This Thursday 11/30 at 8 PM, The Roxy Cinema presents a 35mm print of Slums Of Beverly Hills & Natasha Lyonne's short film Cabiria, Charity, Chastity followed by a Q&A with Kevin Corrigan & Natasha Lyonne. Tickets are $10. Head to www.roxycinematribeca.com to get yours now!
I’d always felt like the oldest girl in showbiz. By the time I met Gary Fleder for his Janis Joplin film I was roughly 19 and already had been at work as a kid actor for 13 years. I wanted the part so bad. No one knew Janis like I did from the inside out. I’d known her that way since I’d memorized all her lyrics as a little girl actress readying myself for the day I got to play her. And here it was. Slums of Beverly Hills had just come out & I was a hot commodity. We would meet in LA while I was in town to discuss the project. He was 35-40. I was staying at my friend Zoe’s apt in West Hollywood. I didn’t have a car cuz I lived in New York City. I thought I was a real tough guy back then. Sometimes I still do. I wore baby blue corduroy bell bottoms stolen from my friend Annie P and a white wife beater. My hair was huge, curly, messy. Big platform boots. Gary offered to pick me up since I had no car. That seemed fair. I’m pretty sure it was still daylight. We went to a bar on Sunset & I started drinking Southern Comfort figuring, hey- this’ll prove how Method I am. Janis loved Southern Comfort. Being broken & freewheeling. People loved identifying with her pain & her mess. I can remember him driving me back to Zoe’s place & me saying not to come up but really what I recall is suddenly having this huge guy overpowering me and me saying the word “NO” quite clearly. He won I guess. When we woke up I vaguely remember some form of a goodbye on his part like we’d had a fun night. I was pretty devastated by the whole scene and declined flying back to LA for the screentest. In my head at the time I tried to comfort myself with some of her “get it while you can” shtick or maybe that one about how “freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose/nothing, I mean nothing, honey if it isn't free”; beating myself up for not being clear headed, wondering what the hell had just gone down and if I’d allowed it. But now, I also think of these words of hers to the young girls unsure if to speak up, in awe of those who already have & to the teenager inside me still questioning if my truth is valid enough: “Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got.”