The Stars: Far Away, So Close

I am a man who has had two fleeting brushes with stardom. A brief synopsis and analysis of these two encounters reveals American pop-movie stars to be a bizarre and varied breed. The inevitable products of mass consensus in popular tastes and superficial public whims, these poor souls venture out into the world either basking in the public attention which sustains them, or else fleeing from it in terror. In the end though, one realizes the absurdity in all this manufactured fame, the perverse incongruity of ordinary people placed in extraordinary situations.

It was completely by chance that I first met the actor Keanu Reeves. I hadn't gone to a movie premiere or a fan club rally in search of Him, pushing my way past hordes of teenage girls and Bill and Ted lookalikes. I met Him this summer as a fellow guest at a garden party in Toronto, Canada.

The party, a civilized affair in a garden courtyard, was well attended by graduating high school girls. Keanu's sister was among them, and He had been invited by her. About fifteen minutes after I arrived, Keanu strode into the courtyard, sporting an air of nonchalance, a Hollywood-chic black outfit, and a seemingly genuine enjoyment of His particular situation on this festive day. I caught sight of the stares from girls to their friends that screamed, "HE'S HERE OMIGOD HE'S GORGEOUS!" just as I saw Him for the first time, almost face to face. I nodded to acknowledge Him--almost in deference--and He nodded to acknowledge me. At that moment I was sold; there was no turning back. I had actually made a connection which seemed at the time to say, "We grew up in the same home town; I understand you so well you're practically my brother." And He replied with His nod: "You're right."

In typically Canadian fashion, the company was far too polite to take any overt notice of Him. We pretended to glance over at the tree He was standing under, looking for a bird whose song we swore we recognized. But under that thin, hard coat of well-bred civility, there was an unsatisfied urge to mob Him, like a dam waiting to burst. We looked at each other, wondering who would be first to release the floodgate.

At one point in the afternoon, He sat next to me. What could I do but introduce myself? I did, and we had a little chat, which, in memory, seems to blend in with His Letterman appearance of two nights before and the hushed rumors of the other guests. I learned that He had gone to school in Toronto, that He was half-Chinese, and that this one man, raised to a god-like status by His admirers and publicists, was an interesting, intelligent human being.

Then came the first crack in the floodgate. Suddenly remembering how fortunate Bill Clinton had been to have posed shaking JFK's hand thirty years ago, and combined with my general penchant for photographs, I asked Him if He wouldn't mind having a photo taken of us. He smiled and replied, "Certainly!" and that was that. In a striking display of immodesty (I would later be out-done), we posed in front of a camera and snapped the shot you see here. Bill Clinton and JFK. Me and Keanu. It was a start.

Yes, in the photo He had had a bad hair day, aggravated by the sweltering heat and humidity. His Mona Lisa smile is a bit bewildering, although I imagine there are more bizarre poses of Keanu out there. Some of the girls asked Him for a photo, posing nicely as excited friends, their fingers trembling over the shutter, counted, "Ready, one, two..."--but just before "Three" was heard and the shutter clicked, the girls would fling their arms around Keanu's neck in a hormonal surge, to be caught on film for posterity. Boyfriends looked around uncomfortably as garish lapses of modesty struck graduate after graduate. Other guests joined in.

And it was to be such a pleasant little garden party!

As the afternoon wound down, Keanu fled to His red Porsche. The sweet pixie dust fragrance of stardom gave way to the smell of freshly-cut grass as the girls sighed and the twinkle was extinguished from their eyes.

One that one afternoon He had created a hundred "The Day I Met Keanu Reeves" stories, not unlike this one. I had thought myself immune to the whims of Hollywood, but I was sucked in, like all the rest of them.

For one blinding month the realization that there could be no greater actor than Keanu Reeves gripped my thoughts.