Who could pass up an offer like that here in Manhattan? Last night, a friend invited me to be her date to HBO’s premiere party for the new season of “The Wire.” I love cop dramas and that is a mighty fine one with solid writing, complex characters and excellent actors.
After the screening in Chelsea, buses shuttled us to the West Village for dinner, drinks and networking in a new eatery called Vento. For decades, that trendy Italian trattoria was a sex club called J’s the Hangout. When safe sex became vital, J’s popularity peaked with gay and bi men. It redefined the phrase, “give a buddy a helping hand.” Men walked around dressed like Burt Reynolds in “Deliverance.” However, when some of them opened their mouths to speak, they sounded more like Debbie Reynolds in “The Unsinkable Molly Brown.” That’s when downtown had the fabulous, edgy vibe that drew you to New York City. Last night, it was kind of weird to hold a Cosmopolitan and chat with a cast member of NBC’s “Law & Order” knowing that the floorboards beneath your feet contained enough DNA to create a new Third World nation. Personally, I never thought I’d see the day when the old downstairs lounge had that much light. But I do love what they’ve done with chrome and throw pillows.
“The Wire” has a large cast for a weekly series. The young actors, predominantly Black, are rarely spotlighted on the weeknight entertainments news programs. They don’t get nearly the amount of press that losers on network reality game shows do. That’s a shame. One young actor, Tray Chaney, plays a character called “Poot.” In the season opener, he’s in the sharply funny drug thug scene in which they hold a meeting using Roberts’ Rules of Order guidelines. I introduced myself to Tray and told him what I felt when I saw him on-screen — he’s got a gift and presence like that of John Cazale, the late brilliant actor who played Fredo in “The Godfather” and Sal in “Dog Day Afternoon.” I think Tray was truly touched.
So much entertainment reporting has been dumbed down. It’s not even really reporting when a correspondent’s one big question is “Who did your dress?” If you’re going to be a reporter, do some homework. Introduce people to a new perspective, a new voice, a new aspect of life that they wouldn’t assume would have anything in common with theirs. Tell them what that common link is. Put on light on that provocative work that’s not getting any attention. You could help shatter stereotypes and bring more people to the arts.
About stereotypes, my top unexpected encounter of the evening was running into my first ex-agent. If I’d left my career in the hands of agents in the ’80s and ’90s, I’d have had a job saying “Paper or plastic?” Repeatedly, agents said that they just didn’t know what to do with me. Almost all the gigs on my resume are gigs I landed on my own. After VH1 and CBS Late Night, I got signed by a very blond man with a very big agency. He was so blond he was almost invisible. He got me my first major movie audition in 1990. I tested for the part of a killer pimp. Click onto my Media Kit section and look at my old VH1 headshot. THAT is the pic he sent over to the casting director. Killer pimp. Me. Yeah, right. I looked more like Erkel. And who were supposed to be my ho’s? Richard Simmons, RuPaul and Charles Nelson Reilly? That agent didn’t look at my specific talents and personality. He just saw that a Black actor was needed to play a killer pimp. In a Times Square porno movie theater. Performing voodoo. With a bucket of fried chicken. I kid you not. Are you surprised he’s my ex? Times have changed. Places have changed.
Thanks to HBO, I had a wonderful night of surprise in a place formerly known for sex in the city. (Check out the cast of “The Wire” on www.hbo.com.)