When you talk to someone about Shreveport, Louisiana, usually the first thing to come up are the city's casinos. The airport is rather small, and getting a taxi is no small task. There's not much in Shreveport; as I sat in my taxi on my way to the Hilton hotel for an eventual set visit, the driver pointed out landmarks like the Waffle House, the Cancer Center, and "the place where they hold the county fair." He spoke with a thick Cajun accent, and, somehow, immediately knew that I was there for a film -- even though the only info he had was that I came from New York. How would he know this? I don't look like I belong in film. I don't sit and type feverishly on a blackberry, and I don't wear dark glasses. But he knew. Somehow.

Upon arriving at the hotel, things became a tad clearer. Not far from me, mingling among a few other folks, was director Oliver Stone. Wha? Oliver Stone is hanging out in Shreveport? (A bunch of us assumed he was prepping for that George Bush flick, but nothing was confirmed.) A few minutes after spotting Stone, Harold Ramis walked through. Hmmm. What's going on here? Later that night while having dinner at the one good steakhouse in Shreveport, sandwiched between trailer parks and new housing developments, we spotted the cast of The Year One -- Michael Cera, David Cross, Juno Temple, among others. Then, a few minutes after seeing them, Bob Weinstein walked in for a meal. Wha? Now Bob Weinstein is in Shreveport!? I swear my head was spinning -- what in the world was going on in little Shreveport, Louisiana?

Surely, they weren't all here for the Waffle House?

categories Movies, Cinematical