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Last updated on August 9th, 2017 at 12:42 pm
A bizarre tale of fame and lunacy from Jack Marx.
- It is testament to Marx’s honesty that he comes out of this article looking like more of a pratt than Crowe.
I’m not sure that the story justifies the big themes that Marx is trying to ascribe to it – its far too slight for the book he says he is considering.Posted by Pig Head Sucker on 2006 06 06 at 10:42 PM • permalink
- Morons will buy it anyway, after all it’s about “Our Rusty”.
A perfect example of giving a Kiwi piss-artist too much money and attention, then complaining when he acts like the world’s biggest bogan. Frankly I don’t give a fuck what any actor thinks, does or roots; their output is generally turgid, formulaic twaddle that at best slightly relieves boredom on a hungover Sunday afternoon.
The planet needs to get over the cult of personality. (When I worked at a major international airport, I used to take great delight in mocking the ardour expressed by airline ground staff and others whenever someone famous graced our tatty arrival hall with their beatific presence; outside actually performing the task for which they are richly rewarded, why is their existence of interest to anyone? To me they were just another bloody whiny passenger, either to be tipped over and their baggage left in a godawful mess or to be gotten rid of ask quickly as possible.)
A lot of sad gits need to get lives for themselves. And if that dickhead threw a telephone at me I’d give him a mouthful of dandruff to be going on with.
Agree also #2- you’d want to be getting a daily dumptruck of money to be doing PR and advance work for 30 Odd Foot Of Grunt- they’re worse than a duet between Nickelback and Babs Streisand.
- Ah Russell, you can’t polish a turd.Posted by Daniel San on 2006 06 06 at 11:23 PM • permalink
- I am disregarding this article.
Does Marx truly expect us to believe that an international celebrity of this standing could also be an onanistic dickwad?Posted by Margos Maid on 2006 06 06 at 11:25 PM • permalink
- In the days before film and television, when actors were limited to personal performances, they were tolerated for the much needed diversions they offered. They do serve an important purpose. However, individuals who worked in theater were considered untrustworthy, and with cause. We forget that these day, when the majority of people never come into actual contact with these people.
I don’t know how one would go about dissuading people from indulging in their personality cults. If one wants to hide from reality, it a matter, not of admiring someone for their achievements, but of allowing someone else to fill that place in your mind where your own character ought to be.
I ignore everything about actors except their work. For instance, I enjoy Russell Crowe’s movies, for the most part. He chooses interesting characters, and the movies are ususally well done. If I pay attention to anything other than what I see on the screen, however, I find the corruption is so widespread that I can’t stand watching anything. I’m not talking about a Michael Jackson-type corruption, either, just the run of the mill thoughtless, socialist, eco-friendly, anti-American stupidity is enough to put me off an actor, usually because it is accompanied by an attitude of condescension toward all the stupid people who paid to sit “out there in the dark.”
- Yahr, I be thinking the scurvy has addled Lucky Jack Aubrey’s last wit…Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 06 07 at 12:15 AM • permalink
- Citizen Crowe! I’ve been trying to tie together Rosebud, the infamous sled, to the phrase “Crowe’s bud.” No luck.Posted by Jim Treacher on 2006 06 07 at 12:41 AM • permalink
- Crowe is a good actor but an absolute whacko of a human being. And I couldn’t stop reading that article, as self-fellating as it was…..I kept expecting Marx to do something stupid (like hanging himself) to get more of Crowe’s attention.Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 06 07 at 01:05 AM • permalink
- Duck JeffS! It’s a phone!Posted by andycanuck on 2006 06 07 at 01:07 AM • permalink
- Thanks for the warning, andycanuck! 8^DPosted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 06 07 at 01:25 AM • permalink
- Well, that’s 15 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back.
-Big AlPosted by TheRealBigAl on 2006 06 07 at 01:29 AM • permalink
- I didn’t know what to make of this article.
Definitely has an unrequited love theme going for it.Posted by The (WHMECDM) President on 2006 06 07 at 01:54 AM • permalink
There was a journalist in London, Crowe wrote, who had written many stories on him, and as a consequence had enjoyed drinking with Russell in 22 cities of the world. This journalist had resisted all pressure to write bad Russell stories, and was thus much loved and rewarded. “So you see, Jack,” he wrote, “not all journalists are cunts.”
Just those that work for Fairfax?
A Blairian version of Roots.
Read the whole thing without my perception of Mr. Crowe changing a bit, while at the same time, my view of journalists as slimy back-stabbing social climbers, was only enhanced.
Just what the hell did Marx want from this performer?
Would Russell someday sweep him off of his feet and read poetry to him in a grassy field?
No one expects alot from pro-athletes but performance on the field, and rightly forgives them for the the foibles they posses in their personal lives.
The same expectations should be applied to actors and musicians as well.
We dont need this sort of self-serving Star-Fucking.
- Crowe craves the one thing he’ll never get – respect and acclaim for his music from the people that ‘matter’.
too bad.Posted by Islam/cancer-Chuck Norris/answer on 2006 06 07 at 02:59 AM • permalink
- Oh and I have no sympathy for wankers who bleat that they cannot afford to buy a house and then tell people they go for a holiday in New York.
If flying to the Big Apple is a priority for your young family, you probably deserve to be renting some shitty flat.Posted by The (WHMECDM) President on 2006 06 07 at 03:27 AM • permalink
that upon returning home that night we agreed to play along with Russell Crowe no further. His world was no place for us.
12 pages later……..(snore). Marx is a wanker and his positive use of the leftist’s friend (the personal pronoun) makes this a little suspicious to be swallowed whole.
Just who was using who?
“Actors are rogues, vagabonds and scoudrels, and if not, they should be.”
Can’t remember who said that but I agree.Posted by Dean McAskil on 2006 06 07 at 05:16 AM • permalink
- #31 I agree.
the plot goes like this:
A journalist gets a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be the personal publicist for a famous celebrity, and earn vast amounts of money.
Incredibly, the journalist declines the job. But as a goodwill gesture, he decides to write nice things about the celebrity in the hope that they can be friends. He throws in some nasty comments too, to fool the public. Celebrity is unimpressed.
Journalist, now feeling snubbed, writes long article about how the celebrity has a big ego. Clearly he is paid per word, not per idea.Posted by daddy dave on 2006 06 07 at 10:01 AM • permalink
- #37 maybe…
But if that’s right, let’s not pretend that it’s an article about Crowe. It’s really about Jack Marx himself. And I’m afraid “The real scoop on Jack Marx” just doesn’t have the same punch.Posted by daddy dave on 2006 06 07 at 11:54 AM • permalink
- What killed me was Marx’s lofty standards for celebrity journalism. He’s actually conflicted at first and later morbidly remorseful over the fact that he may have compromised his Journalistic Credibility over a Russel Crowe fluff piece. I’ve always assumed articles about celebrities are pay for play deals. It’s public relations, not investigative reporting on government corruption.
I’m with Crowe on this. “Media manipulation” is the smart play and the expected play. Jack Marx is a self-righteous douchebag in dire need of a life.Posted by The Apologist on 2006 06 07 at 11:56 AM • permalink
- Marx’s article reminded me of those long, pretentious stories in Rolling Stone (back when I ever read it), in which the real subject is not the actor or musician, but the—ta da—writer.
One thing struck me about the Crowe tale, though: Crowe is so insulted by the “yeah, whatever” of the concierge that he takes them to be fighting words, entitling him to strike back with physical force. In Crowe’s mind, any reasonable person should understand that. But Crowe cannot understand that having a phone hurled at his head causing injury entitled the concierge to call the cops. No, the concierge should’ve been a man about it and let it go. But, of course, Crowe himself didn’t need to be a man about the snotty insult. What kind of monstrously narcissistic dimwit, what kind of raging Caliban, do you have to be to think like that?
- Daddy Dave, Of course it’s an article about Marx, one I thought more candid than most. In a profession chock full of “self-righteous douchebags in dire need of a life” it was refreshing to hear a journalist admit to being in an inferior position. Most take a fuck with me at your peril approach – at least in print.
- #41 lmassie,
I agree, the honesty is refreshing, and it’s an interesting look at the phenomenon of celebrity. However at the same time, it’s also a hatchet job on Crowe. And in that respect, Marx has sunk to the level of prurient gossip.Posted by daddy dave on 2006 06 07 at 11:18 PM • permalink
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Jack Marx on Russell Crowe (SMH) and Inside the power plays and secret deals (The Age) by unknown journalist(s).
Bright sparks in a dark sky.