Bumming around in Jeff Bridges country

Oh, hello there! I didn't see you come in. You're probably wondering what I'm doing here in duo-chrome, digitized and rendered into bits and bytes on the Master Control Program's famed "Game Grid." Well, I'm kind of here to prove a point. First of all, it was only a matter of time before the discussion in this space turned to "Tron," Disney's 1982 colossal failure of a movie that died on the vine. I, for one, am having a great time hanging out here with Bruce Boxleitner and the gang. In fact, here he comes...

Whassa happenin' over in your area of the grid, home-skillet?

*WHOOSH!*


He fucking fronted on me -- fucking Boxleitner just fronted. That guy hasn't worked since, what? "Babylon 5"? Didn't Melissa Gilbert divorce his ass a few months back anyway? Prick didn't even slow down his lightcycle to wave. No goddamn manners on the Game Grid anymore.

Well, I might as well saddle up and take a spin around here as I natter.


Ah, that's more like it. I love the sound this thing makes... WHIRR! WHIRR! WHURRMP! WHEEEE-WURRR! It's totally shmawesome. Getting back on point, there's a purpose behind things like ol' "Tron" here, and that's to illustrate all the things that are good in life. We have families that love us, comfortable existences, a lot of fun on a daily basis, and no Recognizers dispatched by Sark, sent to de-rez us. That's gotta count for something.

Did someone mention my name?


Hey, it's TV and film's David Warner! You all know him -- he's starred in like, a million movies you've seen but never paid attention to. And barely any of them any good.

I put most of my effort into theatre these days. More nuanced roles.

Yeah, yeah, but what about wearing that boss-ass helmet and going shithouse on Jeff Bridges? That mist have been a real fucking thrill. Even the Coen Brothers in "Lebowski" couldn't manage to do what you did to Jeff in this one!

To be honest I haven't paid attention. I do enjoy their work, but... I can't answer your question for sure.

Dude, I want to hear about Tron! Tron-Tron-Tron! I loved this movie since I saw it when I was eight years old, and...

Is that what this is about? Nostalgia? Are you same kind of fellow who accosts Willem Dafoe on the street and goes on about Spider-Man or something?

No... that's... ridiculous. I just... there's...

My career is larger than this one sci-fi lark I did in Los Angeles in 1982. What are you doing in that damned stupid helmet? Don't you have any humility?

I have plenty of pride! I'm not ashamed of being a hobbyist-slash-enthusiast, or whatever the fuck you'd call somebody who relives his past over and over again, every day, like some kind of adolescent power fantasy!

So, I'm to understand that you've plucked one happy memory and based an entire belief system about it?

I don't have to respond to that line of questioning.

Hey, look over there! It's Ricardo Montalban at a comic book convention! Why don't you quiz him on line-readings with Bill Shatner?

I'm starting to not like your tone, Sark. Before you make me look in the mirror and face my problems again, I'm gonna jet out of here on this solar-sailer simulation.


Well, all the fun's been drained out of this little bit of escapism. A little unironic joy has been bleached clean by some duotone jagoff. It was only a matter of minutes before he unearthed "G.I. Joe", or something like that. It's like, I have a little corner of the world that I try to carve out as a safe-area for my inner child, but everyone has to go and wipe their shoes on it.

Well, I guess that's it. Nothing left to say. Reporting live from the Game Grid, it's me, silently soaking my pillow with tears as I drain a bottle of Hiram Walker brandy. Just let me know if/when you're done diminutizing me, David Warner. I'll be the broken man over here, with the electric-blue bodystocking throwing a digital frisbee at Cindy Morgan. Back to you in the newsroom.

Perspective

Hello, I'm Jeff Bridges of filmed-entertainment fame. I've appeared in over seventy movies -- some good and some not so good -- so I feel qualified to speak my mind today.

I can't claim to be happy with everything I see going on. I know about Darfur and the Sudan, and everything I read about it saddens my craggy, care-worn heart. I also studiously read up on the Indian economy, and how it's poised to do things for the developing world the likes of which we haven't seen since 19th century America. And what exactly is a "popozao"? I heard my daughters mention it like, a year ago, but I never got in on the joke.

But things are good for old Jeffrey Leon Bridges, son of Lloyd and bro of Beau. How can I complain? I'm a celluloid icon, part of a storied Hollywood dynasty with the sun-dappled look of a aging California kid, acting chops to go the distance, and an intriguing taste in scripts that make for a legendary filmography. Am I insulated from the troubles of the world by a bubble of comfort? Sure, I'd be a fool if I didn't acknowledge that much. My children want for nothing, and my wife is able to tool around west Beverly in that Bentley she's always wanted. But maybe that's the problem -- how is that a way of life, when so many lack so much?

I'll admit it, I've taken a few jobs strictly for the paycheck; for every "Fat City" there's an "Arlington Road" in the pile. How can I defend myself? We need to put an extension on the ol' casa, and I call my agent for a quick five-mil. What a world, right? What a fucking world! It's like going to an ATM, you know? They just back a dumptruck full of money to your house, and you just shoot on a soundstage in Toronto for five months to earn it.

It seems almost too late for me now. I grew up in this culture -- I love the money and the comfort it brings. It's second nature. I mean, I'm not out stabbing people in the eyesockets, or ripping off old ladies like Enron. Is there a sliding scale? Am I making the world a worse place just by being in it?