Sarah Jessica Parker: Vox, Jr.

Movieline asked me to call the Other Coast and talk on the phone to Sarah Jessica Parker, and because she's one of my favorite actresses, I agreed, even though I hate the phone these days and recently achieved a certain notoriety at the studio for tossing one out my office window, barely missing the production president's Plexxus 2000.

Talking to Sarah is always comforting. She's very much like a lovely girl I knew in college who took pity on me in Social Psych and helped me achieve a passing grade with pots of tea, Sinatra and late-night study guides. I'll always remember--well, never mind.

_____________________________

Sarah Jessica Parker: Hi. It's Sarah.

Christopher Hunt: Hi. I haven't seen you since we ran into each other in Neiman Marcus.

S: Yes. I was with my assistant Eric, wasn't I? We were buying a purse.

C: I was buying a hat with my girlfriend. I don't have either one now. So, how are you? How's New York?

S: Wonderful. I made this momentous decision to move here. For the first time, I have a relationship with a city.

C: Cities are good things to have relationships with.

S: Far better than a person. I'm kidding. You're gonna write that.

C: Of course I am. So, do you have a social life in Manhattan?

S: I've never been one to [BEEP!] Oh, that's call waiting. It's my other line. Am I allowed to put you on hold? It's rude.

C: Go ahead. I'd do it to you. [LONG PAUSE. I light a cigarette.]

S: Sorry. Anyway, doing the play here, Substance of Fire, has been great.

C: I knew the playwright, Jon Robin Baitz, when he worked at Book Soup--

S: Really?

C:--a mere bookseller. In those days he was a mere Robbie. Now he's Jon Robin.

S: I play an actress who's [BEEP!] Ugghhh! Sorry! It's, like, no one ever calls me. [LONG PAUSE] Hi--sorry-- anyway--

C: Listen, I wanted to ask you, what is it about some actresses? I've been dating one who's 20, and she hasn't called me in a month.

S: Oh?

C: I'm a doomed romantic.

S: Don't change.

C: Hey, are you smoking? I am.

S: Yeah, but I don't want it to sound like I'm a smoking proponent.

C: I'll write that it's your last bad habit.

S: I'll get one of those smoking patches for your arm. They work.

C: But then you can't wear anything sleeveless.

S: You can put it on your back. I want to quit. April first.

C: I had to give up coffee recently. I was drinking so much I was hallucinating.

S: Have you been to my coffeehouse, Mud?

C: In Santa Monica? Yeah. Nowadays, I drink herbal tea there.

S: I'm a partner. My first solo investment without any advice. My business manager said, "I don't know," but I said, "Cut the check-- I'm gonna do this, man."

C: It's your money.

S: Yeah--the trust is in my name. The dwindling trust, as I do theater in New York. Wait, we have to talk about Honeymoon in Vegas so people will go see it. [BEEP!] Oh--hang on. [LONG PAUSE. I light a cigarette.] Okay, I'm back.

C: Okay. In Vegas you're in love with Nic Cage, but you get involved in this strange situation with James Caan.

S: I look exactly like his wife who died of skin cancer. It's a really funny movie. I'd never been to Vegas. We lived there for five weeks.

C: Five weeks?

S: It's so depressing. But I had the best sushi there, at The Flamingo Hilton.

C: Better than Matsuhisa on La Cienega?

S: Yeah.

C: Did you go out for the 99-cent breakfasts on the strip?

S: No. No shrimp cocktails, no Siegfried and Roy. We were working.

C: Hey, that's show biz. Listen, I'll let you go. I'll call back after April first to find out if you've quit smoking. The readers will demand to know.

Pages: 1 2