Out of the Blue
Page 24
The day after the awards, Gino called and told me he had a surprise for me . . . what? That I hadn’t been beaten out of two awards for a film that I had written and starred in for him? I loved Vince Rockland. He was attractive and had a huge cock, but I always thought his eyes were too wide apart, and for some reason they always gave his face the appearance of a mountain goat. There was something almost devilish about his face. However, he had a tremendous body and was super friendly. So how had a goat-faced, brother-fucking model beat me for best actor considering he couldn’t act? I knew this for a fact because he had appeared in the play Making Porn in Canada with my girlfriend Jennifer whom I had met starring in Making Porn in Boston. She said Vince wandered listlessly around the stage searching not only for his lines but his character. But why should Vince Rockland make a great stage actor? He was a porn star and, like most porn stars, Vince just couldn’t grasp the technicalities of being on stage in a play. I am always astonished when producers cast porn stars in mainstream projects and then complain they can’t act. If half of the actors in Hollywood can’t get under a proscenium arch and successfully play Montague, why the hell should a porn star be expected to? Porn stars, unless they have had training, belong as delightful trifles in salacious romps. Everybody likes to see their favorite porn star live and in the flesh but nobody wants to be sitting squirming in the audience while he searches for his next line. It’s cringe inducing.
One year Jeff Stryker took his one-man show to Provincetown for the summer. Provincetown is a famously gay haunt in the warm summer months, but Jeff’s show sold out not just to gay people, but straight people too. I had seen the show in Los Angeles and although Jeff had struggled with the concept a little, it hadn’t really mattered because at the end of the show he got naked, came down into the audience and let them all feel his cock . . . and that’s what three quarters of the audience were there for in the first place. Jeff Stryker has true star quality that emanates from every pore of his being.
A few years after Vince Rockland beat me for the Best Actor award at the Gayvn Awards he went to live in a commune in India. While out buying a spicy chicken vindaloo from a street-side vendor, he was run over by a cart carrying piles of brightly colored saris. It broke both his legs. I heard the cart was being pulled by a wild herd of Peruvian mountain goats. I felt so terrible I made a huge donation that year to the “Homeless Goat Foundation of America.” (The address can be found in the back of this book.)
I was excited to hear Gino had a surprise for me, but what on earth could it be? Gino picked me up with a big grin on his Italian face.
“Where are we going?” I asked eagerly.
I’m taking you to lunch with one of the biggest distribution companies in the world . . . Cal Vista . . . . They loved Men in Blue . . . when you finally decide to produce and direct your own line of films this is who will take you on.”
Cal Vista was an enormous distribution company, and in those days without great distribution you were screwed. You could produce the greatest films on the planet, but if they never make it into stores what good are they? At one time all the major studios had distributors; then some broke away and started handling their own distribution. You not only need a good domestic distributor, but you also need good foreign distribution. Cal Vista was a major player second only to Paladin.
Although Italian, Gino was like a Jewish father who believed he had an incredibly talented son. He was always trying to get me to start up my own line of movies. He believed I was incredibly creative and that I would make a great producer and director and that this is where my future lay. But I just wasn’t interested. It was his passion, not mine. Although I was incredibly flattered, I knew I would make a total disaster of such a venture because I don’t have an organizational bone in my body. I must have been dropped on my head as a baby and that part of my brain was wiped clean or I was just born without that organizational gene. He persisted in pushing me to get behind the camera but I thought he was mad. As it turned out, he wasn’t mad at all. In fact, he was actually better at predicting the future than Madame Lila and her all-seeing crystal ball.
We sailed off in his car over Laurel Canyon into the San Fernando Valley where all the major porn studios were based and arrived outside an enormous building with the words CAL VISTA ENTERTAINMENT spelled out elegantly in ten-foot letters. It all reeked of class and wealth. Gino had told me on our drive over that the company was owned by the famous pornographer Sidney Niekerk. Sidney was old school. He had been in the business forever and his word was his bond. We walked into the reception area and were immediately ushered into Sidney’s private sanctum, an opulent office full of trophies he had won all over the world for his contributions to the adult industry. The awards were mingled among what looked like the finest pieces of objets d’art money could buy. Sidney himself was a robust handsome grey-haired man of indeterminate age. He had eyes that twinkled and I immediately liked him enormously.
“Bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuue,” he bellowed in a strong European accent. “Wooooooooonderful to meet you.” He had one of the biggest grins I had ever seen. “Dani loves your films,” he continued.
“Dani Duran runs foreign sales,” Gino replied to the confused look on my face.
“Dani’s joining us for lunch.”
I was glad Dani liked the films. At least that way he could sell them with conviction. Dani was probably an older gay jock type who likes bodybuilders, I thought. The door opened.
“Here’s Dani now,” Sidney said.
I turned and nearly fell out of my chair . . . Dani Duran was a SHE—and one of the hottest blond vixens on the planet! She reminded me of Ann-Margret in Kitten with a Whip and I was tore up from the floor up. She was a bombshell. There are just some women who can totally work it, and Dani Duran was one of those chicks. I fell in love with her instantaneously.
“BLUE BLAAAAAAAAAKE!” she purred. Dani had a sexy, husky voice, a cross between Demi Moore and a bottle of scotch. One day I will go into therapy to see what it is about hot blonde straight girls and myself. Thank God I wasn’t straight because the planet would be littered with little Blue Blakes demanding expensive toys.
We all climbed into Sidney’s chauffeured town car and zipped off to lunch together. I was squeezed next to Dani, and I couldn’t help noticing her small waist and her ample bosom. As if those attributes weren’t enough, her long blonde hair fell almost down to her waist. We arrived at an Italian restaurant that was closed but when Sidney’s car pulled up, the doors were flung open and we were escorted inside. No one else was in the entire place.
The waiters ran around as Sidney ordered dish after dish of the best tasting Italian cuisine.
Helping himself to a dish of linguine, Sidney said to Dani,
“I told Blue that you loved his films.”
“I looooove them,” cooed Dani, “Especially Men in Blue.”
“Thank you,” I blushed.
“Gino told me you wrote it,” she said.
“Yeah . . . its true.”
“Well, I’m sure Gino told you it has sold really, really well.”
“I was telling Blue that if ever he starts up his own company he has to come to you for distribution,” said Gino.
“OOOOOOOOOOOH definitely!” exclaimed Dani, “I would LOVE to distribute your films for you!”
“Well, that’s very kind of you,” I replied modestly, “But as I keep telling Gino, I’m happy working for other companies but I definitely won’t be opening my own studio . . . definitely not.”
A year later I opened my own studio Big Blue Productions and I signed with Dani and Cal Vista International for my foreign distribution. When Dani opened up a domestic distribution company, Arena, I immediately signed with them too. In 2003, Arena presented me with their Producer of the Year Award. I was incredibly honored. Dani is to this day one of my closest friends and confidantes. She is a great inspiration and advisor to me, steering me through the storm-tossed waters of porn when I thought I would sometim
es lose my mind. To this day Arena and Paladin distribute my entire line of films, and it honors me that they do so.
There had been no closure in my relationship with Caryn Horwitz, but that was all about to change. One day I got a call from Caryn. I hadn’t seen her in a few years but she had an interesting business proposition for me. She asked me if I would like to once again star in Making Porn but this time co-produce the show with her. I had heard through the grapevine that Ronnie and she were running out of money, so I knew they needed my financial input to get the play up and running again. I was ready to get back into the show, and the idea of producing a play really appealed to me. I agreed with two provisos:
[1] I got to cast the role of the major porn star and [2] If I found a suitable star, Caryn could not produce the show without me using that star.
Caryn told me this sounded very reasonable. Although both Ronnie and Caryn were hardly reliable business people, I knew Caryn wouldn’t fuck me over. I was a naïve, trusting soul.
Shortly after Caryn’s call, I flew to New Orleans for Southern Decadence, an almost pagan ritual that occurs during the height of summer, when the French Quarter is full of gay people and drag queens celebrating . . . well, I suppose celebrating being gay. I was staying at the Four Seasons Hotel when I heard my ex-boyfriend Chris Duffy was also in town. I hadn’t seen Chris in years. Not since I had fled San Francisco without so much as a proper goodbye. I had even thought he might be dead from the copious amounts of drugs he took. Turns out he was very much alive. He was in town with a client of his, a plastic surgeon from the Deep South.
I tracked him down and arranged for the three of us to meet at a local gay restaurant. Chris was as crazy as ever, only now that I wasn’t dating him, the madness seemed almost endearing. He told me that he was meeting up with Jake Gianelli, a famous escort, and Jake’s new boyfriend Matthew Rush, a Falcon lifetime exclusive model who by then was probably the most famous porn star out there. It seemed almost serendipitous that Matthew was in New Orleans and I figured judging by how he looked he would be ideal for the role of Jack in Making Porn.
The next day Chris and I met with Jake and Matthew at their hotel. I had bumped into Matthew over the years at various award shows and liked him immensely. I didn’t know if he could act, but I knew he had to be better than Rex Chandler or Vince Rockland. Caryn wouldn’t care because Matthew looked great and would be an enormous draw. He happily agreed to star in the show, and I told him we would be opening in San Diego at the St. Cecilia’s Playhouse. The show would be running for five weeks beginning right after Christmas.
Matthew, it turned out, was great in the role and we took the show to Boston. It turned a tidy profit. I suggested to Caryn we should open the show in Fort Laud-erdale, which had replaced Miami as the gay Mecca of the South. Caryn agreed and we began to pack. That’s when the bomb dropped. Caryn told me she no longer needed me as co-producer. Furthermore, she asked me to perform in the show for half my previous salary. And, in order to cut back on the costs of the play further, I was to share a hotel room with Matthew. Having co-produced the play in two cities, I knew how much the show was making, and I knew she was just trying to elbow me out of the production. I had no contract with Caryn as I felt for whatever reason I could trust her. We had developed a wary friendship over the years the way that two people do who are bound together from moments of extreme drama and adversity. I chose instead to gracefully leave Making Porn, never to return. Everybody who had told me that Caryn would ultimately fuck me over had been right. It was a harsh lesson in the ways of the world and how some people value money over friendship.
Years later I sometimes think of Caryn and even miss her in a strange way—especially her exposed décolletage that was always stuffed with the remains of calorie-laden snacks.
The hours spent with the play were some of the happiest times of my life. I think perhaps I still miss the camaraderie. If nothing else, I took from the experience three great friendships: Joanna Keylock, my beautiful, beautiful mermaid; Jennifer Leach whom I would have married if I had been straight and if she would have had me; and wonderful Keith who played the role of my best friend in the show and quickly became one of my best friends in real life. Just the blessing of these three make up for all the screaming, crying and drama that went on performing in that damn show. Sometimes out of madness comes great joy.
I stayed true to my word and never performed in a gay porno movie again. There’s nothing worse than porn stars who retire then announce their comeback a few months later. I was satisfied with my body of work in a profession that I had never intended upon making my own. I can look back at my time spent being a “porn star” with humor and fascination that my life ever went down that road.
A life in porn had been good to me. Unlike so many of my peers, I emerged pretty much unscathed. I met some of the most unusual, interesting people who helped shape my views on life and sexuality. I made friends for life with some, and discarded others because of the insanity they surrounded themselves with. Would I recommend a life in porn to anybody? Nope. Would I recommend it to a not bad looking guy from Nottingham who was born in a house without a toilet?
ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY.
EPILOGUE
IN 2005 BLUE BLAKE was inducted into the Gayvn “Porn Legend” Hall of Fame.
© 2008 by Glenn Marsh
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