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Damian
EXTRAtainmentUpdate!
Damian Marshall in Expletive-Laden Rant at Cannes
The Cannes Film Festival is known for its glamour and elegance, but that atmosphere took a turn to the profane this weekend when superstar Damian Marshall went off on a seemingly unprovoked tirade against director Anderson Lind while walking the red carpet with his co-stars for the premiere ofShadow League: Through Darkness. While the cast posed for photographers, Marshall broke away from the group suddenly and began to berate his director.
The rant, which lasted over two and a half minutes, was captured by fans and reporters alike. It has already been seen over 20 million times online since it was posted yesterday and includes Marshall referring to Lind as a “f*cking sadist” and a manipulative liar before storming off. He did not return for the film’s premiere or subsequent Q&A session with the film’s cast and director.
Asked after the fact, Lind could only express sympathy for the star. “Damian and I have worked together on threeShadow Leaguefilms and our relationship has always been a great one. I have to assume it was only the stress of our promotional tour that caused him to say things he didn’t mean.”
Lind, who won the Academy Award for Best Director last year for his work on100 Miles Home, would not answer questions on whether this was the first time there had been conflict between him and his star, currently the highest-paid actor in Hollywood. But this rift, coupled with the lukewarm reviews from critics for the latestShadow Leagueoffering, does reignite questions as to the future of the series. The release date forShadow League: Through Darknesswas pushed back twice last year, reportedly because Lind and representatives from New Film Cinema studios couldn’t agree on a final cut. Both Lind and Marshall are slated to work on the fifthShadow Leagueinstallment, set to begin shooting this fall.
Neither Marshall nor any of his representatives could be reached for comment, either regarding the incident at Cannes or about his future in the world’s most profitable film franchise.
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No one tellsyou that the entire world watching your every move can be lonely as hell.
It’s been ten days since I called my director a festering dog’s anus in public. Nine days since the studio sent me home from the promotional tour. Eight days since my agent said to lie low until she told me it was safe to leave the house. Seven days since a photographer tried to climb the bougainvillea in front of my pool house to get a picture of me. Six days since I’ve spoken to another human being face-to-face.
Safe to say, my cabin fever is reaching epic proportions.
“Put on your dancing shoes,” I say when Vin walks through my front door.
“What?” He pulls off his sunglasses, even though the sun’s been down for close to an hour. My best friend is a slave to fashion. “No, come on. Roberta says we need to lie low.”
“Since when did you do everything Roberta says?”
“Since she said my name’s on the list for junior agent?”
The statement makes me pause. Vin and I met close to a decade ago. I was so new to LA I wasn’t even a struggling actor yet. He’d been grinding it out in the audition trenches and background ranks for a year already and said he’d show me the ropes. In the end, his teachings worked so well, I landed roles I could only dream of, and Vin realized he was better suited to the business side of the industry. He’s been one part fixer, one part assistant for my agent, Roberta, for the last three years.
“Then we need to go out and celebrate. Come on. I’m already dressed.” After I cycled through the same clickbait headlines for the seventh time in an hour this afternoon, I gave up and squeezed into the skintight jeans and Balenciaga jacket I was gifted at a photo shoot last fall. Time for a jailbreak.
Vin sighs heavily. “But Roberta said—”
I’m done listening to Roberta. It’s been almost a week since Cannes, and I’ve barely been allowed to leave my house. The rant has gone viral about twenty times over. I’m a talking point, a meme, and a catchphrase. I tried to go for a run yesterday and got a block from my house before a car went by and someone hollered “you fucking sadist!” from the passenger window.
But I can’t let them win.
“I already called Jamari. He’s going to bring us in the back door. I’ll sit in the corner and drink. No one will even know we’re there.” Jamari is a bouncer at a dive bar we discovered not long after I first met Vin. He was also the object of Vin’s hopeless crush for a year after, so we spent a lot of time drinking there before it got too hard for me to go out and mingle with the general public.
“No.” Vin slumps on the stairs that lead up to the second floor. “Please, you don’t want to piss off Roberta more than you already have.”
“What Roberta doesn’t know won’t hurt her. How will she find out? Now, do you want to change or what?”
He’s never one to be left out of a party, even a party he doesn’t want to go to, so by eleven we’re making our way to Highland Park. Vin, who always has a few clothes at my house, has found a mesh top and a pair of orange pleather pants that have been a staple in his wardrobe for as long as I’ve known him. Despite all his protests, he has no idea how to fly under the radar.
The driver, who is used to the weird requests people like me make, has no problem pulling us around to the back of the bar, and Jamari opens the door to guide us through the narrow hall that stinks of piss and spilled beer.
Inside, the drinks pour fast and freely. Everyone here is a regular, and no one cares who I am. Turns out it’s karaoke night anyway, so their attention is toward the front. Vin sings “Baby Got Back” to everyone’s horror and amusement. I sing nothing and keep myself out of trouble, focusing on enjoying the bar rail brown liquor that’s the staple at a place like this. See? Nothing to worry about.
Until Vin’s hand lands on my thigh like a vise.
“What?” I ask. I’m feeling warm and mellow and really glad we came out here tonight.
