I don't like this New Yorker profile of Guillermo del Toro; it spends most of its (longer than usual?) length discussing Del Toro's museum-like second home, his weight, and his fussing over creature designs for The Hobbit and the as-yet unrealized At The Mountains of Madness. The cumulative effect is to make Del Toro seem like an dork who doesn't have a clue about how movies are made or why a studio might be hesitant about backing a big-budget H.P. Lovecraft movie. There's nothing of the charming Del Toro on display in this 2006 Charlie Rose interview. At the same time, Del Toro does have a habit of sticking his toe into a lot of projects with little real activity. Maybe he should abandon heavily designed monster for awhile and try a quick, low-budget suspense film to cleanse the palate.
I heard a heavy shuffling sound: del Toro, who at the time weighed more than three hundred pounds, was coming from a back room. (As Doug Jones observes, “Guillermo doesn’t pick up his feet when he walks.”) Del Toro gave me a genial slap on the back, his hand like a bear paw. Bleak House, he said, had been “inspired by Forry Ackerman,” who had been his “hero of heroes.” He said, “He was so nice! If you called him in advance, he would let you come to the house. Then he’d take you out for a slice of cherry pie.” Del Toro wore black sweatpants, a black T-shirt, and an unzipped black hoodie, all of which had been laundered so many times that they had faded into clashing inky shades. He had large ice-blue eyes, round glasses, and the rubbery cheeks of a kindergartner. An unruly brown beard, touched with gray, grounded him in manhood. A film of perspiration on his forehead trapped strands of hair that were supposed to be combed to the side.
0 Yorumlar