FRESH YARN PRESENTS:

I Blame Dennis Hopper
By Illeana Douglas

PAGE FOUR:
That's when I see that my goat cheese has landed on James Woods' really expensive suede loafer.

He gets to the punch line, and I'm laughing like, "Oh, now I get it," and I panic, and I just throw the cracker so he won't see it.

So then the actor Fred Ward joins us and starts telling a story. Suddenly James Woods looks down at his shoe and says, "Where the fuck did that come from?"

I'm trying really hard to follow Fred Ward's story, but I can see James Woods in his mind putting it together -- you know, I mean he's smart. He went to MIT. I see him recreating the series of events in his mind that have led to goat cheese landing on his shoe. Like a Brian De Palma movie sequence, he starts slowly turning his head toward me. But before he can accuse me, I scream, "It came from the book depository! I mean… it was me. I think I did that, Mr.Woods." I totally ruined Fred Ward's story.

I blame Dennis Hopper for that too.

So James Woods is trying to get this goat cheese off his $600-dollar Armani loafers, and I say, "Yeah, you know, in my country when you admire someone, you just hurl goat cheese at them." Silence.

"I mean I could pay for them, Mr. Woods." Fred Ward just stared at me.

You know that classic James Woods sort of half-snarl, half-smile? It was burned into my memory bank. Shame imprint. Career over. Dennis Hopper.

And then it happened. I got cast in a movie with Dennis Hopper.

I couldn't wait to meet him and tell him how he'd ruined my life, and ask him for all the money I felt he owed me. On our first day of shooting, I'm on the way to set of this very low budget film, and the production assistant who was driving me and only getting about 50 dollars a day, and hadn't eaten or slept in a while fainted at the wheel of the car and smashed into the back of another car causing a three-car pile-up. My head slammed into the dashboard. I soon learned the production hadn't been able to afford to give the PA a walkie-talkie, so I had to walk the 10 blocks to the set to tell them that we'd been in this car accident.

I'm walking down Park Avenue, holding my head, and I get to the set. Now I'm really dizzy, and my head is killing me, so I lie down on the ground. The 1st AD is asking me if I'm going to be able to work today. Low Budget, remember.

And I said, "I don't know. I mean my head really hurts." I closed my eyes to try to stop the spinning. There was a lot of noise, and everyone was talking. And then I heard this voice and it sounded like my father and I thought Oh my God. I'm dying and my Dennis Hopper-like life is flashing before my eyes. Then I realized, wait, that's really Dennis Hopper. Dennis Hopper the iconic figure who had changed my life. Dennis Hopper from the movies, and Easy Rider, is talking about me! He's calling my name!

I opened my eyes, but I could only make out his silhouette bathed in white light standing above me. I remember saying, "I'm fine, I just can't look at the light," and then I started to cry.

And Dennis Hopper said, "Don't cry. You're going to be OK."

And I said, "No, I'm crying because my father saw Easy Rider when I was a kid and it changed his life and now we're going to be in a movie together and it's a miracle!"

I could not stop crying. And Dennis Hopper put his hand on my shoulder, and said to me, "Illeana, you've had a concussion. You know what that means? It means your brain moved inside your head. It's not supposed to do that!"

He may have even said, "man." I'm not sure. I was still crying. But then I started laughing, too.

Dennis Hopper was right of course. Your brain is not supposed to move inside your head. But still. It was a miracle.

To get to meet the person that had changed your destiny. And as I looked up at Dennis Hopper bathed in white light, I had an epiphany too.

I started to think about all the other miracles that had happened to me because we were poor. Like if I had grown up rich, I wouldn't have become an actress. I would probably be working in advertising, which is what my guidance counselor advised me to do because I seemed "creative."

Or, how once, when I was in New York, I went to the bank to withdraw my last 20 bucks and I found a full bag of groceries that someone had left behind. Sausages. Cheeses. We ate for a week! It was a miracle.

Or, the time I found a hundred dollar bill on the street where the prostitutes turned tricks. I looked down and there was a hundred dollar bill. Just lying there on the sidewalk. It was a miracle. I bought two tickets to Dreamgirls, and took my best friend. I'll never forget that night. We're sill best friends.

Or, how when we were poor, my mother could always get four sandwiches out of one can of tuna. Four sandwiches! I mean how did she do that? It was a miracle!

The Studio -- the commune my father started -- is long since gone, but the dreams and ideals that came from it are with me still. I love my parents, and look back on my hippie childhood with great fondness. That's definitely a miracle!

God Bless you Dennis Hopper. You saved me from the good life.

I ended up with the better life after all. In my heart I'm a bit of a rebel. A little bit too artsy. A hippie chick for sure. Question authority! Challenge the system! This is what it's all about, man!! Don't blame me. Blame Dennis Hopper.

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