¡Qué susto nos llevamos con Gerard Butler!

Es un domingo cualquiera en Hollywood. Como en muchos eventos de prensa, las entrevistas para LA CRUDA VERDAD están programadas en el hotel Four Seasons en Beverly Hills, que no es tan relajado como trabajar en mi laptop al lado de la alberca de mi propio jardín, pero me la paso aquí tanto tiempo que es como mi casa fuera de casa, familiar y confortable. Y luego suena la alarma de incendios. Esta bien, hemos tenido falsas alarmas antes, pero esta vez aparece la persona de seguridad exigiéndonos que abandonáramos el hotel inmediatamente y sin usar el elevador. No puedo dejar de pensar en Poseidón, por alguna razón, o en Titanic, mientras me uní al éxodo que bajaba las escaleras y fuera de la propiedad junto a los huéspedes en bata y llenos de pánico, personal de cocina enojado con sus gorros de chef y todo el equipo del Milán.

It’s just another Saturday in Hollywood. Like so many press events, the interviews for The Ugly Truth are set up at the Four Seasons Hotels in Beverly Hills – not as relaxing as working on a laptop poolside in my own backyard, but I’m here so much it’s like my home away from home, familiar and accommodating. And then the fire alarm sounds. OK, we’ve had false alarms before, but this time a security person appears demanding that we leave the hotel immediately and not by elevator. I can’t help thinking of Poseidon for some reason, or Titanic, as I joined the exodus down the stairs and off the property alongside panicked hotel guests in bathrobes, annoyed kitchen staff in chef’s hats and the entire Milan soccer team.

Men in uniforms lead us two blocks away, to stop under some trees on a grass divider strip located in the middle of the normally busy street, now roped off with police tape and cones. The midday heat is unrelenting and everyone is restless and confused, with rumors swirling about a ‘credible’ multi-hotel bomb threat. But oh look, here’s my interview, Gerard Butler, right out here in the middle of the street with the rest of us! “I want to talk about what I was doing when this happened because I thought it was kind of cool,” he laughs. “I had just had lunch with my manager and this very smart writer called Hanna Weg who brought a really cool project. And in fact I’d just been called back into the hotel for these interviews and I was thinking, ‘Oh shit, I don’t want to do interviews now!’ when somebody came up and said that I couldn’t go back in, that I had to exit the property immediately – for which I jumped for joy. But interestingly enough, at lunch when Hanna Weg had talked about her story, which is a movie about spying and Russian moles, she said,  “You never know where things are going to take you, there’s a ten percent gamble in everything you do. You could walk out of that seat right now, walk across the street and be run over by a bus.” And as she was saying that, I said, “No, it’s not going to happen with me because I’m not going to walk across that street, I’m going by limo.” I was joking. And then the next minute the emergency alarm goes off and I’m having to cross the fucking street. I thought that was quite serendipitous!”

We’re well into the second hour before we get an all-clear signal. Meanwhile the studio manages to convince a nearby restaurant to squeeze all the waiting journalists into their afternoon lunch rush and finish our interviews away from the fray. After all, this is Hollywood where, bomb or no bomb, the show must go on!

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Vera Anderson Es escritora, fotógrafa, cineasta y vive en Hollywood con su esposo y su traviesa cachorrita Airedale. Promete estar más activa en Twitter y espera que el guión que escribió con su hermano se convierta en película.