Latest industry news of the dream - on Hollywood

This is the story of two giants of the dream machine, two children crazy, rebellious, incomprehensible, who fascinated the American public as much as they horrify him: Gus van Sant, the brilliant director, the genius of traveling forward on the neck of the young skaters, the lives of dead enhancer success ("Last Days"), and Bret Easton Ellis, the writer of the 80 Golden, inventor of violence in a total of five hotel stars, Homer deadly drug and glamor. These two were made to never cross the street, their worlds too obviously far too inconsistent. But it is the strength of the industry's dream to sit at the table such hotheads. The two have signed a co-writer on Gus Van Sant film, announced to Variety , is not sure yet realize.

For such a marriage takes place, it was of course a story height. It was therefore dead, dead famous, so glamorous, but violent deaths, deaths in sensation, mystery, as only America know how to produce, like a glorious musical. He had a cast of tantalizing famous suicides: Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake's friend, two artists, two stars of the elite pages of magazines, two passionate lovers, beautiful, inventive, influential, but plagued by an evil that is the very man who American eats: the procession of rumors and gossip, conspiracy theories and all sorts of Scientology which pose their apocalyptic new weight on the shoulders of the average American.

This story, he finally had the newspaper nerd / the jet set world famous seizes make a pitch for possible use by producers in Hollywood: Vanity Fair. And indeed, as if the dead meant nothing by themselves, as if only their story as told by Nancy Jo Sales (Vanity Fair, January 2008), was certified as the famous dead, as dead and stories So as dead can be a deal in the great dream industry.

So it was once a couple who love each other. She, Theresa Duncan, filmmaker, writer, designer of video games. It was forty years. She lives for 12 years with Jeremy Blake, darling of the arty New York media, plastic mixing new technologies to abstract painting. One day, Jeremy found the body of Theresa in their apartment in the East Village. Beside her, drugs, a glass of champagne and a note: "I love you all." A week later, Jeremy is sinking into the sea at Rockaway Beach in Queens. He left a note on the back of a card: "I will join my lovely Theresa." Their double suicide toured the media. They talk about a state murder, a possible murder. We invented legend.

Or maybe they died she knew such a success because they looked like stars of the screen? It seemed, "writes Nancy Jo Sales about Theresa," a film icon of the 60s. " And each interviewee to go to his flattering verse, misty misunderstanding about the true reasons for their suicide. "They were remarkable people," says David and Ross, then director of the Museum of San Francisco. "We felt lucky that they show you their opinion."

How these two successful artists eventually haunted by demons that they had no idea even to the point of wanting to confide in an Episcopal priest? How could they move from their home in Venice, California, saying determined to seek police protection when nothing seemed to hinder their success? A success that led them to settle in Los Angeles while Theresa was one of the topics people in magazines successful, Jeremy was hired by filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson to make a dream sequence in "Punch Drunk Love" and the singer Beck, had asked him to sign the last pockets of his albums.


And suddenly everything changes. Jeremy confided to friends that the couple is harassed to a degree absurd, crazy Scientologists (the Church of Scientology, according to Vanity Fair, has since denied being involved in the lives of the couple). Blake also complained of seeing Hollywood under the thumb of "extreme religious groups" and "pathetic Bush administration." Their obsession with Scientology draws perhaps also the source of what Beck, a friend of Teresa and Jeremy, had admitted in 2005 to be a member of the Church. Anyway, it was from 2004 that the couple was particularly terrified, repeatedly, from friends or acquaintances. They find a dead cat on their roof, soon lost in terrifying guesses. Gradually, they become convinced of the existence of right-wing conspiracy, and on September 11 add to their paranoia.


The film will then tell their story. It will draw from the inexhaustible wardrobe of the gossip press, and we will believe, perhaps, never approach, however, the truth of this death which Jeremy had denounced in advance any attempt to recover Hollywood mentioning on his blog A few days before his suicide, the sentence of Kafka: "When you're face to me and when you look at me, what do you know who is grief in me that I know of yours?"