march 3.2000»
z
"My acting careen
has nothing to do
with my sexuality.
I don't want to he
a role model.
I don't want to bo
the Shirley Temple
of the gay world."
— Actor Rupert Evintt t i Playboy
magazine, Jaittiry 2100 issue
.
by
C hristopher D. C uttone
ienvenidos a Miami/
There are not, I think, words more beau­
tiful to a Portlander in winter. Except per­
haps, “Do you want to fly to Miami Beach
for a film screening, stay in a fabulous hotel and
interview a movie star.7’’
Does it matter who is the star in question? Per­
haps, if it were someone truly awful— like Jen­
nifer Love Hewitt or Charlie Sheen. But tell me
it’s the utterly delectable and openly gay Rupert
Everett, and that he’s starring in The N ext Best
Thing with none other than Madonna, and you
can add a few exclamation points to my answer!
So, of course, off I went to the gay mecca of
Miami Beach full of excitement and some
naive expectations. Being a press junket virgin,
I thought it would all be too terribly glamorous
for words. The weather was balmy, I enjoyed
the film, and Mr. Everett was positively charm­
ing— but no matter how much it seemed like a
free vacation, it was a business trip.
My first clue should have been that, in
addition to packing clothes appropriate for any
contingency (including a whirlwind romance
with a certain sexy movie star), 1 had to do
research. 1 found out that Everett has written
two novels and has been in a host of films,
including An Ideal Husband, Inspector Gadget
and My Best Friend’s Wedding. I read two recent
interviews with the 40-year-old actor: his June
1999 tell-all in Us magazine and the less-
ironic-than-it-sounds Playboy interview from
January 2000. 1 also learned that John
Schlesinger, director of The Next Best Thing, is
a gay man whose credits include Midnight C ow -
boy and Marathon Man.
The hotel was, in fact, the most luxurious
hotel at which I have ever been— or am likely
ever to be— a guest. A bit austere, but so over­
whelmingly well-appointed that 1 had no
choice but to spend a few moments on the toi­
let as soon as the bellhop left me alone.
Young, gay and single in Miami Beach at
11 p.m. on a Saturday night, 1 nevertheless
went directly to bed so as to be at my best for
the next day’s screening and meet-the-star
cocktail reception. Room service breakfast in
bed notwithstanding, I intended to wield my
ruthless journalistic objectivity in reviewing
the film and felt that a night on the town,
however exciting, would be poor preparation.
The open-bar reception was at Liquid,
apparently Miami Beach’s hippest gay night­
club— if only for the moment— which is oddly
located above a Payless Shoe Source and is dec­
orated even more strangely, as if it were part
cave and part sci-fi horror movie set. The
event was a chance for me and my fellow
members of the press— 22 of us in all, the cho­
sen elite representatives of the country’s best
Continued on Pqge 2 3
21