Archive for September, 2004

Wednesday, September 29th, 2004

break a leg
break a leg
break a leg
break a leg


Tuesday, September 28th, 2004

if you this.

Tuesday, September 28th, 2004

Monday, September 27th, 2004


Saturday, September 25th, 2004

Friday, September 17th, 2004

Thursday, September 16th, 2004

agreed, but only if..

Wednesday, September 15th, 2004

Teatro La Fenice

Tuesday, September 14th, 2004

I didn’t know I was going to the awards ceremony, so I had no formal clothes with me. Last minute, my best friend Theresa, who lives in Texas, found and overnighted me a 70s prom tux to Venice*. Scarlett Johanson sat right behind me, looking impossibly luxe.




“Sept 14, 2004
I miss you dear
the tux you sent me for the awards
you saved me
I’ll be busy the next few days with press and meetings
I miiight have a new film?..
have lots to show you
tell you
always and forever,

← click





———– ★ Dec 30, 2023 addendum:

Hey dumbass, it’s me –you– calling from the future, with some nails to your coffin.

Starting with my/your/our secret lover M.P.’s surprise visit to Venice for an actual, very real marriage proposal that morning at Caffè Florian, immediately after this photo was taken:

click →

A little fancy box had found its way under your napkin on the tray; in it, a goddamn custom made Kessaris gold wedding ring with a very thoughtful engraving round the inside. I whispered a version of let me think about it and promptly checked out of my body, hyperfocusing on my numero uno Venetian samefood: Florian’s toasted mozzarella and grilled aubergine sandwiches slathered in truffle butter, scuffing it down, making no eye contact. M.P. flew back to Athens crushed and unappreciated for this rare, tender, poetic, thoughtfully orchestrated gesture, the stark contrast of life with Ε.L., a typical example of which hilariously (or ironically?) played out in Lido, a few days later.

↑ click

Fulfilling my Delivery festival obligations also meant checking out of the hotel on the producer’s dime; but I was basking in the absurd predicament of being in both Greek films in competition that year, the other one being a short in the Corto Cortissimo section of the festival, conveniently scheduled to premiere later that day, directed by none other than my darling boyfriend E.L. who had just arrived in Lido. As I stood in the chilly evening breeze, suitcase in hand, asking him to sneak me into his hotel room which he shared with actress A.A., he explained to me that hotel policy was hindering such a plan, turned around and right back to his room to freshen up. I don’t remember anything else of Venice after that, just his back waking away and a few different park benches. Hilariously, we’ll remain together for another 6 years.

Damn, I should have accepted that marriage proposal a few days before, heh.. δε βαριέσαι.

Before I forget, and believe me I have really tried, the best gem for last;  Back in Athens, the Greek Film Center informed me that I had chosen for that year’s Berlinale Shooting Stars talent showcase, a huge deal for anyone with ambitions to work internationally.
For some reason Panagiotopoulos always promoted his films with a “leading stars couple” type of angle. No matter the story, or who carried the plot, he sold it the same. One morning, a few days before a magazine cover shoot I had been booked to do and after my usual breakfast of champions (typical for self-medicating undiagnosed autistics), consisting of knocking back a 0,5mg bromazepam with room temperature vodka on an empty stomach, Panagiotopoulos called to pressure me to share the cover with Alexia. After years of pounding the pavement, this was my first big feature film lead and that was the only way I was going to communicate this project to the press. He was typically dictatorial and crass in the call, I was typically defiant, stubborn and shite at keeping my composure when triggered. I staunchly refused to play along with his dumb couple shtick, I would prefer to do the shoot solo. He hangs up. Shortly after, Alexia calls me in a fit of rage, screaming indecipherable profanities, repeating “idiot” before she hangs up.

The magazine cover shoot would eventually go ahead with just Alexia. I didn’t ask for an explanation, they didn’t volunteer one. I texted Panagiotopoulos, all caps, CANT WAIT TILL YOU FUCKING DIE. Mere hours after that, Alexia also replaced me on Shooting Stars.
I adore Alexia and we had been pretty close, supporting friends since we had done Cleansed in 2001. Still love and appreciate her.

All of this to say, when the dust settles, in the end, none of this matters. Life is a bumpy ride and poor Nikos is not around anymore. (I so often think of Marianna and worry how she is, they were so in love) I cherish the film, one of the last 11-week-long shooting schedule-shot-on-35mm films there were in Greece. Old school filmmaking and I’m loving having had such a hefty and obscenely fun taste of it. As wonky as it is, as wonky as I am in it, it’s a grand benign dinosaur and it’s a time capsule. It’s a celebration.



*While I can confirm your category that night was “1982 Hoboken Trailer Park Teen Rented Prom Tux realness”, a year later that entire outfit (complete with less appealing mustard twin version of the pale baby blue ruffled shirt) would become my costume as ugly Darren in Garen Owen’s The Drowned World, one of my theater performances I’m most, most proud of.

↓ C L I C K 


Monday, September 13th, 2004
home at last.

Thursday, September 9th, 2004

Thursday, September 9th, 2004


Wednesday, September 8th, 2004


“..un ragazzo senza nome e forse senza patria
(bello, bravo e misterioso il ventottenne Thanos Samaras)
arriva in un imprecisato sobborgo della capitale..”


Venice, photocall.

Tuesday, September 7th, 2004

Venice, photocall


haha sure…

Monday, September 6th, 2004




Monday, September 6th, 2004

Mary Collins is manic depressive once again.

We’ve brought her pills thank gawd.

Monday, September 6th, 2004

Brutal brutal brutal.