and ran away.
Every once in a while, I’d go down to the street to have a cigarette, and there were about 10 girls waiting on the sidewalk for the off chance the Jonas brothers would come down and say hi. They were there at 10 a.m. and were still there when I left at 5. Everytime I went down, they would hound me for information.
Girls: What are they doing? What’s going on? Are they done soon?
Me: I don’t know. We just had lunch.
Girls: What did they eat?!
Me: I didn’t eat lunch with them. I just get to interview them later.
Girls: OMG WTF YOU ARE SOOOOOO LUCKY.
Me: Sure.
Girls: So what do they do after?
Me: Listen. I sit in a room. The Jonas brothers come in, I talk to them, and they leave. If they’re not in the room, I have absolutely no idea what they’re doing.
Girls: If we give you a note, will you give it to them?
Me: No.
Girls: Why not?!
Me: That’s really, really unprofessional.
Girls: Why?
Me: Maybe if you weren’t skipping school, you’d learn why.
When I left, though, I did give the girls my bag o’ swag (minus the Camp Rock hoodie, because it was crazy comfortable). However, I only gave it to them on one condition.
Me: I will give this to you if you stop skipping school to follow shitty bands.
Girls: THE JONAS BROTHERS ARE NOT SHITTY.
Me: Fine, I’ll take my bag with me, then.
Girls: NOOOOOO OKAY FINE.
Me: I don’t believe you.
Girls: NO REALLY!
Me: I still don’t believe you, but lucky for you, I don’t want to take this on the plane with me.
Girls: WOOO HOOOO EEEEEE!!!
Me: Seriously, though, what is it about the Jonas brothers that makes it worth your time to spend hours upon hours waiting on the sidewalk on the off chance they will come down and talk to you?
Girls: They’re so sweet and their music is great and it speaks to us and they’re really nice and we know they’re going to come down and talk to us because they’re soooo good to their fans.
Me: But they’re probably just going to shake your hand and sign a few autographs. You’ll be happy with that, after standing around for seven hours?
Girls: YESSSSS!
Me: …Jesus. Good luck, guys.
And with that, I left to go cram as much sight-seeing as I could into my remaining two hours in New York City. I made it to the Central Park zoo, Time Square, and MoMA, all of which managed to get rid of most of the bad taste in my mouth left by all the Jonas brothers ass-kissing I witnessed.
I did have a fantastic time in New York – including seeing Camp Rock and talking to the Jonas brothers – and as bitchy and sarcastic as I was about the whole press experience, I was pretty jazzed that my job still allowed me to go to New York for free. Hell, I’d spend a week spooning with the Jonas brothers if it meant I got to go to New York for free. And then I’d probably make a few bucks letting their 14-year-old fans touch the parts of my body that touched the Jonas brothers.
Name Dropper 