Heeb

Jason Schwartzman leans across both our chairs, and stares at me intently with a stubbly chin on his fist, inches away from my face. “How is this?” he asks. We just met minutes ago and his black high-topped feet are already coyly curled up behind him as he poses for a photo and I compose myself. I’m Jew nose to Jew nose with the star of Rushmore, The Darjeeling Limited, and HBO’s Bored to Death.

The Paley Center for Media is screening an unaired episode of Bored to Death. Created by Jonathan Ames, it’s an oddball detective show with Schwartzman playing a writer (named Jonathan Ames) who, inspired by Raymond Chandler novels, posts an ad on Craigslist offering detective services. After the show, there’s a panel with Schwartzman, Jonathan Ames, and Ted Danson.

When a photographer enters to snap a few shots, Schwartzman’s eager to please. Scooping his feet into the chair, he poses while staring intently into my eyes. I feel awkward, sweaty, and I’m smiling too much. “Is this good?” he asks. I know he’s in a relationship, so I do not imagine myself as his Oscar night date in diamonds and a Vera Wang dress.

Talking about Bored to Death, he says he first received the story by email, “I took it to Kinko’s to print it out – which turned out to be really expensive,” he laughs, “because they charge you per sheet and it was, you know, more than a few pages. Did you know that?” he asks incredulously. During the panel he tells this story again. His girlfriend started reading it to him in the car, but he ended up pulling over to listen to the rest. After all, it was written by Jonathan Ames. “I got his book Wake Up, Sir as a present and the second I read it, I fell in love with this writer, the story, the book, and this man. It was my gateway book and then I read all of the books.”

With our backs to the elevators, we almost miss Ted Danson, who plays his pot smoking boss. He’s holding a book only available in the United Kingdom – a gift to Jonathan Ames. They greet each other comfortably and Danson shakes my hand without introducing himself. “Hi there, how are you?” He knows I know who he is. A lifetime on syndicated television means everyone knows who he is.

“Oh, you’re busy being interviewed, I don’t want to interrupt,” Sam Malone – ahem, Danson – apologizes. He is quite tall, surprisingly thinner in person, and his hair has turned completely white. I watch him as he makes his way out, entourage in tow. I picture him standing behind a bar, polishing a glass while sexually propositioning a waitress. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that color before, Diane.” Doesn’t quite work anymore. Too old and refined to be Sam.

When Schwartzman and I sit back down I ask, “Does it worry you playing a real guy? One you know?” He turns twitchy in a very cute way. Crosses his legs, moves around in his chair, looks upward, and then back at me before making it clear that that he’s definitely not doing an impression. “I’m not changing my voice,” he assures me, “or imitating any ticks that he has. The writing is so great that for me, it’s really about speaking clearly, letting Jonathan’s writing take the lead, and not getting in the way of it.” He’s so sincere it’s adorable.

Schwartzman posing for photographer while reporter, unaware, develops crush.

I bring up Rushmore, the film that made him famous at eighteen. “Any trouble relating to the sometimes-aimless Jonathan Ames you play on the show?” But my nerves make me slur the word aimless and add an extra “s,” despite being sober. “Aimsless?” he teases like an older brother about to give an Indian burn. We laugh together at my expense and he cocks his head to the right, considering. It’s hard to stop looking Schwartzman in the eye, because he likes to look you in the eye and because his eyes are bright with dark lashes.

“There were definitely times when I was busy and working, but I felt really aimless…as well as times when I wasn’t doing much of anything, but I felt really focused.” He’s actually rambling for a bit before his finishes, smiling. “I think you can be very busy, but still pretty aimless,” he decides. It’s like he’s reading my mind. Oh, Jason, let’s run off and be busy and aimless together.

We even geek out over comic books and the Scott Pilgrim adaptation he’s working on. “It was amazing – Michael Cera is really great. I got to learn how to sword fight, and this Matrix fighting stuff with the wires, you know?” He rubs the end of his nose with his index finger and I have the urge to do the same. When I do, he catches me and smiles like we have a secret. A secret nose itch.

“It was so bizarre – I feel like I get to have all these great, bizarre moments…I mean, Ted Danson just walked out of the elevator! So I’m here, just trying take in all these bizarre moments.” We’re both smiling and thinking the same thoughts, but I’m thinking them about him.

Meeting his eyes again, they remind me of his mother, Talia Shire (Adrian from Rocky) – the Italian side of the family. Schwartzman’s father is Jewish, so that makes him half, and I explain we have this in common. Then, I ask if he considers himself Jewish and he takes a deep breath. “I am everything. I am everything and nothing all at the same time,” he says. “I’m proud to be Jewish, but, yeah, I just consider myself everything. I’m just lucky to be here.” His enlightened, zen-like understanding of his identity makes me take a breath, too.

Just as I’m about to press further, affirm our bond, another interruption. Damn. Jonathan Ames, golden boy of the Brooklyn literati comes strolling out of the conference room. (click to continue)